#338: Tim Buckley - Happy Sad (1969)

Zack: Originally, I only knew Tim Buckley as blog-favorite Jeff Buckley’s negligent, dickish dad. Now I know him for GRATUTIOUS XYLOPHONE. Seriously, not since my 2^nd grade music teacher has anyone demanded more xylophoning. Technically, my first impression wasn’t quite correct. It turns out that the instrument in question was actually a vibraphone, not a xylophone. Which just means GRATUTIOUS VIBRAPHONE. Once I got over the excessive vibraphoning, I noticed that Happy Sad is sort of like an inverse Nighthawks at the Diner. Both albums are quite good, feature heavy jazz influences on artists who made their reputations in other genres, and have some great jam sections. But where Nighthawks adds a little grit to everything in his path, Tim Buckley is content to leave the songs as pleasant as possible. Overall, Happy Sad was a good album, even if the vibraphone was a bit distracting.

Favorite Tracks: Gypsy Woman; Buzzin’ Fly; Dream Letter

Emily: I picked Tim Buckley (a) because Zack put 2 of his albums as choices for this part of the list, not-so-subtly influencing me to choose one; (b) because of the potential relationship to Jeff Buckley, based purely on last name alone (and my instinct turned out to be right, as Tim was Jeff's father); and (c) because I was intrigued by the concept of Happy Sad. Would the album jump between happy and sad, like manic depression? Would it blend the emotions together into soulful musings? Would it be neither happy nor sad, just selecting the name to deceive listeners? After a listen, it seems that Happy Sad is all three of those. Some tracks are more psychedelically upbeat, reflecting the optimism of the era, while others are more plaintive and introspective. But the concepts of happy and sad blend throughout the six tracks with influences from jazz, folk, and psychedelic rock, creating an album full of interest and emotion that I will certainly return to again.

Favorite Tracks: Gypsy Woman; Sing a Song for You; Buzzin' Fly

#337: Barry Adamson - Moss Side Story (1989)

Zack: Each song on Moss Side Story can be placed in one of three categories: songs that would be much better if Kanye was rapping over them, songs that April Ludgate definitely has on her Grzzyltunes, and songs that I’m pretty sure were on the soundtrack for a GameBoy remake of a classic Final Fantasy game. It’s very dramatic. It’s also not very good. Sometimes you can listen to movie soundtracks and marvel at how they capture the energy that a scene needs to emit. Moss Side Story sort of fluctuates between these emotions; sometimes it’s meant to be creepy, others jovial. It never really feels remotely cohesive, let alone like it’s telling a story without needing visuals or even words. Overall, Moss Side Story will probably go down as one of the kookier albums we’ve listened to, which is not a category filled with flattering company.

Favorite Tracks: Autodestruction; Suck on the Honey of Love; The Man with the Golden Arm

Emily: Moss Side Story purports to be the soundtrack to a fictional movie. Well, if it were an actual movie I don't think I would watch it. I don't know what kind of movie it would be, since the music jumps around from Hitchock-noir to James Bond action to what I presume are hidden nods to West Side Story (considering the album title and all). An instrumental soundtrack is meant to enhance a story, not tell it itself, and in either sense I don't think this album succeeds. 

Favorite Tracks: The Man with the Golden Arm; The Swinging Detective; Central Control

#336: Funkadelic - Maggot Brain (1971)

Zack: I love me some Parliament, and I was expecting and hoping for largely the same from the sister band, Funkadelic. I did not get pseudo-Parliament, but I’m not disappointed by that at all. Maggot Brain blended more genres – most noticeably psychedelic rock – instead of cultivating narrower funk sound. The result is breathtaking. Starting with a mind-unraveling, 10-minute guitar solo in the title track, working through a bunch of quicker, more upbeat songs, and finishing with another abstract conglomeration of a song, Maggot Brain feels like a musical journey. It sort of reminded me of a sandbox video game. Even though the album is a contained 37 minutes, it feels sprawling, with near-infinite ways for a listener to access it. The closest comparison I can make isn’t Mothership Connection, but actually Dark Side of the Moon. And much like that masterpiece, Maggot Brain is clearly an album that I will cherish for many years to come.

Favorite Tracks: Maggot Brain; Super Stupid; Hit It and Quit It

Emily: I really didn't know the difference between Parliament and Funkadelic until today. They're kind of the same band since they're both headed up by George Clinton, and nowadays they tour and perform together rather than separately. But they started out as separate projects, so they're also different bands. I think they're best characterized as two sides of the same funky coin. While Parliament is driven more by classic funk and soul, Funkadelic takes its funk roots and adds in '60s psychedelic and rock. The result is unusual, unexpected, and captivating. While Parliament wants you to gotta have that funk, Funkadelic dares you to think about it.

Favorite Tracks: Hit It and Quit It; Super Stupid; You and Your Folks, Me and My Folks

#335: Creedence Clearwater Revival - Cosmo's Factory (1970)

Zack: A few years ago, I convinced a friend of mine that what our 6 a.m. shift at the sporting goods store where I worked needed was a Johnny Cash Pandora station. This is one of the rare examples of a good decision made at that time. It turns out that Pandora has absolutely no idea what to do with that request, or at least it was perplexed then. It just kept playing Johnny Cash and Creedence Clearwater Revival, at about a 2:1 ratio, with almost no other artists appearing. Seriously, it went something like Cash-CCR-Cash-Cash-Dylan-CCR-Cash-Haggard-Cash-Cash-CCR. It was hilarious and sort of awesome. That’s probably the last time I ever thought about Creedence Clearwater Revival. We didn’t skip those songs, so I won’t say that I went into Cosmo’s Factory with any sort of animosity toward the band. But I think it would be fair to categorize my feelings as apathetic. I wasn’t expecting to love this album. But I totally did. A lot of songs started out in the “pretty good, four stars” category before ripping into an awesome guitar solo and winning me over to “WOW! FIVE STARS” fandom. CCR have a knack for finding the sweet spot before a cool jam session in the middle of a song becomes unbearably long. They never push the boundaries of your patience, always wrapping up at just the right time. I’m not going to make a CCR station or anything, but I suddenly feel much more positive about the skewed ratios on my Cash station for sure.

Favorite Tracks: Who’ll Stop the Rain; Run Through the Jungle; Up Around the Bend

Emily: I really didn't know anything about CCR before going into listening to Cosmo's Factory. I knew they were classic rock, and based on the early-70s release date I figured there'd be a little bit of country or blues going on among the guitar solos too. I wasn't entirely off base, but I was surprised by the '50s soul and rock & roll influences throughout the album. A couple songs were spot-on Little Richard (in fact, there was even a lawsuit about that similarity), but CCR fared much better when pairing the '50s elements with their own style of '70s blues-rock. This was best exemplified by their 11-minute-long, guitar-solo-filled take on I Heard It Through the Grapevine. That song makes classic Motown into classic rock, which is definitely a fusion I can get behind.

Favorite Tracks: I Heard it Through the Grapevine; Who'll Stop the Rain; Up Around the Bend

#334: Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes (1992)

Emily: I picked Tori Amos for this batch because she was the only artist in the group of alternative musicians that I even recognized. I thought that I was vaguely familiar with her music, but now I think I had her confused with someone else - I didn't recognize even one song on Little Earthquakes, even the ones that were singles/famous (according to Wikipedia). Even though I was surprised by my lack of familiarity, my surprise was pleasant as I listened to the album. Amos's piano-driven ballads add folk elements to alternative sensibilities, telling stories with both the lyrics and sounds. Many of the songs had a lyrical quality that I could easily imagine accompanying emotion-filled modern dancing or ballet. I think it deserves further listens to really delve into the lyrical content (like you get more easily on the a cappella track Me and a Gun), but after one time I'm more than willing to hear Little Earthquakes again.
Favorite Tracks: Crucify; Leather; Me and a Gun

Zack: Little Earthquakes is sort of an unconventional alternative album, which is saying something given how eclectic that genre tends to be anyway. It’s mostly piano-driven and thrives off of generating atmospheric music that teleports you to some foreign location. Overall, I liked it, but it seems to me to be the sort of album that you really need to crawl into to really appreciate, and I’m not sure that I’m ready for that sort of commitment.

Favorite Tracks: Crucify; Leather; Winter

#333: Gary Numan - The Pleasure Principle (1979)

Emily: As with most new wave artists that I actually recognize, I knew Gary Numan from various retro Vh1 shows. I think Cars was either on the One Hit Wonder list or the top songs of the '80s list. Maybe it was both, I don't actually remember. What I do remember was the super-'80s video with keyboards and weird jump cuts that totally fit with the robotic synth sounds of the song. Cars is featured on The Pleasure Principle, and the rest of the album embodies the same early new-wave vibe. It's clearly influenced by Kraftwerk, but with a more British than German sensibility. It's definitely a product of its era, but not a bad way to spend 45 minutes.
Favorite Tracks: Cars; M.E.; Observer

Zack: Gary Numan is responsible for my favorite Foo Fighters cover songs (and one of my favorite songs off the Colour and the Shape’s Deluxe Edition). He can add another distinction to his resume as well: A new wave album I actually liked. That’s been a rare creature these past 4+ years (!), but Numan delivered. Part of it is I think he does a great job of coupling the inherently isolationistic sounds of synthesizers with lyrics that match. The album, from start to finish, felt congruous, which is not something I can say about a lot of the album from the era we’ve come across. It’s also short enough that the synths he uses don’t quite get repetitive. Towards the back end, I started to have a bit of trouble distinguishing when songs ended and started, but on the whole each song felt crisp. Overall, Pleasure Principle is sharp and clearly stands out as a just plain good album.

Favorite Tracks: Films; Cars; M.E.

#332: Cheap Trick - At Budokan (1979)

Zack: I knew Cheap Trick primarily from Guitar Hero 2 and from occasionally asking coworkers who played the generic rock songs that played during work back in my retail days. Apparently, before this album came out, that was a totally appropriate level of knowledge for an American to have. But Japan had a weird thing for Cheap Trick, possibly involving eels or tentacles, which led them to perform a live album there that then was exported out to the wider world. Establishing a home base in Japan then migrating to the Americas may seem like the sort of strategy your friend who pregamed Risk too hard might try, but it evidently worked for Cheap Trick. And I will give them credit for not mimicking the common folly of the live album by making it too long. At just 42 minutes, they get in, play 10 generic-sounding rock songs, and get out. Some of those songs sound very familiar to anyone who has spent time on a classic rock station. Some don’t. None of it is particularly memorable, save for all the screaming in the background that really makes you wonder if Japanese Cheap Trick fans had access to any superior, or just any other, music from the era.

Favorite Tracks: Need Your Love; I Want You to Want Me; Ain’t That a Shame

Emily: In the great movie This Is Spinal Tap, the titular band has a total career meltdown, but ultimately finds success in Japan. The movie shows the band in front of thousands of screaming Japanese fans who embrace them wholeheartedly after their native country had left them for dead. Apparently, Spinal Tap being big in Japan is an homage to Cheap Trick and their Eastern success. With Cheap Trick, though, their following in Japan springboarded them to an international career. And what did it was this album, Cheap Trick at Budokan (Budokan being the name of an arena in Tokyo). It's a collection of power pop-rock songs that sound right at home in an arena, including a few of their most recognizable stateside tracks - particularly I Want You to Want Me and Surrender. Cheap Trick may have never rose to have quite the status in the US as they do in Japan - the Japanese press has even called them "the American Beatles," after all - but this album makes the case for gaining the following they have,

Favorite Tracks: Surrender; I Want You to Want Me; Ain't That A Shame

#331: Ozomatli - Street Signs (2004)

Zack: This may take the award for weirdest world music album we’ve listened to, if only because I was constantly thrown off guard. Up until track 3 (when I finally checked), I was desperately trying to figure out why Redman was apparently a member of this Latin Rock band. Turns out he’s not, but they have an incredibly convincing Redman impersonator who drops in on songs every once in a while with some pretty sick verses. Beyond that, they also work in some rock, alternative, funk, and jazz in with their Latin flair. It was a lot to process. If I’m faulting this album at all, it’s for that. It’s hard to get your bearings on an album when it is so violently flipping between genres, even within songs. I tried to adopt a mentality similar to the positionless style of play sweeping the NBA (that is to scrap the boundaries of genres and just listen to the music), but it was just too much. There arEme fusions, and then there are concoctions. Street Signs is an example of the latter. But when the proportions are right, Ozomatli really bring it. Things just click every once in a while, and then the album really seems like something special. I particularly liked the first three tracks of the album, which really blew my hair back.

Favorite Tracks: Street Signs; Believe; Love and Hope

Emily: As a respite from working on my law review comment these past few days and to distract myself from the shitty weather we've been having, I've spent a bunch of time researching places for Zack and I to go on vacation when the semester is over. The plan is to go somewhere warm, with a beach and good food. Today my search led me to look at San Juan, Puerto Rico as a potential option. It's tropical and they have beautiful beaches, plus some history and a lot of food. I turned on Street Signs with Puerto Rico on my mind, and for a few minutes I felt like I was there. Or if not there exactly, then on some other beach in Latin America with a drink in my hand and a band playing Latin fusion-funk in front of me. Turns out Ozomatli is from LA, but that doesn't even matter. The sound of this album captures modern Latin music in seemingly all of its iterations - from funk to jazz to rock to rap and everything in between. It's a combo that frequently sticks, creating a sound that is at once global and distinctly Latin. I'll definitely be listening again when I want to be transported away from the ice and snow to a land of palm trees and blue seas - no plane ticket required.

Favorite Tracks: Love and Hope; Believe; Dejame en Paz

#330: The Notorious B.I.G. - Ready to Die (1994)

Zack: I’m on record as being more of a 2Pac fan, despite my East Coast upbringing. But most of that preference is derived from an emphasis on consistency. Pac has more releases to his name, with like 2.5 classics included. Biggie has the undeniable classic that is Ready to Die, and another classic contained somewhere in the bloated double album of Life After Death. I don’t think any Pac album really competes with Ready to Die. That said, how crazy is it that I think this is somehow only the third best rap album of 1994? Seriously, that post doesn’t even have Ill Communication in it and that chart still has way too many mind-melting albums on it (Illmatic and Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, for the record). Moving on, what I’ve always loved about Ready to Die is that is blends two very different types of personalities in a way that feels seamless. It’s almost like there are two different characters rapping. On one hand is the blustering Mafioso talking about dealing drugs, killing would-be thieves, and loving women with incredible fervor. On the other is a vulnerable human who feels pressure from his lifestyle and the world around him, feels like the armor of invincibility he has had to don is close to shattering, and really struggles. In a lot of ways, I see Biggie’s identity on this album as practically a rough outline of the TV anti-heroes that have dominated pop culture for over a decade. At a first glimpse, it seems like his motivation is pure immorality. But if you take the time to dig deeper, you find something anyone can relate to. This could come off as contrived, or the juxtaposition could be too jarring (Eminem is prone to this when flipping between the hyper-violence of Slim Shady to the emotionally vulnerable, soul-baring of Marshall Mathers). But it never does. It always feels to me like Biggie found a way to take the watchful eye that Nas turns outward to his surroundings on Illmatic back around onto himself. He depicts a certain image. Celebrates it even. But he’s very much aware of the repercussions that image is having on his psyche. I’ll still take a Makaveli playlist over a Biggie one on most days, but that shouldn’t be taken to mean anything about my level of respect for the masterpiece that is Ready to Die.

Favorite Tracks: Suicidal Thoughts; The What; Big Poppa

Emily: Ayo Big! Ayo, ayo Big! That line closes out the final track of Ready to Die, entitled Suicidal Thoughts. A friend in high school had that song on her iPod, amid all the pop-punk and ska and alternative we listened to back in the day. She would play it in the car and we'd yell "Ayo Big!" along with the track in loud, ridiculous voices. I have no idea why she liked the song, how she found out about it, and how it made its way onto her iPod. But that song is the only real impression I had going in to listening to this album, since the only other Biggie songs I really know are Hypnotize and Mo Money Mo Problems (which came on his posthumous second album). Now that I've listened to Ready to Die once, I don't really know what my opinion is on it. There is so much context that goes into the music that I don't know much about, and I really think that context is necessary for an album with as much cultural significance as this one has in the evolution of rap music. I'll have to listen to it again with Zack, who knows so much more about this than I do, so that I can get a fuller understanding of what this album is and what it means. Until then, I'll reserve my judgment.

Favorite Tracks: Big Poppa; Suicidal Thoughts; Juicy