So This Is the New Year...

Well, it's 2014.

Every year I seem to flutter into a new approach to how to write about music, as one of my driving instincts is to share music, but an audience that is attuned to such a thing is not something I've yet grasped how to acquire (indeed, most of my traffic--what isn't spam--is folks looking at something they already like). Of course, I understand--even my wide splatter of taste is informed more at random than it is by seeking out explicit and continual sources of new material, barring those cases where it comes as a by-product of what I'm doing otherwise, as is most readily seen in my affection for Nevermind the Buzzcocks and much of the music it exposed me to.

So, all I can do is type out words into the ether, maybe here and there actually clicking with someone, and maybe not. This format still seems logical to me, as it has that "hook" of the familiar, surrounded by things that aren't.

I may relax the alphabet, or otherwise change up the progression (as facing Album X, Y, or Z would often leave me faced with forced listening), but I think I'll stick with the overall theme of my own collection, unless I can again wrangle in some of my good friends to include their own thoughts.

What I think should start the year is a countdown of the top 10 albums--for me personally, of course, not necessarily as definitive answers--of 2013, as I own most of them on vinyl as well as CD. There's at least one exception, and that would be number ten, hence this very entry.

It skirts the line for me on a multi-medium purchase, but it's Neko Case's record from last year--I haven't got anything against it, obviously, but also no overriding instinct to double up on it, for whatever reason. I suppose, then, that's why it comes in at ten. I do, however, own all 9 of the others on vinyl, so if I can manage around work, you can look forward to them (or down on them, if you so choose!) over the next nine days.

Cheers to anyone still here to see this!

The Faint - Danse Macabre (2001)

Saddle Creek Records ■ LBJ 180

(Originally LBJ-37 on same label)

Released August 21, 2001

(This compilation released November 1, 2012)

Engineered and Produced by Mike Mogis and The Faint

Side One:	Side Two:
Agenda Suicide Glass Danse Total Job Let the Poison Spill from Your Throat Violent	Your Retro Career Melted Posed to Death The Conductor Ballad of a Paralyzed Citizen

Though it ended up one of the most brief hiatuses I've taken, early June's was instigated by a work-related trip to Council Bluffs, Iowa, which happens to be right next door to Omaha, Nebraska. I currently live in an area where there are barely handfuls of record stores for a good 60+ miles, so hitting a larger college town (like I myself used to live in) was a blessing and a curse: I flew back with a shoulder bag filled with vinyl, and a suitcase veritably lined with CDs. While there, I took occasion to visit the store that the Saddle Creek label operates there in their hometown, inspired more than anything by the associations it has with Cursive, a fellow fan of whom I discovered I was working with (who also shared a love for The Format and a handful of others--and ended up passing me a copy of Cursive's The Ugly Organ on green vinyl!). While I was in there, I did walk out with a copy of Cursive's I Am Gemini, having failed to pick it up already, and (rather amusingly) did finally get a copy of Whiskeytown's Strangers Almanac, an album by a band from the area I last lived in, but thought I should really pick up a record the label itself put out (I Am Gemini being on CD). The Ugly Organ wasn't there (and, as mentioned, I serendipitously acquired it later in the same trip anyway!), so I wandered about until I ran into this.

I remember around the time this album came out, the band was pretty darn hot around the internet, though I was still in my formative musical explorations. I did glance at them, but moved on before anything took hold, eventually picking a copy of the album up on CD many years later. When this edition was released, I first stumbled into the CD/DVD version last year, and suddenly realized I'd really missed something. That was what pushed me to add to it this vinyl version--it's actually the "deluxe edition" which contains not only a second 12" of bonus tracks (remixes and b-sides) but also that self-same 2xCD+DVD set I already have, albeit in far more inconvenient format for a portable medium.

When it originally came out, the record used a different cover, but the rights to use it were thoroughly rejected--even more than a decade later, which is why it continues to use the cover above. Though this new cover was used for the later pressings, for this deluxe reissue it was re-tinted in neon pink instead of its original blood red. It's a weird colour, very eye-catching, and actually feels more appropriate in a strange sort of way--though the red, black, and white colour scheme of the original issue fit nicely with the cynical overtones of the record and its goth-y vibe, the pink hits on the fact that those are not the whole, and it's a ridiculously danceable record (or so I would guess, being as I lack the skill at such activities, personally).

Donald Fagen - The Nightfly (1982)

Warner Bros. Records ■ 23696-1

Released October 29, 1982

Engineered by Roger Nichols (Chief), Daniel Lazerus (Overdubs)

Assistant Engineering by Wayne Yurgelun, Mike Morongell, Cheryl Smith, Robin Lane

Mastered by Bob Ludwig

"Note: The songs on this album represent certain fantasies that might have been entertained by a young man growing up in the remote suburbs of a northeastern city during the late fifties and early sixties, i.e., one of my general height, weight and build.

D.F."

Side One: Side Two: I.G.Y. Green Flower Street Ruby Baby Maxine New Frontier The Nightfly The Goodbye Look Walk Between Raindrops

While I definitively eschew any such categorizations as best I possibly can, I remain fascinated with the lines that are drawn around any work or artist to render it "untouchable" by certain groups. A work or an artist may be unmentionable to fit comfortably under the umbrella of "serious music fan" or "metalhead" or any of the other myriad communities associated with music--some very carefully defined, and others so loose as to be questionably meaningful. I like a lot of artists that cross those lines quite heavily--the first albums I ever owned mystify people to this day, and the first mix-tape I ever had made for me (by my father, partly from my requests, and partly from his own insertions) was a slew of Dr. Demento tracks from various decades and styles ("The Martian Hop", "The Cockroach That ate Cincinnatti", etc) mixed with Paul Revere and the Raiders ("Cherokee Nation"), the Coasters ("Poison Ivy", "Mother in Law", "Yakety Yak"), Tommy James and the Shondells ("Crimson & Clover", "Crystal Blue Persuasion"), and a few odd other tracks I'll occasionally recall out of the blue.

For a time in and around middle school, my taste remained confined by the distance I kept from my father's turntable and thus the questionable volume of music available to someone who didn't look to spend limited allowance-type funds on it. The local library had its share of odds and ends, and I checked some out from them here and there, but two in particular ended up sticking with me for quite a while, as my non-existent owned music meant whatever I had checked out was what I was listening to, short of hitting the radio. Those two albums were--bear with me now, and feel free to look back at other albums I reviewed (and thus own) and drop jaws or shake heads as needed--Billy Joel's Storm Front and Donald Fagen's Kamakiriad. These (and the few albums I would gradually purchase) were strangely important: listening to the same songs from each over and over would have been tiresome with the limited (and tedious) programming capabilities of my cheap (discman-style!) CD player at the time, so I ended up listening to both albums straight through many times.

Intermission V [End of "E" Part 1, Or: Intermission MCMXXVIII]

Ah, "E". If it isn't a big enough giveaway to see how uniform the image above is, it ought to be. Considering 5 of those are the same artist, 3 are another artist, 2 are one more artist...well, it's not really a shock how little there is. How many artists do you like that start with "E"?

Now, I did almost buy the new Electric Six album on vinyl when I saw them a week ago, and that would've made a difference to be sure. A Dave Edmunds album wouldn't be out of the question, either--heck, I've got plenty of Nick Lowe's Edmunds-infused albums, and Rockpile's Seconds of Pleasure, so it wouldn't be too surprising, either. Edsel's records were never released on vinyl, to be fair--though I sure as heck would not turn down their split with Jawbox. Some Brian Eno? Heck yeah. Eyedea & Abilities' By the Throat? Actually, may do that. I look at Bill Evans records pretty regularly, as I do at The Extra Lens (John Darnielle's non-Mountain Goats side project). I almost picked up a copy of Explosions in the Sky's Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Die, Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Live Forever.

But, all that aside, it's pretty well destined to be a pretty shortlisted letter all the same.

Man, to be honest, if I could get my hands on The Elephant Kashimashi's stuff on vinyl--those first two albums, or one of those singles...but, well, those are ridiculously difficult for an American with limited funds to get a hold of. Alas!

Alejandro Escovedo - Real Animal (2008)

Back Porch/Manhattan Records ■ 50999 5 824111 1 9

Released June 10, 2008

Produced and Mixed by Tony Visconti

Engineered by Mario McNulty

Assistant Engineering by Tim Price

Mastered by George Marino

Side One: Side Two: Always a Friend Chelsea Hotel '78 Sister Lost Soul Smoke Sensitive Boys People (We're Only Gonna Live So Long) Golden Bear Nuns Song Side Three: Side Four: Real as an Animal Hollywood Hills Swallows of San Juan Chip n' Tony Slow Down Falling in Love Again I Got a Right

I could completely obscure how I know the name Alejandro Escovedo, but that would really just be disingenuous, wouldn't it? Truth be told, he does a duet with one Ryan Adams on Whiskeytown's Strangers Almanac--one of my favourite records in the world--on a track called "Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart Tonight". A snide reviewer once noted that Adams's music was inferior and a listener might be better off with Escovedo's, seemingly unaware of this connection or, I later found out, a bit of a friendship between the two. That interview was what really pushed me to check Escovedo out for himself: in it, Adams said Escovedo shared an "outsider's" perspective on love, being less defined by it than most and thus able to record it that much more acutely, in a strange way. He mentioned a song ("She Doesn't Live Here Anymore"), referencing it as astonishingly sad and evocative emotionally--which was something that appealed to me a lot in Adams's stuff, particularly that which he did with Whiskeytown.¹

I was out on a business trip in Iowa and Nebraska, which meant a lot of trips to the record stores in Omaha, where I found quite a few things of interest (to the point that I started to stress the space I'd quite deliberately left in my luggage for music to come back with me). One of those "things" was Real Animal: Escovedo's third-to-last album at the time (back in June this year), on sale and predating the CD I'd picked up just previously but not much listened to (2010's Street Songs of Love).

On Failures:

Well, I've successfully failed to maintain an entry a day, a week, and shortly a month, it seems. It's not for lack of interest--it's now for serious lack of time. I've usually got chunks of one filtering slowly into a draft stage, but I've got a lot on my plate at the moment. Now, you're most likely not reading regularly anyway--I don't think anyone does--and indeed have no reason for this to affect your reading one way or the other, be you familiar, unfamiliar, or accidentally present. It is, however, the state of things. I intend to write as much as I am able, that simply seems to be, unfortunately, not an awful lot. That my collection's growth outpaces my writing isn't helping, of course. Still, Alejandro Escovedo's Real Animal has been spinning off and on for a few weeks as I attempt to get that entry together.

Keep checking in, I haven't abandoned ship!

Emperor - Prometheus: The Discipline of Fire & Demise (2001)

Candlelight Records ■ Candle064LP

 

Released October 23, 2001

Produced by Ihsahn

Mixed by Thorbjorn Akkerhaugen and The Emperors
Mastered by Tom Kvalsvoll and The Emperors

Side One:	Side Two:
Eruption Depraved Empty The Prophet	The Tongue of Fire In the Wordless Chamber Grey He Who Sought Fire Thorns on My Grave

I've only touched on black metal here once before, and that was a rather curious and unique example of the genre. Diabolical Masquerade are not at the forefront of most minds when naming bands that fit the bill for the genre--more likely, you will hear Immortal, Mayhem, Burzum, Darkthrone--and Emperor.

I picked this album up from the sadly defunct store Musik Hut in Fayetteville, source of not only much of my metal from years past (on vinyl or otherwise) but also of my "black X" collection, and even a few other oddities indicative of how odd that store actually was. It was intended as a metal/punk/industrial store, but did carry plenty of other and "normal" stuff.

As with much of metal (other than Morbid Angel and Decapitated, and a handful of others)--such as At the Gates--even the classics (like Emperor here) were introduced to me by a single soul, to whom I tend to give credit for most of my metal awareness. He and I still talk metal now and then, of course, but also the odd other chunk of music, since neither of us is married to it in exclusivity.