Hello fan(s). Sorry to have been absent so long. The summer has proved to be exceptionally busy, even after summer classes ended back in mid-July. Nonetheless, I am still committed to this blog and will resume normal posting within a week or two. I still have around ten post in various stages of completion, so once I get back on the saddle, the drivel will resume will full force.
Hi everyone. Sorry for the lack of activity lately. Teaching two summer classes has been kicking my ass - I didn’t get a PhD to work 8-to-5 hours, buddy - and I haven’t had much time to devote to Music is My Radar. But since summer school is almost done, I can crank out a few posts without fear of falling behind at work.
And, since summer has just recently arrived, with the attendant heat, humidity, and mosquitoes, I thought I’d update my series of posts of music that is tied to a particular season. After all, what screams music more than trips to the beach, cookouts, and bikinis?
There’s only one problem: I hate summer. Always have. Maybe it’s my general preference for cool-and-dark rather than hot-and-bright. Maybe it’s my aversion to sweating while remaining utterly fucking motionless. Maybe I just like my flesh free of blood-sucking-insect-induced welts. I don’t know. As soon as the awakening warmth of spring gives way to the stultifying heat of summer, I want to hibernate until October.
The only bit of tunage I remotely associate with summer is the album Houses of the Holy by Led Zeppelin. I’d say the linkage began in high school, when I first became obsessed with Led Zeppelin - still am, BTW - and discovered Houses, their fifth studio album. I don’t think the connection is accidental; many of the songs sound downright, well, summer-y. The opening song “The Song Remains the Same” practically breaks out of its own skin it is so eager to start, just like summer vacation after months of increasingly dull classes. Yet another opening track that to me is anthemic. Next, “The Rain Song.” If I didn’t spend a good amount of time making out to this song in high school, then my life has been misspent. (Full disclosure: I didn’t, and it has been.) I can still remember two of my female friends from high school - and yes, I tried desperately to date both of them - driving around in one car or another, singing the “oh, oh-oh-oh-oh” (man, that just doesn’t look right typed out) refrain from “D’yer Mak’er” at the top of their lungs. Ah, teenage silliness.
I won’t go through the rest of the album track by track, but between “Over the Hills and Far Away,” “Dancing Days,” and “The Ocean,” it’s difficult to imagine a more perfect soundtrack to a most miserable season.
As always, comments and nominations are welcome.
In this week’s a recent issue of the Memphis Flyer there is an article featuring nine prominent Memphians, each making his or her own suggestions on how to make Memphis a better city. I won’t go into all the suggestions here, as most of them had little to do with music (the stated focus of this blog), but the first set of ideas, by local blogger and internet radio host Rachel Hurley really touched a nerve here at Music is My Radar.
She wrote about the state of the Memphis music, using as a touchstone the programming format of WUMR, the University of Memphis campus radio station. I’ve never spent much time listening to WUMR; its format is jazz, and while I am a fairly big jazz fan, it’s not what I listen to most. But Ms. Hurley did raise a really interesting point. As the university-sponsored, student-run radio station, WUMR could do a lot to promote Memphis’ music scene, especially to the student body of U of M, many of whom might be completely unaware of the many venues and bands that inhabit their collegiate home. I completely agree, and this brings me to another point - or really, series of blog posts - about the relationship between Memphis and music.
For whatever praises I can sing about my iPod - believe me, they are endless - and the revolution(s) in digital music production and consumption in the last decade or so, there are some issues created by these innovations which in a few fundamental ways alter how we listen to, purchase, enjoy, and interact with music. And I’m not sure that all of these changes are for the best.
One phenomenon I’ve observed is that music is increasingly commodified. By that I mean that music is consumed and enjoyed less as an art-form into itself than as a means to some other means. Again, as much as I embrace my iPod (and enjoy the familiar silhouetted iPod ads), it is a little disconcerting for me to acknowledge that I might not have heard The Caesars or eagerly embraced Wolfmother were it not for their prominent placements in iPod ads. On some level this is not at all objectionable; I always welcome recommendations of new music. But when the sole intent is to get me to buy something, even something I unabashedly adore, my skin begins to crawl.
But beyond that, the increasing availability of music online (and yes, I know that this is old news, so bear with me) has, I’m afraid, contributed to the demise of one particular form of recorded music to which I am particularly endeared, the album. Again, this is old news, and I am neither going to amass any sort of literature review of what has been said about this in the past, nor am I going to attempt any great and meaningful contribution to the existing body of commentary. We’ve all heard the story, so let’s move on.
(OK, fine. Here’s one article I found interesting. My apologies for the source.)
Rather, my point today is to begin a list/discussion of those apocryphal albums that are best enjoyed from first song to last, start to finish, soup to nuts, or from eggs to apples. (That’s the ancient Roman equivalent of “soup to nuts.”) My first nomination is the last album of original studio material The Beatles ever recorded, Abbey Road.
I’m perhaps a little biased here; Abbey Road has long been my favorite Beatles record. When I first purchased the record, however many years ago that was, I bought it on vinyl, still my preferred format for listening to pre-digital era albums. And it’s not to say that I haven’t dropped the needle down (or skipped ahead on my iPod) to “I Want You She’s So Heavy” (my favorite song on the record, and one of my favorite Beatles’ songs ever) or passed over “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” (granny music indeed). But by and large, I begin with “Come Together” and end with “Her Majesty.” (For the record - pun intended - I am not listening to Abbey Road as I write this. Currently on my iPod is Parklife by Blur, another fine record and candidate for the Eggs to Apples Club.)
All of this begs a question: what is it about some records that compels the listener to abandon any instincts to skip past the least-enjoyed songs or repeat favorite ones? To listen to the record as it was designed, constructed, recorded, and sequenced, by the band and its studio lieutenants?
First, let me say that I can’t believe I didn’t start my blog with an entry like this. In fact, I’m a little shocked and embarrassed that it has taken me so long (five months almost) to write about this kind of music. Honestly, if you took music and me and placed us in a particle accelerator and smashed us together at high speeds, what else would be left over? What other type of music could be created?
But first, as is my custom, a bit of background. After years of suffering through life as a fat kid and additional years of having no idea how even to talk to members of the opposite sex, let alone charm them, I slowly settled into a groove in my mid 20s. By that point, I had a few relationships under my belt, none of them particularly successful or fulfilling, and I was ready to venture out into the dating world as a single guy. Make no mistake, this was no easy feat to accomplish, but when I arrived, I did so with aplomb.
I rapidly discovered that the ingredients to a successful date/evening included not only self-confidence and a good sense of humor, but also music. Without a backing track, lulls in conversation seemed awkward, begging to be filled with whatever trivia came to mind. Not exactly the trappings of a Lothario in the making. And so with the help of a few knowledgeable friends, I began to compile a soundtrack suitable for, well, you know.
And so we come to the first in a series - and I do love those series - of music centered around one thing and one thing only. It goes by many names: hanky panky, funny business, making one flesh, the beast with two backs, and so on. We all do it, and most of us enjoy it. So tonight (and at what other time could I be writing this entry?) I offer my first and favorite CD of booty music.
This just makes me gag.
On my recent CD buying binge I picked up two early-1990s CD singles: Boo! Forever by The Boo Radleys and Strawberry Fields Forever by Candy Flip. I hadn’t heard much from either band - a few songs from the former, none from the latter - but I figured that for $2 each, the risk was minimal.
And while that is true - I did acquire at least $2 in utility from each CD - my reaction on hearing each for the first time was markedly different. I think I listened to Boo! Forever first and was very impressed. It’s funny, because I was never a fan of shoegaze back in the day. In fact, I remember hearing a shoegaze-oriented radio show on my college radio station and rolling my eyes. Something about pretentious Anglophiles, I believe. Anyway, I’m now a pretty solid fan of music both droney and mopey, and so was pleasantly surprised to hear just that sound emanating from my ear buds. The lead track on Boo! Forever is a single off their second album, Everything’s Alright Forever: “Does This Hurt?” It’s not hard to imagine why this song was chosen for a single: dreamy vocals, bold yet hazy guitars, really solid hook. Plus, repeatedly throughout the song, the singer invokes the name “Caroline.” I can just imagine the early-1990s indie rock girls named Caroline swooning. If you’re interested, you can watch the video here.
The Candy Flip single is another story.
Of Montreal is for me one of those bands where a little goes a long way. Not to say that I don’t like/really like Of Montreal; I do. But as I recently discovered, unless I am in a very specific mood, only one or two OM songs is plenty to quench my thirst.
For the uninitiated, Of Montreal is a band driven mostly by one guy, Kevin Barnes, who by all accounts is pretty effing weird. (That’s him in the red cummerbund, FYI.) Anyway, they’re one of the Elephant 6 bands that emerged from Athens, GA in the 1990s, along with Elf Power, Neutral Milk Hotel, and the Olivia Tremor Control. All of these groups embrace psychedelia and whimsy in varying degrees, but Of Montreal takes both to new extremes. Consider for example the band’s fourth full-length studio album, Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse. It’s a loose concept record about … well, I’ll let ol’ KevBar explain it in his own words.
“Coquelicot is an Efeblum. An Efeblum is a fairy-like creature who is employed by the Efeneties (loving spirits) to place bells inside people’s hearts. When a person has a bell in their heart they are able to create works of art, fall in love and feel at peace with the world. Coquelicot, during one of her trips to Earth, decides to discard her bells and experience life as a human. Instead of living in “reality” she decides to experience life in a sleeping unconscious/conscious state. It is in this subconscious world that she meets Claude and Lecithin the inventor. They do all sorts of crazy stuff together like having incredible battles with evergreens and satellites, getting chased by psychotic zombies, playing with Lecithin’s inventions and eventually moving away together to a deserted frozen island. In time, Coquelicot feels remorseful about neglecting her responsibilities as an Efeblum and decides to return to her work. She can’t bear the thought of leaving her two new best friends so she invites them to come along with her. They happily accept and join her as honorary Efeblums.”
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. You see what I mean? I wish I could find a video on youtube of one of the tracks on Coquelicot, but no luck. You’ll just have to trust me.
Not all of Of Montreal’s material is so very odd; some of it is fairly straightforward indie pop. On their most recent album, Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? (a little whimsy goes a long way KevBar, you freak), they even get a little dirgy and angry. Oooooh!!! Makes me wanna holla! But for whatever they lack in true musical range, they make up for in volume. Since hitting the scene in 1997, the band has amassed 9 full-length albums (many with bonus tracks on certain editions), 8 compilations of various songs, 5 EPs, and around a dozen singles. And when you consider that many of the albums have 16+ songs on them (Coquelicot clocks in with 22), you realize that this guy literally creates a new song every time he exhales. I’m not joking. Granted, many of the songs are less than two minutes long, and some are spoken-word or purely abstract, but still. Someone’s been taking their adderall.
Anyway, a few weeks ago I decided to spend a day or two listening to nothing but Of Montreal while working in the yard. I have around 10 releases by them; 9 albums and a collection of early recordings. Altogether, it amounts to almost 140 songs and clocks in at just under 7 hours. So, iPod in hand, I ventured out to the yard to pull weeds and try to figure out this enigmatic band.
Suffice to say that I made it about 4 hours before I had to switch to something else. Of Montreal’s later recordings are much more straightforward (relative to their earlier material, anyway), but since I had my Of Montreal playlist sorted by year, I plowed through the old material first. The collection of early recordings I mentioned earlier? It consists of 16 songs, all of whose titles mention the actor Dustin Hoffman. In fact, if you read the titles in order, it tells a story. A story about Mr. Hoffman taking a bath, eating his bathtub, having his tongue seized by the police, wetting himself, and climbing a tree. Seriously … WHAT … THE … FUCK. Oh, and none of the songs are actually Dustin Hoffman or any of the events described in the song titles. Damn.
Anyway, after deciding to give Of Montreal another try, I punched play on their 2005 album The Sunlandic Twins. The first track is called “Requiem for O.M.M.2″ and as you might have guessed, is the subject of this post. You can watch the video below.
Pretty good, huh? Damn catchy, even. This is the Of Montreal that I like. Firmly grounded in Beatlesque pop without all the whimsical crap. After listening to hours upon hours of songs about miniature philosophers and happy yellow bumblebees, it was a welcome surprise.
I probably need not explain much more about why I like this song; given my previous complaints about Of Montreal, the contrast should be obvious enough. As a extra added bonus, The Sunlandic Twins also features a song called “Wraith Pinned to the Mist (and Other Games),” which boasts the memorable chorus “Let’s pretend we don’t exist/Let’s pretend we’re in Antarctica.” Watch the video for it below.
Also very good and catchy. But then Of Montreal sold out and licensed the song to Outback Steakhouse for this commercial. Terrible crass awful. I won’t even in-line the video.
Anyway, the moment passed weeks ago, but I wanted to preserve “Requiem for O.M.M.2″ as my Song of the Moment. Enjoy.
Hello fan(s). Sorry for the prolonged absence from this blog. Between the end of the semester and some around-the-house projects I recently tackled, I’ve been a bit busy. But I haven’t forgotten about my blog or my fan(s), and I promise to resume my regular new-post-every-three-days schedule this week.
And in that spirit, I thought I’d mention the newest additions to my ever-growing CD collection. In no particular order, here they are.
Now before you start freaking out about me purchasing 13 CDs recently, let me point out a few things. First, I really really wanted all of them, and that’s all the justification I need. But beyond that, they were purchased not all at once, but over a period of a month, from mid-April to mid-May. Further, items 7 through 13 were found in the $2 at my favorite local record store and all together cost just over $15.
Admittedly, I haven’t listened to all of them yet, but that’s not always why I buy CDs, for immediate consumption. Take 10 for example. Years ago a friend recommended this CD as one he would take to a desert island with him, and I made a mental note to pick it up some day. When I found it for $2, how could I say no? Although I have listened to that CD a few times, and it is pretty brilliant.
Anyway, as I listen to these CDs over the coming weeks and digest them, I’ll post my thoughts. Until then, thanks for reading.
As many of you know, I spend much of my work week fruitlessly attempting to teach economics to undergraduates at, uh, a local university. (That should preserve my anonymity.) Trying to inspire excitement about economics, or really anything other than spending hours on facebook and chuffing energy drinks like they’re going out of style isn’t easy, so over the years I’ve developed a few strategies to keep the kids interested, or at least awake. For example, I frequently scream loudly while swinging from the overhead sprinkler system wearing only a loincloth. Also, I show up to class clad entirely in A&F and Old Navy and pretend to be a student, then loudly berate the professor for being a douche. Not really. But I do hand out bonus points.
It is amazing how predictable my students are. I’m not talking about grade distribution or the aforementioned apathy, but rather attendance patterns. Every semester starts out strong; nearly 100% of students present the first few days of class. Then, within a week, 10-15% are absent on any given day. (Amazingly, about half of those students are near perfect in their non-attendance, showing up only to take exams.) By halfway through the term, attendance averages 50-60%. Of course, it is always highest when there is some assignment due or an exam scheduled, but most other days are spotty at best. I’ve noticed in particular that the day after an exam is given, attendance will be amazingly low. So on days like that, or whenever it strikes me, I give my students a bonus question and its answer that will appear on the next exam.
The bonus questions are always the same, of late at least. “What is the next CD I am going to buy?” is the question, and depending on the week or time of day, I provide them with some answer of a an album or EP I intend to purchase in the near future. Usually it’s an upcoming release, and I try to stick to indie artists, as they need more press than, say, Michael Jackson (who arguably would be much better with far less press.) The question is worth only two points on each exam, and I rarely give out more than two questions per test, so there is very little impact on anyone’s final grades. Mostly I do it to reward the kids that do show up, have a little fun, and promote the music I think more people should listen to.
Anyway, following is a list of all the CDs I’ve recommended to my students in the past few months. (Sorry for the lack of links.)
I’ve only purchased three of the CDs in the list, the Mission of Burma CDs and the Beck rerelease. Many of them have not yet been released (numbers 5 and 6) and the Thriller reissue seemed less interesting once I had a closer look at it. (I have ordered the Animal Collective EP, but it hasn’t arrived yet.)
I don’t know how much of an impact on music consumption my bonus questions have had. I can remember only one time when a student told me that s/he bought or downloaded any music on my recommendation. And given the reaction to the Animal Collective song I played at the end of class just recently, I don’t think many people will heed my advice.
One final point. My beloved wife suggested that I move away from the indie-rock a bit and start recommending Memphis music to my kids. This is fine; point well taken. Although I do try to recommend new and emerging music (mostly), there are certainly some classic Memphis songs/bands that need props. And probably even some local bands that I can boost.