Article Series

Classic Album Review: Prince – 1999 [1982, Warner Bros.]

Posted on September 2, 2010 by Allison in Albums, Classic Albums, Everything, Music | 2 Comments

If you were to ask me who I thought was the most talented songwriter in the world, you might think I’d be hard pressed to come up with a definitive answer.

You’d be wrong.

In the hybrid category of overall singer / composer / musician of 26-odd instruments, there can only be one winner. Prince Rogers Nelson takes this title without any hesitation on my part, and despite his going off the eccentric Jehovah’s Witness deep-end well over a decade ago, I still think he is the most talented musical icon of all time. He trumps Madonna in chart-accessible rebirth. He kicks the Beatles’ catalog. He oozes pop from his every orifice. He is the most overtly sexual songwriter of all time. And more so than anyone else I can name, Prince has consistently proved that he is an endless factory of eclecticism, genuine sexuality, and ass-shakingness, which brings us to 1999.

1999 arguably takes the cake in terms of best party album of all time. Everything on this damn thing makes you want to either scream-sing at the top of your lungs or embrace the loose morality of getting “down” with your bad self (Dance Music Sex Romance). This album embodies the most positive and life-affirming heathen ethics. There are some gems on here that never fully hit the public’s radar with the full breadth I would’ve expected it to, and it’s puzzling to me why some of them weren’t chart toppers while others were.

Out of all of the albums I’m reviewing for this series, I would have to say that this is the most primal and lighthearted, least cerebral, and surprisingly, least emotional. All 1999 incites in me is a desire to get out like a dancing, singing fool (and I emphasize the fool part).

The album’s title track was something I couldn’t listen to throughout the 00’s, abandoning it due to Y2K overplay. It feels kind of like fictional farce 11 years later, but the nail-biting in 1999 was real. My computer science professor had managed to convince us all that the bulk of the world was running on COBOL, which was incapable of handling the rollover to 2000. Everything will revert back to 1900!, he said, and we either apathetically or stupidly semi-believed him (what can I say, he was dumb, and we were dumber). Listening to 1999 again, I think it’s a shame that it carried the taint of Y2K mania. It’s still an ultimate party song with all of the trimmings.

Let’s go through the rest:

Little Red Corvette – Prince seems to have a shitload of songs that play as explicit sexual innuendo. He is one of the few people who is able to balance “suggestive” with “crude”, while still staying under the radar of pop culture. It’s hard to believe that LRC is still Prince’s biggest hit to date, but then I used to listen to it like the dickens, not really picking up on anything it really meant (essentially sleeping with a slut). The drum beat is still ultra tight.

Delirious – Much of this feels borrowed from “Horny Toad”, but no matter. Another example of sex flying below the censors. Probably the weakest track off the album–weird to think this charted.

Let’s Pretend We’re Married – Another favorite that didn’t receive as much attention…I always notice this as a conspicuous oversight in all “best of” Prince collections, and I’m not sure why it never captured public imagination as much as some others.  “If you’re free for the next couple of hours / If you’re free for the next seven years!”

D.M.S.R. – May very well be my favorite track off the entire album. Over 8 minutes of ass shaking, love making, I guess this is the whole theme of the entire album. We’re all going to hell, but we might as well enjoy a lot of sex in the meantime, irregardless. I just felt like using the word “irregardless” there.

Automatic – Another gem. More than anyone else, Prince has a way with keyboards, and the head boppingness makes you completely forget about the completely inane lyrics.

Something in the Water (does not compute) and Free were kind of write-offs, with Free being the sort of life after death ballad that athiests ignore. Looking at the album’s two main themes, every song either revolves around sex, love or fear of God.

Lady Cab Driver – Sure, the sounds oddly like Irresistible Bitch, but if anyone were to ask me what good, accessible funk music was, I’d point them to Lady Cab Driver. It’s easy to see why Prince was such a ladies man in spite of the fact that he essentially looked like a short, wizened monkey in high heels.

All the Critics Love U in New York – Kind of an eerie number, but catchy nonetheless.

International Lover – Totally reminiscent of a jazzier Nothing Compares 2 U.

Although so many of these songs remind me of so many others in Prince’s catalog, I have to say that no one recycles like this man (and anyone who writes over 15,000 songs can be excused for some creative borrowing from himself). He has the ability to make new out of something familiar; to make something filthy sound innocuous; and to make a 9 minute musical tirade feel palatable.

Classic Album Review: Lloyd Cole and the Commotions – Rattlesnakes [1984, Geffen]

Posted on August 19, 2010 by Allison in Albums, Article Series, Classic Albums, Everything, Music | 3 Comments

I put Lloyd Cole and the Commotions‘ Rattlesnakes album  in the same category of relatively-unheard-in-North-America U.K. 80’s  releases not dissimilar to Prefab Sprout‘s Steve McQueen. They both contain some of the most fluid and sophistopoppy songs of the decade that have held up through the test of time. Rattlesnakes achieves the distinctiveness of being very reminiscent of the mid-80’s (this is just good pop music, not new wave) while still retaining its contemporary status.

I remember very little about 1984-1985 aside from some very distant memories of my sister bringing home a classroom guinea pig that stunk up our entire house, and an uncle who spent the summers with us while he was at the University of Waterloo flipping over my mom’s station wagon. I was 4 years old, and the internet-age of music was a long way off, bringing home how radically different music channels for distribution have been revolutionized. I have no idea how easy or difficult it would’ve been to go to a record store in Toronto and pick this release up, but I would imagine that the guy running the store probably looked like Boy George.

Do the kids still know who Boy George even is??

Before I start running down the block chasing kids away with my slipper in hand, I’ll get on with the review. What makes this a classic album? More than anything else I think it’s the fact that it still plays as well as an excellent contemporary album would today. Rattlesnakes has an erudite timelessness that most college bands implicitly have due to the fact that we know so-and-so went to Harvard, Columbia, or wherever, but that few explicitly reference with academia. It oozes with substance while managing to stay warm and fuzzy, accessible (these songs may very well be considered adult contemporary by today’s standards) in a way that last week’s Roxy Music is not. We wouldn’t imagine Lloyd Cole to be an art school snob; on the contrary, I’m sure most of us would imagine him to be a nice man. He likes golf, and Wikipedia tells me he likes booking dates that are suspiciously close to golf courses (a man after my own self-serving heart), on top of which, he has been married to the same woman since 1989.

None of this really adds or detracts from the overall quality of the album (aside from highlighting the fact that Mr. Cole is now probably quite old), which I’ll get into right now:

Perfect Skin – An homage to the most underrated female organ, something that often seems forgotten in these days of Jersey Shore tanning beds (hello enlarged pores and unnatural burnt sienna crayon complexion). One thing I most appreciate about Cole’s lyricism is his ability to be specific without overwriting, “She’s got cheekbones like geometry and eyes like sin and she’s sexually enlightened by cosmopolitan” says it all. He gets caught up in gleaning the obscure details that make something extra descriptive; a quality that I especially prize.

Speedboat – A lot of bluesy pre-Charlatans keyboards going on here, which I suppose was prominent enough at the time. The careful addition of strings in just the right places makes this feel slick, though. Brilliant sounding chorus too. I hadn’t ever listened to this closely enough to catch what I would imagine to be this story about a couple drowning tragically.

Rattlesnakes – It always pleases me when the best song of the album is also the name of the album. I would also venture to say that Rattlesnakes is the magnum opus of Lloyd Cole and the Commotions’ brief 3-album career, period. I’m trying to think of a primary element that this incredible song might be missing, and I’m coming up empty. Brilliant lyrics, check. String arrangements, check. Unforgettable beginning, check. Spectrum of deep emotions, check. Reference to intellectual French Feminist and legendary actress, check. This song is just chock full of everything there might be to love about a smart *flawed* (read: real) woman, full stop. “She looks like Eve Marie Saint in On the Waterfront / She reads Simone de Beauvoir in her American circumstance”.

Tori Amos’s cover of this song is also fantastic.

Down On Mission Street – The saddest ditty on the entire album, chastising a guy who sounds like a bit of a pathetic dick. Another stellar example of well-arranged strings (and not just strings for the sake of strings).

Forest Fire – Despite some choice bass work, this song is hearkening back to an 80’s easy listening song that is on the tip of my tongue, but not quite coming out (it’s late; I started this to combat insomnia but instead of have sashayed myself into that annoying limbo of being tired but not quite stopping and forcing myself to sleep).

Charlotte Street – Harmonica happiness. Kind of reminds me of The The’s This is the Day. Sweet guitar solo 2/3 of the way through.

2cv – Did Suckers creatively borrow from this song for Save Your Love for Me? Allison’s answer is: yes.

Four Flights Up – A little bit Traveling Willburys, a little bit Chris Isaak. All good. And I’ve just learned that the Cars’ Rik Ocasek produced this along with Patience and Perfect Skin, which makes me like it even more.

Patience – What Freur’s Doot Doot song wishes it could be.

Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken? – This is likely the one our regulars will be familiar with due to Scottish dour faces, Camera Obscura. As much as I enjoyed Let’s Get Out of This Country and generally don’t mind anyone creatively borrowing as long as it doesn’t border on aping, I have to note how much better this song is due to its heartfelt sincerity. Yes Lloyd, we are ready to be heartbroken. We are ready to bleed.

Classic Album Review: Roxy Music – Roxy Music [1972, Island]

Posted on August 12, 2010 by Allison in Albums, Classic Albums, Everything, Music, Reviews | 2 Comments

It saddens me that most people my age will only strongly identify Roxy Music‘s “wuss rock” period towards the end of their run with Avalon, due almost entirely to the excellent scoring Sofia Coppola accomplished with Lost in Translation. Listen…it’s not that songs like “More Than This” are bad; in fact, More Than This is gorgeously cynical (read: the words of a disappointed romantic, where idealism wants to co-exist with an uncompromising reality) showcase of Bryan Ferry’s songwriting skills. It’s just that there is no comparison to Roxy Music 1972. Their debut album takes you to the outermost limits of the spacey universe and back again, a journey that is often achieved within the frame work of ONE song, all captured within the single spun thread of the album narrative. This is what modern experimental music wishes it could be. This is what “indie” music was before it knew it existed. This is where you can use words like “eclectic” and “avant-garde” without sounding like a pretentious dickhead.

One of its greatest triumphs is that it has one of the best Side Ones known to man, and a Side Two that takes you into the depths of alien tumbleweed country, where people (and extraterrestrials) are probably doing lots of drugs. Though I don’t believe the band needed to resort to massive acid dropping to record this masterpiece, it can sometimes feel that way because it’s so otherworldly.

Virtually every song is actually four to five songs in one, making this recording feel like the definition of an epic adventure, borrowing from numerous genres ironically without seeming like it’s trying to pull off hipster schtick. This is Roxy fuckin’ Music after all, whose 1972 line-up is probably the only one in the world that could possibly make oboes sound this cool. In fact, this incarnation of the Roxy Music line-up is the very definition of a tongue-in-cheek dream team. See below for brilliant rock ‘n roll recipe:

1. Bryan Ferry – vocals, piano, Hohner Pianet, Mellotron
2. Brian Eno – VCS3 synthesizer, tape effects, back-up (a kindred spirit, in that we both fail to see the appeal of sports and the desire for musical reunions)
3. Andy Mackay – oboe, saxophone, back-up
4. Phil Manzanera – guitar
5. Graham Simpson – bass
6. Paul Thompson – drums

Is this a modest recording in any sense of the word? Hell no, and why would you want it to be? Roxy Music has a Godzilla-sized ten showy songs strung together and woven into an anti-lo-fi  masterpiece. I guess if you’ve got the plumage, you might as well flaunt it.

Now let’s get into the meat:

Re-Make / Re-Model – Some kind of spastic saxophone-infused frenzy that I could imagine being played in that Star Wars bar (nerds, help out with the name) at any time of day or night. One of the best features of this song is the multitude of solos interspersed with short barely pauses, gradually droning out to a faded end that takes over a minute to fizzle out. In reflecting upon the drum bit at the end, I think Paul Thompson may have doubled as Animal from the Muppet Show.

Ladytron – The beginning of this tune brings us some of the finest oboe music known to man with a creepy lulling effect and a jaunty little middle. Ferry’s voice sounds increasingly like a bleating goat here, and nothing could be more perfect. Those crashing bits meshed with the weird space echoing effect makes you long for about seven minutes more of it.

If There Is Something – In spite of my intense dislike of equine, I would choose this song if I ever had to make an entrance riding on one. There seem to be at least three distinct parts to it: the first is a happy go-lucky western-ish romp through the countryside, the second is a darker bit on the trail, the third is prolonged oboe sadness, the fourth is a vocal masterpiece in which Ferry makes us feel like we’re sitting in his gospel.

Virginia Plain – I remember first hearing this in high school alongside Brian Eno’s Burning Airlines Bring You So Much More, resulting in my listening to little else throughout Grade 11. The artists of today only wish they could write a song ending as appropriately punchy as this. Virginia Plain has all the virile energy of a bajillion tiger penises, and then some. Chumps drink Red Bull to harness the energy to stay awake. I listen to Virginia Plain.

2HB – Here’s lookin’ at you kid. Not my favorite track off the album, but you can’t win ’em all. It starts to get awesome around the 2:30 mark with the subtle keyboard playing a more prominent role than the sax.

The Bob (Medley) – One of the trippiest things ever recorded with a purely rock the fuck out tearing through starting at the 0:50 mark, and the best example of distinct songs working within the same narrative / framework. Around 1:35 your mind gaskets start being blown to bits again by weird unidentifiable sounds that somehow don’t seem the least bit arty for the sake of being arty. 3:05 brings us to 70’s-infused LSD-ville, dipping again into the somber, lifting up again to the rock out. A fine masterpiece of a song.

Chance Meeting – Kind of a sad swansong, but also one of the flatter songs on the album.

Would You Believe? – At first you think this is going to be a bit of a sleepy number, but then you hit 1:12 and it turns into an electric take on Chubby Checker’s “The Twist”, eventually cooling down into a tambourine-happy fade out.

Sea Breezes – Every time I hear this one it absolutely slays me. I could lie in the middle of the floor listening to this on extended repeat. If I were overdosing on something in the 70’s, I’d want to listen to this as I was being taken to the hospital…but wait, 3:35 rolls around and the intrepid change in tune indicates that I’m clawing my way back to a respectful member of society again. Yes ladies and gentlemen, this is the power of different sweeping cadences.

Bitters End – Du-wop-ish, very Twin Peaks, very Platters, very good.

Fucking very, very good.

Classic Album Review: Fleetwood Mac – Tango in the Night [1987, Warner Bros.]

Posted on August 4, 2010 by Allison in Albums, Classic Albums, Everything, Music, Reviews | 5 Comments

The Classic Album Review is back after a two week hiatus. Maybe it was the trip across the pond that did it, and got me thinking of the best cross-Atlantic musical collaborations to date. Fleetwood Mac naturally came to mind first, and seeing as it’s suddenly become cool within the past few years to celebrate them (Radiohead and Deerhunter have openly professed their love), I figured it was their turn.

When people think of Fleetwood Mac, they undoubtedly think of Rumors, copious amounts of cocaine consumption, incestuous affairs where every band member sleeps with every band member, and Steve Nicks.

I’ll be the first to admit that Tango in the Night is not some kind of  rarity, with critics dismissing it as the final demise of the band into a mushy-adult-contempo-soft-boiled-soft-rock -commercial-radio-mess. As the second bestselling FM album, a heavy rotation on CHFI to this day, and the last release from the legendary McVie-McVie-Buckingham-Nicks-Fleetwood line-up, there doesn’t seem to be anything remotely indie about it. But who cares? What it is, is a damned good recording with some of the best guitar, drum, and bass lines known to man. Besides, that’s not what this series is about anyway.

Here’s the long and short of it: Tango in the Night has some of the happiest songs that take me to the crux of  musical glee. There’s something about upbeat Christine McVie songs that puts me into a temporary, lulled yet elated state of mind, and there’s no funk too deep that it won’t drag me out of.

In its heart of hearts, Tango in the Night is a Christine McVie and Lindsey Buckingham (who I still have a crush on, despite his increasing resemblance of a deep fried Dr. Emmett “Doc” Brown from Back to the Future) show. They both produce all of the best tracks (Everywhere, Big Love) on the album, along with some of its guiltiest rockin’ 80’s pleasures (Isn’t It Midnight, You and I Part 2).

Let’s go through a play-by-play:

Big Love – The original is still by far, my favorite Buckingham penned and voiced FM tune. It’s very synth, slick, and is simply an odd little ditty that works, even with the weird “uh-ah” wheezes that serve as some kind of back-up vocal substitute.

Seven Wonders – This is Stevie Nicks’s greatest contribution to Tango in the Night. I’m not sure if this is because this was the time period where she was addicted to tranquilizers that her doctor at the time had prescribed to help defeat her cocaine addiction, or if she was doing this as a favor in-between her solo career. Either way, it’s one of the few Stevie songs that’s not a downer, and though I love her more melancholy songs, I’m happy this one came along as it serves her nomadic spiritual crystal-collecting image well.

Everywhere – This might as well be the only song on the album, because it would single-handedly make Tango in the Night one of the best albums of the 80’s . I listen to this song an average of three times a day, everyday, and there’s nothing in my life that it can’t seem to solve. Last.fm indicates that I have listened to it around 200 times since January 15, 2010, and if you hear it for yourself, you may understand why. There’s something about it that is akin to magic…it’s got that fairy-dustsish feeling that pacifies me to the point of stupid grin for no apparent reason. Maybe because I would imagine this is what it feels like to be dumb and happy all the time must feel like (or young love, as this was co-written by McVie’s new and second husband, which must have been more than awkward for alcoholic ex-husband John).

Caroline – Kind of what Peter Gabriel was doing at the time with all of his tribal-beat-new-age-sex-sounding songs, only with an anthem-ish edge.

Tango in the Night – I can imagine how this might be the type of song I will be playing around the house a decade from now, much to my childrens’ mortification at their uncool mom. OK, so it’s got a bunch of terrible cliched 80’s mood guitars churning away unnecessarily to fill the oddly high number of dramatic pauses. But how can you resist that opera-like chorus, or that ridiculously over-the-top guitar solo towards the end??

Mystified – A surprising Buckingham/McVie collaboration that isn’t what you might expect from them. Slow, methodical, and longing. One of those long-forgotten adult-contemporary FM songs you dust off that makes you remember how good it was.

Little Lies – The other huge McVie standout that still reminds me of riding in the back of my parents’ car in the late 80’s / early 90’s, where I would always downplay my joy at hearing something my parents might have liked, too. I’m still riding in the back of their car, but no one plays this song nearly as often as they ought to.

Family Man – This one just puzzles me, as does its placement in their Greatest Hits collection. Well, maybe Buckingham just had a kid or something.

Welcome to the Room Sara – The first of Nicks’s two slow numbers, and neither of them are very memorable. Her voice is sounding increasingly goat-bleatish at this point.

Isn’t It Midnight – Completely shameless 80’s rock-out that I hate to admit I love in a nostalgic Ray Ban, caped neon cap kind of way.

When I See You Again – See above.

You and I Part 2 – A slightly higher class rendition of Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time, demonstrating Buckingham’s irrepressible ability to make even the tackiest beat sound catchy.

Now that I have the opportunity to, I want to talk a bit more about Christine McVie. Tango in the Night demonstrates that she had become a songwriting force and performer in her own right. I always felt she deserved more attention as an equal force to be reckoned with along with Nicks, but that she wasn’t really recognized publicly as one-half of the female talent of the band. Maybe that’s my false perception coming into play, but I thought her equally tawdry but comparatively unglamorous personal life contributed to some of her being downplayed in the group. Buckingham, too I felt carried much of the band in its heyday both as a songwriter, vocalist, and plucky guitarist. He added a distinctive flair to everything he wrote, usually with some sort of staccato accent.

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