Archers of Loaf

                 Yeah, I’ve been holding my breath for some massive 90s revival. I call it a revival since so many of the 90s bands had such a devoted following, bordering on the religious.  Every album I have from the early 90s I’ve studied fairly well whether it be Post-Rock (Slint) or the embodiment of indie rock perfection (The Pixies). Both of those bands have since gone touring, along with smaller bands with more rabid fan bases (Polvo in particular, where one fan flew from the Midwest just to see them rock out at Brooklyn Bowl).

                There’s one group I want to see return: the slackers. I miss slackers a lot; I grew up with some of them. Now they either got productive or remained in their parents’ basements. Slackers created some sweet tunes, perhaps some of my favorite music of all time. Now I’m not saying that I’m upset Pavement has returned to us, that is a good start for the slacker wave, but not really the definition.

                No, I’m talking about those bands that will never come back to us. Ones who got busy, got money, and will thus fail to return to us. So when I see one of those ‘Jesus, I never thought you’d return’ bands do so, I’m usually fairly psyched. If they decide to release another album, I’m happy but it really isn’t necessary.

                Archers of Loaf are coming back for what appears to be a fairly decent-sized tour. They will hit north, south, east, west, and even the middle section of the United States of America. Countless college radio stations will see DJs from decades past reconnect for the sole purpose of scoring free tickets. I may decide to call a few people and see if I can get some if I promise to do a ‘webcast’ or something.

                Really though, I think Archers of Loaf might be next to the word ‘slackers’ in the dictionary along with Guided By Voices. Both of those bands sounded more like they were hanging out than making actual music. That remains a selling point for both of them especially thirty or forty-somethings who wax nostalgic for the early 90s, when allegedly better indie music and film existed, before it was co-opted by market forces.

                In preparation, I’ve decided to revisit the Archers of Loaf seminal album, Icky Mettle. Listening to it, I’m reminded I got into them as soon as I became a college radio DJ. For some college radio stations, it is required listening before you start on the air. “Web in Front” I wanted them to be my spine, to keep me strong against the forces of work, the needs of our economy, GDP, and so on. When I heard this song, I think I played it on repeat for a couple of days. Never has two minutes of my life sounded so nice. 

                Slackers will make a comeback with this reunion tour, I’m certain of it. Like the early 90s, we have high unemployment and what I’m beginning to realize is a pretty interesting underbelly of countless bedroom musicians, bedroom writers, bedroom film makers, and so on. Let’s hope Archers of Loaf lead us to that lazier, happier land.

Insane Clown Posse – The Mighty Death Pop! 10.0

                 After the success of their last album, the intrepid group thought of where to go next. Clearly the reaction to their music video “Miracles” made them rethink their music. Should they go ‘meta’ in their music, becoming a parody of a parody of themselves?  Violent J said no, they should take their music to a more serious place. 

                The follow-up focuses on the death of pop music as a medium used to convey ideas. Shaggy 2 Dope planned this out to further explore the less anti-social tendencies of their last album which explored ways of confronting evil, such as the track ‘To Catch a Predator’. Employing Godspeed You! Black Emperor after listening to a lot of Glenn Branca and Rhys Chatham, they set out to create an epic sound. 

                Knowing they needed some beats, they got Diplo to lay down the most ill, fresh-ass beats this side of the Dark Carnival. Originally they wanted to name their album “The American Metaphysical Circus” to continue with the Dark Carnival theme but multiple record store owners formed a class action lawsuit against them preventing the usage of the title. Claiming “haters gonna hate” they sat down and worked on what they hoped would be the best 2 disc set they’ve ever created.

                In fact, this album devastates from the first track, the twenty-two minute “We know how Magnets Work”. A soft-spoken man begins talking about his life growing up, trying to write the perfect sentence. Slowly the man’s voice shows enthusiasm, hope and Shaggy 2 Dope quietly raps over, asking us if any scientist could explain the hope a man feels once they accomplished something truly great. As the violins reach a fevered crescendo, Diplo’s beats come in and Violent J joins him. This is in direct response to the endless parodying they received at the hands of the ‘lamestream media’ they mention at the end of the track, quoting Sarah Palin’s thoughts on the topic of celebrity.

                ‘Nailin Palin’ follows immediately after. Beginning with a reading of her most memorable quotes by various members of Negativland about her career devolving into a pure political meme, ICP begin the most inspired rap they have ever done. Words flow so smoothly, like milk and honey from the mouths of babes. They discuss how the media nearly did that to them, but this was before they discovered quality writers like William S. Burroughs, and proceed to cut up their raps making new meanings out of words and phrases. This goes on for 30 minutes to a mix between dubstep and modern classical music which gives a wink to Velvet Underground's "Sister Ray". 

                Disc 2 has some of the best stuff I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Let’s just say Slint appears on some of the tracks and makes those tracks mad dope yo. Additionally, they have clearly been listening to a lot of Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, and Kurt Schwitters’ tonal poetry. Hearing these songs is positively sublime, and may lead to countless imitators. Rumor has it that they had to be institutionalized during the course of the recordings due to the sheer genius which permeated their minds. No doubt James Joyce’s work played a pivotal role as well, as constant references are made to the book, especially in the song “Mookie”.

                Ending it in heart-breaking fashion is the 35 minute-long “Jandek, Mad Respect”. They are joined by none other than that Texan iconoclast. Using his bleating, world-weary voice to great effect, he merges with Godspeed You Black Emperor and Diplo’s beats to create a track which defies all words. Calling it “Orgasmic” could not begin to do justice to the testament of American exceptional-ism it so clearly celebrates.

                Honestly, I thought these guys weren’t very good before this album. I didn’t feel the love of the Juggalo or Juggalette community. After hearing this, I get the sense of artists no longer constrained by commercial considerations, though I hope this album makes some serious chedda. By this point, they have a dedicated enough fan-base who is smart enough to understand where this is coming from, it is coming from their tortured souls. If you ever wanted an introduction to the furthest extremes of the avant-garde while still remaining accessible to the masses, this is the best album for the job. Your mouth will drop at the sheer beauty contained within two mere CD discs. Violet J and Shaggy 2 Dope are clearly the voice of our generation. I know they call these “Jokers Cards” but there’s no joke about the sheer quality product they put out.

Daddy Bloggers

                   The New York Times has been on something of a ‘blog kick’. Lately they’ve had a bunch of articles focused on blogging, both positive and negative. Part of this may be to boost advertising revenue, so you’ll get a subscription to “The Economist” or buy an apartment in an extremely expensive part of Brooklyn or Manhattan. You know the kind of place so expensive I can’t even afford to get drunk there. A true crime if there ever was one. I’ve already focused on their negative ‘it’s dying’ article, now let’s go positive.

                Mommy Bloggers apparently make huge sums of money. Heather Armstrong leads the pack, making somewhere in the six figures per month. I’ve only seen a six figure sum in my life followed by the words ‘in debt’. Having thought about this for many hours, I’ve decided entering the field of Daddy blogs would be best. Now I’m not particularly motivated, due to being a sloth, but I have a foolproof plan on how to make a ton of money. See the below for a simple breakdown:

1.       Get married

2.       Have Children

3.       Write about said children in blog format

4.       PROFIT

As you can see, this verges on pure genius. Most Daddy blogs probably have uncool stuff, such as their efforts in building the kids a tree house or some such nonsense. Or they talk about their hobbies they’ve forced on their kids. Eventually their kids become some football captain or similar kind of ordinary stuff. My approach will differ dramatically from this. Finally I’ll help make Dads as cool as they ought to be.

I’m talking of course about cool dads. Sure, this phrase has been around for a while. Those are the dads who remained cool as they grew older. Most dads tend to start watching History Channel and find how taffy is made to be absolutely mind-blowing. Not I, said the cool dad guy. Instead, you’ll read about the mixes I created for my children so when they got to kindergarten they already knew about bands like Faust, Captain Beefheart, Nick Drake, Slint, Tortoise, and other obviously hip bands. As other children wonder why they sing “Wheels on the Bus” over and over again, my kids will be immune to such garbage.

Of course, I can’t do it alone. What I’ll be looking for is a special someone, preferably around my level of artiness or higher. Anyone in the blogging profession (excluding political bloggers gross), theater, film, music, painting or similar professions is a sure thing. Someone with experience in website site would be ideal. I’m looking to have my kids be so damn cool you’re nearly jealous of them. That’s my goal.

         Since it is a Daddy blog, there will need to be some drama. My kids might start getting into argument about Jackson Pollock versus Rothko, Zappa versus Beefheart, and so on. For life contains so much drama, I just want mine to have a snobbish, almost unbelievably out of touch view on culture, music and so on.

        Blogs don’t always end the way you want them. I’m assuming the same goes for kids, I don’t know, I haven’t had any kids yet. While I can try my best to protect them from interests in popular music and culture, I know the old saying “If you blog about something, you must set it free” or something like that. Knowing my kids might rebel against my interests, I’ll be gentle. There won’t be any of that “Dragon Lady” stuff where I deprive my kids of things they enjoy. Honestly, I’m not sure if my kids will be interested in everything I present to them, but I want them to realize all that’s out there, which include esoteric bands and film directors.

        Will I be a good father, a good daddy blogger? I don’t know. I hope I can. Can you be both a good father and good daddy blogger, or does something have to give? My hope is I can have both, since I’m not sure what my skill set is exactly. Being there for my kids, writing endlessly about them, I’d be that guy who goes on about their kids at parties, except I’d be earning sweet money cake for it.

        Let me know. Do you think I can find a special someone, settle down and blog about our offspring? Or will I continue to make far too many obscure musical references even as I write about the joys of being a father?

Codeine – The White Birch 9.2

Slowcore exists only in the winter for me. I don’t know why, but when winter gets here, it feels like it lasts forever. Maybe that has to do with its very uniform approach: cold and sad. The White Birch, Codeine’s last album, has remained a staple for winters ever since I first heard it. Lacking any sort of happiness, it kind of embodies the winter for me: plain, dull, and a black hole of emotion. 

Each time as I see my breath in the cold air, the songs pop into my head. It works as some kind of genetic disposition. Unlike a lot of slowcore, it tends to be a bit more experimental, mixing occasional blasts of anger and volume. These elements are used almost as punctuation throughout the album.

Length-wise, it is a relatively short album, clocking in at about 43 minutes. Things get started with a quiet, clean song “Sea”. Usually if a band starts out with a long song, it means they have some sort of faith in it. That faith is justified here. It set the tone for what’s in store for you, easing you in slowly to the angst.

Angst abounds throughout the album. Somehow it avoids being whiny. Resigned would be a better term for it, the singer/speaker doesn’t appear particularly distraught at the point. He’s still working through all the motions, and you get to experience them with him. Honestly, I want more singers in this vein, but it seems that it was more acceptable in the early 90s, when emotions were allowed to be real. 

“Loss Leader” includes a great amount of distortion and volume. One of the album highlights comes across as a disturbed valentine, a beautiful song called “Vacancy”. Perhaps this is the closest they come to anything resembling happiness. The tempo continues at the pace of molasses, at points coming across more as decoration than as keeping time. 

Towards the end we get the border personality disorder of “Wird”. Veering radically between near silence and frustrated noise, it is a dozy. If there was going to be a song you could compare to Slint on here, it would be this piece. They channel Slint’s rage and confusion. It moves from noise, to silence, to gorgeous melody. 

If you need to stay in on a boring winter night feeling kind of down, you could do far worse than these guys. What is surprising is after you’re done, you feel better.

Slint – Spiderland 10.0

People fawn over this album. I did. When I first put it on, it blew me away. Everything about it felt perfect, right down to the clean guitar that opens up “Breadcrumb Trail”. When I finished the album, I put it on a few more times. Later that evening when I went to sleep I had paranoid, creepy nightmares recognizing the intense discomfort and paranoia that exists on a regular basis in America. 

Such is the power of Spiderland. It is the kind of thing I wish I heard more: beautiful guitar, beautiful drums, beautiful everything really. The lyrics are vulnerable yet they avoid a lot of the cliches of exposing yourself by singing. By speaking it sounds like narration, and the music is the backdrop. Hearing about the rollercoaster ride meshes so well with the perfect instrumentation. 

“Nosferatu Man is one of the more straightforward songs on here. There are absolutely excellent vamps on here, particularly at the midsection. Sometimes when I listen to that harsh, messed-up “My teeth touched her skin” I sort of wish it could last forever.

What comes up next is far more difficult. “Don Aman” is the song that gives credence to the rumor that at some point some of the members may or may not have been institutionalized during its recording. Honestly, I kind of doubt they were, but it is an extremely unsettling. Stripped of percussion, or even guitar distortion, it is simply a series of guitar chords spaced out to give tension rather than melody.

The quiet continues into “Washer”. Singing actually occurs on this song, rather than the uncomfortable speaking that went on beforehand. Percussion is re-introduced, and the song keeps its cool besides one explosion at the very end. “For Dinner” ups the ante by providing a tense moment with no relief by speaking, singing, or even a single explosion.

Finally, the end is in sight. Hearing those jangling notes, you know something is not well. The nervous drums and bass confirm this. In case you still didn’t get it, Brian lays the Ancient Mariner theme on. Samuel Taylor Coleridge probably would be thrilled to see his poem taken to such nightmarish extremes. Everything builds up to that extremely satisfying scream “I MISS YOU!” as sound explodes louder than it had during the entire album’s duration.

Released in 1991 to little to no acclaim whatsoever (excluding Steve Albini’s “ten fucking stars”), it built up its popularity. Not due to any sort of pranks or hijinks by the band. Indeed, the band has been ultra-quiet about those recording sessions it had with Brian Paulson. 

Instead, they did this unusual thing where the music spoke for itself. Occasionally others found it and sung its praises, but the band wasn’t interested in pointless promotion. This is probably one of the most American rock albums I’ve ever loved. Each second oozes a certain kind of America, the America I live in, not romanticized, just shown as realistically and starkly as possible. Pure love.

Slint – Slint EP 8.9

Released in 1994, long after the band had departed the music scape, this little EP sort of bridged the gap between the different Tweez and Spiderland albums. 

“Glenn” starts things off with the glorious guitar work that you’d later hear on Spiderland. Honestly, when I first heard these, I assumed they were written after Spiderland and not before. The drums hit really hard with this one, and the distortion is used to maximum effect. 

“Rhoda” might be vaguely recognizable from the Tweez album. It is much louder than the Tweez album version and longer. The start begins the same way, perhaps with a bit more aggression. After the start though, they begin to explore the dynamics. Easily the most aggressive Slint track out there, halfway through the song they just LOSE IT. As soon as you think it is about to let up, it gets even more insane. Bass blasts through the huge pile of distortion.

Shame they released so little. But if you were looking for the missing link between Tweez and Spiderland, this is it.

Slint – Tweez 8.7

“Shit. They’re fucked” the singer/speaker announces to all of us in “Ron”. The aggression is ramped up pretty high for Tweez. At times it sounds like these guys were just pumping out leftover aggression from their Squirrel Bait days. But that aggression appears to be reaching for something else, something a bit more detached.

“Carol” is one of my more beloved songs on here. It hints at the later, multi-part masterpieces they would later perfect. At the 2 minute mark the music gets wonderfully intense. The guitar screeches out a painful wail as the speaker tells you “when the time comes/you got to let go”. 

They were surprisingly young to put out something this experimental. None of them had even graduated from college yet when they got around to making a song that involves hearing a guy swallow a glass of water. A jam starts up, sounding almost like a kind of normal band having a grand old time. Being Slint, this could only last a little over a minute before they wanted to “get sensitive” and talk about Christmas Trees inside their heads.

Lyrically, it doesn’t feel as solid as say Spiderland’s clear narratives. But the weirdness can sometimes lead to a tender sweetness, like it does on “Darlene” probably one of my favorite songs about relationships of all time. That bass comes in and sounds wonderful. Beautiful guitar comes in and the speaker is delightfully nonchalant. Also, they seem to save the darkness for us until the very end of the song, as he feels sad that he lost two friends to each other. 

Reaching the end of the album, it gets into darker, even more distorted terrain with “Warren” and “Rhoda”.

I can’t believe how under-noticed this went at the time it came out. Recorded with Steve Albini, who even admits “It sounded alright”. Nobody paid attention to it, so few that it got recorded in 87 and released in 89 by Jennifer Hartman Records, which sounds like somebody working out of their garage. Later on it would be released on Touch and Go, which is where they would find a home for their masterpiece, Spiderland. 

PS. If you’re wondering where the album’s title comes from, it was from Britt Walford’s (drummer) habit of collecting tweezers.

Listening to Music to take Music to.

I stood in my natural habitat. Fluorescent light shone brightly, doing a good job approximating actual sunlight. Dub Reggae emanated from the speakers, giving the small room a tropical vibe. 

Each record I saw I explained to my friend standing next to me. Bizarrely, a few random people asked me for help, like I worked in the place. Having that small acknowledgment was nice, I’m happy to explain the joys of Slint’s Spiderland any day of the week. Everyone should learn about the alternative to the Seattle scene, the Louisville, KY scene in the early 90s. 

I wonder how much longer my musical addiction, affliction last for? I’ve seen all the movies that try to give me some sort of reasonable answer and I’m worried. None of those movies seem to depict me at all. There barely seems to be a movie based off of musical addictions occurring digitally. It always is focused on some record store or being in a band, etc. Physical stores aren’t things that really exist anymore, sorry “High Fidelity”. As cool as you appeared to be in the movies, most people don’t start record stores anymore. Excluding a few beautiful, lovely stores like Other Music, they largely have fallen by the wayside. 

Greenberg worries me a bit more. Rather than show musical addiction as something to be celebrated, like High Fidelity did, it shows the downside. Instead of connecting to others through his musical interests, Greenberg ends up getting lost inside his own head. Each time he makes a reference, nobody gets it. I tried explaining my worry about this happening to a friend and he told me “Don’t worry; I don’t get your references even now”. So thanks for that vote of confidence. 

Greenberg’s 40 and completely aimless. After breaking up his own band out of idealism, he can barely connect to those few people in his life that he should. Perhaps what happens after being so hopeful is an eventual burnout. It doesn’t happen instantly. Time passes and slowly joy for the new fades, like how Bedhead sings “But this year I think I’d rather be a relic/than part of the present”. I’ve often had rooftop discussions with those lamenting the better, older music, and how “nothing good happens anymore”. Lately I’m growing weary of the negativity to some degree, since I think music is one of my purest joys, unaltered by anything overwhelmingly awful. 

 When does that point come though, of pure musical weariness, of that yearning for the old? That ought to be something I can prepare for, like having an IPOD on you at all times in case of emergency. If you need to ask what sort of emergency, you’re probably not that big of a music snob. I should have some delicious, gross junk food near me for when that happens, like Pizza Combos or Lindt Dark Chocolate. 

There’s so much research to do for music too. Sure, it has become easier to read reviews, and compare various sites with one other, to get a better idea of who suits your interests. Entire sites equally divvy up amounts of “buzz”, trying to cool your interests hip and relevant. And before you say that “Oh, people just get a general idea from them” I’ve been to parties where people read Pitchfork so religiously that they know exactly what score each and every album got for the past year, even albums they never actually listened to. 

Finally, to give some sort of closure, I wonder about how people treat me. Am I just a curiosity, reeling off bands like a catalog, complete with blurbs for each, or am I a human being? Or am I slowly losing myself in the midst of so much sounds, so much music, that I become a musical Slothrop? That I constantly seek out that perfect album, that perfect music. That each morning I wake up, check Boomkat, check Pitchfork, check Tiny Mixtapes, and check various blogs, etc. looking for my 00000. People try to help me with this problem, with this search, trying to drag back into working, but I might just go down one of those creative routes, never to return. 

We’ll see, hopefully this will help those who wonder the same thing as they endlessly spew out musical references, sorting through the thousands upon thousands of songs, looking for that special one. Perhaps the same could be said for people too, you know, the whole “Special Someone” bit. 

But no matter what, Other Music, right near Cooper Union, you’ll always be forever loved in my heart.