Remember This Song? #7. Hum - "Stars"

I heard a song in a Ralph's today-

(Ed. note: Ralph's is a California chain of grocery stores, in case you aren't a connoisseur of such places)

-that made me think of the band Hum.

(Ed. note: Hum is a Champaign, IL space-rock band that released 3 amazing albums before disbanding.)

Not because it sounded like them at all - just the opposite. This song, whatever it was, was so cookie-cutter and cliche, it felt like it might have been made by a computer. It probably was. Just a bunch of characteristics of popular songs fed into the Hit-O-Matic, slap an algorithm on it, and bam - instant hit. Maybe not hit, but at least something that sounds like it should be a hit because it sounds like all other hits have sounded. That's popular music now.

In 1995, simply-named Hum released their 2nd album, You'd Prefer an Astronaut, which spawned their only thing even resembling a hit, the similarly simply-titled "Stars." But to call the song a hit is being more than generous - it got some radio support and a decent amount of exposure on 120 Minutes and maybe even Alternative Nation if they were out of Chili Peppers videos. No matter, "Stars" did okay,  peaking at #11 on the Billboard Modern Rock/Alternative chart. To compare, the #11 slot is currently occupied by Mumford and Sons, one of the biggest groups on the planet right now and pretty much the closest thing the 2010s have to a Dave Matthews Band. So how did a very heavy, riff-based song with a monotone vocal get all the way to #11 in 1995, when the biggest neo-folk band in the biggest neo-folk time misses the Top 10?

Who wouldn't prefer an astronaut?

It all comes down to exposure. While bands today rely on blogs or licensing to commercials and TV shows for widespread exposure, terrestrial radio and MTV were the main sources for new music in 1995. And there were a hell of a lot more rock stations than there are now. Over the last 10 years, almost all modern rock stations have either altered their formats to include more commercial rock or have changed formats completely due to declining ratings, the most influential among them. WHFS in Washington, DC and WXRK in New York are only 2 of the many casualties the format suffered as alternative rock lost commercial viability. Even Orlando, the medium-sized city that I grew up in, had two modern rock stations in the mid-90s, only one of which is still a rock station today. And with most of these stations eschewing older and mainstream acts in 1995, program directors found themselves with more time for alternative than ever, which meant it was more likely that a song like "Stars" to have at least some success.

But more of what made "Stars" successful was the confluence of its mysterious lyrics, simple melody and insanely heavy guitar, even for the time. The song begins with four bars (two on the single version) of strummed clean electric guitar and singer Matt Talbot quietly singing the song's refrain before the pretty much HUGEST dropped-D chord you've ever heard hits just once, blowing out your speakers and fading out completely before another set of clean, strummed chords give way to the barreling two guitar attack that made Hum one of the most interesting groups of the 90s.

Besides the subject matter of their songs, Hum relied on all kinds of tricks that few other bands of the era employed. Melding space-rock, shoegaze and metal elements, "Stars" was one of their few songs with a distinguishable chorus as oftentimes walls of distorted, shimmering guitars gave way to Talbot's hypnotic, droning yet tender voice that focused more on structure than repetition. While this may sound unappealing to radio programmers of today, the 90s were one of the only times in rock history that this type of music could have been successful. Save perhaps for the early 70s, as Hum isn't terribly far from Led Zeppelin's more obtuse material like "Dazed and Confused". But without Robert Plant's histrionic vocals, would the average listener have been able to stomach something like "Dazed" or "Kashmir"?

What's more remarkable about Hum is that despite "Stars" and You'd Prefer An Astronaut being their biggest single and album, respectively, neither are their best or most polished work. That distinction belongs to their next album, 1998's Downward is Heavenward. Continuing with the prevalent theme of space that carried through so much of Astronaut (see? that's a space thing), Downward tells the story of a group of astronauts stuck in space, desperate to return home to Earth. Heady stuff, even for 1998. I'm not sure this album could even get made now, let alone be released on a major label and given video support, which Downward was, though history has been kind, as Pitchfork put it at #81 in their Top 100 Albums of the 90s and the album has 4.5 out of 5 stars on All Music.

Sadly, the band broke up shortly after that, but have gotten together a few times to play reunion shows in Chicago or whatever city they feel like playing. And each time, the venues are packed with fans who appreciated the band for what it was, and not those who stay for the hit and then leave.

More to come on Hum in this blog, as Downward was a hugely important album for me, but for now here's "Stars" in all it's glory, live on NATIONAL NETWORK TELEVISION! And the guys are wearing shorts - something that would never fly in these image-centric internetting times we live in.

Whatever.

Happy Birthday, Billy Corgan!

Little known fact: long before he was a professional wrestling promoter, Billy Corgan was once in a rock n roll combo named The Smashing Pumpkins. They never had the mega-success of say, a White Town or Baja Men, but they did alright.

WRONG THEY WERE THE GODDAMNED SMASHING PUMPKINS JUST ABOUT THE GREATEST BAND THAT EVER LIVED FOR A FEW ALBUMS.

Now, the Pumpkins live on with a kid for a drummer and none of its original members, save for Billy.

Let's ignore what they are now, and focus on their best song ever, "Cherub Rock"

Happy Birthday, Billy! May today be the greatest day you've ever known.

Whatever.

Sugar Ray Sinks Boat

As great as the 90s were for music, it's only a matter of time before we have to endure a terrible commercial on a Sunday afternoon advertising a watered down and overpriced Time Life compilation featuring nothing but "the best" of 90s alternative. No doubt, a man and woman dressed in some sort of flannel will speak directly to the camera (and you), reminding you of how great things were when you were young, and how easy it will be to feel that way again for 4 easy payments of $19.95 + S&H.

And this compilation will no doubt skip over the Nirvanas, Smashing Pumpkins and Radioheads of the world because their music still sells a good amount and doesn't need the licensing money that Time Life will offer them to put a 2nd or 3rd single on their box set.

Not only will those bands not be featured because they're too expensive, but also because the curators of this collection will try to get songs with the broadest appeal ("One Week" by the Barenaked Ladies will be on this hypothetical CD, I can guaran-damn-tee it), because let's face it - most people don't give a shit about music. Most people aren't interested in what made the Dandy Warhols different than Spacehog, because to most people it's the same shit and I just want to hear it and not think about it.

This is known in television as the "CBS Syndrome."

And it is because of the CBS Syndrome that Sugar Ray, Smash Mouth, the Gin Blossoms, the Spin Doctors and Marcy Playground will all appear on this compilation.

This is what people think of when they think of the 90s. Sugar Fucking Ray.

And because of this homogenization of the era's music, Mark McGrath of Sugar Ray was able to get the aforementioned bands together to tour.

Tour what? Arenas, with comfortable chairs and $10 parking? State fairs? Theme parks.

Nope. They're (going) on a boat.

To be precise, WERE going on a boat. Because as of 2 days ago, this Tragical History Tour was canceled.

Citing Carnival Cruise's Triumph disaster, in which an engine room fire let to looting and hall-pooping within presumably minutes, the planned cruise from Miami to the Bahamas has been canceled, leaving at least dozens of thirty-somethings desperate to get away from their kids (and relive the part of their lives that wasn't centered on a co-dependent 2'4" vomit machine) with nothing to do for 4 days and 5 nights in mid-October.

But don't fret fans of How I Met Your Mother, aka "No, Really, It's Not Like Big Bang Theory At All" (SPOILER ALERT: Yes, it fucking is.), for Mark McGrath and Co. have ditched the boat for the luxuries of charter tour buses and will be hitting the road this summer with a pretty much identical tour of Sugar Ray, the Gin Blossoms, Smash Mouth, Fastball and Vertical Horizon.

Vertical. Fucking. Horizon.

Whatever.

Stone Temple Pilots Terminates Scott Weiland

No doubt showing up naked and immediately stealing some bikers' clothes, the 3 members of Stone Temple Pilots that are not Scott Weiland have "terminated" Scott Weiland from the band just days before he is about to embark on a solo tour. A solo tour on which he will play Stone Temple Pilots songs. Without the rest of Stone Temple Pilots.

To further complicate things, Weiland claims that he hasn't been fired, and how could he, given that he "founded, fronted and co-wrote many of its biggest hits"?

Given that Weiland has made numerous bad decisions that have led to drugs, legal troubles, and being in Velvet Revolver, the fact that the DeLeos are moving on without him is hardly surprising. After all, they have done this before, when they formed Talk Show which lasted exactly one album before STP came back with No. 4 in late 1999.

Just so everyone remembers, here's STP with Weiland:

And here's STP without:

On second listen, maybe it doesn't matter if he's in the band or not. Just get that guy to put on a Weiland mask.

Whatever.

Happy Birthday, Kurt Cobain.

Had he not taken his own life, Kurt Cobain would have turned 46 today. As I've written before, the impact that Nirvana had on my life is immeasurable, and you can't hear their music today without wondering what might have been.

Here is one of my favorite Kurt interviews, from the beginning:

 

And another great one, from the end:

Wherever you are, I hope you've found peace. None of this would exist if it wasn't for you.

Whatever.

Happy Birthday, Billie Joe Armstrong!

A Happy 41st Birthday to Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day, who is hopefully celebrating without drinking somewhere because of that whole breaking-down-at-a-giant-popfest-thing.

Wait, what the shit?! 41?! How is that possible?!

Good lord, it's been more than 20 years since this?

Incidentally, this is probably Green Day's best song. It's weird to think that there might be people reading this blog-

-Doubtful.

-Ahem. People reading this blog who are younger than that song. You see kids, a long time ago, back before the war(s), Green Day were an actual punk band that did ironic punk things, like tour in a bookmobile and throw mud at people on the biggest stage of their lives and curse on television and play a different song than they told the MTV people they were going to. Those rascals. Yes, believe it or not, they weren't always the corporate, polished, pretentious arena rockers they are today.

Uno, Dos and Tres? Seriously? C'mon guys. You couldn't cut those down to one album? There was one single between all three and it was T-E-R-R-I-B-L-E. "Oh, Love." THOSE WERE THE ONLY LYRICS! And you can't act like rock stations like KROQ wouldn't support it because they still play "When On I Come Around" on an HOURLY rotation like it was still goddamned 1995! KROQ, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! YOU WERE ONCE AN IMPORTANT ROCK STATION! Now, you're playing that "$20 in my pocket" rap song. Just stop, already! And maybe ease up on the Sublime and Chili Peppers a little so I wouldn't be more inclined to listen to sports talk radio all day.

Anyway, Happy Birthday, Billie Joe. Please come back and excite me like you did when I was 15 and you were 23.

That sounds weird.

Whatever.

Marilyn Manson is Literally Sick of His Own Music

When alt rock took off in the early 90s, and being punk came in vogue again, there was a period where shock value was brought back into rock. The slam-dancing punk rock of the late 70s and early 80s had done their best to challenge the establishment, but there were only so many body parts you could pierce with safety pins before the effect wore off. This gave way to the 80s and more mainstream artists like Cyndi Lauper and Missing Persons making bold fashion statements by co-opting what was previously meant to shock.

After a while, that subsided and rock was once again fairly clean cut. Sure Motley Crue and GnR had did their best, but for each of them, there were 7 Warrants and 10 Def Leppards negating the attempt to defile every nubile girl and snort every ounce of coke on the Sunset Strip.

So when Nirvana came along, with their metered and determined anti-establishment ethos, and the resurrected gimmick of smashing their instruments after every performance, they seemed new and interesting and edgy. Kurt died his hair and wore a dress. He kissed his bandmates. They put a naked baby on the cover of their album.

While Nirvana and others did their best to upset things, there was a band gaining popularity in Florida that was determined to take it even further.

With each member creating pseudonyms for themselves comprised of a famous beautiful person and a serial killer, Marilyn Manson was born. The band, I mean. Not Brian Warner, the lead singer of the band that shares his fake name.

In starting a band, Warner seemed more intent on garnishing negative attention from his persona and stage antics than he did the music he was attempting to draw attention to. He was arrested for performing oral sex on a man onstage (really Jack Off Jill singer Jessicka Addams wearing a dildo). He named a song "Cake and Sodomy." He wore face paint.

This rebelliousness continued as the band gained popularity, largely based on an interesting cover of the Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams" and its video in which Warner rides a pig. 

 

Seriously. That's what he does.

Deciding he wasn't getting the right kind of attention, Manson named his next album Antichrist Superstar (at least he had a sense of humor about the whole thing. Kinda.) which spawned their most successful single to date, "The Beautiful People." And it was this song that prompted Manson to collapse and vomit onstage yesterday in Saskatoon, Canada, when he just kinda tipped over mid-song.

Good thing it was in a land with universal health care, eh?

Here's the video:

"The beautiful people, the beautiful pee- BLEEEECHHHH!!!!"

Compounding the problem was that he fell right as the song exits the chorus, when Manson and/or the backing track let out a pained wail. Even watching the video, it's hard to tell whether or not A. he sang that part and B. if it was a legitimate moan this time. Concert goers reported that he barfed all over but you can't tell from the video. Which is a good thing.

Given that this is the band's biggest and sort-of-only hit, Manson probably has had enough of the now 17-year-old (!!!) song and just doesn't want to play it anymore.

Maybe slipping back into the androgynous alien costume he wore during the Dope Show tour will lift his spirits. It certainly did ours.

Whatever.

90s Live Now #12 - BEN FOLDS FIVE

As you may have noticed, I grew up in the 90s. That's not exactly true. I grew up in the 80s and 90s. Though, I'm not really sure which decade I'm supposed to have grown up in when it comes to Buzzfeed articles and Microsoft Internet Explorer commercials. I was born in 1979, so I became self-aware in the middle of the 80s, but had reached a certain maturity level in the early 90s when I became a teenager.

But, when it comes to music, I'm all 90s. Obviously, since I write a 90s music blog that like 3 people look at. That takes a special kind of dedication.

The 80s, when it comes to music, kind of sucked. Don't get me wrong, there was great stuff in the 80s. Pixies, The Cure, REM, The Cars and other bands that were mostly on the fringe of the mainstream. And I love the hell out of Hall & Oates and Huey Lewis & The News. Unironically, even. But for the most part, I consider the early-to-mid 80s to be a bunch of synthy bullshit and the late 80s to be homogenized pop. Again, there are a lot of exceptions. But look at what the 80s did to great bands like Chicago and Jefferson Airplane. In the late 60s and early 70s, Chicago was pretty much the greatest thing alive and Jefferson Airplane was not far behind. In the 80s, "Hard to Say I'm Sorry" and "We Built This City." WE BUILT THIS FUCKING CITY. That's what the 80s were - "We Built This City" on endless repeat while yuppies snort coke in Volvos while wearing shoulder padded power suits and watching Dallas. 

But the 90s, now that was a special time. I know a lot of people will say, "Ugh the 90s was just grunge marf marf marf." But the mainstreaming of grunge lasted for like 18 months. And, it paved the way for alternative music to become popular, which it still is today: Mumford and Sons. Gotye. Fun. There's even some bands that don't suck.

For those that don't waste time dissecting this, "grunge" is synonymous with both the fashion of wearing beat-up clothes and flannel shirts, and the music. But to those people, "grunge" just means "loud guitars." Everclear and Eve 6 were grunge bands to a lot of people. This is wrong. Grunge was a very specific type of riff-based rock that was mostly popular in the Pacific Northwest. Early Soundgarden, Tad, Mudhoney, etc. It's a lot closer to Black Sabbath than it is to goddamned Everclear.

No, what these people consider to be grunge is actually "alternative rock" or "modern rock" or "alt rock" which is another umbrella term for rock that includes Soundgarden, Nirvana AND Everclear. And if you remove the rock, you just get alternative. Which allows for pretty much anything, including...

BEN FOLDS FIVE

Herein lies the greatness of 90s alternative and the 90s as a whole - you could turn on an alternative station in 1995 and hear Pearl Jam (rock), Beastie Boys (rap), Beck (whatever) and Ben Folds Five - which draws heavily from 70s-era soft rock like Elton John and Steely Dan - all on the same station, in a row. It was like your iPod on shuffle except with shitty commercials every 3 songs. Seriously, radio commercials are the lowest form of art.

But, as a child of the 90s, I hated this band. For years. Well, two years. But when you're a teenager, two years is a significant fraction of your existence.

My introduction to BFF came while watching 120 Minutes (February 4, 1996) and seeing the video for "Underground." My first thought, clear as day:

"WHAT. THE. SHIT."

In the previous hour, I had seen videos from Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins, No Doubt, Spacehog and Radiohead. All guitar-based groups that used a buttload of distortion, which was the litmus test of musical awesomeness in the 90s. It took a lot to appreciate a group that wasn't stepping on a distortion pedal as the chorus starts. I came of age during the height of Nirvana; I was conditioned to hear a wall of distortion and feedback in every other song. And now, there's this twirpy guy banging on a piano in cowboy outfits singing about being cool and "Underground" in a weird falsetto like an adult Varys. This was the stuff of my 16-year-old nightmares. Well, that and Jennifer Bryant giving your friend Brent a handy when you clearly liked her.

I may have overreacted. After a couple more airings of that video it started to grow on me, but it wasn't until 3 months later when I saw the hilarious video for "Uncle Walter" that I came around and learned to appreciate this band for how great they were.

Fast forward a couple years and "Brick" just explodes. Everyone is singing it and no one can figure out that it's about abortion except me. Is that true? Of course not. Other people figured it out. But no one that I talked to at the time could. And no one had ever heard of this band before. Except me. I was so amazing and special and kind of an asshole for thinking that. Regardless of the newfound popularity, I had both of their albums on near-constant repeat. To me, this was as close as you could get to Weezer (my favorite band at the time), even if the loud guitars were replaced by a guy pounding his piano like it was a keg of Miller Lite at a freshman year frat party.

Fast forward a couple more years and we get to "Army" and The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner, the band's third album, and once again, I'm on the outside with BFF. Gone were the melodies and humor and fuzzy bass that was their first self-titled album and Whatever and Ever Amen. Messner was something else entirely, and I wasn't buying in. Until I gave it a year or so and re-listened and realized this was their best work. Hell, this was some of the best music of the whole decade.

Sadly, many others had the same initial reaction to Messner that I did. Music was changing; pop and boy bands and hip-hop and shitty Limp Bizkit buttrock were taking over and an album that could have been the Sgt. Pepper's to OK Computer's Pet Sounds had it just came out 4 years earlier was lost in the shuffle.

And then the band broke up, taking my chances to see them live with them.

I'd missed seeing a lot of bands in the 90s, but Ben Folds Five was with Buffalo Tom and that dog. at the top of the regrets list. So, when it was announced in August of 2011, a tour only seemed inevitable.

Which brings us to January 26, 2013 at the Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles' Koreatown neighborhood.

In past 90s Live Now entries, I've written about fevered crowds, but I've not seen anything like tonight. This band was beloved, and every single (white) person in the greater LA area was there, singing along with every song.

Seriously, everyone was white. It was like being at the Republican National Convention.

More seriously, the crowd was manic. During "Army", Ben turned the mike to the crowd, and we sang back the horn parts, even breaking them up into their distinct parts without any direction. It was one of those special moments that happens once in a never. Like the time Raine Maida of Our Lady Peace started crying when the crowd sang "4am" louder than he was and completely unprompted.

Last fall, the band released their fourth studio album, The Sound of the Life of the Mind. And unlike Buffalo Tom's Skins, this is an album I found myself listening to over and over and over again. While not quite as exuberant as their first 2 records, nor as melancholy and experimental as their 3rd, Sound has great songs for a band that hadn't even played together in 13 years. So, when they opened with "Michael Praytor, Five Years Later", the second track off of their newest album, there was none of the backlash that you would expect from a crowd who paid a lot of money (seriously, these tickets were expensive) to see one of their favorite bands reunited but they insist on playing the new shit no one knows. Point is, the new shit is good so no one cared.

Also helping - this is a tight band. Even during songs they just sort of made up on the spot, drummer Darren Jesse and bassist Robert Sledge expertly kept up with Ben Folds and his magical piano, making it seem like these little improvs were fully formed ideas that the band had rehearsed for weeks. It was like a little window into their creative process, furthered by Ben Folds' story about how the new song "Do It Anyway" was inspired by an event that occurred the last time he had played the Wiltern (short version, Ben said he couldn't dance on top of his piano to whatever song they were playing, a fan yelled "Do It Anyway" and he wrote 75% of it right there and then).

Another very cool thing about tonight's show: Ben Folds said that the band broke up 13 years ago and his kids are now 13 years old and tonight was the first time they had met Darren or Jesse and the first time they've seen BF5 perform live. What a spectacular first time to see them - in a packed auditorium, with thousands of people singing along with their dad's songs. They must've been beaming with pride. Hell, I was for them.

So, bottom line, amazing show. Like Buffalo Tom two years ago, this is a great live band, made better by the fact that I waited a decade and a half to see them live.

Here's the setlist:

Michael Praytor, Five Years Later

Jackson Cannery

Hold That Thought

Selfless, Cold and Composed

Erase Me

Landed

Sky High

Missing the War

Battle of Who Could Care Less

Draw a Crowd

Thank You For Breaking My Heart

Brick

Theme From Dr. Pyser

Army

Do It Anyway

Alice Childress

Tonight the Bottle Let me Down (Merle Haggard cover) 

Song For The Dumped

ENCORE:

Philosophy
Chopsticks (Liz Phair cover)

Magic
Underground

How fitting that they should end with the song that had first turned me against them before I learned to love them. It was a perfect way for the cosmos to rub my early stupidity in my face.

Whatever (And Ever. Amen.).

15 Years Ago Today #5 - 1/22/98

Just five years later and it's clear that tastes had changed and how. None of these artists were on the 1993 chart and with the exception of Pearl Jam, none of these artists even existed in 1993. I realize that's not exactly accurate, as Green Day had already released 2 albums by 1993 and Everclear were doing...something and Matchbox 20 was still an Orlando band called Tabitha's Secret, singing "3am" in clubs all up and down Orange Avenue, and I say that like anyone who didn't grow up there has any clue what that means. The point is, we're like 6 months out from Barenaked Ladies' "One Week" at this point in the decade. Which is pretty much when the 90s stopped being the 90s, in my opinion.

But this is a celebration of the greatness of the decade and not its decline, and this collection of songs  defines a very specific time in my life that I loved. As I've gotten older, I've realized that finding a group of songs that can so clearly represent a period in your life is a lot harder. Partly because you end up listening to the music of your formative years more often, so the memories those songs are tied to have already been made, and partly because the radio is really, really fucking terrible right now so it's harder for songs to be tied to time, since you end up playing music you want to hear when you want to hear it as opposed to whatever is popular at the time being the soundtrack to your life.

Does that make sense? What I mean is, there's not a set of 10 current songs that will, for me, ever be tied to January of 2013. Mostly because, I'm choosing what I listen to as opposed to the radio doing it for me, which was pretty much how it was during the entire rock'n'roll era until the invention of the MP3.

Maybe I'm waxing nostalgic, but this is a blog about the 90s so I don't know what you thought you were going to get.

Anyway, here's Marcy Playground, a band that got way more attention than it ever deserved for what I always thought was a mediocre and monotonous dirge that people really only liked because of the way he said "candy here" and because the word "sex" was in the title. This was before porn saturation; we lived for any mention of sex. Oh, and the video was cool.

Side complaint: there was a 10 second commercial for a Kidz Bop American Idol-esque contest before the video, about 12 kids who are competing to be music superstars. THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS!!! I would take a thousand Marcy Playgrounds before I took one 8-year-old singing about whatever puerile garbage that spews from the food hole that is the mouth of an 8-year-old child. Go play in the yard, you gross little tax deductions!

And here's the chart:

1. Marcy Playground - "Sex and Candy"
2. Green Day - "Time of Your Life (Good Riddance)"
3. Pearl Jam - "Given to Fly"
4. Everclear - "Everything to Everyone"
5. Matchbox 20 - "3am"
6. The Verve - "Bittersweet Symphony"
7. Third Eye Blind -"How's It Going to Be"
8. Days of the New - "Touch, Peel and Stand"
9. Ben Folds Five - "Brick"
10. Our Lady Peace - "Clumsy"

Whatever.

20 Years Ago Today #5 - 1/22/93

Fresh out of 1992, and the "old guard" of alternative music was still ruling the charts. Or maybe Billboard just didn't know what to make of anything yet. Ned's Atomic Dustbin sat atop the charts and a song about a fish, or at least named after a fish, was #2. The 90s were weird, eh? That makes me miss The Kids in the Hall. Hey, another 90s thing!

I always felt like Ned's never really got their due. They had all of the elements that should have made them successful - well, more successful. They did have the #1 song, after all. But for whatever reason, they never caught on in the US.

Anyway, here's the chart:

1. Ned's Atomic Dustbin - "Not Sleeping Around"
2. Neneh Cherry - "Trout"
3. Daniel Ash - "Get Out of Control"
4. Jesus Jones - "The Devil You Know"
5. Peter Gabriel - "Steam"
6. 10,000 Maniacs - "Candy Everybody Wants"
7. Sunscreem - "Love U More"
8. R.E.M. - "Man On the Moon"
9. Duran Duran - "Ordinary World"
10. Inspiral Carpets - "Two Worlds Collide"

At 8 & 9 are two of the greatest songs of the 90s; 5 and 6 are classics; 10 is great and the rest is...well, it's there, just waiting to be forgotten about by the time Nirvana's "Lithium" is released as a single.

Whatever.

Nirvana's Legacy in Bullet Points

Despite the seeming callous and irreverent title of this entry, it's in reference not to the most impactful event of my adolescence, but rather to something that appeared on Collapse Board today.

The post details a document that seemingly originated from Nirvana's record company (presumably DGC Records, which is basically synonymous with the 1990s, having released records from Nirvana, Weezer, Beck, Hole, Sonic Youth, Veruca Salt, Teenage Fanclub, Elastica, The Posies, that dog., Counting Crows, White Zombie, Sammy, Sloan, Jawbreaker - like I said, the entire 90s) that reduces an upcoming 20th anniversary reissue of In Utero to a series of easily-marketable bullet points in order to presumably remove the burden of actual work that has been placed on their fresh-out-of-college interns.

She's still got it.

Perhaps this is a cynical way of looking at it, but then so is the memo. So there.

Since this came from the internet and it's 2013, the authenticity of the document has been brought into question, partly because only the text is posted instead of the document itself and partly becomes it seems too good to be true. Even the highest levels of Corporate America pretend to maintain a modicum of artistic integrity, especially the music industry. Something like this is like the Wizard of Oz holding an open house.

Here's the document if you don't want to leave this page. And let's face it, why would you?

(starts)

This memo is being sent out to prepare everyone for the major musical event of 2013. I am speaking, of course, about the 20th anniversary reissue of In Utero by Nirvana. Our friends at Pitchfork will produce a news item around May letting people know that the reissue is coming. Details will be scant, but it will nevertheless grease the wheels and allow a suitable amount of excitement to build up before the actual reissue. When the reviews start to appear it is vital that they all hold to a similar pattern. To understand why this is the case we must look once more to The Beatles. The sheer amount of Beatles literature (and its continued market success) should tell us all one very important fact: people not only like to read the same story over and over again, they demand it. Our job is to retell the story, to reinforce the legends, to emphasise the inflexibility of the narrative. So, given these facts I’ve prepared some bulletin points that focus on what each review should highlight:

1. Give some brief background details. This is called SETTING THE SCENE. The Nirvana/Kurt Cobain legend must reinforce again and again the idea of the reluctant star, the uncomfortable voice of a generation. I recommend the use of the term “thrust into the limelight”. It functions beautifully for our purposes. I can’t stress enough that if the tragedy of the story is to emerge it can only do so from the idea of the reluctant star. Nevermind made them famous. What would they do now? (If you must mention Incesticide, be sure to call it a “stopgap” release.)
2. In Utero must be viewed as their attempt to regain punk credibility. Nirvana are on a major label, but you should present Cobain as a punk rocker at heart. Further tragedy can be wrung from the idea of the compromise that Nirvana made when they opted to sweeten two of the Steve Albini-produced tracks and make them more airplay friendly. (Please note: the original Albini-produced album will be available with the reissue. We have several bloggers working on reviews that seek to dismiss the original release and describe the original Albini mix as a ‘revelation’. This should bring the Nevermind haters on board).
3. The reissue itself. The best way to get people to buy an album twice is to say it has been remastered. This usually amounts to making it louder, but this is where reviews can be crucial. The reviewer must create an unscratchable itch in the reader that makes them view the original release as an inferior product. Phrases like “went back to the original master tapes” and “working with the band” help, but it must be more than that. Use other phrases like “Cobain’s aching howl sounds even more revelatory” (be careful not to overuse revelation/revelatory), and indicate that the remastering job “breathes new life” into the album. Don’t insinuate that the mix has changed, more that it has been enhanced so that you hear everything with new ears.
4. The bonus tracks. The original Albini mix will be a huge draw. Ultimately this will be the thing that convinces the doubters to part with their money. When dealing with the original Albini mix, explore the idea of compromise versus Cobain’s “original vision”, and don’t miss the opportunity to bring tragedy to the surface once again.
5. Summing up. Two things are essential when summing up In Utero: It must be touted as the best Nirvana album. A phrase like “though Nevermind was their breakthrough, In Utero is undoubtedly their best” should work fine. You might want to say “may well be their best”. We’ve already sold them Nevermind by making it seem like a special moment in musical history, so let’s sell them In Utero by pointing out that it’s actually their best. This time, it’s all about the music. The second thing to emphasise is that In Utero must be seen as the last will and testament of a soul not long for this world. Stress how dark, disjointed, and angry the album is. Stress its compromised creation. Be sure to include a sentence along the lines of “just over six months after In Utero’s release Cobain would be dead by his own hand”. By all means, mention heroin and suicide attempts but make sure Cobain’s untimely death seems tragic yet inevitable.

Kurt Cobain: Reluctant star. Pressure. Compromise. Depression. Heroin. Death. It’s that simple. Don’t feel like you are selling yourself short by sticking to these guidelines. Instead know that you are performing a public service. You are providing comfort and certitude in a world of confusion. You are giving people something to believe in. You are helping to make the art of Kurt Cobain immortal. Expect more high profile media events along the lines of the Nirvana/McCartney collaboration before long and, with any luck, we can anticipate a lucrative last quarter in 2013. One last thing: is 2014 too early for a 15th anniversary of the first White Stripes album, or should we wait for the 20th anniversary? I look forward to your feedback. Let’s make the myths.

The best part about the whole thing? There's a link at the bottom of the article advertising "Rare footage of Nirvana on British TV in 1994" that is actually a clip of the forgotten band Stiltskin.

Whatever.

90s Live Now #11 - Soundgarden

#11? What happened to 5-10? They're around, just waiting to be finished and slipped into the timeline as if they've been there the whole time, just like that new girl bassist in The Smashing Pumpkins. We see you. We know you're not D'Arcy.

Now that the 90s revival is in full swing (and given the attention span of most music consumers, likely to end soon), the heavyweights are finally starting to $ee the po$$ibilitie$ that exist in reuniting, touring, recording and breaking up once more, this time for good. For now.

Perhaps the biggest band bitten by the reunion bug is Soundgarden. One of the preeminent acts of the 90s, Soundgarden would without a doubt appear as one of the answers to the Family Feud clue, "Name a Rock Band From the 1990s."

(The answers, in order, would be Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Smashing Pumpkins, Hootie & The Blowfish, Stone Temple Pilots and then Soundgarden.)

What's special about Soundgarden is that they were about the only band who had legitimacy in the Grunge Outbreak of the early 90s, but were also able to achieve mainstream success as an alternative rock band. Then, before it all had a chance to go to shit (and be Audioslave), they broke up.

But wait? Aren't grunge and alt rock the same thing? It's all coffee and flannel, right?

NO.

A friend asked me once what the difference was between grunge and alternative. So I made a mix CD outlining what was grunge (early Soundgarden, Nirvana's Bleach, Tad, Mudhoney, etc.) and what was alt rock (everything that came later, namely Smashing Pumpkins and Stone Temple Pilots). Had I made this in the 90s, it would no doubt have been on a Memorex 90 min cassette tape, one genre to a side. But this is now and even CDs are archaic, as said friend no longer has any way of playing a CD.

(Side note: Some people might argue that Smashing Pumpkins (not THE Smashing Pumpkins, which they were known by starting with Melon Collie) are in fact a grunge band, given their inclusion on the soundtrack to the 1992 Cameron Crowe film, Singles. This is true, however, Paul Westerberg is also on that soundtrack and Paul Westerberg is decidedly NOT grunge, and your argument is invalid. Though a case could be made for The Replacements inspiring the grunge culture in some weird way.)

Which brings us to now. After a decade of Audioslave - the Soundgarden/Rage Against the Machine supergroup that was neither Soundgarden, nor Rage, nor Super - and a handful of questionable Chris Cornell solo material, some great ("You Know My Name" from Casino Royale) and some just god-awful (his cover of "Billie Jean"), Soundgarden decided to reform. And after embarking on a handful of festivals and other dates, they recorded a new album, King Animal. They even had the theme song to the biggest movie of the year, The Avengers, a beast of a song that evokes the power-rock hero anthem of Chad Kroeger and Josey Scott's obtusely-titled "Hero" from 2002's Spider-Man. And then they went on tour again, which brings us to the Henry Fonda Theatre in Los Angeles, the night of November 27th, 2012.

Settle down, old-timers. It's not Lollapalooza '93 anymore.

Soundgarden was a band that I feel I never had a true appreciation for. In 1994, they were inescapable, as the 5 singles from Superunknown were ubiquitous that year, especially "Black Hole Sun." But while all of my friends bought this album, I was more discovering Beck, Smashing Pumpkins, Green Day and The Offspring. I'd always liked them, but found myself moving more in 120 Minutes territory during the mid-90s. However, when Down on the Upside was released, I had finally learned to appreciate the band for what it had become: a rock music powerhouse capable of bridging the gap between fans of guitars and fans of melody, as their songs had both in spades. I was ready to see them live.

And then they broke up.

Which brings us back to now. Despite being holders of balcony tickets for the Fonda, something that I wish upon approximately no one, this show was amazing. Save for "Black Hole Sun", there wasn't a dull moment all night as they tore through most of King Animal and almost all of their hits, save for my two favorite Soundgarden songs, "The Day I Tried to Live" and "Pretty Noose." What are you gonna do?

That might be them.

SETLIST:
Jesus Christ Pose
Flower
Outshined
Spoonman
Attrition
Gun
By Crooked Steps
Taree
Non-State Actor
Get on the Snake
Blow Up the Outside World
Eyelid’s Mouth
Ugly Truth
Fell On Black Days
Been Away Too Long
Worse Dreams
My Wave
Burden in My Hand
A Thousand Days Before
Rusty Cage
Bones of Birds
Rowing

Incessant Mace
Black Hole Sun
Slaves & Bulldozers

By far, the highlight of the night was the raucous rendition of "Rusty Cage", with a tempo around 20% faster than recorded. Given that this was always one of their most rockin' songs, this speedier version grabbed me by the nuts and said, "you're going for a ride, kid." Dear readers, I headbanged. I banged my head. At 33 years old. And had I been on the floor, I would have moshed with all the gray-templed 40 year old dudes who came out on a Tuesday night to see some good, old-fashioned grunge/alt rock. Because it's hard as hell to hear a live guitar tuned to "Dropped-D" anymore.

Whatever.