Category: Music

Bandwagon

Ok, the best albums of 2005? Never mind the fact that I’m still working through the best of 1979, and hardly bought any music at all this year. But I’m not yet an ossified geezer, and I still listen to lots of new music. I heard lots of new bands this year, but as far as listening to complete albums, here is a list of what I consider the albums of the year (in no particular order):

  • Stars – Set Yourself On Fire
  • Spoon – Gimme Fiction
  • Sufjan Stevens – Illinois
  • The Futureheads – The Futureheads
  • Bloc Party – Silent Alarm
  • Gorillaz – Demon Days
  • Gang of Four – Return The Gift
  • The New Pornographers – Twin Cinema
  • Sigur Rós – Takk…
  • The Decemberists – Picaresque

And here’s another list, of new bands that look interesting to me. I haven’t heard enough of their music to put their albums into the first list:

  • Okkervil River
  • The National
  • Wolf Parade
  • M. Ward
  • Devin Davis

Great Albums: Whale Music

Rheostatics – Whale Music (1992)

Rheostatics – Whale Music (1992)

Last night, my best friend Brent and I revisited a pillar of our more than 15 year-long friendship. Let me begin at the beginning. I met Brent in 1989. At the time, I was a suave and sophisticated 24-year old who’d travelled in Europe and was beginning my second degree. Brent was a gawky and sometimes abrasive 19-year old know-it-all. Of course, we hit it off right away. When one of my roommates moved out, Brent decided to move in, and for the next three years, we struggled to make ends meet on our student loans and part-time jobs. Sometime in 1992, we caved in to the inevitable and both of us made the humiliating decision to move back in with our parents for a while. Luckily, by 1994 we were back on our feet financially, and we found another place closer to downtown. I moved out gradually as Brooke and I got more serious, but we still live only about fifteen minutes walk from each other.

I tease Brent about not being a “music person” but I am forever grateful to him for introducing me to my favourite Canadian band, the Rheostatics. I don’t even know how he’d heard of them, but one day he brought home a luridly-illustrated cassette called “Whale Music” sometime before we gave up our apartment, and we must have worn it out. Shortly after that, we began going to see the Rheos in concert, and last night marked probably the 15th time we’ve seen them, although I’ve long ago stopped counting. Each year, the band plays a series of shows at the legendary Horseshoe Tavern, and last night was “Whale Music Night”. They played the entire album in sequence, and with a generous encore, the show stretched to almost two and a half hours, but I was never less than transfixed by this transcendent music. As an added bonus, author Paul Quarrington was invited onstage at the beginning of the show to read from his hilarious and sad novel Whale Music which was the inspiration for the title of this record. (In a strange twist, the Rheostatics were invited to provide the score for a film made of the book, so there are actually two albums of theirs with the title “Whale Music”.)

It’s difficult to describe the music of the Rheostatics. For this album, there were four different songwriters, and four vocalists, but more than any other of their records, it feels like one piece. I’m a huge fan of guitarist Martin Tielli, and his compositions feel the most orchestral and moody to me, and I think that’s what ties the whole thing together. All the band members are insanely gifted musicians, but in addition, Tielli is a talented painter who’s created all the band’s album covers, and singer/guitarist Dave Bidini is a well-known writer who’s written books about hockey, baseball and rock music. I’ve had the privilege to meet the painfully-shy bassist/singer Tim Vesely on a few occasions, and I’ve always been impressed by the fact that no one in this band shows even a shred of rock-star ego.

Whale Music begins with a song called “Self Serve Gas Station” and it sounds vaguely like a country song. I’m surprised that I stuck with it, since my problem with most Canadian music (especially bands like The Tragically Hip) is that I think they sound too “twangy”. But I was immediately drawn in by the strange lyrics (“He wanted to bust the glass because I wouldn’t give him gas, I said ‘You shouldn’t even be driving'”). My favourite tracks are the ones by Martin Tielli, and “California Dreamline” might be my favourite song ever (“questionable things like dolphins helping people to swim”) and reinforces my feeling that Martin’s songs are always somehow related to water.

I could keep going but I think the best thing would be for you to let this album wash over you personally. There’s a line in the stunning end-of-album closer “Dope Fiends and Boozehounds” that references Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon”, another seminal album for druggy kids of my generation. This album is sort of like that. Listen to it in a darkened room from start to finish and tell me that you don’t agree that this is the Greatest Canadian Rock Album Ever.

One of the great things about living in the 21st-century is that it’s now possible for more people to hear this wonderful music. You can download the whole beautiful thing for $8.88 right here. Run, people!

Track Listing

  1. Self Serve Gas Station/
  2. California Dreamline
  3. Rain, Rain, Rain
  4. Queer
  5. King of the Past
  6. RDA (Rock Death America)
  7. The Headless One
  8. Legal Age Life at Variety Store
  9. What’s Going on Around Here?
  10. Shaved Head
  11. Palomar
  12. Guns
  13. Sickening Song
  14. Soul Glue
  15. Beerbash
  16. Who?
  17. Dope Fiends and Boozehounds

“King of the Past” video on YouTube
“Shaved Head” video from YouTube

Great Albums is an occasional feature on Consolation Champs where I relate some personal stories about life-changing music in lieu of any proper music criticism. You’ll probably learn more about me than about music, so consider that fair warning. For more, click the Great Albums category tag.

Spoon 2005, Part 2

my ticket stub

Just got home from seeing my favourite band. It was a bit surreal tonight because earlier, I’d emailed Britt Daniel (singer/guitarist) to ask if, as usual, he’d save me a setlist and also requested a song. In the middle of the show, they played it, and Britt said, “This one’s for James McNally, who’s come to every one of our Toronto shows, even back when we were playing with Jimmy’s Chicken Shack.” (That was in 1998, by the way). So I felt like a groupie. Afterward, there was a large group of people waiting to talk to Britt, and he actually had to ask if I was there. After I meekly raised my hand and got the setlist, a couple of drunken new fans wanted to shake my hand. I hung around a bit longer until Britt wasn’t so mobbed, and actually got to talk to him for a few minutes.

It’s so weird to think that the first time Spoon played in Toronto, it was for about a dozen people, and I hung around afterward to sort of console the band. I remember speaking to all of them individually, just begging them not to give up on Toronto, or on the band. It seems like a long time ago, which it was, but it feels good to say that the band are more popular each time they come. Makes me feel older and odder, though.

They played a very good set tonight, Britt seemed relaxed and he commented that he thought the crowd were really great. The song they played for me was 30 Gallon Tank, from their 1998 album A Series of Sneaks, and they hardly play anything from that era anymore. Britt said he had to talk Jim (drummer Jim Eno) into it, because it’s a very challenging song for a drummer, and he was tired. But I think it’s good for all their new fans to hear some of the older stuff, too.

Anyway, a good time. And one of the rare occasions when I get to be a fanboy, er, fanman. Check out the playlist, linked at the bottom of my 2001 interview with Britt.

UPDATE: For a photo, and another take on the show, read Frank Yang’s always-excellent Chromewaves. I thought I spotted him there last night.

Great Albums: The Cars

The Cars – The Cars (1978)

The Cars – The Cars (1978)

Another great album from my misspent youth. I hope you’ll forgive my detours into autobiography, but most music that resonates with us also connects with what was going on in our lives at the time. This album will forever be associated with a period in my life when I was first discovering beer and girls. Though it came out in the spring of 1978, my memories are probably from the year after that. This was definitely an album that we were playing a year later. It had classic written all over it, even then.

Every weekend of my 14th year, I was at a house party. Usually hosted by my buddy Ken, they were low-key affairs, mostly involving sitting around listening to music, drinking beer, and if some girls showed up, flirting and hopefully, making out. I’m sure this pattern has been the same for decades, if not centuries, and we were happy not to disturb the universe. For me, the song “Just What I Needed” will always be associated with two girls: one I couldn’t have, and one I didn’t want.

Caroline lived in the same apartment building as me, and like me, her parents were Irish. Hers were from Cork, mine from Dublin, though they weren’t really friends. She was pretty, taller than me, and smarter and more sophisticated than any of the other girls I knew. She was also going out with my friend Bill, who was tall, good-looking and athletic. This caused me immense pain, and on at least one occasion, after a few jars, I was found passed out in a darkened bedroom moaning Caroline’s name over and over. Sigh.

Strangely enough, I reconnected with Caroline a few years ago. In high school, we lost touch as I dropped the partying and she seemed to sink deeper into it. Happily, she emerged and has become a sought-after fashion photographer who works in both Toronto and London. She recently had a little boy. I’m not sure if she reads my blog, but if so, hello! (You did know about my crush, didn’t you?)

Beth was a kind girl, but plain and bespectacled when I met her. One night, as I sprawled semi-blotto on the couch at Ken’s place, she sat down next to me and within minutes we were locked in passionate embrace. An hour or so later, I remember walking her down to the lobby where her dad was picking her up, and I sobered up rapid to realize that she now thought we were in a “relationship.” The next weekend, she was due to arrive at the party and I was terrified. Panicking, I locked myself in the bathroom and wrote her a “Dear Beth” letter on the roll of toilet paper. Tearing off the sheets, I left them on the countertop and emerged to face her. “Uh, there’s something for you in the bathroom,” I mumbled. If I broke her heart, at least she could wipe her tears with the evidence.

Justice was swift for my stupidity. Beth got contacts and a new hairstyle within a year or so, and became a model and actress. Later, she went on to have a proper relationship with a bona-fide Canadian rock star (Mark Holmes from Platinum Blonde). I can’t recall her ever speaking to me again.

What about The Cars, you’re now asking? Well, this was simply a great album. “Just What I Needed” still sounds fresh today, but there were no skippable tracks on this record. “My Best Friend’s Girl” was another jab when Caroline and Bill were around, but a good song nonetheless. “Moving In Stereo” was used in a great scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. And “Let The Good Times Roll” always felt like a great kickoff to our festivities.

The Cars were certainly more commercial than bands like The Ramones and Talking Heads, which is probably why I knew about them in 1979. I didn’t discover the more “authentic” bands until later. But The Cars were certainly influenced by the same stuff and they had a vaguely European flavour to my young ears. They definitely were indulging in more expensive and exotic drugs than we were (they even name-drop “psilocybin”) and their sense of style promised better hair for everyone in the 1980s. Pity that didn’t work out, though.

Track Listing

  1. Let The Good Times Roll
  2. My Best Friend’s Girl
  3. Just What I Needed
  4. I’m In Touch with Your World
  5. Don’t Cha Stop
  6. You’re All I’ve Got Tonight
  7. Bye Bye Love
  8. Moving In Stereo
  9. All Mixed Up

“Just What I Needed” live on the Midnight Special in 1978 at YouTube

Great Albums is an occasional feature on Consolation Champs where I relate some personal stories about life-changing music in lieu of any proper music criticism. You’ll probably learn more about me than about music, so consider that fair warning. For more, click the Great Albums category tag.

Great Albums: The Pretenders

The Pretenders – The Pretenders (1980)

The Pretenders – The Pretenders (1980)

I’m beginning a new and hopefully recurring feature on Consolation Champs. It’s called Great Albums. Does anyone remember what an album was? Do they still call a music “release” an album anymore? Well, back in 1980, when a band released an album, you bought an album, a piece of vinyl inside a paper sleeve slipped into a cardboard sleeve. I think I might have paid about $8 for this record when it came out in 1980. I was 15 years old. A bit of background may be in order.

My family came to Canada from Ireland when I was two. I grew up in a series of apartments even though my dad held a white-collar job. Part of the reason for that was that my mum didn’t work. She had dropped out of school when she was 13 to go to work to support her grandmother, and when she got married, she figured she didn’t want to work anymore. So, our one-income family lived among a lot of two-income blue-collar families. It gave me a unique perspective on things sometimes. Some of my friends didn’t finish high school. Most didn’t go beyond it.

Growing up in the 70s in that environment almost guaranteed that I’d be a rocker. In Canada, we’d say I was a bit of a hoser. From 1975 until about 1979, I wore my jeans tucked into unlaced construction boots and a jean jacket and carried my stuff to school in an Adidas gym bag. Hoser couture at the time. So my first musical forays were into stuff like Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, and Rush. But I was a bit different, too. Among my hoser friends, I was the first (and maybe only) one to get into punk and then new wave. I didn’t want to grow my hair long and wear a lumber jacket. By 1980, I’d gotten into the Sex Pistols and the Clash, Gary Numan and Devo. And then The Pretenders came along. Or more immediately, Chrissie Hynde came along.

Like most 15 year-old boys, I was an awkward and volatile blend of hormones and energy, and Chrissie Hynde grabbed my attention right away. Just look at her on the album cover photo. A red leather jacket! She appealed to my rocker roots. And she sang like both a tough chick and a vulnerable older woman. Plus, the band rocked, but in a very English new-wavey way. Picking this up was a no-brainer, even if I wasn’t that keen on the radio’s choice of a single, the almost unintelligible “Brass In Pocket”.

The truth is, this is a great album from start to finish. Since it was their debut, it contained all the pent-up energy of a band waiting to explode, and almost every song sounded fresh. In my now 40 year-old opinion, they still do. Chrissie’s voice grabs your attention right away in “Precious”; it was the first time (alas, but not the last) I’d hear a woman say “Fuck off” (and “shitting bricks”!). This woman was tough! On “Up The Neck,” she just oozes sex, and she coyly plays with the lyrics, drawing out such double entendres as “the veins bulged on his…brow”. She continues to talk dirty on “Tattooed Love Boys” and her heavy breathing on “The Wait” still gives me chills.

But it wasn’t just Chrissie Hynde that made this album so great for me. Guitarist James Honeyman-Scott was an innovator and his guitar work has remained very influential over the years. I love the way the end of “Space Invader” runs into the galloping opening of “The Wait”. I love that they actually have a song called “Space Invader” (the console game was HUGE around this time). The Ray Davies’ cover “Stop Your Sobbing” may have been influential in Hynde’s later romance with Ray himself. They even had a child together. And “Mystery Achievement” may be the best last track on any album. Truth be told, “Brass in Pocket” may be one of the weaker tracks on the album. But it’s the poppiest and least threatening, so you still hear it on the radio now and then.

Tragically, within three years, both Honeyman-Scott and bassist Pete Farndon were dead of drug overdoses, and although Hynde soldiered on, the punch and guts of the band had gone. But twenty-five years on, this is still a thrilling listen. Go on, geezers, dig it out of your crates of vinyl. And you kids, track it down on your favourite file-sharing service. You’ll feel 15 again. Or just 15, I guess.

Track Listing

  1. Precious
  2. The Phone Call
  3. Up the Neck
  4. Tattooed Love Boys
  5. Space Invader
  6. The Wait
  7. Stop Your Sobbing
  8. Kid
  9. Private Life
  10. Brass In Pocket
  11. Lovers of Today
  12. Mystery Achievement

“Stop Your Sobbing” on Top of the Pops on YouTube
“Tattooed Love Boys” live from 1981 on YouTube

Great Albums is an occasional feature on Consolation Champs where I relate some personal stories about life-changing music in lieu of any proper music criticism. You’ll probably learn more about me than about music, so consider that fair warning. For more, click the Great Albums category tag.