Index of posts 1-200

We're now 200 (!) posts into this project, and I thank you all for sticking with me. To retain the comprehensive, organized quality of the blog, which I like to think of as relatively no-frills, here is an alphabetical index of all of the album reviews (and other posts) thus far. Below that, instead of commemorating with the Top 100 Albums again (that was posted here for #100), I've put together a decidedly different and hopefully equally fun list. Again, thank you for reading.

ALPHABETICAL INDEX
KEY: [A+] / [hr] = highly recommended / [r] = recommended / [c] = caution / [NO] = avoid

(Keep in mind, we're using iTunes capitalization here. I am well aware that from a cataloging standpoint that's total bullshit, but it keeps me from having to deal with surname ambiguities. I'm a library assistant in real life so I know this is offensive, and all I can tell you is... I like pissing you off.)

STUDIO ALBUMS
10,000 Maniacs: In My Tribe (1987) [c]
10,000 Maniacs: Blind Man's Zoo (1989)
10,000 Maniacs: Our Time in Eden (1992) [c]
13th Floor Elevators: The Psychedelic Sounds Of (1966) [hr]
13th Floor Elevators: Easter Everywhere (1967) [r]
2 Many DJ's: As Heard on Radio Soulwax, Pt. 2 (2002)
3 Mustaphas 3: Soup of the Century (1990) [c]
The 6ths: Wasps' Nest (1995) [hr]
The 6ths: Hyacinths and Thistles (2000) [r]
...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead: Source Tags & Codes (2002) [c]
A.C. Newman: The Slow Wonder (2004) [r]
A.C. Newman: Get Guilty (2009) [r]
Aesop Rock: Labor Days (2001) [r]
Air: Moon Safari (1998) [hr]
Al Green Gets Next to You (1971) [hr]
Al Wilson: Show and Tell (1973)
Arcade Fire: The Suburbs (2010) [hr]
Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti: Before Today (2010) [hr]
The Beach Boys: Surfin' Safari (1962) [r]
The Beatles: Please Please Me (1963) [A+]
The Beatles: With the Beatles (1963) [A+]
Belle & Sebastian: Write About Love (2010) [r]
Best Coast: Crazy for You (2010) [r]
Big Boi: Sir Lucious Left Foot- The Son of Chico Dusty (2010) [r]
Big Star: #1 Record (1972) [A+]
Björk: Selmasongs (2000) [hr]
Blur: Think Tank (2003) [hr]
Bob Dylan: Together Through Life (2009) [r]
Broken Bells (2010)
The C.A. Quintet: Trip Thru Hell (1968) [r]
ceo: White Magic (2010) [r]
Chatham County Line: Wildwood (2010) [r]
The Chemical Brothers: Further (2010)
Crystal Castles (2010) [hr]
Curren$y: Pilot Talk (2010) [hr]
Curren$y: Pilot Talk II (2010) [r]
Curren$y: Weekend at Burnie's (2011) [r]
Cut Copy: Zonoscope (2011) [hr]
D.L. Byron: This Day and Age (1980)
The Decemberists: The King Is Dead (2011) [hr]
Deerhunter: Halcyon Digest (2010) [hr]
Depeche Mode: Sounds of the Universe (2009) [r]
Delorean: Subiza (2010) [r]
Destroyer: Kaputt (2011) [hr]
Devo: Something for Everybody (2010) [NO]
Eels: Tomorrow Morning (2010)
EMA: Past Life Martyred Saints (2011) [r]
Emeralds: Does It Look Like I'm Here? (2010) [c]
The Essex Green: Cannibal Sea (2006)
The Extra Lens: Undercard (2010) [r]
Fang Island (2010)
Fleet Foxes: Helplessness Blues (2011) [c]
Flying Lotus: Cosmogramma (2010)
Four Tet: There Is Love in You (2010) [r]
Galaxie 500: Today (1988) [hr]
Gang Gang Dance: Eye Contact (2011) [r]
Gang of Four: Content (2011) [r]
Goldfrapp: Head First (2010)
Gonjasufi: A Sufi and a Killer (2010)
Herbie Hancock: Head Hunters (1973) [hr]
Hot Chip: One Life Stand (2010) [hr]
How to Dress Well: Love Remains (2010) [c]
Ice-T: O.G. Original Gangster (1991) [r]
Ida Cox & Coleman Hawkins: Blues for Rampart Street (1961) [hr]
Information Society (1988) [hr]
The International Submarine Band: Safe at Home (1968) [r]
Interpol (2010) [c]
Iron & Wine: The Shepherd's Dog (2007) [hr]
Iron & Wine: Kiss Each Other Clean (2011) [r]
James Blake (2011) [r]
Joanna Newsom: Have One on Me (2010) [A+]
John Coltrane: Giant Steps (1960) [A+]
Julian Lynch: Mare (2010) [r]
Julianna Barwick: The Magic Place (2011)
Kanye West: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010) [A+]
The Kinks (1964) [r]
The Kinks: Kinda Kinks (1965) [hr]
Kurt Vile: Smoke Ring for My Halo (2011) [NO]
L7 (1988)
Leonard Cohen: Dear Heather (2004) [hr]
Lupe Fiasco: Lasers (2011) [NO]
Lykke Li: Wounded Rhymes (2011) [r]
M. Ward: Duet for Guitars #2 (1999) [r]
M. Ward: End of Amnesia (2001) [r]
Madonna: Hard Candy (2008)
The Magnetic Fields: Distortion (2008) [hr]
Male Bonding: Nothing Hurts (2010) [hr]
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On (1971) [A+]
Matthew Dear: Black City (2010) [r]
Midnight Juggernauts: The Crystal Axis (2010) [hr]
Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool (1950) [A+]
The Mountain Goats: The Life of the World to Come (2009) [hr]
The Mountain Goats: All Eternals Deck (2011) [hr]
Nicolas Jaar: Space Is Only Noise (2011) [hr]
No Age: Everything in Between (2010) [c]
Oasis: Definitely Maybe (1994) [hr]
OFF! First Four EPs (2011) [r]
Okkervil River: I Am Very Far (2011) [r]
Old 97's: Blame It on Gravity (2008) [r]
Old 97's: The Grand Theatre, Volume One (2010)
Old 97's: The Grand Theatre Volume Two (2011) [c]
Otis Redding: Otis Blue (1965) [A+]
Over the Rhine: The Long Surrender (2011) [r]
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Belong (2011) [r]
Panda Bear: Person Pitch (2007) [r]
Panda Bear: Tomboy (2011) [c]
Pantha du Prince: Black Noise (2010)
Parliament: Osmium (1970) [hr]
The Pernice Brothers: Goodbye, Killer (2010)
Pet Shop Boys: Yes (2009) [hr]
PJ Harvey: Let England Shake (2011) [hr]
Prince: Dirty Mind (1980) [hr]
Prince: Controversy (1981) [hr]
Radiohead: In Rainbows (2007) [A+]
Radiohead: The King of Limbs (2011) [hr]
Ray Charles: Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music (1962) [A+]
Robyn: Body Talk (2010) [r]
She & Him: Volume Two (2010) [r]
The Shins: Wincing the Night Away (2007) [A+]
Sleigh Bells: Treats (2010) [NO]
Smith Westerns: Dye It Blonde (2011) [hr]
Spoon: Transference (2010) [r]
Stevie Wonder: Music of My Mind (1972) [hr]
Stevie Wonder: Talking Book (1972) [hr]
The Strokes: Angles (2011) [r]
Sufjan Stevens: Illinoise (2005) [hr]
Sufjan Stevens: The Age of Adz (2010) [hr]
T.I.: King (2006) [r]
Talking Heads: 77 (1977) [hr]
Tame Impala: Innerspeaker (2010) [hr]
Teddy Thompson: Bella (2011) [c]
Tennis: Cape Dory (2011) [r]
The-Dream: Love King (2010) [r]
Tim Hecker: Ravedeath, 1972 (2011) [c]
Titus Andronicus: The Monitor (2010) [hr]
Toro Y Moi: Underneath the Pine (2011)
tUnE-yArDs: whokill (2011) [A+]
TV on the Radio: Nine Types of Light (2011) [hr]
Twin Shadow: Forget (2010) [r]
The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967) [hr]
The Velvet Underground: White Light / White Heat (1968) [A+]
The Walkmen: Lisbon (2010) [hr]
Wavves: King of the Beach (2010) [r]
We Are Scientists: Barbara (2010) [NO]
Wild Nothing: Gemini (2010) [r]
Wire: Red Barked Tree (2011) [r]
Yo La Tengo: Popular Songs (2009) [hr]
Yuck (2011) [r]

REMIX ALBUMS & MIXTAPES
Big K.R.I.T.: Return of 4Eva (2011)
Curren$y & The Alchemist: Covert Coup (2011)
Das Racist: Sit Down, Man (2010) [r]
Gil Scott-Heron & Jamie xx: We're New Here (2011) [r]
The Mountain Goats: All Survivors Pack (2011) [r]
The Weeknd: House of Balloons (2011) [r]

EP's
The Flaming Lips: With Neon Indian (2011) [r]
Girls: Broken Dreams Club (2010) [r]
Hot Chip: We Have Remixes (2010) [r]
James Blake: CMYK (2010)
R.E.M.: Chronic Town (1982) [A+]
Sufjan Stevens: All Delighted People (2010) [r]
The Tallest Man on Earth: Sometimes the Blues Is Just a Passing Bird (2010) [hr]
Vampire Weekend: iTunes Session (2011) [r]

LIVE ALBUMS
10,000 Maniacs: MTV Unplugged (1993)

COMPILATIONS
The "5" Royales: All Righty! The Apollo Recordings (1951-55) [r]
The "5" Royales: Complete King Masters (1954-60) [A+]
? & the Mysterians: Best Of- Cameo Parkway (1966-67) [hr]
101 Strings Orchestra: 20 Years of Beautiful Music (1969) [hr]
1910 Fruitgum Co.: Best Of (1968-70) [hr]
Aaron Neville: A Collection of His Best (1966-2006) [NO]
The Action: The Ultimate! Action (1964-68) [r]
Adam and the Ants: Stand and Deliver- Very Best Of (1977-95)
Adriano Celentano: Best (1975-99) [r]
Archie Bell & the Drells: Tightening It Up (1967-79) [hr]
B.B. King: His Definitive Greatest Hits (1951-93)
The Beach Boys: Summer Love Songs (1963-71)
Buddy Holly: Greatest Hits (1957-59) [A+]
Chuck Berry: The Great Twenty-Eight (1955-65) [A+]
The Everly Brothers: Cadence Classics- 20 Greatest Hits (1957-60) [hr]
The Everly Brothers: Walk Right Back (Warner Years) (1960-69) [r]
Faces: The Definitive Rock Collection (1970-75) [NO]
Gene Vincent: Best Of (1956-63) [A+]
Hall & Oates: The Essential Collection (1974-2001) [NO]
The Impressions: Definitive (1961-68) [hr]
Oasis: The Masterplan (1994-97) [r]
R.E.M.: Eponymous (1981-85)
Sam & Dave: Sweat 'n' Soul- Anthology (1965-71) [A+]
Taj Mahal: Best of (1967-74) [r]
Talking Heads: Sand in the Vaseline- Popular Favorites (1975-92) [r]
Talking Heads: Bonus Rarities and Outtakes (1975-92)
Van Morrison: Best Of (1965-89) [r]
The Yardbirds: Ultimate! (1964-69) [hr]

BOXED SETS
Big Star: Keep an Eye on the Sky (1970-74) [r]
Chuck Berry: The Chess Box (1955-75) [r]

BOOTLEGS
Oasis: The Early Years (1992-95)

SINGLES & MISC. TRACKS
non-LP cuts: #

LISTS & COMMENTS ETC.
All-Time Top Albums + Index
The List of Lists 2010
The Best Records of 2010
Welcome & Introduction

***

TOP 100 MUSIC VIDEOS
I spent about a week and a half working on this list -- less than I would've liked. I'd like to tackle it again at some point with more time. The top ten or so I'm very confident about. The entirety of the list attempts to be free of musical bias, but of course that's nearly impossible. There are a few videos here by bands I don't like, featuring songs I like even less. I think "Sex and Candy" by Marcy Playground is a brilliant video, but have no use for song or band. Same with Nirvana's "In Bloom" and a couple of others. But upon finishing I noticed that no band I'm even neutral about appears until #14, and that song features a member of a band I adore. So maybe that aspect was a failure, I don't know. It's probably tempting to consider my high placings of "Sugarcube" and "Tom Courtenay" as evidence of a YLT bias, but look -- if you say that, you haven't seen the videos. Watch them. Links to the first fifty are provided.

I tend to be skeptical of the video as artform. I think they're commercials, so the list is heavy on both directors who accept that completely (David Fincher) and directors who completely ignore it (Michel Gondry). #1, "Low," was a filmmaking project not made to promote anything, which may be one reason it's #1.

1. R.E.M. "Low" (James Herbert)
2. The Chemical Brothers "Let Forever Be" (Michel Gondry)
3. Bronski Beat "Smalltown Boy" (Bernard Rose)
4. Pet Shop Boys "I Get Along / E-Mail" (Bruce Weber)
5. Björk "It's Oh So Quiet" (Spike Jonze)
6. Yo La Tengo "Tom Courtenay" (Phil Morrison)
7. The Avalanches "Since I Left You" (Rob Leggett & Leigh Marling)
8. Yo La Tengo "Sugarcube" (Phil Morrison)
9. R.E.M. "Imitation of Life" (Garth Jennings)
10. Madonna "Express Yourself" (David Fincher)
11. Talking Heads "Burning Down the House" (David Byrne)
12. Kanye West "Flashing Lights" (Spike Jonze & Kanye West)
13. New Order "Blue Monday '88" (Robert Breer & William Wegman)
14. Massive Attack "Protection" (Michel Gondry)
15. Madonna "Vogue" (David Fincher)
16. The Notorious B.I.G. "Sky's the Limit" (Spike Jonze)
17. Michael Jackson "Thriller" (John Landis)
18. Peter Gabriel "Sledgehammer" (Stephen R. Johnson)
19. Tom Tom Club "Genius of Love" (Rocky Morton & Annabel Jankel)
20. Wu-Tang Clan "Triumph" (Brett Ratner)
21. Pet Shop Boys "Being Boring" (Bruce Weber)
22. Blur "Coffee and TV" (Garth Jennings)
23. Weezer "Island in the Sun" (Spike Jonze)
24. Depeche Mode "Strangelove" (Anton Corbijn)
25. Daft Punk "Around the World" (Michel Gondry)
26. Jay-Z "99 Problems" (Mark Romanek)
27. Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence" (Anton Corbijn)
28. Talking Heads "And She Was" (Jim Blashfield)
29. The Roots "What They Do" (Chuck Stone III)
30. Kanye West "Runaway" (Kanye West)
31. Depeche Mode "Never Let Me Down Again" (Anton Corbijn)
32. Radiohead "Knives Out" (Michel Gondry)
33. Depeche Mode "Behind the Wheel" (Anton Corbijn)
34. Talking Heads "Crosseyed and Painless" (Toni Basil)
35. Missy Elliott "The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)" (Hype Williams)
36. R.E.M. "Man on the Moon" (Peter Care)
37. Arcade Fire "We Used to Wait" (Chris Milk)
38. Marcy Playground "Sex and Candy" (Jamie Caliri)
39. The Chemical Brothers "Elektrobank" (Spike Jonze)
40. TV on the Radio "Wolf Like Me" (Jon Watts)
41. Ludacris "Get Back" (Spike Jonze)
42. Kanye West "Heard 'Em Say" (Michel Gondry)
43. Depeche Mode "Halo" (Anton Corbijn)
44. R.E.M. "Nightswimming" (Jem Cohen) [complete version unavailable online]
45. Pet Shop Boys "Domino Dancing" (Eric Watson)
46. The Magnetic Fields "With Whom to Dance?" (please let me know if you know who directed this)
47. Male Bonding "Year's Not Long" (Vice Cooler)
48. R.E.M. "Crush with Eyeliner" (Spike Jonze)
49. Talking Heads "Love for Sale" (David Byrne)
50. Chris Isaak "Wicked Game" (Herb Ritts)
51. Weezer "Buddy Holly" (Spike Jonze)
52. R.E.M. "It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" (James Herbert)
53. Beastie Boys "Sabotage" (Spike Jonze)
54. Prince "Kiss" (Rebecca Blake)
55. Janet Jackson "Got 'Til It's Gone" (Mark Romanek)
56. Nine Inch Nails "Closer" (Mark Romanek)
57. Pavement "Cut Your Hair" (Dan Koretzky & Ryan Murphy)
58. The Smashing Pumpkins "Tonight, Tonight" (Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris)
59. Pet Shop Boys "Opportunities" (Zbigniew Rybczynski)
60. Michael Jackson "Billie Jean" (Steve Barron)
61. The Cars "You Might Think" (Jeff Stein)
62. The Notorious B.I.G. "Big Poppa" (Hype Williams & Sean Combs)
63. Yaz "Only You '99" (?)
64. Radiohead "Paranoid Android" (Magnus Carlsson)
65. Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five "The Message" (Sylvia Robinson)
66. Fine Young Cannibals "She Drives Me Crazy" (Philippe de Coufle)
67. Radiohead "Just" (Jamie Thraves)
68. Madonna "Like a Prayer" (Mary Lambert)
69. The Cardigans "Lovefool" (Geoff Moore)
70. The New Pornographers "Moves" (Tom Scharpling)
71. Kanye West "Can't Tell Me Nothing" [Zach Galifianakis and Will Oldham version] (Michael Blieden)
72. R.E.M. "Losing My Religion" (Tarsem)
73. Paula Abdul "Cold Hearted" (David Fincher)
74. New Order "True Faith" (Philippe de Coufle)
75. Peter Gabriel "Steam" (Stephen R. Johnson)
76. Depeche Mode "A Question of Time" (Anton Corbijn)
77. Björk "Pagan Poetry" (Nick Knight)
78. MGMT "Kids" (Ray Tintori)
79. a-ha "Take on Me" (Steve Barron)
80. Feist "My Moon My Man" (Patrick Daughters)
81. U2 "Stay (Faraway, So Close!)" (Wim Wenders)
82. Radiohead "High and Dry" (Paul Cunningham)
83. Talking Heads "Road to Nowhere" (David Byrne & Stephen R. Johnson)
84. Puff Daddy "It's All About the Benjamins" (Spike Jonze)
85. Jamiroquai "Virtual Insanity" (Jonathan Glazer)
86. U2 "One" (Anton Corbijn)
87. Daft Punk "Da Funk" (Spike Jonze)
88. Björk "Human Behavior" (Michel Gondry)
89. Blur "Music Is My Radar" (Don Cameron)
90. Pet Shop Boys "Single" (Harold Greenhalgh)
91. Peter Gabriel "Big Time" (Stephen R. Johnson)
92. Janet Jackson "Love Will Never Do (Without You)" (Herb Ritts)
93. U2 "Lemon" (Mark Neale)
94. Herbie Hancock "Rockit" (Godley & Creme)
95. Madonna "Human Nature" (Jean-Baptiste Mondino)
96. Peter Gabriel "Digging in the Dirt" (John Downer)
97. Nirvana "In Bloom" (Kevin Kerslake)
98. Deee-Lite "Groove Is in the Heart" (Hiroyuki Nakano)
99. Tears for Fears "Head Over Heels" (Nigel Dick)
100. George Michael "Freedom '90" (David Fincher)

Stevie Wonder: Talking Book (1972)

(Tamla)

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

I have more qualms about this album than a Stevie Wonder fanatic is probably supposed to. Wonder looms large for me; I think he's at least one of the five greatest performers in all pop music. The only solo artist I'd conceive as mattering more would be Chuck Berry, and only slightly. And this is a great record. But... well... every time I hear someone complaining about his last three decades of work and the schmaltz of his smash "I Just Called to Say I Love You" and its brethren like "Overjoyed" and "For Your Love," I just wonder if the person complaining has listened to "You and I" lately. This horrifically mawkish chestnut features one of his least imaginative melodies and stands still where, if nothing else, "Just Called" and "Overjoyed" sway a bit. Balladry has been part of Wonder's character from the beginning; his early albums were filled with treacly slow ones hand picked for his voice by the Motown gods. If anything, the perpetual funkiness and grit of his '70s work is the irregularity.

What Talking Book proved in its first moments was simply that Wonder no longer needed such hand-holding, hence the proper beginning of his "classic period." It's not worth the trouble to deny "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" even if you don't care much for it; Wonder's propensity for crowd-pleasing is astounding and worth much celebration. He is earth-shaking in the most direct, personal manner, in the way he can craft a wedding song like "I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)" that you've heard on such occasions and contexts probably hundreds of times -- and yet if your friends get married and tackle it as their first dance choice, you still don't really mind because it's that durable, that personable, that sweet-beyond-debate.

However, it wasn't really news in 1972 that Wonder could craft a hell of a ballad. It's on Book's unprecedented funk and harder-edged material that his status as a master is sealed. In a sense it's remarkable that music so unconventional, however led by the more instantly appealing slow ones, infiltrated not just the mainstream soul and pop audience but the pop culture zeitgeist as a whole, sweeping through Grammy ceremonies, radio, and day-to-day life. Wonder's presence in our lives as not just westerners but citizens of planet Earth is arguably greater than that of any other rock performer. I know you love the Beatles and I do too, but even "Hey Jude," their biggest hit, will never have the transformative power across all class, race, and generational lines that "Superstition" does. It packs a power, an urgency, an appeal that others can only dream of. He is our composer -- not our generation's, not our lifestyle bracket's, our country's. He is the man we should be most proud to have as our representative because at our best, this is what we can do artistically, and that is something.

Let's look at "Superstition." Something you may not have noticed about it is that it's rather achingly slow. It's one of the trickiest, most exuberant funk or soul cuts to attain its success, but despite its winding clavinet and persistent drums (both played by Stevie), it moves forward gradually and awkwardly in a fit of paranoia perfectly suited to the song's lyrics. I couldn't tell you whether deceptively tossing a dance beat onto a mournfully confused anthem like this is a new idea, but it's certainly one that's been reappropriated by many, from Wonder's peers (see Marvin Gaye's Here, My Dear) to seemingly unrelated descendents (New Order, U2) who I'm certain got the idea from "Superstition." And what makes it all more remarkable is how electric the song remains after decades of exposure. It still lights up a room, still gets ordinarily hesitant bodies shaking. And Wonder's vocal calm and consistency only add to the firepower.

The rest of the rockers are, amazingly enough, easy matches for "Superstition." The immensely nasty "Maybe Your Baby" feels years ahead of its time, drifting off into Wonder's perfectly crafted bitter sunset the way the #1 hit "You Haven't Done Nothin'" would a few years later. "Big Brother," which segues directly from "Superstition," infuses Wonder's confidence with a heavier than usual African influence, all the more impressive on a cut populated by no other musicians. And the heart of Side One is the melodically undeniable double-header of "Tuesday Heartbreak" (the rare early '70s Wonder classic that inexplicably hasn't made its way into general public consciousness) and "You've Got It Bad Girl," featuring Wonder's voice traveling all the subtle avenues and twists he's best at. It's only near the end that the record becomes slightly indistinct, with "Blame It on the Sun" and "Lookin' for Another Pure Love" both pleasant and worthy if somewhat redundant semi-ballads, but that only makes the crescendo of "I Believe" sweeping up from nowhere all the more striking, an ideal climax for such a game-changing LP.

As much as I hate to give credit to Boomer dinosaurs yet again, we may have the Rolling Stones to thank for the upswing in Wonder's career associated with Talking Book. It was after a successful opening slot for the Stones that Wonder issued this album and saw it become a massive seller, and a cultural infiltrator in a way even the Stones had never experienced (and never would, despite being still the world's most profitable rock band). If Book hadn't taken off, Wonder's wanderings off into impressive but sugarcoated pop might have come more quickly and we would've been denied his triad of classics immediately following this one. Perhaps because Wonder's gifts are so undeniable, perhaps because the time was simply right, the left-field soul and thrillingly unconventional dance numbers on this record were soon enough aspects of a commercial behemoth, one of the rare rock & roll success stories that could make anyone smile. Better yet, having his artistic inclinations so validated gave Stevie Wonder the assurance he required to make an album, Innervisions, that went farther in all the best ways. It's more political, more cathartic, sharper, and best of all, its ballads are just as wildly, gorgeously bizarre as its stompers -- yet again, the building of a new genre and convention, the sole bit of tension Talking Book was missing.

How many have even had the opportunity, as Wonder did, to actually use massive popularity to change the borders of pop music? The Beatles and who else? Anyone? Prince, maybe. Michael Jackson could've but didn't. Stevie Wonder did it, and he did it right, and since he did I wouldn't care if he released a mediocre album every two years for the rest of his life (like Paul McCartney). That's not what he does, though. Instead he makes himself scarce, touring occasionally and releasing a decent album with a couple of classics every ten years or so. I'd say that's a pretty excellent outcome myself.

[SEE ALSO:]
Music of My Mind (1972)

EMA: Past Life Martyred Saints (2011)

(Souterrain Transmissions)

RECOMMENDED

Erika Anderson comes to us with this solo debut after several years with the experimental folk-noise group Gowns, known for their live shows that were often labeled so emotionally intense as to be nearly unbearable. When Anderson and her boyfriend / bandmate Ezra Buchla split up in 2010, it seemed the gutsplitting nature of the band's music had finally done them in. Past Life Martyred Saints contains a good deal of music recorded before that occurrence, as Buchla appears throughout in occasionally more than minor ways. The result is a harrowing, at times uncomfortable record. Which seems to be Anderson's preference. She inflicts brutality here as much as she documents it; she wants to leave a mark every time she touches you, as the song goes. The starkness and desperation end up taking a toll, and the album is a difficult sell. But it's impossible not to admire anyone with the courage to lay themselves as bare as Anderson does here, fully aware of how unsettling the result will be.

Still, when parsing out why I marvel at this music without actually enjoying it, I can't help but think -- as in probably every other review on this page -- of Yo La Tengo. The first time I heard "The Crying of Lot G," a song that documents a fight between married band members Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley in distressingly minute detail, I cringed so much I couldn't finish it -- it was so personal it was difficult to listen in, as if I were Jimmy Stewart gazing in the window of the honeymooners. But Kaplan works through that pain with astounding good humor, honesty, groundedness. Anderson, for all her music's spareness, has a bit of a dramatic streak -- especially in her vocals, heavily reminiscent of Cat Power and PJ Harvey. She comes at all this from what seems like a haunted, baroque angle in the fashion of Nico, fragile but distant. I know the shit she's singing about is fucked up and sad, but I also can never forget she's performing, which makes it hard for me to find a way in. I don't feel like I'm involved in a conversation, the way I feel with Yoko Ono, tUnE-yArDs, Joanna Newsom, or Björk at their best. And I'm not suggesting that Anderson's work here is calculated. I'm suggesting it's a controlled grievance, a therapy more than a catharsis, which only makes me feel even less like it's something I have any right to hear. Anderson's music has the larger-than-life unapproachability of the chanteuse oversharing her heart out on some massive stage someplace, a feature she steadfastedly denies as a facet of her personality -- so maybe her defenses are just high while she works through this raw emotional period. Or maybe I'm full of shit; s'happened before.

The record's most accessible material is no less wounded but doesn't suffer from the same curious dichotomy. Opener "Grey Ship" is hypnotic, shattering, eerily reminiscent of some of Jeff Mangum's pre-Merge material like Hype City Soundtrack with a bigger budget. Mangum is a good comparison here; Past Life makes the same use of the freak-folk lo-fi bedrock as a springboard for the kind of claustrophobic darkness and dread Mangum made his on the unreleased "Little Birds" and the barely released "My Dream Girl Don't Exist," here all Anderson's on the bloody, startling "Marked," the kind of love song you don't want played at your wedding, reaching beyond "Every Breath You Take" because it's so much more articulate, so much more cleanly expressed, and apparently (according to Anderson's interview with Pitchfork) extemporaneous. Her articulation in general is what makes her dangerous. To confront your audience with the dreads and despairs of a love and a life spun around is one thing; to express it with such clear-eyed, lonely eloquence is the kind of thing that can disturb a person's sleep. Maybe it's all hopeless sometimes, but Ira and Georgia are still together. And EMA will get out of this moment. But is there maybe a tiny chance that, at least musically, she doesn't want to? I don't mean to be insulting, but I think it's a valid question.

Galaxie 500: Today (1988)

(Aurora [orig] / Rough Trade [reissue])

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

I need a Dean Wareham moment -- an escape to just this sound and these emotions. I don't refer to any systematic effort of trancelike relaxation so much as just a temporary suspension of all the things that constitute groundedness. You have fifty appointments next week? Right now you don't! Right now, guitars! No trappings whatsoever, just to float off into fuzzed-out feedback and feel suspended in time. Cut the lights off, stare straight upward, and put Today on the headphones. No band, not even My Bloody Valentine or the Jesus and Mary Chain, has ever crafted music as purely and romantically about the electric guitar as Wareham and his first of two brilliant outfits, Galaxie 500.

A common criticism in trad circles in the '80s -- a time, incidentally, to which this music seems to hold no ties whatsoever, their dream-pop not even exhibiting as much debt to its period as most of the actual shoegazers -- was that G500 lacked "songs." There is some truth in this; this band is about a sound and a mood as much as it's about hooks and songcraft, and if anything Galaxie 500's work is least inspired when they show the most adherence to such conventions (as on this record's odd drug song "Temperature's Rising"). But it's also a broad exaggeration to suggest that their work consisted solely of plodding guitar and Wareham's lilting, impossibly fragile vocals. That one could listen to "Parking Lot," with its thudding drums and gorgeous reverb-drenched Phil Spector wall of sound that lovingly obscures its pure Jack Nitzsche melodic beauty, without marveling even a little bit, would seem to me the mark of an overly catholic rock or pop purist. Or just a Luna fan.

Won't deny that to discover Galaxie 500 after Wareham's other band, Luna, is a bit of a rude shock. Luna is leagues beyond Galaxie for pop appeal, their work has a friendliness and directness lacking here, but it also shirks G500's crucial, deeply affecting, almost supernatural dreaminess altogether. You will fall in love with Luna's records but you'll never get lost like you will in the three Galaxie 500 LPs. Folks tend to name On Fire, the sophomore record, as the masterpiece; I personally disagree strongly, for I love that album but consider This Is Our Music a work of out-and-out mastery that has still yet to receive its due. So what of debut Today? It's here that the trio's (rounded out by bassist Naomi Yang and phenomenal drummer Damon Krukowski) ideas and music are at their purest, indeed their vaguest. The modern novice will be reminded less of shoegaze than of a band that was already established by this point but wouldn't operate this type of noise until some years later, Yo La Tengo. Ira Kaplan seems to clearly owe a debt to Wareham's guitar histrionics -- so why does YLT gain (well-deserved) accolades from many of the circles that dismissed Galaxie 500?

It probably has to do with levity, of which G500 has none -- this music is deadly serious, even druggy at times, which is precisely what allows it to revel so much in a pure, unfettered sonic beauty. Take album closer "Tugboat," which in certain hands could be a delicate but assured rock potboiler -- its melody and lyrical ideas are sophisticated enough to carry a much more pronounced and direct performance. Ira Kaplan once famously told Dinosaur Jr. at a Maxwell's gig prior to notoriety that their expertly crafted pop songs would be clearer if they'd turn down a bit. Wonder what Kaplan thinks of "Tugboat," which Galaxie 500 spends corrupting a pure and lovely riff and melody with muddiness, pronounced fragility, unaffected consistency and aloofness of spirit. Wareham wants the songs to sing him, and he completely lets them; the jokes and sweetness get sacrificed for an utter sincerity that can be nearly embarrassing ("Pictures" comes down on the right side, but certainly teeters on the edge) -- something Kaplan and company have only, with this distantly provocative guitar sound, attempted once, on their glorious marriage song "My Heart's Reflection." However less personal Wareham's work may seem, the mood of that astounding piece covers the entirety of this record.

Galaxie 500 probably also turned a few folks off with their flair for drama, which calls back to over-the-top Shadow Morton records (in a more oblique variation) and forecasts the mountains of teary-eyed sincerity in the indie neo-folk movement of the '00s. Quiet down "Oblivious" a bit and it's a Sufjan Stevens song; organize it into palpable hook-chorus moments and it's Arcade Fire. But it's to the band's eternal credit that they copped to no temptation except their own addiction to a sound. Wareham seemed to dig the idea of allowing the songs to all operate from a similar framework, so at first glance the record -- and the band's entire catalog, indeed -- seems to show little variance. But Chuck Berry's four or five biggest hits all sound pretty similar at first blush, too.

Any such ideas of dismissal lose relevance on second or third listen, and even the first time around, two cuts are undeniable. Opening track "Flowers" introduces the traditional Galaxie 500 sound, and it is so initially striking as to leave a permanent mark -- sounding so much like hundreds of things that have come since but nothing like any rock record that preceded it. Wareham is at his hyper-sad best here, too, keying himself perfectly to the buzzing majesty of the guitars with total emotional subservience. But better still is the Jonathan Richman cover "Don't Let Our Youth Go to Waste," the kind of rare indie rock benchmark moment that makes "epic" an actually helpful term. The urgency of the drum sound is jarring, but gets the blood pumping instantly -- the band finds the anthemic power buried in Richman's song and runs with it, brilliantly. They would prove to be one of rock's all-time greatest cover bands (their readings of George Harrison's "Isn't It a Pity," Yoko Ono's "Listen, the Snow Is Falling," and especially the Velvet Underground's "Here She Comes Now" are definitive), so it's a pity they didn't record more. "Waste" feels magic, like the stories your alt-rocker parents tell about hearing Sonic Youth or Nirvana the first time. Only, as the gentlemen and lady later said, as the great Ornette Coleman said before them, this is our music.

Today has the feel of myth; even the cover shows the wispy pull of the unfamiliar, like an old Foxfire book, which is surely intentional. It's eclipsed by the two subsequent Galaxie 500 albums (though I would actually feel dubious about ranking it over On Fire, which doesn't mean quite as much to me), and in my opinion by several of Luna's, but that doesn't stop it from feeling like a minor classic -- perversely, an album that is simultaneously naked in its self-absorption and impressively stylish. They may sound dead-eyed and resigned, but youth and hunger lurk underneah. If not at the obvious moments outlined above, it's clearest two minutes into "It's Getting Late," when the three of them all lose themselves in a pressing, impassioned, tremendously slow and loud instrumental break that seems just shy of breaking out in joy at its perfection. For touchy-feely electric folkies, that's pretty badass.

It's midsummer here now, the perfect time to take this onto the earbuds on the beach at night and spend some time looking at stars and being totally adolescent and uncool and sincere. Some things never stop feeling right, you know. Waves crashing over "Tugboat," yeah. That's one of 'em.

Gang Gang Dance: Eye Contact (2011)

(4AD)

RECOMMENDED

Here's a fun one. Despite its outward pretension and mild adolescent silliness, this latest record from the lushly gritty NYC pop outfit Gang Gang Dance will offer either a night of dimly lit fun or a fit of vague but intoxicating nostalgia. It comes on like a trance or trip-hop revision of Siouxsie and the Banshees, with loads of electricity thanks to singer Lizzi Bougatsos's full-throated conviction. The album seldom rises above its self-imposed murk. but it offers a mood that is easy to fall into and that one is reluctant to leave.

Eleven-minute opener "Glass Jar," though, has next to nothing to do with the rest of the record. It's an edgily paranoid, decadent crime scene of a song, constantly edging toward a climax that never truly arrives; intriguing and hypnotic though it is, it's by far the least accessible of these songs. Following the curious and rather needless interlude "∞" (later followed by "∞∞" and "∞∞∞" to equally dubious effect), the record kicks off properly with what amounts to a long medley of six equally infectious dance songs. Some are better than others, but the variance depends largely on the melody vocal melody -- "Sacer" starts to annoy after a couple of minutes -- because the songs, particularly toward the end, tend to run together. It seems this is deliberate; the band sounds admirably confident for the duration after the awkwardly placed opener.

At their best ("Adult Goth," "MindKilla," and the irresistible "Romance Layers"), Gang Gang Dance know their way around a feverish pop melody that can heighten the senses and enact pure bliss in the vein of Madonna's "Open Your Heart," but in a perfectly novel twist, all with the bleakness and dread of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or PJ Harvey. It's the dark catharsis of grooving your way out of the shittiness; few things feel more liberating.

Al Wilson: Show and Tell (1973)

(Bell)

This is sort of the Raymond Chandler variation on the music review. It didn't take me long at all to figure out how I felt about this relatively obscure '70s soul LP (which happens to contain a huge but now forgotten hit, the title track) but I have spent the proceeding week or so trying to remember why in the hell I have it in the first place. I put it on as part of the ongoing work of trying to keep the old hard drive cleaned up and it's obvious that it was at some point very important to me to have a digital copy of the album -- it's a rather low-quality needledrop with plenty of vinyl cracks and pops, for which I assume I trolled the internet devotedly. It is thoroughly unremarkable, though certainly competent. So why on earth did I work so hard to find it?

I cautiously began to retrace my steps -- not out of any hope it would provide insight into the music so much as offer me a complete understanding of how and why I do the things I fuckin' do. First off, I downloaded the record in January 2009, at which point I had a regular DJing gig. It begins to come back, slightly. The whiskey. Yeah. I remember... the vaguest wisp of something, the notion of not the hit but the album-ending oddity "A Song, for You" (adorably placed comma there) rescuing me a bit on a night when I was very sick, lifted only by the whiskey and Coke offered by the bartender. I seem to remember its drama being a good fit for the evening, 2:00am or something, and the lights started to blur a bit.

But no. In order for me to play "A Song, for You" on stage that night I would've had to not only have the song in my possession already, I would've had to listen to the whole album enough to parse it out as a standout. The search continued.

Then I remembered the Christmas party, where someone was playing Tears for Fears records on a turntable whose pitch was not properly adjusted. It wasn't all that noticeable during the Tears for Fears album. I was drinking red wine that time. It was very noticeable during Madonna's first album, Madonna. Madonna's already high-pitched, piercing tone was too much to handle at 38rpm. So someone put on their iPod and had this album for some reason. And played it, then played it again. On an endless loop for hours, while we talked. I spoke to a gentleman from California and we discovered we knew all of the same people growing up but had somehow never met (he was from here originally) so as the oddly warm Christmas night passed around us we greatly enjoyed trading stories of our former cohorts. And Al Wilson was singing away the whole time and the record sounded pretty darn good to me, but I must've been especially into "A Song, for You" and the ridiculous cheating anthem "Moonlightin'" because I also seem to have played it at least once at a DJ set, during the Wilmington Exchange Festival the following May. But I remember rating the album highly in my mind -- and I think, on hearing it now and realizing it kind of blows, that I had just come to associate its grooves with a refreshing, satisfying conversation between adults and basically good times being had, and that can do wonders for any old thing, food or music or whatever.

I remember the California guy saying several times "This is really good, isn't it?" and "Man, this is great." As I said in the last paragraph, all I knew was someone had this on their iPod "for some reason." Recalling the conversation, I tracked down the California gent on Twitter and asked him "Remember when we were hanging out on Christmas that time [2008] listening to Al Wilson on the front porch? Yeah that was fun."

He said "No, I don't remember that. Who's Al Wilson?"

"Didn't you have his minor hit record, Show and Tell, on your iPod?"

"Wasn't me."

"Okay." Not wanting to pressure the poor guy, via Twitter, I sheepishly added "Do you have any idea whose iPod it was?"

"Jesus, dude." I pressured the poor guy. "That was three fucking years ago. Try Lucy."

Lucy was the owner of the front porch on which we were sitting. I had no idea where Lucy was these days, so I began an exhaustive search using such innovative utilities as classmates.com and Yahoo! People Finder. Eventually someone directed me to her "Facebook page" so I messaged her there and she had this to say:

I think it's really weird that you remember this and want to talk about it. kind of creepy seriously

but you are welcome to come by and have a chat. my office is located at [ADDRESS REMOVED]

It is several days before I can make the appointment without arousing suspicion. When I finally do, I am shocked to find that Lucy now works in an office occupied by seventeen cats. She dropped her iPod while touring the Rockies this summer and is sorry to tell me she has no idea how or why she downloaded the album but it probably involved a long-running quest on her and her roommate's part to uncover "all the best slow jams."

She offers me another cup of tea and asks me to leave before her next client is due to arrive. I walk out onto the porch with the sun in my eyes and reflect that there are some things it's best not to know, for sure. Because you'll always wonder. And isn't that wonderful?

Also this album is pretty boring, and very little of this actually happened. Buh-bye!

Curren$y & The Alchemist: Covert Coup (2011)

(Warner Bros.) [free to download here]

Curren$y's rock-steady, calmly consistent flow is prompting innovative producers far and wide to use him as a center-stage instrument. Ski Beatz brought him through an irresistible downpour of analogue heaven on the Pilot Talk LPs, while on the fine recent effort Weekend at Burnie's he was guided through Monsta Beatz's unashamed Miami Vice cheese, always holding his own in either scenario.

The most intriguing recent matchup for Curren$y, though, is easily the Alchemist. This brief EP-length mixtape is the result of their combined efforts, and it attempts to score solely on atmosphere. Curren$y grins and smokes and rhymes his way through the Alchemist's disarmingly stark signature mix of urban horror and new age sonics, but for the first time he sounds as if he can't quite find his way out of the intricate maze his producer has raised around him. Except for the obvious showpiece "The Type," the songs run barely three minutes, which ordinarily would be a praiseworthy feature but here keeps some cuts that seem potentially ill -- the promisingly smooth "Double 07" and swaggering "Scotty Pippen" especially -- from ever getting off the ground.

There's no problem with Curren$y's chorus-free minimalism, or else Pilot Talk and the studio albums in its wake wouldn't have been so striking, and there's not necessarily a problem with Alchemist's showy, outlandish backing; whereas the Ski Beatz productions simply provided a pillow for the rapper's ramblings, Alchemist never stops calling attention to himself. There's a reason he gets co-billing on this instead of just a production credit. Curren$y's nonsense detours about rotisserie chickens and variations on Pattycake about getting high require a bit more levity than Alchemist's thudding rampages can offer. There are pleasures to be had from this mixtape, but it is much more a mere distraction than the ample proof of laid-back greatness Spitta's other releases of late have provided.

[SEE ALSO:]
Pilot Talk (2010)
Pilot Talk II (2010)
Weekend at Burnie's (2011)