Posts Tagged ‘Grunge’

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Halloween Albums

October 24, 2008

Halloween is near, and I have started to pick out some spooky favorites from the music library. I figured it might be appropriate to acknowledge some of the more genuinely scary or creepy albums I have come in contact with over the years. Six might seem like a rather arbitrary number, but these releases are of a rare breed and I find each one to be essential to the list. Of course there’s nothing wrong with traditional Halloween music (the Monster Mash, sure), or some other fun retro music that might be appropriate for the holiday (The Cramps!), but if you want something that might really creep you out, this list might be able to help.

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Alice in Chains – Dirt

Alice in Chains’ second album Dirt arrived just in time for the Halloween season in 1992, and took over the grunge scene with its spooky hard rocking style. The album is almost unbelievably advanced past the band’s debut album Facelift, every song taking on its own texturally rich identity. In terms of technical skill, every member of the band is in prime form despite their drug addictions which are reflected heavily in the album’s lyrical themes. The late and great Layne Staley spits “what the hell am I/thousand eyes a fly/lucky then I’d be/if one day deceased” on one of the album’s underhand knockouts Sickman. We can hear both the anger and anguish associated with personal breakdowns and drug abuse. The consistency of the album alone makes it one of the finest albums that grunge had to offer, with a killer lineup of singles, the hammering Them Bones, Vietnam reminiscent Rooster, and possibly the greatest grunge single ever, Would?. But the highlights don’t stop there; the album also has a slew of brooding, slow moving, moody masterpieces (Dirt, Rain When I Die, Down In A Hole), as well as many other sleeper highlights (God Smack is the origin of the name of AiC knockoffs Godsmack, to exemplify the album’s influence). Although Alice in Chains’ best work may be scattered throughout their albums and EPs, Dirt is easily their most representative and possibly most accomplished work, a scary, fun, and emotional masterpiece of its genre.

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Slint – Spiderland

Considered the premier post rock album, Slint’s second and final album Spiderland is made by a band with absolutely nothing to lose. Perhaps it is this that makes it so startlingly affecting. How out of no where the album must have seen at the time is also probably a reason that it was as vastly influential as it is. But legacy aside, Spiderland is quite a scary album by all accounts, softly building damaged melodies out of nothing and then disassembling them again. As soon as the opening arpeggiated harmonics of Breadcrumb Trail start, it sounds like the beginning of the end. This mysterious, slow urgency pulls the listener through the albums six unsettling songs with great anxiousness. All of Slint’s weaponry is fully formed here; their percussive anger, David Pajo’s atmospheric guitars and sense of instrumental tension, and Brian McMahan’s oft whispered creepy poetry. These elements make for six completely perfect songs, the rocking Nosferatu Man, the quiet, brooding Don Amon, the sadly beautiful Washer, and the extremely quiet instrumental For Dinner… It all seems to lead to something, and when it does, we get one of the single scariest and most beautiful songs of the nineties, Good Morning Captain, which evades all explanation. It may disappoint fans that the subsequent two song Slint EP was as far as the band would ever go, but Slint’s three releases, and particularly Spiderland were all they needed to be one of the most important bands of their genre.

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Boards of Canada – Geogaddi

With Board’s of Canda’s second major full length release Geogaddi, brothers Michael Sandison and Marcus Eoin make certain that their love of degradation and psychosis plays itself out on more than just their own production values. In fact, one might be given the false impression of their own mental degradation while listening to the album, it is so elaborately and eerily constructed. Although its format is essentially the same as its championing predecessor Music Has The Right To Children (long pieces dispersed with very short pieces, beat driven IDM), their style is distinctly advanced over their previous works. The album is almost extravagantly detailed with myriad fascinating jigsaw pieces of sound; reversed beats, distorted vocal samples, dissonant chords, and heavy aural contrasts provide the album’s basic groundwork. Although some pieces here are vaguely reminiscent of previous fan favorites (Sunshine Recorder, 1969, Dawn Chorus), every song is highly advanced and vaguely unsettling. Throughout the album Boards of Canada paint as they call it a vast, winding, labyrinthine “journey” through a beautiful and horribly warped dreamland. Once you follow the white rabbit down the hole, something immediately seems very, horribly wrong, and this feeling is played with, turned upside down and inside out at every turn of the album. The more you think about it, the more it scares you, and the more one recognizes its intricacies such as mathematical structures, biblical references, and distorted fascination with the occult, the more one wants to dismiss Geogaddi as pretentious and supersaturated. However, it is a genuinely creepy album, and its ominous atmosphere cannot be denied. And yet the brothers state the ultimate innocuousness of the album in interviews. “…If we’re spiritual at all, it’s purely in the sense of caring about art and inspiring people with ideas.” (interview “Play Twice Before LIstening” by Koen Poolman). Despite what its message is, Geogaddi is an album that genuinely brings you to the brink of your own mind and refuses to let you forget the experience.

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Coil – The Ape of Naples

If any album has ever been literally haunted, or at least come close, The Ape of Naples is the culprit. Created posthumously after Coil frontman John Balance tragically fell to his death over the banisters of his Mansfield home in a drunken stupor, The Ape of Naples is actually a collection of the industrial/electronic band’s leftover material. This makes the overall cohesion of the album nothing short of a small miracle of planning. In fact, it makes little to no sense that this album is more than a rarities compilation, and it is more, much more. Through it’s lengthy textural songs it develops many stories with real life reference points, perhaps outlining both the experiences of the unsettling said ape on the cover art as well as John Balance’s descent into alcohol addiction. The haunting opening chords of Fire of The Mind (the original title of the album) set the stage for an album loaded with treasures, all uniquely disturbing and affecting. Songs call on an eclectic selection of instruments such as accordions, marimbas, horns and pipes, and as always carefully synthesized melodies, beats, and atmospherics. Songs range from gentle to violent, and the album’s transformation is downright scary. The Ape of Naples is an all around great performance from all those involved, but John Balance remains the album’s key player. His voice touches every song in different ways, and his emotion is fluid, sometimes gracing songs with subtle melancholy and other times with spitting anger. The album comes to a close with a cover of the British sitcom Are You Being Served?’‘s theme song Going Up, featuring vocals from Balance’s final onstage performance at the Dublin Electronic Arts Festival in 2004. And with John Balance’s final vocals, locations of bedding materials, tea, and travel products as well as the final direction of an elevator, it isn’t hard to hear him simultaneously falling down and going up.

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Merzbow – 1930

Many non-noise fans may turn on Japanese noise godfather’s quintessential album, 1930, and be disgusted. It is, to put it one way, a deliberately disgusting album, barely music in any traditional sense, and more of a terrifying sound assault. Perhaps best at home in a torture chamber (just how the bondage obsessed Merzbow would like it), listening to 1930 at loud volumes is a potentially terrifying experience that can push one’s sanity to the limit. Once again, it is barely even music, but more an aural representation of a mile high battleship with cannons filling every square inch, all firing at the listener at the same time. Reach for the off switch and the terror goes away temporarily, but curiosity will make you turn it on again at some point, and when you get curious enough to listen to the entire thing, you probably won’t be able to turn it off as much as you want to. There is something almost inhuman and unearthly about 1930 that manages to consistently fascinate here, and even if you can’t bear to turn the volume up higher than a whisper, it is unspeakably overbearing. Everything from the fiery title track to the dizzying cacophony of Degradation of Tape to the final explosive, twenty two minute, ever changing Iron, Glass, Blocks and White, everything here is sheer chaos. For how brutal and unpredictable it is, it is no surprise that this horrifying album is considered a cornerstone of noise music. To say it is good or bad is irrelevant, because it definitely shouldn’t be judged by the same standards as any other album on this list, let alone any form of “art” on this planet.

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Brian Eno – Ambient 4

Brian Eno’s final installment in his Ambient series is possibly the most emotionally startling ambient album of all time, and may be considered to be the first dark ambient album. In that sense it is hard to imagine the entire genre of demonic dark ambient texture without this album as a precursor, although Ambient 4 is anything but paganistic or demonic. In fact, there is little to nothing subversive about Ambient 4 in the slightest, except perhaps its one odd song out, the deliberately creepy Shadow featuring Jon Hassell on trumpet, although if we are talking about scare factor the song is the album’s clear winner. Beyond this song, the album makes its goals known almost instantaneously and follows through with its goals systematically, like the other members of the beautiful ambient family. Moreso than any other album on this list, Ambient 4 carries a wide range of emotions with it, of which horror is only one. The collection of soundtracks to geographic locations here range from touchingly calm (A Clearing) to impendingly scary (The Lost Day). The distant chains of Lantern Marsh, the distorted miasma of Tal Coat, the birds and frogs of Leeks Hills…The album is startlingly emotional in ways that can be simultaneously relaxing and unsettling. On one hand, you get the feeling that at any point during the album someone could appear behind you and cause your heart to skip a beat, and yet at the same time the soundscapes are warm and completely safe sounding. The wide range of emotion here is mostly due to simple skill in production and crafting of music. The soundscapes sound so deftly realistic that the emotion comes quite naturally and makes the overall product quite moving. This may be the one to play on the boombox outside when the trick-or-treaters come by.

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Mudhoney – The Lucky Ones

October 11, 2008

The Lucky Ones is Mudhoney’s third album in three years, following 2006’s Under A Billion Suns and 2007’s live album Live Mud. The godfathers of grunge have not been this prolific since at least fifteen years ago, although their attitude seems not to have changed much since their heyday. This works both to their advantage and disadvantage, but mostly the former. The band’s previous studio album, Under A Billion Suns, was arguably the most dramatic departure in style of Mudhoney’s entire career to that point; politically charged lyrics, slow grooves, noisy horn sections and a crystal clear production made the album one of Mudhoney’s most distinct. It was promptly dismissed as one of their worst. Fans and critics alike seemed to find the new sound uncharacteristic of Mudhoney’s typical shamelessly testosterone fueled punk, and thus undesirable. Undesirable, despite the fact that the album was the band’s best album since My Brother The Cow. Perhaps what turned people off about Under A Billion Suns was the change. What fans love about Mudhoney albums are Mark Arm’s snarling vocals, Steve Turner’s dirty riffing, Dan Peters’ booming percussion, and the distinctively grungy production values that have always supported all of these, qualities that have not diminished in power in twenty years. What Mudhoney fans really love are the occasional noisy, obnoxious, samesy punk releases that the band put out every couple years. But appreciating Under A Billion Suns is a rewarding task that is parallel to more current band issues, namely The Lucky Ones, the loud punk record that fans definitely wanted instead. And the album is probably the band’s most balls out album in over a decade. One might relate the color scheme of the album cover to that of Fun House by The Stooges, and the comparison would be quite valid. Even from the opening number I’m Now, the ass swinging influence of The Stooges is apparent. And continuing throughout, The Lucky Ones is a loud, beat driven, horny album that goes back to Mudhoney’s roots. In fact, many songs here show Mudhoney louder, faster, and more cutting than ever heard before. The album also has momentum that Under A Billion Suns never quite had, saving some of its hardest hitters for close to last. The Open Mind is particularly rocking, maybe even danceable with its off beat accents. But the album’s finest moment, or perhaps second finest only to the scalding title track, is Tales of Terror, a fierce punk dirty bomb that shows every member at possibly the most rocking in their entire careers, particularly Mark Arm, whose legendary screaming vocals aren’t even a tiny step down from what they were in the 80s. If a lack of change is Mudhoney’s minor weakness, it is also their greatest strength. Mudhoney are still kicking ass and taking names, now more vicious than ever before, and although most Seattle grunge bands have fizzled out, these guys are still screwing your daughter and making a ruckus just like they were two decades ago.

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Alice in Chains – Jar of Flies

September 19, 2008

While Alice In Chains made a great deal of angry metallic hard rock, they also made two EPs worth of equally emotive music. Both Sap and Jar of Flies are melancholy EPs that find Alice in Chains at their most vulnerable. While Sap was a fun outing, it was also a little unsure of itself. Jar of Flies, however, perfectly articulates what it is trying to say without missing a step. What makes it so appreciable at first listen is how different it is from any other Alice in Chains release, in that none of the songs have the heavy crunch that the full albums do, and instead rely on texture and simple melodies to do their work.

Launching with Rotten Apple and Nutshell was a dangerous move. These are two of the band’s most well put together songs, and one would think that putting them back to back would make for too difficult of a beginning. But their juxtaposition only does them good. Rotten Apple is the albums foremost statement. Everyone is at their instrumental prime here. Layne Staley works layered vocals like no one else can in wispy flourishes, Jerry Cantrell presents an almost funky sounding guitar solo while alternatively strumming complex but warm chords, Mike Enez’s bassline is the strong supporting undercurrent of the song, and Sean Kinney delivers a knockout drum performance. All of this comes together to make quite a start…sad and affecting, yet somehow fun and digestible, as Cantrell’s fun riffing at the end suggests.

If Kurt Cobain ever wanted to heal the fully realized articulation of what it means for “comfort in being sad,” we can only wonder if he heard Nutshell before his suicide later in 1994. This is likely the saddest song committed to recording, mostly due to Layne Staley’s vocals. His delivery is completely earnest and believable, and when he says that he would be better off dead, we know he means it. Kinney’s steady rhythm sounds almost like the crackling of a campfire. Enez’s bassline is once again the core of the song. Cantrell takes the cake with a memorable chord progression and a muscular solo.

From here the album hits its emotional extreme with the second single from the EP, I Stay Away. This is about the hardest and softest the EP gets, all within the same song. After a short delicate string intro, the song starts its light, emotional verse. Each verse is interrupted what feels like halfway before it should to make way for an angry alternate second verse, which sounds like a slowed down Dirt outtake. The song teeters in this schizophrenic style until it finally reaches its chorus only to be once again interrupted by the angry second verse. When the song finally does hit the entirety of its chorus, the full force of the violin melody does its emotional damage. This song is the blends the sadness that precedes it with the recovery that proceeds it.

And that recovery comes with No Excuses, the disks first single, which pulls the listener up by their collars into something more happy. Instead of settling for despair like the songs before it do, No Excuses, much like Got Me Wrong from the Sap EP, seems to offer a constructive solution to the problem, and therefore lyrically feels very accomplished. It also helps that the song might just be the catchiest single in Alice in Chains’ library. Once again, the performances all around the board are perfect, and by this point we can trust the band. Also notable here is Jerry Cantrell’s excellent backup vocal performance. It is hard to not think of Staley and Cantrell as being one of the best vocal duos in rock history.

Whale and Wasp is the EP’s odd duck, in the sense that it is an instrumental. However, it is just as well constructed a song as any other piece on the disk. Like its title suggests, it also deals with extreme contrast, like I Stay Away, albeit somewhat more softspoken. The song alternates between a minor toned guitar strum that is complemented by sharp, haunting solo tones, and a more happy chord progression that is complemented by a cello solo part. By the end of the song, both parts meld to make a lush major toned melody that acts as a compromise to the conflict that came before it.

After this we have the most tender song on the album, Don’t Follow. The song is a lullaby, the basis of which is a lightly plucked melody on an acoustic guitar from Jerry Cantrell that develops into a gospel piece with Layne Staley’s finest vocal performance on the disk. And finally, the EP is capped off with the funky sounding Swing On This, probably the most positive song Alice in Chains ever made. In fact, Layne Staley does say “I’m okay,” halfway through the song, albeit in his signature haunting doubled vocals, but we believe him here as much as we believed him on Nutshell. The speaker finally gives up being alone and says that it is time to come home, which is a proper resolution to listlessness, confusion, and recovery present on the rest of the album. Jerry Cantrell ends the disk with a similar funky guitar solo to that which ended Rotten Apple at the beginning of the EP.

The magnitude of excellent songs on Jar of Flies would have been enough to make the EP be one of the best ever. These songs are completely confident of themselves and understanding of complex emotions. But its development is what makes it truly striking, and an easy pick-me-up for me when I feel sad. I used to think Sap and Jar of Flies should have been combined to make Alice in Chains’ finest full album, but I see now that this could not have worked. Jar of Flies is perfect on its own. It tests the limits of the artistic possibilities of the EP format and succeeds in revealing a wealth of conclusions of its strengths and boundaries, as well as being a perfectly formed album. And it ended up being one of the top selling EPs of all time, and also being the first to reach number one on the Billboard Top 200. Those numbers don’t lie. This is likely the greatest EP of all time and Alice in Chains’ definitive statement.

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Tool – Opiate

September 15, 2008

Tool guitarist Adam Jones has said of Opiate that the band wanted to put their fastest, most muscular songs out first to make a splash, and it is easy to see how the plan worked and gained the group early popularity. If Tool’s later releases see their ideas fully realized and developed, they are still exhausting and difficult, while the Opiate EP is alternatively short, testosterone fueled, and fairly easy to digest, and probably the reason that Tool were initially grouped into the grunge scene by critics. The single Sweat is representative of the overall style of the album, heavy yes, but also catchy and skillfully written. In fact, it will surprise some that Tool seems to enter their career with great finesse. Adam Jones and Danny Carrey in particular play fast and complex rhythms that would come to characterize the band later on. Maynard James Keenan’s lyrics are the most undeveloped aspect of the band at first notice, but he does tell us up front that he “can say what he wants to,” so it is hard to argue against such confidence. The excellent albums that follow it are superior, but Opiate is anything but insignificant.

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Nirvana – Bleach

September 2, 2008

When I first bought Bleach, it came with a sticker on it, a black and white picture of Kurt Cobain, Krist Novoselic, and original drummer Chad Channing, with the words “This is Nirvana’s First Album” in the signature Nirvana font. This actually makes some kind of sense in the area of marketing, because most anyone who would buy Bleach has already heard the band’s radio hits, of which Bleach has none, and it almost needs to be spelled out that the album is in fact by Nirvana, the same band that tore down as many barriers and rounded up as many fans as they did within two years after its release.

Bleach shows the band in a much different condition than they are best known for. Instead of the later problems with fame, they had a hard enough time putting bread on the table let alone getting noticed when it was being made. It comes as a surprise to many that an album with as much toil and trouble behind its recording and production as Bleach could be so much less monumental in comparison to Nevermind and In Utero, but the album is actually more “grungy” than most everything else was on the grunge market at the time, and it did do some things that hadn’t been approached before.

Instead of combining melodicism and heavy production like Nevermind and In Utero would later do, Bleach seems to waver back and forth between the two. It is hard to listen to the albums pop pieces, Blew and About a Girl, in context with the rest of the album’s stark heaviness, but in that sense this contrast actually foreshadows some of the band’s later work. Side A is the most consistent and powerful, containing the aforementioned hits as well as two songs worth of scalding guitar heroics, School and the Shocking Blue cover of Love Buzz. Much of the rest of the album is extremely heavy, most times to the point where it is rather silly, and also rather poorly written. There are a couple sludgey songs that are heavily inspired by The Melvins, namely Paper Cuts and Sifting. The rest are fast and heavy, with the verses consisting of uninspired riffing with pockets of memorable choruses in between. Lyrically Bleach goes back and forth between interesting and meaningful vocal melodies to scowling potty humor. In short, Cobain has clearly already learned how to write memorable, meaningful hooks, but doesn’t really know what to do with them.

Two essential tracks from the Bleach sessions that are actually very consistent were not included on the original pressing of the album. The 1991 remastered reissue contains Big Cheese and Downer, two of the better songs from the sessions. It makes little sense that these songs were not included on the original release. Big Cheese is a grimey rocker much in the vein of Love Buzz. Downer is the shortest song present, clocking in at under two minutes, but does more damage than many of the albums less accomplished songs combined, presenting a pessimistic world view as well as some of the band’s most memorable riffs from their early years.

Some of these songs may seem dated or cliche, but in fact this is a very early grunge album that most everyone liked and took cues from upon its release. Although it is undeniably patchy, Nirvana mostly have the right idea, and Bleach is one of the heaviest and most influential early grunge albums as well as a document of an era in music, paving the way for Nevermind two years later.

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Pearl Jam – No Code

November 9, 2007

Apple, outlet, Dennis Rodman’s eye, pool ball, rotting teeth, zipper. The cover of No Code confounds and confuses, as does the album in it’s entirety. This album was released during a time when no one seemed to be able to quite figure out the point or overall goal of Pearl Jam in rock music. Jumping from mainstream rock anthems to hard rock, grunge, acoustic balladry, blues, classic rock revival, experimental junk rock, and back again within the span of one album, let alone their entire career, made Pearl Jam a hard band to pin in any area, and upon first listens, some songs or albums may appeal to some listeners and not others. Pearl Jam are a band that writes and plays whatever they feel like, exploring a wide range of issues, while still maintaining artistic integrity and an excellent sense of pure rock and roll. No Code is arguably Pearl Jam’s most diverse, jumpy, and spontaneous album to date, and probably the most prone to being misunderstood. What the hell is Pearl Jam trying to say with this set of thirteen seemingly unrelated songs? What the hell are Pearl Jam all about anyway?

My experience with Pearl Jam has stretched through my entire lifetime, since I was very young and my mother played the records and I heard them on the radio, to my childhood when she stuck with the band when the media did not, to my early high school years when I rediscovered the band and countless songs and hooks that colored my childhood, to now when I am progressively rounding up all the stray material and learning why exactly I enjoy them. When I popped No Code into my stereo years ago, probably six years after it was actually released, I recognized some of the songs and did not recognize others. This scramble of familiarity made things all the more confusing, yet kept me that much more interested and willing to stick with the album.

I began asking myself questions, because that is exactly what adolescents do. They ask themselves questions that they can’t answer, mostly because they are too lazy and don’t want to work hard enough to find the answers. Why do I like this album? Why does the album juxtapose (well, maybe I didn’t know words THAT big) hard rockers awkwardly next to quiet ballads? Why does Who You Are, the song that sounds like it SHOULD be the opener, come third in the line? Who is Jerome Turner? Why does Eddie narrate the lyrics to I’m Open? Is Lukin even a word? Why did this album only come with nine Polaroids with song lyrics on them, not even coving all the songs? And what is with all this cover art, indecipherable phantasmagoria?

It took me several years of occasional listening to unwrap No Code and get to the point where I enjoyed it fully. The songs that stood out on first listen were Hail Hail and Off He Goes, simply because I recognized them. Experiences like the ones I had with these songs were the reason that I started to get so interested in music in the first place. The nostalgia, rushes of memories, and sense of vague familiarity were what made many albums in my mothers collection feel like buried treasure. Although I gravitated to those songs in particular, there were several more that struck me as outwardly fantastic, such as the other single Who You Are. The aforementioned song is nothing short of a masterpiece for Pearl Jam and an accurate representation of No Code. It swirls into view with a pounding beat and is dotted with many tidbits of foreign instrument, such as steel drums and sitars. The sitar is used again to it’s full potential by the time the song has revealed it’s winning hook and cemented it’s place in the listeners ears. That paired with a wonderful guitar solo makes it one of the finest songs on the album.

This excellence is not lonely. It’s easy for me to say that every song on this album is really great, but from a commercial standpoint, Pearl Jam knew how to put their best foot forward with No Code by producing three singles which would become radio staples. Hail Hail, Who You Are, and Off He Goes are all fantastic songs in their own right, and all coming from three completely different directions. Hail Hail is one hell of a riff rocker, Who You Are is an eclectic anthem, and Off He Goes is a gentle acoustic ballad that rivals Daughter in sheer quality. These songs would be enough to reel in the casual listener, which would then be hit hard with all the other great things Pearl Jam has to say here. Every song is finely tuned and unique; Sometimes is a reflective prayer, In My Tree is a driving explosion of glorious sound, Habit is as angry and rhythmic as the preceding album Vitalogy’s Spin The Black Circle, and I’m Open is poetry recited over gentle ambient chords and soft beats. This album has about as much continuity and order to it as a fleeting stage one dream.

And yet somehow it works. No Code ends with Around The Bend, a deceptively simple lullaby of tropical style. This ending is deceptive, but ultimately satisfying and beautiful. The listener naturally expects some kind of stylistic answer or solution within that last song, and this might be yet another unsatisfying venture on the first listen. But like the whole album, it opens up with a little time. This is the brilliant code that is communicated through the album perfectly, that is, there is no code. The second you start to pin down a pattern or style in Pearl Jam, they will undoubtedly change or surprise you. The only way to fully appreciate No Code, and Pearl Jam, is to take several steps backward and look at the full picture. Pearl Jam are an excellent band that make whatever music they want to, with whatever message they feel. The entire notion that Pearl Jam cast away their fan base by becoming more experimental is a sad misconception. Pearl Jam never attempted to alienate anyone. It is not their fault that they have a strong desire to push their creative boundaries, and it is not their fault that their true fans were revealed in the process. In any case, No Code is the keystone to Pearl Jam’s discography, and the picture of excellence by which the rest of their albums should be judged, even their earlier, more revered works such as Ten. It might not make any sense at first, but that makes it all the more fun. No Code is a puzzle which can be solved in a number of ways, all yielding the same solution, a transcendent masterpiece.

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Melvins – The Bootlicker

September 18, 2006

Sorry for the lack of updates on Thursday. I was pretty busy.

All things considered, the Melvins were responsible for a great deal of the grunge scene and are, although not known as so, one of the most influential acts of their age. And yet they sit in obscurity, just how they like it. I wholeheartedly enjoy Houdini for the heaviness if nothing else. To blare Hooch from my stereo is very enjoyable and satisfying. But there is always some kind of nagging feeling that if the band wanted to, they could probably produce something more poppy and outward. Of course, not anything close to pop really, but with a little more melodicism. I was expecting that with The Bootlicker, the second in a series of three albums on Ipecac around the turn of the century, the first being The Maggot and the third being The Crybaby. I was told that this album is where the Melvins strangeness and heaviness was manifested in a more open way. I guess that’s sort of true.

I am a tad disappointed by this purchase, I have to say. Granted, I haven’t heard either The Maggot or The Crybaby so I really only have one third of the intended picture. But I do think I have some kind of understanding of the album. It doesn’t present the Melvins in a more poppy way that the flower on the cover might suggest (the grunge scene really did have a thing with flowers, didn’t they?), but more a stripped down portrayal of an extremely heavy band with perhaps some accoustic guitars. The album in it’s entirety is very creepy and totally not what I was expecting from the band who made songs crafted more from anger and sludge than anything. Taking down the electronic walls does not reveal a more sensitive, enjoyable, and understanding band so much as a deeply disturbed, creepy, and paranoid band. You could easily pile on the guitars at this point and make all of the songs vintage Melvins, but instead they are all very different.

There are a few exceptions though. The only truly non-threatening part of the album is a later segment of Prig, which is a positively beautiful and almost, uh, cute (GASP!) little tune. At a few points, the band does sort of break out of their shell and bring forth a cool hook or something, but for the most part the album is covered in fog, what used to be sludge, slime, and grime. Part of Mary Lady Bobby Kins and Up The Dumper reveal some creepy realities, that while melodicism might be in the bands vocabulary, they have no interest in pursuing the concept without a little of their signature creep in the mix. And as soon as you think the positive attitude could go somewhere, it’s gone. For the most part, the rest of the album is creepy stuff. The song at the front of the pack, Toy, is utterly creepy and atmospheric, and sort of sets the tone for the rest of the album, which is essentailly a disk full of disturbing slow bass and high-hat oriented grooves.

I guess…stand out tracks might include Let It All Be, but it’s nothing you would want on a playlist. Although the track does explore the elusive groove that The Melvins aren’t too bad at delivering and is good background tunage for an urban nightime setting, the song is segmented into another macabre blurb. One thing that this album REALLY has to be desired is organization. Many times, more than one big idea is crammed into a song, and I think that they could have just as easily segmented everything and the album would be a lot less annoying. Out of all the grime, I’d say Black Santa, is one of the more accomplished pieces. It is rather reminiscent of a spaghetti western in some way, maybe if there were more zombies than Native Americans. Fans will find Up The Dumper hilarious. And if prig was decorated with more towering heavy guitars it would be a Melvins classic, at least if the first part. But instead it’s another segmented piece ruined a little by the variation. It is silly and fun in some perverse way nonetheless. And the accoustic guitar part is enough to baffle and bring a twinkle to even the most hardcore fans eyes.

I probably regret buying this album. And yet I can’t help but smile when I see it on my CD rack. There is something proud about it that I can’t explain. I think it probably did what it set out to do and I think it would please the fans pretty well. However, I’m not really a full-fledged fan, so I can’t really say that this was worth the price I paid for it. You can flip on some of the songs for good background music, and there are some more essential tracks on here, but the bottom line is, this is The Melvins in a completely different yet surprisingly confident setting.