Albums for the Week of May 30, 2010

This past week, we lost Gary Coleman and Dennis Hopper. We also got to celebrate the Memorial Day weekend, and the Atlantic hurricane season revs up for what is supposed to be an active summer (June 1). And for me, this is what I'll be spinning:

1) Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - 1973

2) Local Natives - Gorilla Manor - 2009

3) Stone Temple Pilots - Stone Temple Pilots - 2010

4) Tripping Daisy - Jesus Hits Like an Atom Bomb - 1998

Let's do this.

David Bowie - Low - 1977 - "...Drifting into my solitude, over my head."

What's a reliable way to kick a Heculean cocaine addiction? If you're David Bowie, you move to West Berlin, team up with ambient minimalist Brian Eno, assemble some keyboards and synthesizers, and you release Low.

Let me start by stating what Low isn't: There are no songs about freaky aliens, life on Mars, or thin white dukes. At no point in this album did Bowie make a suggestion resembling anything near 'Let's Dance.' However, it's important to bear in mind what Bowie was up to during the recording of this album. The time leading up to Low apparently marked a difficult point in Bowie's career. Between 1975 and 1977, Bowie struggled with his substance abuse problems, starred in The Man Who Fell to Earth, and prepared a soundtrack for said film that was unceremoniously rejected. Bowie soon after found himself as a resident of West Berlin, sharing an apartment with Iggy Pop, sober, in possession of a batch of unused instrumental songs, and immersed in the proto-German-electronic music scene (think Kraftwerk). And so, the era of Bowie's career referred to as 'The Berlin Trilogy' begins...

What can one expect from Low? Good ideas on side A -- great ideas, actually. In fact, from 'Breaking Glass' through 'Be Me Wife,' the album flowed with consistent buoyancy, even though the lyrics hovered somewhere between morose and utterly incomprehensible. The trouble is, as soon as a song started to gain some steam, it would end or fade out 1.5 to 2 verses in. Specifically, 'Sound and Vision,' which could very well be one of the best songs of Bowie's career, is a painful tease -- so catchy, yet so incomplete.

Which brings me to the other half of this album, the instrumentals...all six of them. For those who don't know the aforementioned Brian Eno, he likes keyboards and he likes employing those keyboards for experimental ambient boopity boops. For some, this could be a recipe for an abysmal disaster, but it ended up being the solidifying statement of the album for me.

Surely there had to be an explanation for such an unconventional move. Supposedly, these instrumental tracks were inspired by Bowie's experiences in Warsaw and Berlin. Although I did not know about Bowie's time in Europe, cocaine addiction, or failed soundtrack at first, once I did, my album experience vastly improved. I can appreciate what was going on here -- this album plays like an unedited purge of creativity and healing, kind of like an amplified diary. It's rough, but Low finds strength in its emotional evocation. 

However, to get to a meaningful place with Low, I had to spend some time contemplating the album and scouring various online articles and interviews for some much needed subtext. Time well spent in the end, but Low may be unfulfilling for some who have difficulty finding an entry point. Once I found mine, I could appreciate the album for its unapologetically honest nature, as well as the moment in time it captures. And when it comes to David Bowie, Low's moment is simply one of the many comprising his ever-changing career. A challenging, yet endearing oddity? Yes. But you know Bowie -- that's how he likes to werk it.

The Beach Boys - Smiley Smile - 1967 "...it's all an affair of my life with the heroes and villains."

Given the band's in-fighting, the approaching storm of chief songwriter Brian Wilson's mental illness, and the complete abandonment of the now famously unreleased SMiLE album (until 2004, that is), it's a surprise Smiley Smile ever came together enough to be released at all. And yet, it did...sort of.

Let's talk about SMiLE first, because I feel that a large part of Smiley Smile's value comes from its epically troubled and unrealized first draft. Basically, it was dubbed by Brian Wilson to be his 'teenage symphony to god,' and intended to be the album that picked up where Pet Sounds left off. An unprecedented studio experiment in pop music, humor, and recording techniques, it ultimately became the source of turmoil amongst Brian Wilson's bandmates.  Then its release date was pushed back a few times by the record label, then a few times more. Then Brian Wilson lost confidence when The Beatles released 'Strawberry Fields Forever' as a single. Then Brian Wilson's lyricst quit the project. SMiLE was finished.

After a frantic re-recording schedule through the summer of 1967, The Beach Boys unleashed Smiley Smile upon its listening audience. Instead of starting over, the boys instead chose to rehash and recycle SMiLE ideas into a sequenced patchwork of melodies, interludes, and random oddities in between. Here, we have songs about heroes and villains, vegetables, a reinterpretation of the Woody Woodpecker theme, a girl losing her hair, Hawaii (I think), good vibrations, love, windchimes, hunger, love, and whistling. Apparently, the idea was to record a potpourri of different ideas, and then compress those ideas down into concise pop gems. However, the closest Smiley Smile comes to offering anything in the way of pop songs is 'Good Vibrations.'  Everything else...required some effort. 

As disjointed as it could be at times, I managed to find quite a bit of beauty within the chaos. I mean, with Smiley Smile, you're still listening to The Beach Boys, which means a bountiful supply of velvety angelic harmonies. And thank god, because each song's vocal melody kept me initially intrigued, and provided something in the way of cohesion throughout subsequent visits with this unmatched batch of orphans. Ultimately, the problem and the merit of this album are inextricably bound; it never gets off the ground and it's oddly inconsistent, and yet I found myself enamored with its allure and its potential. Plus, I was truly haunted by the creative SMiLE turmoil that managed to leave imprints of itself throughout Smiley Smile. I was fascinated, repulsed, bewitched, and a little freaked out each time I listened to this album.

So, the ideas on this album are certainly good ones, even if they were worked into songs that are not so good. And as of the drafting of this post, I have yet to listen to the official '04 release of SMiLE, but I'm not so sure I want to. Maybe some things are better off left as unfinished secrets hidden away from the world. The hints left on Smiley Smile indicated to me the possibility for something so much greater than what it became in its completed form, but to venture any further could spoil its appeal. Its charm is its folly is its charm, and I'm ok with that.

Of course, if you need a warm up for the challenge, do yourself a huge favor and check out Pet Sounds first.

Stevie Wonder - Talking Book - 1972 - "...Love has joined us, Let's think sweet love."

The second release from the 1972 - 1976 five album 'classic period,' Talking Book gives us a zesty mish mash of wah wah keyboards (that's the Hohner clavinet model C you're hearing), synthesizers, Jeff Beck guitar licks, and very little to complain about. I want refrain from gushing about any album I review, so I promise to say something constructive about this album along the way. In the meantime...

Classic era Stevie Wonder has its perks. You don't really have to be a fan of the artist to appreciate a majority of the output from this era, and Talking Book is no exception. This album, much like Music of My Mind, Innervisions, Fulfillingness' First Finale, and the sprawling Songs in the Key of Life features a number of songs you've probably heard, or might at least sound familiar. In fact, thanks to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Jonas Brothers, and American Idol, you've more than likely encountered 'Superstition' or 'You Are the Sunshine of My Life.' There is no denying it, Stevie has definitely woven a portion of his art into the tapestry of our culture.

To get more to the point, Talking Book is cohesive and definitive. All of these songs sound like they belong together, especially the signature wicky-ta-wicky-ta-wicky-ta shuffle that propels a majority of the album. There is not much in the way of lyrical substance or depth here, but these songs still manage to kick out the fun. Plus, Jeff Beck (finger pickin' extraordinaire) and Ray Parker, Jr. (ghostbustin' extraordinaire) make guest appearances as Stevie's backing guitarists. I do want to point out, however, that Talking Book is not an album of filler propped up by one stellar single...even if 'Superstition' is a song that simply must be heard before you die. Each of the ten songs offered hear could be singles in their own right (two of them were, three of them were B-sides). And on a personal note, 'I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)' is on my list of favorite all-time love songs. 

On a constructive note, eight of the ten songs here deal with the theme of love. That's not necessarily the worst thing, but that's also Celine Dion stuff. Granted, the album is called Talking Book, Stevie Wonder is blind, so his preferred books would have to 'talk' in some way, and I'm guessing his heart is an open 'book,' so the love-heavy theme may be the point. Even so, everything has its saturation point, and listeners may be better off avoiding thinking too hard about the subject(s) of Stevie's songs, and keeping their focus to how these songs feel...which is pretty damn funky.

The above being said, I kept my promise and managed to avoid a gush fest. However, even with its most sentimental moments, Talking Book manages to exist in a stratosphere well above most other albums of its kind, from its decade, or from any other decade or artist. Stevie Wonder may not wind up being your most favorite artist, but do yourself a favor -- check this album out, if only once. 

The Smashing Pumpkins - MACHINA/The Machines of God - 2000 - "...I'm just living for myself ."

Originally intended to be the final Smashing Pumpkins album, MACHINA / The Machines of God finds frontman Billy Corgan and his crew aiming high with a collection of songs that seems to have baffled critics and alienated the remains of their post-Adore audience.

I'll be honest: This is not the best Pumpkins album in their catalog. But there is some good news to start us off -- original drummer Jimmy Chamberlain kicked his heroin habit and got his old job back prior to recording the album. However, original bassist D'arcy Wretzky picked up a crack cocaine habit and lost her job with the band -- slightly bad news. And then there is the singer Billy Corgan -- the indomitable whiny dictator asshole who strangled the band into obscurity, or the brilliantly talented yet oh so alternatively troubled misanthrope who catapulted the band to mega rock stardom, depending on whose side you're on. As the band lumbered into this phase of its career (and MACHINA was not their final album, by the way), the Smashing Pumpkins = Billy Corgan equation rang as true as ever in a way that ultimately produced some interesting, yet misguided results.

Early in the recording phase, Corgan crafted MACHINA to be a concept album in which the album's narrator hears the voice of God and undergoes some deep personal changes filtered through themes of loneliness, peace, love, epiphany, and loss. Wretzky's departure forced the scale of the concept to be all but abandoned, but 'Glass and the Ghost Children' still contains probably the biggest batch of hints about the true essence of MACHINA's intended soul. Further, tendrils of the concept can be found elsewhere in MACHINA -- especially the themes of love ('If you want love, you must be love') and God...lots of God ('Here you are, as you always were, in bathing light, and naked blur, you're a part of me Eternal One').

Where the album worked best for me was through another significant theme -- references to the rise and fall of the band itself ('Let me die for rock n roll'...and 'Dispatch the last alarms, Hand out the last few charms'). I truly grew to love and appreciate these references, and not because I took any joy in the demise of the Smashing Pumpkins. The Smashing Pumpkins were at one point time HUGE, and to own their nadir with unvarnished honesty is a powerful statement by the band (Billy). At times like these, the album felt like what it was meant to be, a final act, and MACHINA, at times, expertly harnessed the bittersweet timbre of the band's farewell to its audience.

Where the album faltered for me was in its sheer length (a breezy 73 minutes and change), which is a long time to spend with Billy, his melancholy, and his infinite sadness. And the aborted yet present concept was distracting for me. Enough was there for me to realize it, but it was undercooked enough to feel a bit like, well, aural blue balls. Also, given how much I loved the 'swan song' vibe of MACHINA, my biggest regret is that the reformation of the Pumpkins post-MACHINA ultimately undercut the best parts about the album and rendered it a minor blip in the grand scheme of the band's discography.

Don't get me wrong, for Pumpkins fans, this album has a few gems ('Raindrops + Sunshowers' and 'Try, Try, Try'), and even with its glaring flaws (the embarrassing 'Heavy Metal Machine'), I'm glad that I checked it out, and I would recommend it to even the biggest Siamese Dream or Gish (the good albums) fan. See for yourself, but take faith in the fact that there is probably something for you to enjoy here.

Oh, and one more thing, and this is just my opinion: Billy Corgan is about a 65% shitty singer. There. I said it. 

Have fun.

Albums for the Week of May 23, 2010

For this week, it looks like if I need a soundtrack for dancing or for starting a fist fight, I should be adequately prepared. Curiously, this is also the week for National Tap Dance Day (May 25) and Brothers Day (May 24). Oh, and if it's your thing, prepubescent nerds from around the country will gather for the Scripps National Spelling Bee on May 26 and 27.

1) The Jesus & Mary Chain - Psychocandy - 1985

2) LCD Soundsystem - This is Happening - 2010

3) The Notwist - Neon Golden - 2002

4) Pantera - Vulgar Display of Power - 1992

Reviews to follow...

Albums for the Week of May 16, 2010

On a tragic note, Ronnie James Dio died today.

Coincidentally, I'm listening to Black Sabbath this week, but the pick is from the Ozzy era:

1) Black Sabbath - Master of Reality - 1971

2) Deftones - Diamond Eyes - 2010

3) Electric Light Orchestra - ELO2 - 1973

4) Mojave 3 - Ask Me Tomorrow - 1995

Rest in peace, Holy Diver, and thank you for everything.

MGMT - Congratulations - 2010 - "...Hey people, what does it mean?"

So, your band puts out its first full length album, and the album garners praise and over a million in sales. You get invited to open for Radiohead, as well as slots at the South by Southwest, Glastonbury, and Cochella festivals. Your band's outlook is good. So what happens next? Well, if your band is MGMT (that's pronounced em-gee-em-tee), you release your second album, Congratulations.

The sophomore effort for any band presents a challenge for artistic output. Try as they might, some bands cannot help but release the same quality of work (The Beatles' With the Beatles), other bands manage to outperform their first body of work (Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique...eventually), and even some bands endeavor to expand and bloat beyond their original proportions (Guns N' Roses's Use Your illusion I & II). On Congratulations, MGMT takes great strides to distance itself from their first album (Oracular Spectacular), while directly musing about the sophomore slump, jinx, or challenge they inevitably face with this album.

The tunes are catchy enough, but nothing like the intelligent, yet accessible pop odyssey of their first album. Also, the lyrics are dense, and at times, indecipherable..definitely not the fluttering sing-songs of Oracular Spectacular. This divide may exactly be the point, however. The songs not only seem to address alienation and isolation, they actually seem to describe MGMT's experience (...mass adulation not so funny) or expectation of the experience (...I hope I die before I get sold) as a result of their immediate success.

(sigh)

Yet, the whole time I spent with this album, I felt compelled to continue comparing Congratulations to their first album. I truly tried to separate the two albums from one another so that I could absorb Congratulations on its own strength. However, I realized as the week progressed that Congratulations may actually need its predecessor in order for the listener to fully appreciate its context. This album repels itself away from Oracular Spectacular, challenging the band, the fans, and the critics. Yet it's as if Congratulations would have no purpose or point without Oracular Spectacular or its subsequently immense popularity. And at the end of it all, the album's closing track, 'Congratulations,' serves as a superlative for the listener who made it all the way through the album, as well as the band for working so hard to defy as many expectations as possible. The listener is even treated to the sound of applause as the final track decays into silence.

I can dig on the effort, and I can get behind MGMT's proactive approach to avoid being pigeonholed. But in all honesty, this is a dense album for a pop record. Some fans will no doubt run away, and I'm not sure what the likelihood is that the band will acquire any new ones. As far as I could hear, Congratulations contains very little in the way of a single. In fact, the band has even gone on record stating that they wanted to release a complete body of work instead of a batch of 'standout' singles. In the end, with Congratulations, MGMT has utterly shed themselves of their previous range and image, and at least they seem pleased with the results.

Deftones - White Pony - 2000 - "...go get your knife and kiss me."

Part lullaby, part meat grinder, and all balls, White Pony finds Deftones at an unusual moment for critics and fans alike.

2000 marked a different time for music. Andre 3000 and Big Boi professed profuse apologies to Ms. Jackson, everything about Radiohead was in its right place, and Johnny Cash let us know that he simply would not back down. And then along came White Pony, brought to us by (the) Deftones, a nu metal band supreme with two previous albums and a tendency to cover songs by Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, and The Cure.

A startling blend of violence and beauty, the ambient aggression of White Pony resembles a collection of love songs for murder victims. Frontman Chino Moreno either croons or screams his overtures, declaring '...soon I'll let you go...', or affirming '...when you're ripe, you'll bleed out of control...' in a manner that evokes seduction and peril all in the same breath. Repeated references to 'meat,' 'teeth,' 'cavity,' 'taste,' and 'claws' throughout the album further sustain its impending fear of something dangerous and visceral lurking beneath the surface. Even more so, White Pony seems enamored with this threat and incapable of breaking from its alluring grasp.  

This moth and the flame relationship brings me to the title 'White Pony,' which itself begs some interpretation. 'White horse' has been utilized as a reference to cocaine, and dreaming of a white horse for some has been construed as an allegory for passion, sexual needs, and intellectual strength. So maybe both of these possible interpretations exist here, but in a warped Deftones dimension. While none of the songs operate in a 'coke or sex' binary paradigm, White Pony nonetheless appears to fixate on the addiction, the fetish, the paranoia, and the captivation of some kind of object. 

In fact, most, if not all of the songs direct their focus to an unnamed 'you' - doing something, changing something, progressing to some new level, all with this objectified 'you' character. For me, it was as if 'White Pony' represented the means (coke, sex, knives, whatever) as well as the end (addiction, torture, abduction, you know, the usual) sublimated throughout. And at the center of it all resides the objectified 'you' as the passenger, or in the driver seat, but always present. Further, as if to raise the stakes, 'White Pony' seems to possess the need for some form of vitality (transpose, or stop your life), punctuated by the sound of a beating heart at the close of the album.

However, White Pony is by no means perfect. The album dragged a bit for me towards the end of the first side, and all of the themes I discussed above permeate and pervade the album beyond saturation, depending on the listener's mood. Plus, Chino's singing style, while definitive, may be an acquired taste for some. So while no one will ever blame White Pony for its cheery disposition, for me at least, brutality has never sounded so sexy.

Albums for the Week of May 9, 2010

I'm excited about the sheer schizophrenia of this week's batch.  Here we go:

1) The Beach Boys - Smiley Smile - 1967

2) David Bowie - Low - 1977

3) Mike Patton - Mondo Cane - 2010

4) Slipknot - The Subliminal Verses, Vol. 3 - 2004

Wish me luck.

Umlaut - Umlaut - 2009 - "..Bigfoot is real."

The title to Umlaut's opening track, 'Kitty Puppy,' sums up the dichotomy that invigorates or plagues this album, depending on how you listen to it.

Let's take a look at what Umlaut has to offer: The album features influences of jazz, rock, circus music, Baroque, shoegaze, and trip hop. About half of the songs feature lyrics or some form of vocal textures. All but two of Umlaut's eleven tracks keep it under the four minute mark. And, even with its sonic schizophrenia, each song features accessible melodies that most listeners can engage and enjoy. Yet something was missing for me...

It gets better: Umlaut is fronted by Clinton "Bär" McKinnon, who played in Mr. Bungle, which was fronted by Mike Patton, whose constellation career has shined upon Faith No More, Tomahawk, and the Dillinger Escape Plan, to name a few. In fact, for fans of Mike Patton, Mr. Bungle, and especially, the Mr. Bungle album California, I would suggest reading no further and simply going out and buying this album. Oh, and if you haven't listened to it before, go out and buy California as well. Sadly, Umlaut's heritage may have pushed my expectations just a little too high, because this album simply did not impress me in the end.

I spent some time pondering my response to this album and the difficulty I faced trying to put my response into words. The best I could surmise is that for me, Umlaut's ambition and variety created a confluence that nullified its own virtue.  The album offers so much, yet the wonderful ideas found in Umlaut barely marinate without ever getting off of dead center. Maybe the songs needed to be longer. Maybe the album should have been all instrumental. Maybe Mike Patton should have sung for the entire album. The point for me is that Umlaut lacks direction, and I think that this aimless course eventually set my album experience adrift.

Umlaut ultimately eluded me, but I did manage to enjoy some of the album's high points. I also found it to be a good album to put on if I am ever in the mood to play something that's easy to ignore. For the curious types, be sure and check out 'Atlas Face' (thank you, Gen. Patton), and Dain Bramage, the album's closing track.  And, if you plan to go deeper, give the album the time and space it needs to grow...or meander.

Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings - I Learned the Hard Way - 2010 - "...win, lose, or draw."

Ms. Jones may have lost a love battle or two in her time, but she never lost the lesson or the desire to deliver her tales of woe to the people.

I Learned the Hard Way gets down to business right away and broadcasts the album's message plenty of times throughout: Believe in life after love, no matter how bad the heartbreak. A positive message, yes, although maybe not the most original, and probably not transmitted in the most unique fashion. However, even though the album lacks innovation, it works overtime in authenticity, and this is about where The Dap Kings come in.

Somewhere in the middle of Motown, rhythm and blues, soul, and funk, The Dap Kings finesse Sharon Jones's message across the finish line, and give I Learned the Hard Way the clout it needs to substantiate the viewpoint of the album's narrator. Sharon Jones has something to share, and she needs the right soundtrack to do so.

Where a newer sound might suggest immaturity, The Dap Kings provide a groove that boasts familiarity and foundation, which makes it easy to equate the established sound with wisdom. Wisdom comes with experience and learning from your mistakes, and that is exactly what Sharon Jones wants to impart on the audience.

Despite its authenticity, I Learned the Hard Way began to feel a bit flacid after a few spins. I did, however, manage to recalibrate my expectations about Sharon Jones and The Dap Kings. Much like Slayer, these guys will probably continue to release variations of the same album again and again, and experience neither highs nor lows in the process. This middle-of-the-road approach may bore some, but receptive audience members will know what to expect and will not be disappointed.

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Freaky Styley - 1985 - "...the groove that makes those smooth hips move."

True to name and form, Freaky Styley picks up where the first album left off, which was also pretty much a similar statement by the band: Check out this unique style(y) of ours...and boy is it Freaky.

The 1985 model of Red Hot Chili Peppers thrusts with purpose into territory that gradually propelled the band into the mainstream and would remain a hallmark of their signature style(y). References to nature, Native Americans, the band themselves, and of course, the great state of California run rampant across Freaky Styley. This approach, at least when the Chili Peppers are doing it, usually reaches its stated target, which is to engage in pure, unadulterated fun. After all, this is the band that used to perform its encores in the nude, with each member's ding-dong sheathed in a tube sock.    

On that note, the Chili Peppers revere the topic of sexuality above all else. If The Beatles want to hold your hand, the Chili Peppers want to slide theirs down the front of your pants, and Freaky Styley punctuates this angle with lusty fervor. Boiling the track list down to the simplest of terms, the album pays varying homages in the following order: 1) Banging girls, 2) California, 3) Native Americans, 4) Loving girls, 5) The Red Hot Chili Peppers, 6) Irreverence, 7) Dangerous girls, 8) Unity, 9) Banging girls, 10) Loving girls, 11) Banging catholic school girls, 12) Banging girls, 13) Random nursery rhyme, and 14) Dr. Suess rhyme.  There's a whole lot of shakin' goin' on, indeed.

However, dimensions beyond those of a sexual nature exist within Freaky Styley, and therein lay most of the album's charm for me. Here, we have four white boys from Los Angeles, with a black music icon (George Clinton) at the production helm, playing a strain of music (funk) usually handled by black musicians, filtered through a broader strain of music (rock and roll) originated in part by black musicians. The album also features two songs originally written and performed by black artists (The Meters' Africa and Sly & The Family Stone's If You Want Me to Stay). While R.E.M., Kate Bush, and Tears for Fears were claiming their own respective pieces of 1985, Freaky Styley ambitiously cross-pollinated multiple racial and musical style(y)s with a confident swagger that could only come from the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

In the end, Freaky Styley's hybrid approach may work best for die hard fans and niche audiences. Even Flea (founding member and bassist) noted that the album was "too funky for white radio, too punk rockin' for black." But, there is nothing to lament in that observation. Freaky Styley straddles the fence, (cali)fornicates with it, and probably won't call it in the morning. Maybe not the classiest move, but at least it was a lot of fun.

Albums for the Week of May 2, 2010

This is the week to observe National Star Wars Day (May 4), Cinco de Mayo, and National No Homework Day (May 6). In the meantime, I'll be checking out the following:

1) Deftones - White Pony - 2000

2) MGMT - Congratulations - 2010

3) Smashing Pumpkins - MACHINA/The Machines of God - 2000

4) Stevie Wonder - Talking Book - 1972

Stay tuned.

Primal Scream – Screamadelica – 1991 – “…my light shines on.”

Two albums into their career, Glasgow’s Primal Scream gave us the critically lauded Screamadelica. In the context of 1991, I can appreciate how to get from that album to Achtung Baby or Blue Lines. Even after, I can see how we arrived at Definitely Maybe or the quirkier moments of Hello Nasty.

Screamadelica demonstrates a sonic endeavor that reveals itself in multiple dimensions. Genrewise, the listener has an overfunded offering of dance, dub, and even gospel to absorb. Moreover, the band seems to know this, judging by the possibly self-referential sample of Reverend Jesse Jackson proclaiming halfway through the album, “Today on this program you will hear gospel, and rhythm and blues, and jazz.  All those are just labels.  We know that music is music.” Despite this prismatic audio onslaught, Screamadelica’s character emerges, ever so shyly. In fact, it took several spins before the album got around to making a proper and polite introduction.

Once it did, and it occurred only upon listening to Side A’s closing track, ‘Come Together,’ Screamadelica actually came together for me, and I suddenly became aware of the album’s thematic vitality:  motifs of light (“Gettin’ out of the darkness…”), life (“Plant the path you want to roam…”), love (“I believe in you…”), inner strength and external unity (“Together we got power, apart we got power…”). Oh yeah, and drugs – but in that good, “I’m having too much fun to quit now,” kind of way.

Not to lose itself in the narcotic whimsy of Side A, Side B presents a chronological decline from the listener’s apex (and be sure to check out the track listing): Get loaded, get damaged, come down, reflect one last time on the good memories of being higher than the sun, and ultimately surrender this life while your soul carries on eternal, shining like the stars. As the spirit of the record powers down to its accordion-pulsed epilogue, it bids farewell to itself and the listener, separating itself from the decline and perhaps to be reborn anew someday.

In the end, I can understand why Screamadelica has received its praise over the years.    Nonetheless, I will resist the urge to debate the album or its strength because I don’t want to influence the debates that people should be having.  I merely want to encourage the listen that provokes the potential for such exchange or enlightenment.  Simply put, Screamadelica captures for me the rise and fall of a lifetime presented in a moment during the waning months of 1991, and it’s worth a listen…or two.

Albums for the Week of April 25, 2010

I started selecting a weekly batch of albums to listen to on a weekly basis back in late June or early July of 2010. I used to pick three different albums each week, then four, then five, but I've scaled it back to four albums for manageability and sanity purposes.

Each album is selected for a reason:

1) One album is selected from varying lists of critics' choices on the best albums of all time.

2) One album must be released in the current year...so I can keep relating to the kids.

3) One album is selected by my participation in Doom Guild.

4) One album is selected just for fun.

I didn't keep records on what I listened to until May 24, 2009, and I do have some regrets about the delay. Nonetheless, the Project has constantly evolved since it began, and The MetaList Project blog is the latest in a series of ongoing growth spurts.

This is the list of albums I was spinning when I began this blog in early May of 2010.

1) Primal Scream - Screamadelica - 1991

2) Red Hot Chili Peppers - Freaky Styley -1985

3) Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings - I Learned the Hard Way - 2010

4) Umlaut - Umlaut - 2009

Feel free to follow, discuss, reflect, reject, and/or enjoy.