Watch and enjoy.

Like the past entries in my Guilty Pleasures series, I feel the need to explain the nature of my devotion, however shameful, to this song.  I’ll begin with a trip, earlier this week, to visit my brother and his wife and newborn son (my first nephew) in the great Northwest.  My nephew is just under four months old, and what a wonderful kid he is.  Suffice to say that many of the concerns I had about having a kid and being a parent were greatly allayed by my time spent with the happy couple and their son.  It was a really fun trip, and I already miss the little guy.

So one day we were hanging out in a park not far from their house.  My nephew had just been fed and changed and was not quite ready for his post-prandial nap, so I took the opportunity to play with him for a bit.  For whatever reason, the kid loves to stand up, albeit with considerable grown-up help - not many babies of his age can stand on their own I hear - so I was holding him around his chest and back with his feet on my knees.  We were dancing and playing and making funny faces when it occurred to me to move his feet rapidly up and down while moving his body from side to side, sort of like MC Hammer’s dance moves in the afore-posted video.  This induced gales of laughter from the grown-ups in attendance and reminded me how much I love(d) the song that inspired my nephew’s new dance moves.

After several days of giggling over the episode, and even the composing of new lyrics to the song in question to fit my nephew’s age and lifestyle (”My my my my diaper smells … so bad … look at me cry, I’m so sad!” - God forgive me for that) I began to remember - I can’t believe I’m writing this - the place that MC Hammer had in my musical development.  (That was WAY harder to write than you could ever possibly imagine.)  So here we go …

1. It’s been some time since funk was a frequent visitor to my daily playlist, but, sad as it may be, MC Hammer deserves some credit for introducing me, although without me knowing it at the time, to the classics of funk.  Just listen to his song “Turn This Mutha Out” … the prominent Parliament and Incredible Bongo Band samples, the Oak-town pride, the ridiculous dance moves … I was a rising junior in high school when I first that song, and while it wasn’t my first introduction to hip-hop (that credit goes to many older acts), it did first expose me to sampling and the ability of one performer to create an entirely new experience from the efforts of those gone by.
2. In fact, I remember when I first heard Parliament, and how very familiar their songs sounded, thanks largely to the appropriation of the late-90s rap music scene.  I was at a night club, probably underage, and the house band ripped into what I thought was a medley of the popular rap songs of the day.  I was really impressed - who knew that this band of old guys could be so up on contemporary music?  Later did I realize that the timeline was backward - the old guys at the club new the classics, while the new kids on the block were the ones who were doing the sampling and borrowing.  The song the old guys were playing?  You’ll never guess.
3. Plus, it’s a ridiculously catchy song, and, as I’ve written before, that is often all I need to confess my guilty pleasure.  Not to mention the dance moves, the Hammer pants … seriously, this is good stuff.  And while my soul dies a little when I write that, I cannot deny the truth.

So love it or not, this is my latest guilty pleasure.  Either way, pray that I move on to less shameful songs in the days to come.  Something tells me that my nephew will eventually realize that MC Hammer is best regarded as a relic of the early 90s, and I would be hard pressed to convince him otherwise.

Anyway, on such a generally miserable day I would ordinarily have no trouble finding several hours worth of music perfectly suited to guiding me through a productive workday under less than ideal circumstances.  Today is no exception; I’m currently listening to an old favorite from back in the day, one that I firmly believe is one of the most underrated or under-appreciated CDs in my collection.  I mean, does anyone actually remember the Ballistic Brothers?  Likely not.

But for whatever reason, I had this song stuck in my head all morning:

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Walking back to my office from my morning coffee and bagel, I had to hear it.  I gotta say, it’s a seriously stupid and brilliant song.  I thought about writing this as one of my Guilty Pleasure entries, but nope.  I am all too proud to rock the Humpty.

That said, I had a similar idea back in the day: a Beatles-themed restaurant.  Seems simple, right?  A highly beloved band, some good food - what could go wrong?  The problem was that I could only think of one item for the menu: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Sandwich.  Perhaps featuring Mean Mr. Mustard sauce.

Let the groaning begin.

Rest in peace, Corey.

Anyway, I was listening to this earlier today as I was working at home (God bless spring break) and doing my best to avoid grading papers.  I suppose it’s reflective of how little time I’ve spent exploring shoegaze that I’m only now spending time with two of the genre’s notable members: Chapterhouse and Catherine Wheel.  I have spent quite a bit of time with some great bands of that period - My Bloody Valentine, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Slowdive, even that one Yo La Tengo record (one of my all-time favorites by the band, BTW).  (For my money, I’ve always considered Catherine Wheel to be a little too rawk for shoegaze, but they do have the nice, loud, drone-y guitars common among the scene.  Reasonable people may differ.)

But whatever the case, it was the sampled drumbeat in “Pearl” by Chapterhouse that inspired this post.  For the uninitiated, the sample comes from “When the Levee Breaks” by Led Zeppelin and is probably one of the most sampled drum tracks of all time.  (Along with this, of course, which arguably was the germ of the genesis of an entire genre.  But I digress.)  Indeed, one of the things that annoyed me about the early Beastie Boys - other than their general brattiness - was that they sampled “Levee” on their first rap album License to Ill.  At the time, you see, I was much more of a classic rock fan than rap/hip-hop fan.  (In later years, my fandom did a nearly perfect 180, but again, I digress.)

Hearing that riff, sampled and sped up as it was, reminded me of this song and that quintessential early 1990s production style: everything lush, breathy vocals, the familiar drum riff.  My guy friends and I absolutely loved “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover,” perhaps because very few women had ever expressed an interest in being our lovers, and so to hear that sentiment over such a commanding beat; well it was more than we could bear.

I could go further about the “Levee” riff or sampling in general, but I won’t, because I do really need to grade papers, and I’d rather just leave you with those two songs.  Enjoy.

Of course, I’ve never had much luck with reunion shows - seeing two of my favorite bands from the 1990s slog their way through concerts in the 2000s was rather painful.  But at least Pavement hasn’t been gone from the scene as long as other bands, and shit - I think I’d be a fool to pass on this.

Atlanta road-trip anyone?  September 26 is a Sunday night, but I likely won’t have to teach the next day …

Instead, I’ll focus on one aspect of the film, it’s authenticity.  Again, many elements of the film are so retro as to be reverential.  Indeed, at times it seems surprising that this movie was made in the 2000s and not the 1980s.  (At other points in the film, this is not so surprising, but again, I digress.)  This made me ponder - is there a musical equivalent to this film?  Not in content, mind you; I’m not talking about the many genres of music that lean toward the horrific.  Instead, I’m referring to albums or songs that so perfectly evoke the sound and feel of a particular genre or scene or time period that it almost sounds as though it was unearthed from a time capsule (hence this post’s title) and dusted off for the kids of today.

I can think of one good example.  (Sorry, Wolfmother - better luck next time.)  Admittedly, I’m a little biased here, because I know the lead singer/guitarist from his time employed here and here.  And I can personally attest that he’s a swell guy.  But really, I’ve spent a fair amount of time listening to the band’s first (and only) long-player, and I gotta say, it’s pretty effing brilliant.  (And I’m not the only one who thinks so.)

Here’s why.

1. You really have to appreciate Power Pop as a genre (and not just something to motivate you in the morning) to appreciate the differences between the early/mid-70s (i.e. pre-punk) bands and the late-70s/early-80s bands.  I won’t go into the differences here, but they are notable, mostly in tempo, attitude, and sound.  But just listen to a sample of the most popular bands of the various eras to get an idea of what I’m talking about. In a few short years, Power Pop went from this and this to this.  Gentleman Jesse’s record sounds exactly like those of the late-70s Power Pop bands - post-punk but pre-New Wave - such as the Nerves, Shoes, and the Records.  This is such a specific time period in a relatively narrow sub-genre of pop music - to pull it off and make a record sound really authentic to this time period is quite remarkable.
2. Not only that, it’s a really great record.  From the first song to the last, it’s quite consistent; there’s not a bad song on the album.  Don’t believe me?  Listen to it here.
3. If you needed any other proof, just have a look at the album cover.  Remind you of anything?

Biased or not, I’m impressed.  And this is huge relief for me, because I always worry when friends join bands or release music.  Given how picky I am in my listening habits, the likelihood of disappointment is rather high.  But that’s not an issue here.

So now I’ll open the floor to comments.  Can anyone else think of a good example of, oh, Time Capsule music, where the recordings sound literally exactly like something recorded in the era it favors, and not a modern homage?  I know that Jesse’s record isn’t the only example.  Anyone else?

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(For those of you who live in a cave and didn’t see the Who play the halftime show at the Super Bowl last weekend, you have my respect.  And now you can watch the video here.)

Actually, it wouldn’t be a bad thing for all of us to watch the video again, if only to remind ourselves what happened.  I mean, it wasn’t particularly memorable for me, so let me pause for a minute and refamiliarize myself with the show.  BRB.

…

OK, done.  So here’s what I’ve got.

1. I hate medleys.  Seriously.  Hate.  Medleys.  Because really, summarizing the esteemed career of a 40+year-old band with God-only-knows how many record sales plus crap-tons of pop-culture significance is best done by taking the least-forgettable 30 seconds of their most popular songs and mashing them into a crescendo-less bowl of pudding, which one can imagine dribbling down the chin of Pete Townshend in a few short years.  No really, I’m not hating on ol’ Pete, for whatever part he played in this, but wouldn’t it have been better just to see them tear through two, maybe three songs, and be done with it?  Entire songs maybe?  Maybe throw a bone to the long-time fans and dig something out of the crates; say, “Pictures of Lily” or “The Kids are Alright.”  Actually, the latter would have been awesome, even better than hearing now-65 (!) Roger Daltry belt out “I hope I die before I get old.”  (Because that’s one wish that was never granted, buddy.)  But seriously, I really would have enjoyed hearing “The Kids are Alright,” “Baba O’Riley,” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” and that’s it.  Pack it up and go home boys.  Way to show the kids how it’s done.
2. But instead we had a medley, and as much as I hate medleys … I mean, it was the Who.  THE.  WHO.  And I would seriously rather spend a month listening to nothing but solo albums from Who members (not a terribly esteemed collection that is) than listen to most of today’s bands that would cite the Who as an influence.  (And I’m speaking specifically of bands in the “modern rock” or “alternative” genres here and less so of the indie kids.  But then, not many indie kids openly worship the Who.)   Not trying to sound like an old fart; there is certainly some mighty fine music these days.  But there’s good music of today, and there’s the Who.  The Rolling Stones circa 1965 might have been the band voted most likely to shiv you in a dark alley, but the Who would have won least likely to give a shit what happened to you, bleeding out next to a dumpster or not.
3. That said, there is something to be said for calling it a day.  By that I mean knowing when it’s time to clock out and let history do its job.  Arguably, the Who could’ve/should’ve ended its claim as the best rock band in the world when Keith Moon, its drummer and alleged inspiration for Animal, died in 1978.  Other rock bands have called it quits under similar circumstances.  But instead they soldiered on, adding more fuel to the fire that it was Pete Townshend’s band from the get-go.  Sure, some of the early-80s Who material wasn’t too shabby.  But does anything on It’s Hard compare to the weakest moments of Who’s Next?  Hardly.  Admittedly, I can’t claim absolution from the post-Keith-Moon-Who-excitement.  In fact, I saw the Who perform in Atlanta during their 1989 “The Kids are Alright” tour, and I had a thoroughly amazing time at the show.  (Highlight: completing Roger Daltry’s stuttered line in “My Generation” by yelling “FUCK OFF!!!” after “why don’t they all just fffffffade away,” and being roundly cheered by those around me.  Lowlight: trying it again on the second verse and being ignored.  But that’s being 16 for you.)  But at least Pete Townshend could manage a decent windmill guitar attack back then, as opposed to Super Bowl Sunday, when you could practically seen him wince as he whipped his arm around.  No judgment here: the dude used to rip out fingernails on his fretboard in the name of being a rock-n-roll badass, and I can imagine that at 64, growing new nails is considerably more taxing than at 34.  But when your badass days are done … maybe you are too?
4. But hey, I come not to hate but to … appreciate?  Sorry.  That was strained.  There are a few things about the performance I really enjoyed.  First, the stage was pretty badass, if not just pretty.  Second, how awesome is it that two of the greatest bands of the 1960s were united (on some level) by Zak Starkey, the son of a somewhat famous drummer, filling in for Mr. Moon?  Very awesome.  Also, Zak was sporting some seriously  badass cymbals … watch the video again if you didn’t notice the first time around.  And as much as I hate to see the old lions slowly succumb to age and hearing loss, well … they’re still the Who.  Most of them, anyway.

Verdict?  Overall it was fine, although not particularly inspiring.  Here’s hoping they’re using their paychecks for something worthwhile, like this.  (Kidding of course.  Well … kind of.)