#392: Burning Spear - Marcus Garvey (1975)

Zack: Let me get this out of the way right now: I listened to albums 391-394 back-to-back-to-back-to-back while working on my prospectus, so the same disclaimer about not paying the most attention I gave for Tarkus applies here as well. That said, I liked Marcus Garvey enough to go back and relisten to all the songs I realized I had completely not paid attention to. Which means I basically ended up listening to this album 2.5 times by accident, and I have absolutely no qualms about that. Marcus Garvey is a reggae album and we haven’t had a chance to listen to one of them in a long, long time (I haven’t gone back and looked, but I think the last one was Peter Tosh’s Legalize it somewhere on the other side of 300). Marcus Garvey definitely had some political undertones to it which didn’t get through to me at all. All I noticed was the smooth grooves that kept telling me how nice it would be to be relaxing in a tropical paradise somewhere. And while I’m excited to double back to get more about the message, the feeling that the album had is pretty much all you can ask from a reggae album.

Favorite Tracks: Slavery Days; Tradition; Resting Place

Emily: Reggae music is deceptively simple - the steel drums and chill vibes evoke Jamaica's tropical climate, beautiful beaches, and laid-back party atmosphere. However, underneath these first impressions frequently lie revolutionary lyrics that reflect the political, economic, and social turmoil that took over the island after its independence and continues to some extent today. My favorite example of this is Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come (probably because I wrote a paper about the album and its accompanying film for a class in college), but Burning Spear's Marcus Garvey comes in a close second. The album cover itself indicates that it's not just a reggae party album, revealing the political and militant content right up front. A first listen reveals a classic upbeat reggae sound, right at home on the beach or in a dancehall. However, I need to listen to Marcus Garvey a few more times to fully grasp the entire context - something I definitely intend to do in the future.

Favorite Tracks: Marcus Garvey; Tradition; Old Marcus Garvey

#391: Emerson, Lake & Palmer - Tarkus (1971)

Emily: Emerson, Lake & Palmer sounds like it should be the name of a '70s soft rock band, the kind that wears Canadian tuxedos and big mustaches and plays exclusively on adult contemporary radio and in waiting rooms. But then I saw that their album had a robot armadillo on the cover, so I knew that I was in for something totally different. Tarkus (which is the name of the aforementioned armadillo, according to Wikipedia) starts out with a 20-minute prog rock jam session. The rest of the album consists of much short tracks that continue the prog sound, with jazz and classical influences and a couple tracks that wouldn't be out of place in a particularly proggy church. I still don't understand where the armadillo plays into all of this, but I'm glad the album defied my expectations.
Favorite Tracks: Tarkus; Bitches Crystal; A Time and a Place

Zack: Prog rock has been so hit or miss, so it was nice to find that this album struck a happy medium between weird and listenable. The weirdness, which mostly shone through on the 20-minute title track, isn’t an abrasive kind of strange, but more like things just sound a bit off, like the entire album is just slightly positioned off center somehow. It gives it a sort of kooky vibe that I actually quite enjoyed. Once you get past the first track, which I need to reiterate is more than 20 minutes long and more than half the album’s total length, all the songs sort of breeze right by. I was working on my prospectus throughout the album, so I wasn’t necessarily paying the most attention that I could have, but it seemed like an album well-deserving of its art, in its general nature of making you both slightly confused but sort of appreciative.

Favorite Tracks: Tarkus; Are You Ready Eddy; The Only Way (Hymn)

#390: Primal Scream - Vanishing Point (1997)

Emily: I'm always on the lookout for good music to listen to while I work. This is a hunt that will become even more pronounced as I spend my summer studying for the bar and starting my first real-life job as a judicial clerk. For me, the best working music is largely instrumental (though a few words here and there is fine), a mix of energetic and calming songs, and some sort of steady beat. I've found a few things that fit this bill - the John Coltrane Pandora station and the Mellow Beats playlist on Spotify are two of my favorites, as well as a few of the albums we've chronicled over the years. And now, Primal Scream fits the bill as well. The album is largely instrumental, spanning the '90s rock spectrum between alternative and electronic. It's an interesting mix, but it all flows together - perfect for both background music while studying and a closer listen on its own.

Favorite Tracks: If They Move, Kill 'Em; Kowalski; Star

Zack: I had never heard of Primal Scream, so I had no idea what to expect going in to this album. I had classified it as alternative rock, but alternative is such a broad category that it could really be a lot of different things. I was a bit nervous, but it turns out I had no reason to be. Primal Scream reminded me of a lot of different artists that we’ve come by, but the main three were Radiohead, TV on the Radio, and Air. You may notice that those are three very, very good comparisons, especially coming from me since I love TV on the Radio so so so very much. Vanishing Point mixed a light version of alternative rock with a heaping dose of electronic, specifically some effects that remind me of the modern chillwave movement. I actually find the sections where the band was playing around with electronic music to be the more interesting ones. But the whole album was really solid. I didn’t love it quite as much as I love The Bends or Moon Safari or pretty much anything by TV on the Radio (OK Calculator excluded), but it was the sort of album that I could easily see myself keeping on my iPod and just enjoying on a long train ride or something. Considering the bloated size of my iTunes and my limited iPod space, that’s one of the highest compliments I can give.

Favorite Tracks: Long Life; Get Duffy; If They Move, Kill ‘Em

#389: The Byrds - Sweetheart of the Rodeo (1968)

Zack: Now for part 2 of our accidental Gram Parsons extravaganza. Apparently, the Byrds popularity as a rock/psychedelic band was kind of winding down and members were leaving. In order to fill in some places for a tour, they brought in relative unknown Gram Parsons, who then proceeded to brainwash the rest of the band into making a country album. Essentially, Gram Parsons wanted to merge country and rock music into one single sound, and instead of making his own albums and hoping they catch on, he somehow took over a major rock band and changed them from the inside instead. Seriously, reading this story sounds like a cross between Ocean’s 11 and Charles Manson. But you can’t argue with the results. Much like Grievous Angel, Sweetheart of the Rodeo has a bit too much twangy honky tonk in it to be the particular brand of country that I enjoy. And it lacks the emotional depth that Parsons was able to put into his solo work. But it still sounds more innovative and less generic that the other Byrds album we listened to, so I count this as a decent win. Sweetheart of the Rodeo was breezy, rarely boring, and generally stood out as doing something sort of different. I didn’t particularly love this album, but I liked it enough that I don’t mind saying it’s something that more people should probably check out.

Favorite Tracks: You Don’t Miss Your Water; One Hundred Years from Now; Nothing Was Delivered

Emily: Zack has been on my case lately about not getting through albums quickly enough. While he makes a legitimate point, part of my reason for slowness is that I'm just not super excited by the current batch of albums. Alas, I have to get through the current batch before we get closer to #400 and beyond. So tonight, a slow Monday night at home, I decided to sit down with my oh-so-scintillating Federal Courts treatise and fire up The Byrds. While Sweetheart of the Rodeo made a chapter on legislative courts somewhat more interesting, it definitely wouldn't be my first choice of studying music. Or of other kinds of music. It was just too much honk and too much tonk throughout. Wikipedia told me that before they brought Gram Parsons in, the band wanted to do more of a concept album encompassing the American pop music of the 20th century. Now that sounds like an intriguing album, but when they brought Parsons in he essentially made them scrap the concept and go full-on country instead. The result was not too different from Parsons' solo effort, which we just listened to, but it seemed to have even more of a twangy country vibe - not exactly my cup of tea. But getting through Sweetheart of the Rodeo does make us one album closer to the next hundred-milestone and beyond, so it at least counts for that.

Favorite Tracks: One Hundred Years from Now; Nothing Was Delivered; You Ain't Going Nowhere

#388: Gram Parsons - Grievous Angel (1974)

Zack: To show you how much both Emily and I know about country music, neither of us realized that Gram Parsons was in the Byrds, which is why we are inadvertently listening to Grievous Angel (the last album Parsons recorded before he died) and Sweetheart of the Rodeo (the last Byrds album Parsons worked on) back to back. He also apparently was on that Flying Burrito Brothers album we listened to forever ago, which is a thing I did not know. Anyway, that we’re listening to these two right next to each other is completely coincidental, but it might be interesting to hear how Parsons developed what he called “Cosmic American Music” but what any normal person who is not addicted to heroin might refer to as country rock. The one Byrds album we listened to before definitely had country influences on it, but it was certainly a rock album. Grievous Angel is sort of the opposite. I really don’t hear much of the rock that’s supposed to be in its genes. It comes across mostly as a pure country album, albeit quite a good one. There’s a bit too much twang in there for we to love it as much as I do the outlaw stuff. But there are a number of songs where the twang is dialed back and the emotion is turned up. Those songs, which have a beautiful somberness to them, are the ones that really jump out. Grievous Angel, overall, is quite a good album, but it is really carried by songs like Love Hurts, In My Hour of Darkness, and $1000 Wedding. In those songs, the beauty of this album as a county masterpiece really shines. The other tracks were solid, but were mostly just filler to me.

Favorite Tracks: In My Hour of Darkness, $1000 Wedding; Love Hurts

Emily: Clearly I had no idea who Gram Parsons was when I decided to pick a Byrds album immediately after a Gram Parsons solo album. Maybe it was because there are so many Byrds albums on this list that I felt that I should pick one in this batch. And maybe it was also because the albums are in two different genres. The Byrds lean more on classic rock (we'll see about the next album), but this album was decidedly country. There was a bit of twang on some of the tracks (which as you probably know is what really turns me away from country music), but where the album really shined was in its emotion. Grievous Angel has an undercurrent of sadness on it, made all the more poignant by the fact that the album was released four months after Parsons' untimely death from a heroin overdose at the age of 26. From that sadness comes the album's strength, an emotional core that has resonated in both country and rock ever since.

Favorite Tracks: Love Hurts; In My Hour of Darkness; Hearts on Fire

#387: Killing Joke - Killing Joke (1980)

Zack: Holy crap! A post punk album that I actually liked! I did not think this day would actually come. While so many other post punk albums we’ve listened to all sounded so repetitive, seemingly remaking the same songs over and over and over again with identical vocals and sputtering guitars, Killing Joke ditched the speed of punk but retained the intensity and some of the harshness. The result is a really interesting sound. It’s not polished, but it is dynamic, with a sort of proto-grunge vibe to it. Killing Joke was solid and different from so many of its contemporaries, making it one of like 3 albums we’ve listened to from that accursed genre actually work checking out.

Favorite Tracks: Tomorrow’s World; The Wait; Bloodsport

Emily: Frequently, with the post-punk genre, I'm not quite sure what to write about. I don't feel much of a connection to the genre - it's way before my time, but usually not interesting enough to make me wish it was of my generation. A lot of the artists have a similar sound too, and there's only so many permutations of "I can see the transitional influence here" that I can put forth. Now, Killing Joke is another member of this uninspiring post-punk brigade. I definitely liked it more than many of its counterparts, particularly the heavier-rock elements that certainly became a hallmark of grunge a decade later. However, it still didn't give me much to say, and it's likely I'll forget it altogether by the time the next post-punk album comes around.

Favorite Tracks: Wardance; Requiem; Complications

#386: Sister Sledge - We Are Family (1979)

Emily: As soon as I turned on this album I was immediately transported to car rides with my mom. She and I both love to sing along (poorly) with the radio, and disco hits are some of the best fodder for an afternoon of carpool karaoke. The first track on this album, He's the Greatest Dancer, has definitely been in that rotation, along with the iconic title track that has been a staple at weddings and bar mitzvahs for decades. Disco may catch some heat as a genre, but when Sister Sledge up the R&B grooves alongside the dance fever, it makes for an album perfect for singing, dancing, and grooving - especially from the comfort of your car.
Favorite Tracks: He's the Greatest Dancer; We Are Family; One More Time

Zack: It’s fitting that right before I begin my annual music marathon where I catch up on all the new albums I missed over the course of the year while I was being productive, in what I’ve heard was yet another great year for the Philadelphia music scene, we came across Philadelphia’s own Sister Sledge. Everyone knows Sister Sledge from their hit song We Are Family, which is featured in approximately 40% of all movie soundtracks. But apparently that song was on an album, which had other songs besides We Are Family on it. There were as many as seven other songs, in fact! I know, it’s shocking. Most of the other songs have the same sort of feel to them as We Are Family, with that upbeat disco/soul vibe to them. Which is to say it was quite the pleasant listen. Overall, I probably won’t revisit this album ever again, and it’s a long way away from my favorite Philly albums of all time, but it was exactly what it needed to be and you can’t fault it for that.
Favorite Tracks: We Are Family; You’re a Friend to Me; He’s the Greatest Dancer