1984

It's funny how you can just tell whether or not a song came from the mid-80s just by listening to it. Sometimes "the 80's sound" makes that particular tune more endearing. Sometimes it just makes it sound dated. And then there are those other songs that don't seem to age at all, that if they were released today would garner just as much attention as they did twenty-four years ago. Listen and decided for yourself which tunes sound classically quaint, good as new, or anything otherwise.

The Smiths - "How Soon is Now"
I recently read where a critic declared that this was THE song of the 80s, and I can't really argue. It's epic, searing, mournful, groovy, the soundtrack to virtually any given situation. There are a hundred little "favorite parts" in this song. Here are a few:
- the introductory "wugga-wugga"
- son, heir/sun, air... get it?
- the spookadelic guitar that wangs in every so often like an oscillating fan made of razors
- the vitriol spewed when Morrissey says "in particular"
- the fact that the song is long enough to appreciate while you're still listening to it
- whistling at 4:30
- everything dropping out at 5:00
- the last chorus, even though it's sung no differently than the others
It's interesting how this is the tune most people associate with the Smiths even though the rest of their songs sound nothing like this. Regardless, listen to it a thousand more times while continuing to not get sick of it.

The Cars - "Drive"
I know this song reeks of 80s, like, in a bad way. Blatant synth abuse, drums that plug into an outlet, wispy background vocals, etc. You've probably also heard this one a thousand times at your JC Penneys and on your local Lite-FM. I don't even want to look at the music video. But for all its zillions of faults, I STILL REALLY LIKE THIS SONG AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT. I can't honestly tell you why. It's not a so-bad-it's-good thing because it really is good. It's not a guilty pleasure thing because it's by the Cars, and the Cars are awesome. Maybe it's because the lyrics are so dang down. Maybe it's because Benjamin Orr (or, as I like to call him, NotRicOcasek) does such a convincing job singing those downed lyrics. Anyway, I felt like I was the only one in the theater who appreciated the fact that the dumb car in "Transformers" used this song to try to hook up Shia LaBeouf with the girl.

Bruce Spingsteen - "I'm On Fire"
This wasn't released as a single until 1985, but it's found in the middle of Born in the U.S.A. which came out in '84, and that's good enough for me.
When you think about the songs of Springsteen (including the ones found on BitUSA) you think of the swarthy Jersey boy crankin' out tunes about glory days or dancing in the dark or something hand-clappingly rockin'. Maybe you don't. Maybe you already know he's a folky at heart and often hangs his hat on darker themes. This song qualifies as one with "a darker theme." In fact it bothers me when I pry apart the lyrics to find out what "I'm On Fire" is really about. Instead I nod along to Max Weinberg's boom-taps and listen to that marvelously subtle guitar-pickin'. Everything about this song is subtle, actually. The lyrics, the guitar work, the (for once in its existance) UNobtrusive synthesizers. Before you know it Bruce is howling for reasons I don't want to contemplate and the song is over.

Cocteau Twins - "Beatrix"
The Cocteau Twins are the only UK band I can think of whose accent permeates their singing voices enough to make it more difficult to understand what they're saying (as opposed to trying to decipher what they're saying when they merely speak). When I say "they" I guess I'm just really talking about vocalist Elizabeth Fraser. I can understand everything that comes out of KT Tunstall's mouth, but why can't I discern a stinkin' thing Fraser sings? Her vowels are too warped or something. But you know what? I like it better this way. Her words sound more magical and fanciful (instead of, y'know, just being rugged English). Couple her unique approach to singing with the glassy musicianship of the othe two guys and you end up with something that sounds like a lake of frozen pink lemonade. Drums don't kick in until the song is 2/3 over. That last 1/3 will twist your head right off.

Die Kreuzen - "All White"
Are you ready for some Milwaukee hardcore? This is actually one of their slower songs (at least until the last few seconds) from their '84 self-titled cassette, all the songs of which can now be found on October File, which was released a couple years later. In addition to being a relatively slow song, this one is also three times longer than most of the other tracks on that aforementioned self-titled, clocking in at a whopping three-and-a-half minutes. I chose this one because while those other minute-long speed demons are sweet-tastic, "All White" is at least more accessible. Enjoy this, get a frame of reference, then check out the rest of their early songs. Their later material (including the first half of October File, which is really album #2) chugs rather than skates, but it's still pretty good. Gotta love those Cobra Commander vocals.
Anyway, I thought "All White" was going to be a commentary on race a la Minor Threat's "Guilty of Being White." Instead it's about isolation and dispair and blah blah blah whine whine whine.

il Buono, il Brutto, il AlbumArto: Michael Jackson

il Buono, il Brutto, il AlbumArto
Take a band. Take its album cover highlights. Take its album cover lowlights.
Swish it all around in your mouth. Comment.

Obviously I chose to feature a very specific point in Michael Jackson's career. If I wanted to I could also feature album art from his adolescent years (including time spent with The 5) or album art from his latter bleachier years. But these images here reflect the Michael Jackson I know and love.

This is the cover to the "She's Out of My Life" single released in 1980, though the song itself is found on Off the Wall released in August of 1979 (see below). I don't know who gets credit for taking this picture, but it's raw and awesome. Here we see a tuxedoed Jackson channeling his inner Marvin Gaye during some life performance somewhere. According to Wikipedia (the source for all things absolute truth), Jackson couldn't get through the recording of this song without crying. I don't know if he was singing this song while the picture was being snapped, but look at the way he's pouring himself into that performance. He's belting out SOME kind of ultra-emotional ballad. It's also worth pointing out that I like a good concert shot where musicians play to the crowd instead of to the camera.

Here's the, uh, "brutto" of our set, the aforementioned Off the Wall. We have photographer Steve Harvey to thank for this (though cover "designer" Mike Salisbury should share part of the blame). Obviously there's the tux theme, which is fine. I don't mind a well-dressed performer. And I suppose it could be sort of clever to contrast the ritzy duds against a butt-ugly brick wall. But clever or not (not) it just looks dumb. Add to the dumbness the chalk-scrawl font. Add to the dumbness Michael Jackson trying to do the robot with his thumbs in his pockets. Multiply to the dumbness some sort of uncontextualized window or painting. It's possible this image continues around to the inside of the album (I believe the back is just a picture of his feet), but that doesn't matter unless these things were sold in stores inside-out.

Now we jump ahead a couple years to 1982 to gawk at the "The Girl is Mine" single. Thriller may have made Michael Jackson the king of the world, but here he looks as unkingly as possible. It's not a bad picture, and there are certainly many endearing qualities to it, but it's just overshadowed by a lot of awkwardness. See Paul McCartney. See him wearing three layers of clothing, all of which are too tight. See that charming-but-goofy smile only Brits can do. See him rubbing literal elbows with a coy Michael Jackson (who appears to have just gotten back from a Cubs game). See how Jackson was never able to remove his thumbs from his pockets. They're arguing about who gets a girl in the song, but does SHE have any say in the matter?

Better Than "Centerfield"

Via Buzzgrinder, via CMJ, some aging rocksters (including members of REM) have formed a new band called The Baseball Project. (And to be fair, Linda Pitmon isn't really at all old... "experienced" rocksters, rather than "aging" ones.)

Peter Buck is involved. I didn't know he (or any other musical artist this side of Meatloaf) liked baseball. But he does, as do fellow REMer Scott McCoughey, Steve Wynn of Dream Syndicate (remember them?) and drummer Linda Pitmon.

Their first release, Volume 1: Frozen Ropes & Dying Quails, will be released on July 8 on Yep Roc records. The song "Past Time" is already up on Myspace and lyrically sounds like a baseball encyclopedia put to music (with some whoo-hoos thrown in for good measure).

This could be something to get excited about if the songs don't suck. But anything mentioning Oscar Gamble's afro is alright with me. And really, looking over the track list, how many awful songs about Harvey Haddix could there possibly be? (None, that's how many.)

MMFRR#11 -- Amerodd

Often, in lieu of actual people wanting to be my Myspace friends, I get piles of friend requests from bands and musicians attempting to get me to check 'em out/attend their shows/join their street teams. Naturally a great bulk of these bands are awful and I want nothing to do with them, yet the requests keep coming. As a mild form of revenge I have decided to review these bands. Welcome to another therapeutic entry of what I like to call Myspace Music Friends Request Review.

You asked for it, and now you've got it: India-rooted Canadian hip-hop. Yeah, boy!
Meet Amerodd.
Before you click yourself over to Amerodd's Myspace space I must caution you. There is so much crap all over everywhere that your web browser will ask you what it did to deserve such torture. Mine died the first time. If your computer can't handle the pain then maybe you should just stay right here.

Amerodd is angry. He's an angry person, but he's not quite sure how to focus his anger. Players and ballaz make him angry. B****es and hoes make him angry. Police and racists make him angry. People who call him a virgin make him angry. And finally, basic grammatical rules make him angry. What's left to do but RAP about it? And when you lay down your tracks, and you're still angry, what do you do then? Barf homemade graphics all over your dang Myspace. My favorite is the one that reads:

F*** Hoes,
F*** the Law,
F*** you all motherf***ers
who want to f*** with Amerodd!!!
Go ahead call the b**** a** cops!!!

Sans asterisks, of course. Next to the image of an AK-47, of course.

Okay, so we see WHAT Amerodd is. But WHY? Aren't Canadians a docile bunch? Where is this rage coming from? In the bio (which is an absolute headache to read) we learn that Amerodd was born in India. The details are vague (or mashedly unreadable), but apparently his family fell on hard times prior to their Canadian voyage. And whatever strife he endured out east didn't let up when he came west. My theory is that he probably got made fun of in Canada because the only word he bothered to learn in English was b****a**motherf*****.

Somehow along the way he mistook himself for a gangsta. For whatever reason he felt the need to represent.

I'll give him credit for being one of the few Indians on the hip-hop scene. The Canadian hip-hop scene at that (which, now that I think about it, is probably the only place this side of Calcutta where you could get away with such a combo). You know what else I give him credit for? His tunes aren't half bad.

Wait, what?

Yeah, that's right, I spend paragraphs dumping on his silly posturing and the laughable image he's created only to come back and say his songs are worth listening to? The imagery and frontin' have been hip-hop's greatest downfall, and once you get past that you'll usually find that there's no substance to a lot of rap's "artistry". With Amerodd's music (seperate from the Amerodd characature he's created, at least for now), he struts what he has, and it ain't much. All he has, when it comes down to it, is his anger, his ethnicity, and his belief in Jesus.

These three components of Amerodd's being haven't been resolved with each other and that in itself creates sort of a fourth component, one of conflict. It doesn't appear that he's really taken charge of this conflict, hence all that posturing, and what results is this baffling swirl of lyrical content. With his Punjabi accent he asks Jesus why these motherf***ers are acting like b****a** punks, and when will He (the good Lord) do something about it? Or how soon will Amerodd blast them himself? Fascinating, and probably for all the wrong reasons.

Three songs are available on Amerodd's Myspace. "Jealousy and Hate" has a pretty sweet sitary beat but otherwise follows the well-trod gangsta rap path. I've got a bit of a soft spot for angry street hip-hop (though, honestly, I could never get into 2pac), so I kind of dig this one. "End of My Life" is a more passive song and Amerodd comes off sounding like a victim (how ungangsta-ly). The third song, "Curfew", is an odd little disjointed musical jaunt. Something about a Hindu-Muslim society, something about escaping from prison, something about a military mission. I'm sure it makes perfect sense in Amerodd's brain, but to me it feels like an unintended experiment.

And that seems to be Amerodd's greatest strength. The best parts of him are unintended. He's trying to do all the "right" things as far as hip-hop is concerned, but he comes from such a different place that, while fileable under the "wannabe" category, the end result is more curious than bland.

I rate Amerodd 6 busted caps out of 10