|
Check out the CDs on Mr. Hipster's shelves.
|
|
Palace
[palace website]
Viva Last Blues
 |
Paloalto
[paloalto website]
Heroes & Villains
 |
Paloalto
 |
The
Paper Chase
[paper
chase website]
Now You Are One of Us

Stuck somewhere between that Halloween record
you had as a kid with the spooky sounds on it and a musical
representation of the movie The
Others, The Paper Chase uses off-kilter strings and piano
along with the bombast of slap bass and kick drums to drive
home a theatrical house of horrors. The lyrics weave their way
through illness and death and ghosts and general ugliness (as
if you couldn't guess by the guy hanging from a noose on the
album cover). The screech-sung lyrics are coated in reverb,
but are front and center in the bashing tidal wave of chopped
guitar bursts, backing screaming and the occasional snippet
of dialogue from somewhere. The overall effect is a swirling
crazy mess of catchy rock that will drive most insane, but will
totally make 'em listen all the way there. |
Paper Lions
[paper lions website]
The Symptom and the Sick
 |
Paris
The Devil Made Me Do It
 |
Paris, Texas
[paris, texas website]
Brazilliant
 |
Paris, Texas
 |
So You Think It's Hot Here?
 |
Parliament
[parliament website]
Chocolate City
 |
The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein
 |
Gloryhallastoopid
 |
Mothership Connection
 |
Motor Booty Affair
 |
Rhenium |
Trombipulation
 |
Up for the Down Stroke
 |
Pavement
[pavement website]
Brighten the Corners
 |
Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
 |
Slanted & Enchanted

You can't even call yourself a fan of indie
rock if you don't own and love this album. "Summer Babe," the
opening track, is as perfect piece of slacker rock as has ever
existed. From there Stephen
Malkmus and the gang take you on a tour of what a crappy,
old electric guitar and a drum kit can bring to the life of
every white guy who's ever wanted to start his own band. I rarely
deem something a classic, but this one with all of its hisses
and crackles and shambling choruses filled with bedraggled greasy-headed
wonderfulness really is a gateway album (in the way weed is
a gateway drug). One dose--at least in the context of the time
and place in which I first experienced it--will change your
musical world for the better. Every listen makes me love it
just a little bit more. |
Slanted & Enchanted Luxe & Reduxe
 |
Spit on a Stranger ep
 |
Terror Twilight
 |
Watery, Domestic
 |
Westing (by Musket and Sextant)
 |
Wowee Zowee

I think this album got a bad wrap. I mean
it's certainly hi-fi compared to some of their past efforts,
but adding production quality to album releases is a sign of
maturity, isn't it? It's not like they're all of a sudden sounding
like some awful "modern rock" band or something. I
think most of the flak that was originally thrown at this thing
was all based on the fact some called it "all over the place"
and kind of "unfocused." On the contrary, I like to think there
is a loose cohesion to the album that showcases a nice, little
hint of the boys' home state of California. There's a bit of
inland Cali country and jangle that takes some of the edge off
the early fuzz of some of the prior albums. It's not to say
that any of their brazen disregard for being typical has been
worn away, but some of the more mid-tempo stuff showcases a
little bit more of the songwriting that you knew was lurking
in there somewhere. Granted, at 18 tracks you're bound to have
some inconsistency, but I believe time has shown that this is
in fact one of their better albums (my third favorite, in fact),
and worthy of the heaps of praise that it somehow missed out
on when first released. When I just want to chill with an album
that's like a warm blanket, and somehow reminds me of my home,
I throw this one on and float on a cloud of happiness. |
Peach
Siesta
 |
Pearl Jam
[pearl jam website]
Binaural
 |
Lost Dogs
|
No Code
 |
Riot Act
 |
Ten
 |
Vitalogy
 |
Vs.
 |
Yield
 |
Pedro the Lion
[pedro the lion website]
Achilles Heel
 |
Control
 |
It's Hard to Find a Friend

Slower tempo folk-ish songs by a guy who
loves Jesus isn't exactly what I'd call my speed, but Pedro
the Lion is just so damn cute that it's hard to resist. In fact,
I'm hardly bothered by the Christ thing (not being a believer
myself), and it in fact adds an edge to his music that might
not necessarily be there if he was just some secular indie crooner.
I'm always searching for the subtext in his lyrics and applying
my limited knowledge of the church to his questioning lilting.
I guess this could be considered acoustic Christian emo? I mean
the guy is emotional about girls and God, so why not? While
not quite as cathartic as, say, The
Mountain Goats, or as convoluted and intricate as John
Vanderslice, this album is up there in that category. This
is, in my opinion, David Bazan's best album, and certainly up there
on my list of best albums to mope to (especially when I'm totally
mad at The Lord). |
The Only Reason I Feel Secure
 |
Winners Never Quit
 |
Pela
[pela
website]
|
Anytown Graffiti

With Brooklyn bands as ubiquitous these
days as rats in the subway, I was a little whatever about
listening to another. I mean how much talent can be packed
into one borough? Well, it turns out Pela can join some of
their brethren in the star category--if their penchant for
more anthematic rock doesn't get them in trouble. They have
definitely listened to their share of U2
albums (listen to the song 'Tenement Teeth' if you want to
hear almost a direct U2 rip), which gives them that more wide-open
sound than some of the other artsy stuff coming out these
days. Honestly, though, I don't know if I can take another
band with a helium-sucking lead singer, so Pela's more soaring
vocals and masculine (but still sensitive!) sound is like
a breath of fresh air. At times they sound a but like Stellastarr*
on their first album (which always reminds me of Big Country
for some reason), which is a little weird, but they also recall
a little bit of Modest
Mouse's poppier stuff as well. There's something open
and hopeful about this album, which I know is like totally
lame in this era of gloom and doom, but sometimes I want to
feel some glass half full in my music, dammit.
|
Pennywise
[pennywise website]
About Time
 |
Unknown Road
 |
Wildcard/A Word from the Wise
 |
The Pernice Brothers
[the pernice brothers website]
The World Won't End
 |
Yours, Mine & Ours
 |
Phantom Planet
[phantom planet website]
Phantom Planet
 |
The Pharcyde
[the pharcyde website]
Bizarre
Ride II the Pharcyde

Oh
shit! And that's a quote from this stoner party hip-hop album--one
of the greatest of all time. So great, in fact, that some asshole
stole it from me in college. I was lucky enough to be reunited
with the album when, in what I consider a supreme instance of
karma, some idiot at a record label at which I worked threw
it in the discard pile in the hallway. Thank god for tasteless
fuckwads. And I've enjoyed the smooth beats ever since. I just
don't get why there isn't more stuff like this out there. Crap
rap--I just keep passin' it by. |
Labcabincalifornia
 |
Phish
[phish website]
A Picture of Nectar
 |
Photon Band
Oh the Sweet Sweet Changes
 |
Pig
Sinsation
 |
Pimps, Players and Private Eyes
Various Artists
 |
Pinback
[pinback website]
Blue Screen Life
 |
Pinback
 |
Some Voices ep
 |
Pinehurst Kids
Bleed It Dry
 |
Viewmaster
 |
Pink Floyd
[pink floyd website]
Echoes
 |
Pink Noise Test
[pink noise test website]
Plasticized
 |
Pixies
[pixies website]
Bossanova

It's not a good sign that they open the album
with an instrumental. I don't really like instrumentals. In
fact, they always feel like filler to me. If you absolutely
have to do an instrumental, stick it at track seven where it's
not going to do any damage. As it stands, I usually skip right
to the second track, "Rock Music," which is a bit of an atonal
screecher from Black Francis. Oy, finally at track three they
start to hit their stride with the oddball space odyssey, "Velouria."
The echo and reverb does make me a little homesick for the crunching
production of Surfer Rosa, but I have to move on. This
thing starts to fee like an Ed Wood movie at some point. I'm
not really sure why. They do certainly sound more mature on
this album, which is usually a euphemism for sounding tired.
It's more weary than anything else. I'm sure this is the one
on which they were fighting on a daily basis, and Francis was
slowly absorbing the whole band into his sizable girth. Don't
get me wrong, there is still good stuff on this album, but it
just doesn't have that urgency that their earlier stuff had.
It's as if their batteries just wore down a little bit. |
Come on Pilgrim

I'm not sure what's up with all the foreign
language stuff, but this debut by a weird college art rock band
is stunning in its pure energy and innovative take on punk.
Black Francis has his anxious, high-pitched thing going on,
with Kim Deal's echoey backing vocals and the funny Western
ghost thing happening, with the mix of Spanish and English and
general feeling of the American West permeating their songs
(despite being from Mass). The thing is a little scattered,
and a tiny bit one-noted, but it's a solid debut that certainly
hints at awesome things to come. "Losing my penis to a whore
with disease!" is a line that should at least make you want
to listen to more. |
Death to the Pixies
 |
Doolittle

"Debaser" is my second favorite Pixies song.
I f'n love it. I will play it on any jukebox I find just to
piss people off. It's a great, great song. And it starts off
what is actually my second favorite Pixies album (a close second
to Surfer Rosa). I mean, they're such art fags writing
a punk song about a Dali film. It's nerd heaven, and I am their
disciple. They really do reign in the craziness on this album,
smoothing out some of the angles and rough edges in favor of
excellent song writing and more subdued production (anything
is subdued after having Albini twiddle the knobs). Deal's bass
is still the driving force behind these songs, and Black Francis
is coming into his own as more than a yelper. It's actually
funny to hear him sing. He's pretty good. Who can resist "Here
Comes Your Man," really? This is the record that made them the
muscular R.E.M. They were the college
rock gods for the coastal carnivore set. It practically looked
like Francis ate Michael Stipe in that first real video of theirs. |
Surfer Rosa

From the opening downbeat of "Bone Machine,"
Surfer Rosa's first track, you know this album is gonna kick
some ass. Driven by the radical production of Steve Albini (can
this guy make even a shit sandwich sound good?), this album
is all up in your face. And despite there being a lot to grab
onto here, this thing is still all knees and elbows. Black Francis
talk/sings/yelps his way through song after song filled with
skulls and body parts and illusions to things near and far.
There's terror and humor, and even a softer side of a band that
would just as soon give you a hotfoot as spit something vile
in your eye. Everything they do on this album just has an edge
of smart to it. They aren't your daddy's punk band giving the
middle finger and farting into the mic; they're the thinking
man's college rock band. Oddly enough it's actually the Kim
Deal sung song, "Gigantic" that kind of steals the show here.
Like her song with The Breeders,
"Cannonball," of a few years later, this thing just
sticks in your head and begs for you to hit repeat. I know I
wanted to marry her after hearing it. Even "Where Is My Mind"
points to Frank Black's later
career direction and shows us that these guys are not one-trick
ponies. One of the best pure pop punk albums of all time, and
certainly my favorite Pixies record. |
Trompe le Monde

They've obviously turned the page here. Where
as Bossanova sounded tired, Trompe le Monde
sounded refreshed. Refreshedóbut different. It's Black Francis
emerging from his cocoon as Frank
Black, shedding Kim and Joey and Whathisface as he moved
on. He's a guy who loves outer space, and this album has it
in spades. What it doesn't have is a lot of Kim Deal vocals
(shame, really) and her spare bass lines. But back arethe more
driving beats, the energy and the feeling that somebody gives
a shit. It's the album that Frank had obviously been itching
to make for years. Again, I really don't love the production
on this thing, as everything seems to be buried in reverb and
whatnot, but it's a much better output than you'd generally
see from a break-up album. Of course the year after this came
out was also my sophomore year at Syracuse when we lost to UMASS
in the NCAA tourney, and every Masshole from here to the end
of time screamed "It's educationaaaaaaaaaaal!" up and down the
halls. Or maybe that was just in my head. It makes me wonder
what the hell the Violent Femmes
would sound like if they had continued on. Probably like crap. |
The
Plastic Constellations
[the
plastic constellations website]
Crusades
 |
The
Pleased
[the
pleased website]
Don't Make Things
 |
Plug
Drum 'n' Bass for Papa
 |
Poi Dog Pondering
[poi dog pondering website]
Volo Volo
 |
Polara
C'est la Vie
 |
The Police
[the police website]
Ghost in the Machine

This is The Police's Use Your Illusion
(Outlandos being their Appetite for Destruction
and Zenyatta their Lies) as they really expand
their sound to include strings and synths, horns and all sorts
of gobbledygook. This is their rock opera, their shining moment.
This is the one that put a Police t-shirt on the back of every
kid between the age of 12 and 25. Shit, these guys get away
with singing in French! They spawned an awful Sylvester Stallone
movie with one of their songs, and rang in the era of the nerds
taking over the world. But again, I don't love this album. Maybe
I'm just a contrarian or a stick in the mud, but the thing is
too produced for my taste. Don't worry, I didn't like that Guns
n' Roses stuff either. |
Outlandos D'amour

Best debut ever. Figures I would like the
first, and the rawest, of The Police's albums the best. This
thing just has so much urgency and verve, it's sick. I could
listen to "So Lonely" on repeat for days on end. I mean "Roxanne"
was genre-busting, and the whole reggae flavor gave a little
something for hipsters, stoners and rockers alike. These guys,
despite some calling them punks or mods or whatever, were really
nothing but jazz nerds, but this was the closest a bunch of
music dorks could get to rock "n roll glory. "And you're brother's
gonna kill me and he's 6'10" was heard again and again on my
sweet, beige Fisher Price record player, and it never failed
to elicit giggles of glee. Awesome. |
Reggatta de Blanc

My "band" in high school played "Message
in a Bottle" at a talent show. We sucked. We did worse than
suck, we super-sucked. I was actually the singer and have a
pretty hard time memorizing lyrics. I lost my lyric sheet and
basically kept screaming blahblahblah-o through a tiny Gorilla
amp. We were punk, dammit! You can tell by the cover of this
thing that the guys have matured quite a bit in the one album
since their debut, Outlandos D'amour. The sound on
this one is much more dense (despite remaining a trio), but
the songs much less memorable (aside from the aforementioned
"Bottle"). They just don't seem to be having as much fun here.
Don't get me wrong, the album doesn't suck or anything, but
they certainly hit a mini sophomore slump in my opinion. |
Synchronicity

Listening to this, The Police's last album,
in the context of their other albums, you'd almost think this
was a different band. Where's the light? This layered, dark-ass
album is obviously a break up album, a last in a storied career,
but it's so much deeper and darker than their others, you'd
think something horrible happened to these guys. Not that this
stopped them from somehow getting even bigger than they were
after Ghost in the Machine came out. They were omnipresent
after the release of this album. You couldn't pick up a magazine,
change a channel or walk into a store without seeing images
of Sting (and the other two). I had this thing on constant repeat
in my mom's car and the Sanyo tape deck at home. Everyone fast
forwards through "Mother," but the rest of the agoraphobic,
paranoid, semi-nuclear album is a really weird amalgam of death
and pain and stalking and odd key signatures and a really forward-thinking
album that was way ahead of its time. |
Zenyatta Mondatta

There we go. Let's put Reggatta
behind us and get down to business. We're no longer the punk
kids having a ball on Outlandos D'amour; we're a genuine
band with a serious streak. We've hit our stride and found our
voice. We're a pop rock band with a world music lilt. We use
a rock base and throw in the kitchen sink. We're a good time,
but in a serious musician kind of way. We want people to enjoy
music, not be challenged by it. We make memorable tunes that
can be hummed and loved by men, women and children alike. We
have broken into the main stream cool with this album, and we
ain't looking back. This is the album that made you want that
Police poster on your wall (despite "De Do Do Do, De Da
Da Da"). |
Robert Pollard
[robert pollard website]
Choreographed Man of War

Sigh. I can't believe I went and bought another
one. I mean what is my tolerance level here? I think this makes
number five in a solo career that runs in parallel with his
fulltime job as front man for Guided
by Voices. It seems right from the start that Pollard has
actually done some editing on this album, trimming the track
count to ten (about half the normal runtime). I gotta say, though,
I don't love this album. I know it's supposed to be some of
his most mature work, but I've proved time and time again that
I don't go for mature. It's almost too dense for me. The vocals
are too buried in the mix, and there sounds like there are too
many people in the room. I guess I'm just getting tired of the
shtick at this point, or the songs aren't the little nuggets
they once were. He feels almost as thought he's trying too hard
to not be that guy anymore. |
From a Compound Eye

I really did give up trying to track Pollard's
solo stuff after Choreographed Man of War. That album
felt like a good spot on which to sever my loyalty and take
a break from the Fading Captain Series and the Douchebag on
a Cliff series and the whatever he felt like tooling around
with that week series. It just felt like the man was dumping
all his boxes of old tapes on us and charging us to help clean
out his closet. I'm not sure what brought me back into the fold
with this one, but I suppose it was the demise of GBV
and my longing for just one last blast of Pollard. I think that
rest did me well, as some of the stuff on this album (despite
it being way too long at 26 tracks) sounds different from where
I left off. Sure there's still the Beatles/Who
obsession, and the lyrics that make about much sense as an old
Cronenberg movie, but he does mix it up a bit since my last
exposure, mixing in some time signatures and swings in tempo
and production quality. Shit, the song "The Right Thing"
could have been a Live song off of
Throwing Copper or something. He even shows a softer
side on a few songs, and delves into some darker stuff as well.
It makes me happy to at least hear some variation here, some
new sounds and a kind of growly thunder that he seemed to be
missing on previous efforts. There is a song on here that reminds
me of Steely Dan' "Rikki Don't Lose That Number,"
which kind of scares the crap out of me, but whatever. |
Kid Marine

This album starts off with "Submarine
Teams," which features some sort of weird thing going on
throughout the song that sounds like some crazy person shivering.
Amazingly it works in the wacky world of Robert Pollard, and
is a really decent song. In fact a lot of songs on this record
have stuff going on in the background, and all of it isn't tape
hiss. Three albums into his solo career (while still putting
out GBV albums), Pollard
has dialed back the homemade thing somewhat in favor of crafting
fully fleshed out songs. The one issue that has plagued him
throughout his career is the flame out syndrome of starting
a song really strong and then it just kind of going up in smoke
ninety seconds in. He's like the songwriting equivalent of a
Saturday Night Live skit. It seems here he's trying
to actually present songs, and not just quickly scribbled good
ideas. |
Normal Happiness

Wow, it's the new "peppy" Robert Pollard.
Sunshiny and ready to rock ën roll. Of course he's just as obtuse
as ever, with tittles like "Supernatural Car Lover" and "Pegasus
Glue Factory," but the album itself somehow feels more coherent.
It could be the good mood that Bob has all of a sudden found
himself in, or just the overall tone of the thing, but it's
certainly a departure from his normal sequencing. I do dig the
production better here too. The wall of sound crunchiness has
faded away, and left the music and Pollard's voice to speak
more for itself. Gone is all the gimmickry, too, letting the
good stuff bleed through. This is his most listenable solo album
so far (and it only took eight tries). There is one song, "Gasoline
Ragtime" that sounds oddly Police-like
to me, and kind of freaked me out a little bit the first time
I heard it. Sure it ain't arty and deep, but this is actually
a pretty good little sunny pop album. |
Not In My Airforce

It's always difficult detangling Robert Pollard
from GBV. I mean they are
one and the same. So what happens when the man that is the band
goes solo? And what happens when the other man from said band,
Tobin Sprout, also releases
a solo album at the same time? The temptation is to compare
the two solo albums against the band output, and then against
each other. Who was the real talent here? It turns out, of course,
it's impossible to tell because Pollard was so tight-fisted
about song writing on the GBV albums that Sprout's voice was
all but drowned out on those records. Listening to Not in
My Airforce, Pollard's debut solo record, we still hear
a lot of Alien Lanes GBV going on. Little pop ditties
buried in home recording quality hiss, and lots of subdued guitar
plucking. This is a decent intro into the ever expanding mind
of Robert Pollard, and is probably one of his better solo records
for those fans of the older GBV stuff. |
Speak Kindly of Your Volunteer Fire
Department

Whoa, did Pollard actually use a professional
studio for this one? There has been a general trend towards
cleaner production with each of his solo efforts, and this,
his fourth, sounds, dare I say, almost professional. It's not
like the guy has gone all Radiohead
on us or anything, but it's nice to actually be able to hear
the bass in his tracks for once. Of course with the fuller sound
comes some loss of intimacy, but this is a guy who's always
wanted to be Roger Daltrey (with the leg kicks and everything)
so there was no way he'd shy away from the stadium sound forever.
Again, I can't imagine any of these songs being played for a
packed Wembley Stadium or anything, but even baby steps for
this geezer is an amazing act of contrition to a lifelong fuzzmaster.
One does wonder at this point how he chooses what goes on the
GBV albums versus what gets
the solo tag. Of course the parallel GBV album at this time
was Do the Collapse, which was produced by Ric Ocasek
(complete with his keyboards and shit), so it's not like this
record sounds even close to as polished as that one. I think
this, however, was where I started to wonder when the hell he
was going to stop pumping out these albums. My patience for
spending money was wearing thin. |
Waved Out

Another album of Pollard doing his thing.
This, his sophomore solo effort, is a little less hissy than
his debut, having a more fleshed out sound, but still following
the same Ohio by way of England lo-fi guitar rock vibe with
nonsensical lyrics and a definite feeling that he's enjoying
himself. He even tries to rock it out stadium style (albeit
in a lo-fi kind of way) on "Subspace Biographies,"
which is not a bad bashing rock song if I do say so myself.
Pollard also clearly has a "Norwegian Wood" era Beatles
fascination that busts out on certain songs, but then quickly
hides behind another straight-up rock song. He even experiments
on this one with some oddball noises like on "Whiskey Ships"
(a song that reminds me of Archers
of Loaf for some reason) where there's some sort of bizarre
stereo huffing going on. It's a solid output, but still feels
like a bit of an extras thing. |
Jonny Polonsky
[jonny polonsky website]
Hi My Name is Jonny
 |
There Is Something Wrong With You
 |
Pond
[pond website]
Pond
 |
The Practice of Joy Before Death
 |
Rock Collection
 |
The Ponys
[the ponys website]
The Ponys
 |
Poor Righteous Teachers
Holy Intellect
 |
Pure Poverty
 |
Pop Will Eat Itself
[pop will eat itself website]
This is the Day. . . this is the Hour. . . this is this!
 |
Portastatic
[portastatic website]
I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle
 |
The Nature of Sap
 |
Slow Note from a Sinking Ship
 |
The
Posies
[the
posies website]
Failure
 |
Possum Dixon
Possum Dixon
 |
The Postal Service
Give Up

Ben Gibbard can write lyrics that would make even the most ardent metalhead melt. There is a nostalgia he manages to invoke that is remarkably unique. His normal gig, penning/singing songs for Death Cab for Cutie, allows him his indie rock outlet, but this collaboration with Jimmy Tamborello of Dntel gives him that electronica cred that all indie dudes crave. Okay, maybe not crave, but... While this is certainly a collaboration, all the bleeps and bloops can't cover up the fact that this is very much a Gibbard-sounding album--if he was dropping new wave albums in 1986. They keep the album nice and poppy, without spinning off into that esoteric electronic noodling and repetitive looping crap I hate so much about elctronica music. Yup, it's good. |
Poster Children
[poster children website]
Daisychain Reaction
 |
Flowerplower
 |
The Presidents of the United States of America
The Presidents of the United States of America
 |
Preston School of Industry
[preston school of industry website]
All This Sounds Gas
 |
Pretty Girls Make Graves
[pretty girls make graves website]
Élan Vital
 |
Good Health
 |
The New Romance
 |
Primal Scream
[primal scream website]
Screamadelica
 |
Primus
[primus website]
Brown Album
 |
Frizzle Fry
 |
Pork Soda
 |
Suck on This
 |
Tales from the Punchbowl
 |
Prince Paul
Politics of the Business
 |
Prince Po
The Slickness

What was old is new, making all those old
rap CDs and tapes I have collector's items. That's why I get
props from the current rap aficionados for my Ed O.G. & the
Bulldogs and KMD tapes. Amongst the
old coming back to take the scepter of rap is Prince Po, formerly
of Organized Konfusion.
Yeah, it ain't bling-bling rim-rappin', but neither is it that
"backpack rap" that I love but puritans dismiss as whiteboy,
college music. I am a whiteboy college grad, so maybe
that's why Prince Po appeals to me, but the whole package is
class from start to finish--just look at the embossed album
packaging. The production is top-notch, with the help of the
producer of the moment, Danger Mouse.
There is also enough variation from track to track that he manages
to avoid the typical hip-hop second-half letdown. In the song
"Social Distortion" guest MF Doom
(the best guest one can get, ever) unleashes one of the best
lines ever: "Bum, feel the sting linger / wrote this humdinger
with a dislocated bling finger." Now that's some classic stuff. |
Prodigy
[prodigy website]
The Fat of the Land
 |
The Promise Ring
The Horse Latitudes
 |
Nothing Feels Good
 |
Thirty Degrees Everywhere
 |
Very Emergency

This generation's emo is crap. They have
like Red Jumpsuit this and Three Times Dope that. It's all garbage
sung by pretty-boy whiners. Where are the lead singers with
lisps and songs about the Jersey Shore and stuff? Here they
are, you little punk-asses. Granted, TPR has already turned
seriously towards the commercial spectrum with this album, but
I can't help loving these hook-filled tunes of partying and
loving and leaving and band members and whatnot. Honestly, the
songs are kind of nonsensical, but belted out with such pop
abandon, that I don't give two craps about it. There's just
something life-affirming about these tunes that doesn't come
with the Sorrow Parade or Wednesday's Baby, or whatever these
latest bands are called. I mean The Promise Ring have lyrics
like "You dropped a bomb on my bad day" for god's sake! That
shit is brilliant. The brilliance is short, unfortunately, but
leaves that nice, minty flavor in your mouth as it fades into
the crapfest that TPR becomes with its very next output. |
Wood/Water
 |
Psychefunkapus
[psychefunkapus website]
Skin
|
Public Enemy
[public enemy website]
Apocalypse 91. . . The Enemy Strikes
Back

I remember waiting for this album at our
university's "Midnight Madness" sales. It went on sale the same
day as Guns N' Roses' Use Your Illusion. Looking at
the line snaking around the student center, it wasn't immediately
evident who was there for what album. It seemed PE had been
adopted by white kids galore, and in a lot of cases those same
students who were there for GnR were there for the PE album
also. It's ironic then that this is he most political album
these guys had put out; the most whitey hating. So goes music.
For me this album was a bit of a letdown. Gone was the sonic
attack of "Terrordome" and in its place, a bit of a throwback
to Yo! Bumrush the Show and It Takes a Nation of
Millions and its bombast. |
Fear of a Black Planet

What a way to usher in the 90s. These were
the days of anger and genuine concern. Bloods and Crips were
still in the news every day. We were only a couple years from
the height of that violence, the LA Riots, and things seemed
in flux. It's not only because I was myself in flux, graduating
high school and packing for the East Coast and college that
this album managed to capture a lot of the turmoil around me
and the world at large. I believe I almost spit out my drink
the first time I heard "Welcome to the Terrordome." It's just
a swirl of craziness and aggression and to this day makes the
hair on the back of my neck stand up. Even with its blatant
anti-Semitism, I can't fault the thing, as it's just a stream
of consciousness rant against everything. These are people who
have the audacity to sample themselves, for Christ's sake. It's
a bouillabaisse of hate spewed at everyone, even blacks themselves.
Wow. Whereas It Takes a Nation of Millions still looked
inward somewhat--often talking about themselves in context--this
album is outward facing, looking at society at large. "Burn
Hollywood Burn" is an indictment on the film business and its
subjugation of blacks, "911 is a Joke" about the differential
treatment of poor people when it came to public services and
"Fight the Power" just sums up everything this album is about.
|
Greatest Misses
 |
It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back

One of the best and most important albums
of all time. This thing is just so fierce and relentless in
its assault on the senses that you can't help but sit up and
take notice. Anything that could unite groups of white teens
behind a message of black power and make them memorize entire
songs filled with complicated lyrics filled with attacks on
the white establishment has to be something special. I speak
not only about myself, of course, but friends and foes alike.
Yeah, I was the douchebag white kid with a P.E. t-shirt my freshman
year of college. I used to wear it to my private all-boys high
school my senior year, so what could the harm be in wearing
it to college? Man, that lasted about one week. I realized there
are people that had more than the amazing music in mind when
listening to this stuff. To me, the message was clear (but not
applicable), but it was the sheer power of Chuck D's voice and
Terminator X's driving rhythms and samples that just drew me
in. I can still recite "Don't Believe the Hype" and "Night of
the Living Baseheads" by heart and still love the hell out of
those songs. The first time I heard this it blew my mind. Thinking
of it today in the context of what existed back then I still
can't believe it exists. And, in parting, I will leave you with
the most oft written letter of my college career:
Dear Mr. D -
We're suckers. We want you for our Army--or whatever.
Regards,
The Government |
Yo! Bum Rush the Show

Like the Beastie
Boys' Licensed to Ill, Yo! Bumrush the Show
is a debut that is great in its own right, but doesn't necessarily
represent what the artist is or would eventually become. That
may have to do with Rick Rubin being at the controls, or it
may just have to do with a group trying to find its bearings.
Whatever the case, this is a much more stripped down Public
Enemy, all boom and bass and bragging about how "bad" they are.
The thing is here, that with Chuck D. pushed way up front, the
album has some immediacy and strength that a lot of other rap
albums at the time didn't. After all Chuck is the power behind
the group, his voice the siren call. This is best shown on "Miuzi
Weighs a Ton" and "Timebomb." He's the scary black man who just
needs to mention his uzi and not necessarily brandish it to
scare the crap out of white America. There's an intelligence
(if such a thing can be said) behind the swagger. The production
has a funny echo about it, and I don't recall hearing another
album in my many years of listening that sounded quite like
it. It's as if the group is in a large industrial space or something,
but I'm sure is just a recording trick where there's a lag between
left and right and whatever. Anyway, it sounds pretty awesome. |
Puzzle Gut
Puzzle Gut
 |
|
| Home
| Booze & Grub
| Movies
| Music
| Books
| Diary
| Randomness
|