#460: Mudhoney - Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge (1991)

Zack: While Nirvana rightfully get credit for popularizing grunge, they were hardly alone in its innovation. One of their contemporaries, also from Seattle, were Mudhoney. They started releasing early projects at around the same time Nirvana released Bleach (except Mudhoney’s first EP and album are actually supposed to be pretty good) and both of their opuses came out within months of each other in 1991 (Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge came out about two months before Nevermind). Now that I’ve actually listened to a Mudhoney album, I’m starting to think that they don’t get enough attention. EGBDF was a very strong album. It’s certainly grunge, but softens some of the harsher edges with extra alternative rock and garage rock. The result is a very interesting album worth checking out for anyone who wants to broaden their appreciation of the grunge scene.

Favorite Tracks: Broken Hands; Let It Slide; Something So Clear

Emily: Early '90s grunge is almost always up my alley. Nirvana and Pearl Jam and Soundgarden are staples of alt-rock radio to this day (and I've heard that they've started sneaking on to classic rock radio as well - guess it's time for that). That's why I was pretty surprised that all of Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge was unfamiliar to me. Mudhoney hits many of the same beats as their Seattle contemporaries - fuzzy guitars, angsty lyrics, and DIY punk sensibilities - with somewhat softer and perhaps more radio-friendly sheen, but they didn't catch on with audiences in the same way. I guess there was too much out there at the time that kinda sounded like them, or the shine of Nirvana blinded listeners to other grunge records in 1991. It's a shame, because EGBDF is a really good grunge album. It's no Nevermind, but a few songs have definitely earned their place on a '90s alt-rock playlist (or, in a couple years, on a deep-dive classic rock station).

Favorite Tracks: Broken Hands; Thorn; Who You Drivin' Now

#459: The Shamen - En-Tact (1990)

Zack: That’s three consecutive albums that I really, really enjoyed, a streak which will end right now. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I did not like an electro-rave dance album from 1990. (Or, at the very least, I didn’t like the US/1991 edition…which seems to be radically different from the original version but this is the one that’s been sold since 1991 so I’m sticking with it.) I found it annoying and dull, despite the attempts to seemingly overstimulate the listener. That said, I’ll focus on the few tracks that I did kind of like and point out the elements that drew me to them. First, Possible Worlds and Evil Is Even had these interesting ambient/soundtrack qualities to them. Like, if they were slipped into the background of a TV show, they might kind of work. In a weird way, they kind of reminded me of Nujabes, whose albums and soundtrack work I absolutely adore. These tracks didn’t have the same delicate and ethereal quality than Nujabes songs typically have, but at least there was something sort of compelling about them other than the bouncing and beeping. Second, on Progen 91 and (to a lesser extent) Move Any Mountain, The Shamen embrace a little bit of hip-hop. I mean that beyond just an awkward rap verse shoehorned in there (although they both have them and they are terrible and I’m actually docking points for those). There’s something to those beats that are reminiscent of Afrika Bambaataa, for example. I didn’t totally mind that element as well. On the rest of the album, though, The Shamen eschew these elements in favor of a plainer ravish sound, and I thought it was pretty shitty. But at least there were a few things I could like.

Favorite Tracks: Possible Words; Evil Is Even [edit]; Progen 91 (I.R.P. in the Land of Oz)

Emily: I started listening to this album a couple weeks ago, and I only just returned to it tonight. A combination of things got in the way, including a friend visiting, a busy few weeks of work, traveling for the holidays, and getting a new dog(!!!). Mostly, though, I didn't really want to return to an early-'90s British rave album. Without much going on this evening (and with some prodding from Zack), I returned to En-Tact before settling in to watch basketball and/or Black Mirror. And, big surprise, I still wasn't much of a fan. I mean, it's fine background noise, nothing too clangy or untz-untz or earth-shatteringly loud. But nothing really grabbed my attention, and I was mostly just bored. So bored that this is all I have to say about it.

Favorite Tracks: Omega Amigo; Progen 91 (I.R.P. in the Land of Oz); 666 Edit

#458: Neil Young - After the Gold Rush (1970)

Zack: Yaaaaaaaaaaas!! My feelings about Neil Young have been well documented at this point. We’ve listened to two solo Neil Young albums before now, both of which I absolutely adored (I believe Rust Never Sleeps made my top 5 for the first 100 and Harvest was my favorite album from albums 201-300). And we’ve encountered Neil Young in a couple of bands, where I usually found his contributions to be the most striking. Plus, since this endeavor introduced me to Neil Young, I’ve gone through some of his more popular – but not included on the list – albums, and generally found them to be quite good (I haven’t yet dived into all the albums from the 80s and 90s that people straight up hate, but maybe one day.) I was looking forward to listening to this album so bad that I plowed through many of the last dozen or so in an effort to get to it sooner. And while After the Gold Rush didn’t transfix me quite as much as Harvest or Rust Never Sleeps, I still thought it delivered up to my expectations. It wasn’t as consistently excellent, and there were songs I just did not like, but the highs were just as lofty as on those other two. After the Gold Rush is definitely a great album, and although I’ll need to give it a few more listens before I decide if it’ll be a contender for the 500 album awards, I’m definitely looking forward to doing so.

Favorite Tracks: Southern Man; After the Gold Rush; Don’t Let It Bring You Down

Emily: When I told Zack this morning that I was listening to Neil Young (he was in the other room and I had headphones in, so he had no idea), he bounced up and down and YAYed. That's how much he likes Neil Young. While I'm not quite as enthralled, I definitely appreciate the winding folk-country-rock road that Neil Young has taken and continues to take over the course of his 40+ year career. And I liked a lot about this album. The first song underwhelmed me, but then it was three songs straight that I absolutely loved. I went on to like the rest of it, but those three songs really got to me. There's something about the songwriting and the simplicity of the arrangements that make Neil Young's music really special. And what I think this means is that I have to revisit the albums we've listened to in the past, and perhaps expand my Neil Young horizons beyond this list.

Favorite Tracks: Only Love Can Break Your Heart; Southern Man; After the Gold Rush

#457: Ray Charles - The Genius of Ray Charles (1959)

Zack: How it has taken us almost 7 years to get to a Ray Charles album defies explanation, but here we are. Ray Charles is a titan of music, and it’s not hard to see…er…hear why. On this album, Ray Charles relies on a bigger sound than many of the singles he’s more well known for, utilizing big band and swing to create stronger horn and string sections underlying his always brilliant piano playing and singing. I thought they complimented him well, and I found something to like about every song on this album.

Favorite Tracks: It Had to Be You; Come Rain or Come Shine; Let the Good Times Roll

Emily: The other day I started watching the new Amazon show The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. I've watched four of the eight episodes in season one, and it is just delightful. It takes place in 1958 in New York City, where the titular Midge Maisel is starting out as a stand-up comedian after her husband leaves her for his secretary. The Genius of Ray Charles is of the same era, and listening to it I could just imagine Midge with her stand-up manager or a fellow comedian taking in a Ray Charles show at one of the smoky downtown jazz clubs that populate the show's imagination. Well, by that time I imagine Ray was playing much bigger (but still smoky) venues, but the classic-R&B-and-jazz sound that permeates this album would fit right in alongside Midge's quips and fabulous hats.

Favorite Tracks: It Had to Be You; Let the Good Times Roll; Just for a Thrill

#456: The Beach Boys - Surf's Up (1971)

Emily: For the uninitiated (i.e., me), one might think that Surf's Up is a classic Beach Boys album of the Surfin' Safari, going-to-the-beach-with-pretty-girls variety. The fact that the album is from 1971, though, should give you a heads-up that this isn't actually a frothy pop Americana album about surfing. It's nearly ten years after the group started, and a few years after they started to move into more complex and psychedelic sound. So, as the music and album art make abundantly clear, the title Surf's Up is an ironic nod to the band's surf-rock roots, while the music delves further into psychedelia while maintaining some pop roots. The result was the Beach Boys' strongest commercial success in several years, and it's easy to see why. The album combines lush harmonies and soundscapes with socially-conscious and inventive lyrics, creating a sound that is both innovative and approachable that leaves you wanting to know where the Beach Boys would take their sound next.
Favorite Tracks: Surf's Up; Long Promised Road; Student Demonstration Time

Zack: I would have liked to get nostalgic about the Beach Boys, but apparently I didn’t do a great job of remembering the time we listened to Pet Sounds. I thought it was summer 2011, but couldn’t remember if it was June or July. Turns out I was way off. We listened to Pet Sounds December of 2010, making it the 34^th album we reviewed (including the 9 to start). Whoops. My excuse is that Pet Sounds is such a perfect summer album that it temporarily transported me forward in time when I listened to it. I love Pet Sounds. It’s just such a great pop treat. And a result is that when I put it on again in the summer of 2012, I decided I wanted to broaden my Beach Boys horizons. So I totally legally went about totally legally obtaining the Beach Boys entire discography through totally legal means. I remember initiating this totally legal process and then going to get a sandwich from the Grilled Cheese truck on Norris St. in front of what I want to say was Boyer Hall. I made my way through a lot of that totally legal discography over the next few weeks, and I do remember doing that. I skipped over Surf’s Up and Today! because they were both on the list, but I was familiar with their positions in the discography and both of their legacies. So I knew that the title Surf’s Up is ironic, and I knew about the frankly awesome cover art. Still, Surf’s Up caught me a little off-guard. It’s just so far removed from the poppy sound of Pet Sounds. There are elements of psychedelic rock and prog rock and lots else blended in. And it’s all really good. I was, frankly, quite impressed that the same band that made Pet Sounds could make something equally good but so dramatically different. Surf’s Up is easily a classic album, and I’m glad I got to listen to it actually during the summer for a change (although this one will probably also get posted in December).

Favorite Tracks: Surf’s Up; Student Demonstration Time; A Day in the Life of a Tree

#455: Ian Dury - New Boots and Panties!! (1977)

Zack: I have been nominating this album every time we have a punk album due for like a year and a half at this point. There are two reasons. One, the album title is great. Two, it’s one of the earliest albums in the punk section, which basically means it’s either a garage rock album (I merged those genres together some time ago since there were like 10 garage rock albums total) and I have loved like all of the garage rock albums we’ve listened to (shoutout The Sonics forevah) or an early punk album a la The Ramones, Sex Pistols, etc., which also have a history of being dope. All that had me really hyped to start listening to it…right until I hit play. The first 70% of this album was kind of slow and very British. I found Ian Dury’s voice to be pretty annoying and I was just not into it at all. The last 3 tracks are much more punkish, and they were easily my favorites. But they couldn’t quite make up for the 7 songs beforehand which frustrated me to no end.

Favorite Tracks: Blockheads; Blackmail Man; Plainstow Patricia

Emily: I do love the name of this album, as well as its cheeky origin story (that boots and underwear are the only articles of clothing that Ian Dury wouldn't buy secondhand). The music itself, though, was mostly just weird. Ian Dury is VERY British (from Essex specifically), and his accented voice snakes and snarls through his lyrics and the protopunk music that for some reason also sounds like funk and oompahs. There are glimmers of punk here and there (particularly in the last three tracks), but otherwise the sound is kind of disorienting and just not all that fun.

Favorite Tracks: Plainstow Patricia; Blackmail Man; Sweet Gene Vincent

#454: Dwight Yoakam - Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room (1988)

Zack: While I have learned to appreciate some aspects of country music, others just rub me the wrong way. Dwight Yoakam was in that category. Musically, Buenas Noches wasn’t overly twangy, but I wouldn’t describe it as overly appealing. But what really ruined this album for me was the lyrics and singing. Recently, there was an episode of the Malcolm Gladwell podcast Revisionist History were he talks about his “theory” (to the extent you could call it that) that country musicians are better songwriters than rock musicians (those are the only two genres of music apparently) because they are more emotional and open to discussing it directly and in vivid detail rather than vague allusion. I think that’s mostly bullshit, but there might be something about the directness aspect. Dwight Yoakam is very direct, but I didn’t like a lot of what I heard. The song What I Don’t Know is predicated on him threatening a lover, saying that if he finds out that he is being cheated on then he will murder her. Am I supposed to be moved by the threat of domestic violence? Am I supposed to find that relatable? The titular track, Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room, was easily my favorite song on the album. And yet it too ends with him murdering a former lover (and the mother of his child) who ran away from him with another man. There are plenty of songs about heartbreak on here, and that’s fine of course, but it’s hard to rally behind many of the conclusions. Besides the murder fantasies, I noticed another theme going on: What we might refer to today as the rural-urban divide. On I Sang Dixie (my second favorite song, by the way, to show that I am trying to separate my more analytical thoughts from my evaluations of the songs) Yoakam tells a story of meeting a dying southern man in Los Angeles and trying to comfort him while everyone just goes on by. The man’s dying words are telling him to go back to the south and away from these California weirdos (my words, not his). Streets of Bakersfield was similar. There, it’s people in San Francisco though, and it’s mostly just about how he’s tired to being judged by a bunch of people who don’t know the first thing about where he’s from. The theme of these songs really rubbed me the wrong way. That is probably a specific temporal anomaly. I’m writing this a couple days out from the Charlottesville protests, where a bunch of white supremacists/Neo-Nazis were protesting the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee. I just watched a video of another Confederacy statue in North Carolina being torn down and kicked by anti-white supremacist protestors. There was a massive march in our adoptive city of D.C. last night protesting a statue of Albert Pike, a Confederate general. I’m pretty revved up on this issue at the moment. And I’m pretty fucking tired of hearing a bunch of southern, “Oh we’re such victims why don’t other people understand us.” Boo fucking hoo. Southern culture is distinct and has lots of really awesome elements to it that denizens of the region should absolutely be allowed to celebrate. The food, the culture of sports and competition, (some of) the music. There’s a lot of great stuff, for sure. But I’m from New Jersey. You don’t think that when I introduce myself to someone and they ask where I’m from, I catch a ton of shit? I have a good friend from Kansas. Flyover country. You don’t think we bust his balls about that every chance we get. People make fun of where other people are from. That’s a thing they do. Hell, both of these songs are predicated on stereotypes of Californians. But I am supposed to weep for the poor, misjudged southerner. Fuck you. Grow the fuck up. Think about another goddamn person for one fucking second. And with that, I’ll rage-quit this post/screed.

Favorite Tracks: Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room (She Wore Red Dresses); I Sang Dixie; Floyd County

Emily: Zack had a lot to say, so I'll keep this brief. Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room is a very old-school country album. It has some twang, a lot of Southern pride, and several Jesus references. I had to do a double-take when I was writing in the date, because it honestly sounds like some of the country music we've listened to from the '50s and '60s. But nope, this is from 1988. I guess there was still a market for old-school country for some old-school people, and that market probably still exists now. But all I can say is that it's definitely not for this decidedly un-Southern girl.

Favorite Tracks: Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room (She Wore Red Dresses); I Got You; I Hear You Knockin'