#173: Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (1973)

Emily: Elton John is a great pop artist because he appeals to almost everyone. Though I wouldn’t call myself an Elton John fan, if Bennie and the Jets or Crocodile Rock come on the radio you know I’ll be singing along – and who doesn’t have that reaction? Goodbye Yellow Brick Road exemplifies John’s catchy piano-pop style, leading to an album that has universal appeal and near-universal acclaim. He varies the tempo and subject matter throughout this double album, boldly beginning with an 11-minute-long 2-part epic and following it up with a tribute to Marilyn Monroe, a reggae-tinged kiss-off, 2 ballads devoted to 2 different people, some soft rock, and a few poppy dance songs for good measure. It sounds all over the place, but it’s actually quite cohesive thanks to John’s signature piano sound. Of course, the singles are instantly recognizable – Bennie and the Jets and Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting have been pop mainstays since the album was released – and impossible to not sing along with.

Favorite Tracks: Bennie and the Jets; Goodbye Yellow Brick Road; Grey Seal

Zack: This album, which is thematically centered around nostalgia, was the perfect listening music for me. You see, I am currently studying to take the GREs, a process which makes me long for the days of walking in all bleary-eyed and having done exactly 0 prep for the good ol’ SATs. But those days are long gone, and these days are here now. So I put this double album on while I worked through several dozen math problems on concepts as far ranging as 3 dimensional geometry, linear equations, probability, coordinate geometry, combinations and permutations, functions, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I haven’t had to think about in five years. Surprisingly, it kind of worked. The album is rather upbeat, which made me feel a little bit better about this being how I was spending my day off instead of playing in the sun. And despite being a robust 79 minutes long, it seems to fly by. Even the seemingly unwieldy opening track (Funeral for a Friend) feels like it’s a third of the length. But what amazed me the most Goodbye Yellow Brick Road is the overall timelessness of it. Honestly, had you asked me to pinpoint a decade from whence this was released, I would have shrugged. It sounds like it could have been just as likely to come out five decades ago as well as earlier this year. This was one of my first real experiences with Elton John (outside of all the times I listened to Eminem’s performance of Stan at the Grammys) and I really enjoyed it.

Favorite Tracks: Funeral for a Friend (Love Lies Bleeding); Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting; Dirty Little Girl

Additional Note: I took the GRE's today and did great! Go me! And thank you Elton John for helping to make my scores possible.

#172: Silver Jews - Bright Flight (2001)

Emily: I wanted to listen to this album simply because I liked the name of the band. I knew nothing of their sound or story, but Silver Jews just sounded like they would be awesome. Luckily, I was not disappointed – even though they’re categorized under country! The Silver Jews were founded by the people from Pavement, an indie band whom I’ve briefly encountered after a friend gave me one of their albums. I’m not a big Pavement fan, but I really like how their indie aesthetic transferred to country music. The album is centered on contemplative and introspective lyrics, both a nod to and departure from traditional country music. Some tracks add a rock edge to the strumming guitar and slight country twang, which I suppose is what makes it indie-country. What I’ve said doesn’t really do the album justice, however. The emotion the Silver Jews evoke with simple guitar and vocals is personally affecting, so I highly recommend listening to this one for yourselves.

Favorite Tracks: Room Games and Diamond Rain; Transylvania Blues; Time Will Break the World

Zack: We’ve created a lot of subplots to this blog. There’s the one where I cook food while listening toalbums, the one where I try and get Emily to appreciate rap, the one where Ibitch and moan about the hip-hop album snubs I perceive, and the one where we listen to legendary albums and try to contextualize their significance to modern music (too many examples to pick just one). But one subplot that I think we often overlook is also the simplest: that there is stuff on this list that neither of us would have ever, not even in a million years, have listened to. I scoured Silver Jews Wikipedia page to try and find some series of events, however unlikely, that would have led me to discover them had we never started this blog. The best I could come up with is that I somehow would have become obsessed with Pavement (incredibly unlikely) to the point where I would have been intrigued by an alternative country side project that two members had briefly been affiliated with, although neither play on this album.  Outlook=bleak. I’ve never been a country music enthusiast, and still try and avoid it to some extent, so there’s no way I would have willingly listened to this on my own accord. But there I was, listening to Silver Jews, and really enjoying it. It was kind of laid back but deep. Like easy listening country that makes you think. And yet it wasn’t anywhere near as boring as that description sounds. It was a really pleasant experience, and one that I never would have had (barring me being crippled with Pavement-fandom). So thank you, list. You endowed unto me knowledge that I never would have had without you. Although you still don’t know anything about hip-hop.

Favorite Tracks: I Remember Me; Tennessee; Room Games and Diamond Rain

#171: The Mothers of Invention - Freak Out! (1966)

Zack: As I write this, I am nearing my third time through this album. The last time this happened, it was Rust Never Sleeps by Neil Young and it was like 4 a.m. That is not quite the case here. I first listened to Freak Out! two days ago. At the time, I was tired, had to be up at 5 the next morning, and was very stressed out. I could tell that there were a lot of layers to the album that I just wasn’t paying attention to because of all those distractions. Quite frankly, I wasn’t in the right mindset to listen to it. So the next day, I switched it up a little. I got a bottle of bourbon and swung by a friend’s apartment. We drank and listened to it together. While he hadn’t listened to Freak Out! in quite some time, he did know several interesting facts about the album that not even the mighty Wikipedia had told me. But, more importantly, he (and the bourbon) helped me relax and get closer to the right state necessary to really enjoy this ultra-influential work. But of course I wasn’t just going to stop talking with him and write a review right there, so I had to wait until today. By that point I figured I could use a quick refresher, hence the third listen. Now that I explained the arduous process I needed to endure to get to this point, let me say that this album is brilliant in idea and great in execution. Frank Zappa and company, for their debut effort, decided to tackle the superflousness of pop culture. Most of the album sounds like pop tunes that are just slightly…off. They’re catchy but usually featuring an extra layer of odd instrumentation (most often a kazoo) meant to make them sound childish. The lyrics range from the ludicrous (all of Wowie Zowie) to the meta (“I think your life is incomplete/But maybe that’s not for me to say/They only pay me here to play”). Freak Out! is one of the first concept albums, but the uniting theme is, in most places, the intentional lack of a theme. While the album is bookmarked on each end with a runs of experimental stuff, the middle portion rotates routinely between some cheesy love song and a break-up song. In order it goes Go Cry on Someone Else’s Shoulder, Motherly Love, How Could I be Such a Fool, Wowie Zowie, You Didn’t Try and Call Me, and Any Way the Wind Blows. Without fail, a mushy gushy love song is brought crashing down a whining track about a failed love. This pattern has a bit of a devastating effect. The implication is that the love that exists in one song is such an invention, a pure piece of corporatism crap meant to be fed to a public who wants to hear love songs, that it can be easily disassembled in the next song, and then repeated over and over again into infinity. There is no real emotion behind these songs. It is all manufactured solely to move the album along. The consequence is that the “concept” part that makes this a concept album isn’t floating on the surface like others we’ve encountered. It’s hidden underneath, in a layer called subtext that I rarely like to go now that I’m not in a high school English class anymore. But I suppose listening to an album three times before writing a review has to result in at least a moderately deeper analysis than usual (sorry!). Beyond all the highbrow concept and phony pop songs, there are the experimental tracks I mentioned earlier. Who Are the Brain Police and Help, I’m a Rock are both different and I think are probably hit or miss from person to person. The former didn’t really gel with me all that much, but I kind of liked the latter. But the biggest example of just musical weirdness has to be Return of the Sound of the Monster Magnet. This is what Zappa said to the producer leading up to its recording: “I would like to rent $500 worth of percussion equipment for a session that starts at midnight on Friday and I want to bring all the freaks from Sunset Boulevard into the studio to do something special." You know only good things can happen when that’s the foreshadowing. Return of the Sound of the Monster Magnet is over 12 minutes long (or 1/5^th of the hour long double album) and really highlights the freaks from above. It’s all over the place with weird sound effects and noises. But somewhere deep within all the chaos is an awesome song that somehow doesn’t seem to drag on nearly as long as it should. To wrap this novel up, Freak Out! is the kind of album that grows from pure creative genius being unleashed in a studio. In talking to some friends who are Zappa fans, I’ve heard a consensus that the band (and Zappa individually) really grow as musicians and their subsequent albums are better in that respect. But I have my doubts that we will encounter another album on this list as masterfully designed as this one. Although, if we do, I may need to listen to it only once, lest I write another behemoth post like this one.

Favorite Tracks: Hungry Freaks, Daddy; Return of the Sound of the Monster Magnet; Any Way the Wind Blows

Emily: What someone deems experimental in one era can become commonplace and mainstream by the next, or it can sound like someone dropped a bunch of random objects and recorded the impact of their noises and called it music. It all depends on the success of the experiment. Freak Out!, Zappa’s debut album, embodies both of those views of experimental music to an extent. Debuting in 1966, Freak Out! incorporates the bluesy, upbeat sound of that era’s rock music with satirical social commentary – unique for a band that used to only do R&B covers. Zappa’s spoken-word-esque delivery highlights his message in the tracks of this style. Later on, however, the last few tracks take on that let’s-record-random-noises sound that I know is influential but also pains my ears. I’m interested to hear where Zappa went with these disparate influences as he honed his sound beyond his debut – blues, rock, noise, or something completely different? Whatever it is, I’m excited to find out as we continue the list.

Favorite Tracks: Hungry Freaks, Daddy; Trouble Every Day; I Ain’t Got No Heart

#170: Butthole Surfers - Locust Abortion Technician (1987)

Zack; This album made me feel like a bit of a hypocrite for liking it so much. It’s very much similar to what Sonic Youth does, but I just thought the Butthole Surfers did it better. Maybe it’s the way they incorporate more punk and psychedelic sounds. Or maybe it’s just because when they make screechy noises it’s not anywhere near as pretentious and annoying as when Sonic Youth do it. It’s just kind of heavy and weird but in a good way. I guess that’s the difference buckets of drugs can have. All I know is it sort of sounded like a lot of bands rolled into one. There was definitely some Sonic Youth, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, and a few other things I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Anyway, I loved it. It was a merger of a lot of different types of music in a way that was different from how most artists produce those types of albums. Typically, a lot of those genre-benders will change the type of music from song to song. Maybe one song will be a superfast punk-inspired jam and the other is a slower ballad or something. This wasn’t like that. All the different influences were rolled together into one cohesive unit that really kicked ass.

Favorite Tracks: 22 Going on 23; Human Cannonball; Sweat Loaf

Emily: With a band called the Butthole Surfers, you have to expect their music to be weird. Double that for an album called Locust Abortion Technician. What I didn’t realize, however, was just how absolutely bizarre the 35 minutes I spent listening would be. The album is avant-garde and driven by noise and distortion. The early tracks are not melodious, and perhaps a bit hard on one’s ears, but some later songs are more guitar-driven and edge towards punk. Perhaps the best example of the weirdness is the closing track, 22 Going On 23. It’s not a song persay, but a series of sound clips of a sexually assaulted woman from either a therapy session or a distressed 911 call, warped and played over a loop of distorted guitar. I’m not sure how fucked up one has to be to come up with that idea, but the Butthole Surfers certainly have accomplished it.

Favorite Tracks: Human Cannonball; Kuntz; Graveyard

#169: Willie Colón and Rubén Blades - Siembra (1978)

Emily: Oh salsa music, I have spent so many hours in your company while I spend my days in the gift shop at work. You see, my music selection at work is limited to the world music and jazz sample CDs we get sent from vendors because, somehow, the explicit language and general fun on my iPod doesn’t fly with the powers that be. My favorite CDs of that bunch are the Latin dance compilations – they’re so upbeat and fun, it makes work go by so much faster (plus, I can dance in a silly fashion when no one is around). Which brings me to our selection today: Willie Colon and Ruben Blades’ Siembra. Though not a presence in my gift shop rotation, the salsa rhythms were as familiar and enjoyable as always. These guys bring a more modern spin to salsa as well by incorporating some disco and popular American culture references (West Side Story and Mack the Knife, anyone?) to the traditional grooves. It made me want to dance in a big salsa hall with an old-school band like these guys…or, you know, just groove a little in the middle of my shift. Whatever works.

Favorite Tracks: Pedro Navajas; Plastico, Buscando Guayaba

Zack: Aaaaaah! Why won’t it end!? Seriously all I want is for this album to stop playing and yet I still have another song to go. This album could not be more boring. I tried just listening to it straight on but I started to fall asleep. So I tried playing Solitaire and I still was bored. I read online articles, stumbled upon, even Sporcled. Nothing could make this album go by any faster. It’s only a modest 42 minutes too. But it’s 42 minutes that just won’t end. This is supposed to be like the greatest salsa album of all time but all I’ve heard is the album most likely to piss me off with its repetitive rhythms. Or knock me unconscious. Why? Why won’t this last song end? I swear if I write this entire post in the time it takes me to finish this last song I will know that this album is cursed to go on for an eternity. It’s such a starch contrast to something like Abraxas by Santana which took Latin roots and infused in with other genres. This is just straight, saturated salsa and it could not be more draining if it came with a side of hypnosis and cough syrup. Wait…it’s over. It’s finally over. Oh my you have no idea how happy that makes me.

Favorite Tracks: Pedro Navajo; Ojos; Plastico

#168: Queen Latifah - All Hail the Queen (1989)

Zack: Well well well. What a coincidence. Here I am listening to this album the day after Emily “saw” Queen Latifah for free at a July 4^th concert. Such irony, if irony meant something completely different than what it actually means. I was very curious to listen to this album because, so often, women suck at rapping. The few that have been able to break through tend to oversexualize, seemingly as a way to blend in where a large portion of the songs are entirely dedicated to reducing women to purely sexual objects. But the Queen never stooped to that. Instead, she elevated herself to the status of a queen (hence the name) and made it clear that she didn’t need to be one of the boys since she was already better than them. Her skills are definitely impressive, especially considering she was able to compete with her contemporaries, which included the likes of Rakim, Big Daddy, and KRS-One (minimally featured on All Hail). That sad, I was pretty much underwhelmed. Recently, a coworker and I came up with our top 5 hip-hop albums of all time. It’s hard for me not to compare any hip-hop album I listen to with those five now that I actually was forced to think about it. It’s not even in the ballpark. Once again, I’m forced to ask why this is here. There are only 50 or so hip-hop slots on the list. Assuming that this had to work like a quota system, is this really one of the best 50 rap albums? Maybe 100, but 50? Considering that those three contemporaries I mentioned earlier have a combined 0 albums, when Paid in Full, It’s a Big Daddy Thing, and Ghetto Music: The Blueprint of Hip-Hop are obvious musts. And what about some of the artists who got one album but could just have easily had more? Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z., All Eyez On Me, Life After Death, The Black Album, Late Registration. The list goes on. How about Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star or even Black on Both Sides or The Beautiful Struggle as solo albums from those two? And then there’s the lesser publicized stuff. Personally I would rather see When Life Gives You Lemons You Paint That Shit Gold by Atmosphere of MF Doom’s Madvillainy (you’re welcome, Dan). I just easily named 13 albums I would rather see of this list than All Hail the Queen. I know we seem to go through this with every other rap album but, I mean, come on. Sorry Queen. You’re a solid MC. But you’re not that good.

Favorite Tracks: The Pros; Mama Gave Birth to the Soul Children; Latifah’s Law

Emily: Every July 4^th here in Philadelphia, the city hosts the biggest free concert in the country – the Philly 4^th of July Jam. For the past few years, they’ve featured the Roots as house band for a combination of local acts and famous performers (with a few sets of their own in between of course since the Roots are hometown favorites). Now, despite having lived in Philadelphia and its suburbs my entire life, I had never attended the concert until this summer. I trekked to the Parkway after work on July 4^th with a group of friends who have been to the concert almost every year. This year’s headliners, along with the Roots, were Joe Jonas, Daryl Hall, Common, and none other than Queen Latifah. Queen Latifah was probably who I looked forward to seeing most, partially because she’s awesome and partially because I knew her debut album was coming up on the list soon. Knowing that the featured album on the list was a rap album, I really wanted to hear the Queen rap. Backed by the Roots, she took the stage first and…sung. No rap from Queen Latifah, just some jazz standards and dedications to her mother. Don’t get me wrong, she has a lovely voice, but I was really looking forward to her going back to her roots with the Roots. Well, now I’ve listened to Latifah rap on her 1989 debut, All Hail the Queen – and I don’t think I missed much at the concert. Queen Latifah was one of the first commercially successful female rappers, and I’ll give her that. However, not everything on this album quite gelled for me. Some things worked very well, like the choices of ‘80s dance samples coupled with feminist rap anthems (Ladies First is particularly great). On the other hand, her lyrics at first reminded me of a female Will Smith – delivered with passion, but clean and fairly benign – and the production was mostly underwhelming and occasionally annoying (such as the hyper electronic voices on Mama Gave Birth to the Soul Children). Queen Latifah definitely broke through after this album, and her career has gone nowhere but up. Do I want to hear her rap again though? Probably not, but I’ll certainly take some jazz standards and musicals again.

Favorite Tracks: Ladies First; Dance for Me; Dance for Me (Ultimatum Remix)

#167: Jefferson Airplane - Surrealistic Pillow (1967)

Emily: Jefferson Airplane was one of the first bands to bring psychedelic sounds to the mainstream, and Surrealistic Pillow is perhaps the defining sound of the 1967 Summer of Love. It’s definitely psychedelic, but more focused than I expected. Rather than the rambling 11-minute-plus acid trips that emerged a bit later, this album is a bit more focused and concise. Each song embodies the free spirit of the era – it’s easy to imagine Grace Slick surrounded by a bunch of hippies dancing/swaying/feeling the love in a San Francisco park as she croons Somebody to Love – but the short lengths keep the album moving and the listener engaged. This formula works best with faster-paced songs that mix elements of folk, electric guitar, and early psychedelia. The best song on the album, however, is a bit different. White Rabbit slows things down a bit, with Slick’s haunting vocals and a sparse arrangement incorporating trippy images of Alice in Wonderland falling down the rabbit hole and veiled references to psychedelic drugs. Although a symbol of the counterculture sweeping the late ‘60s, this album and the aforementioned songs have earned their place in the pantheon of popular music. Perhaps we all have some hippie in us after all.

Favorite Tracks: White Rabbit; Somebody to Love; How Do You Feel

Zack: Going back and re-listening to albums that I haven’t listened to in forever is quite an experience. I was really into Jefferson Airplane back when I was a senior in high school, but now that I am rapidly approaching my senior year of college, I must confess that I was feeling unfamiliar with this album that I must have listened to at least a dozen times a few short years ago. The unfamiliarity made it feel like this was the first time I was listening to it all over again. While I definitely thought it was good, I must admit that it didn’t have the same incredible aura that I remembered. Don’t get me wrong; White Rabbit and Somebody to Love are still both fantastic. But the rest seemed to be hurt by the lofty expectations of memory.

Favorite Tracks: White Rabbit; Somebody to Love; 3/5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds