Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #9

CAN – Ege Bamyasi

CAN is partly why I started this project. Not them specifically, since I had never heard of CAN or Krautrock, the catch-all geographic genre they are jammed into by the music press, before starting out. But the idea of them, and of a band and style of music I had never encountered, was as much a part of this as giving me a reason to finally listen to classic albums I had been neglecting.

Yet, here we are with another “WTF was that?” experience. This is one crazy record, a sort of discombobulated funk, with percussion the most prominent sound and a singer who usually puts zero effort into being intelligible. No two songs are alike. “Pinch” is a disorderly jam session, like the band was trying to figure out what to play while the tape was running, then gave up after 9 exhausting minutes. If you haven’t quit on this yet, there come three more accessible songs: the haunting “Sing Swan Song” and its little flutters gliding along your heart (sampled to amazing effect by Kanye in “Drunk and Hot Girls”), the chilled out “One More Night” has lounge lizard vocals low in the mix like he doesn’t want anyone to hear him, then “Vitamin C”, a dance tune for people who really came to sway. “Soup” goes from a lazy start into a funk rocker before turning into a spooky mess of weird demons howling from the underworld, as if they are actively working to make you not want to listen to this. “I’m So Green” has a 1990s Brit indie pop feel, like a blurry Soup Dragons, before ending with the gentle percussion and Middle Eastern-like sounds of “Spoon”, and a vocal that weirdly made me think of “Snoopy vs the Red Baron”. Overall, half of the run time (“Pinch” and “Soup”) is taken up by weirdness, but the other five tracks are pretty delightful, and would not be out of place on any more adventurous indie playlist. I will absolutely be coming back to this – we can all use a little weird in our listening life.

(Originally posted on Facebook, June 30, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #8

Jethro Tull – Thick As A Brick

Bands like Jethro Tull force me to confront my limitations as a music fan. I love a perfectly-constructed 3-to-5-minute pop song: within those dimensions can be fit the best that rock music has to offer – “Good Vibrations”, “Anarchy in the U.K.”, “Billie Jean”, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, “Hey Ya”. There are exceptions. I’ll stretch it to 7 or so minutes for “Layla” or “I Like Chopin”, go to 8 or 9 to accommodate “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” or “November Rain” or “Me and Giuliani Down by the School Yard”. For the right song – “Marquee Moon” basically – 11 minutes is just fine. Anything beyond that is merely testing my patience.

So WTF am I supposed to do with a song that is 22 minutes long? There’s nothing in my background to prepare me for this. These aren’t really songs, they’re suites, with changes in tempo and theme and style, bound together by – well, what exactly? I expect these types of records reward repeated listens, and by the third time through I was starting to appreciate it more. Side one has a very playful and bouncy opening three minutes that left me thinking “maybe these guys aren’t so bad”, then Anderson is screeching in my ears and I’m ready to call it a day. There’s also a keyboard bit, with a little flute mixed in along the way, that starts around 12:30 that I quite like.

Then I accidentally hit play on “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” and was reminded that three and a half minutes is more than enough time to make great art. Sometimes a longer piece of music doesn’t mean it’s more serious or important: maybe it’s just longer. Jethro Tull and their ilk are trying way too hard. Aretha Franklin only needed 2:27 to earn our “Respect”.

(Originally posted on Facebook, June 28, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #7

Deep Purple – Machine Head

I’ve never been a fan of metal, so I can say with absolute certainty I never would have played a Deep Purple record (or a lot of other things I’ve listened to thus far) if I hadn’t set out on this journey of discovery. I don’t think there is anything wrong with this – every day, we are forced to make choices about what we consume, and since we can’t do it all, we rotate back to things we already like: I play Costello albums, watch superhero movies and read Murakami novels, and my wife and I always order the same meal at Mi Mi. If you already know you love something, why shouldn’t you enjoy it again?

Of course, I set out to do the exact opposite of travelling the known path. Which brings me to this record. It’s odd that I never checked out Deep Purple, since my high school pal Alan Sutherland was, at least in the late ‘70s/early ‘80s, a Ritchie Blackmore disciple. Even the most casual rock listener knows “Smoke on the Water” and that chugging riff. For guitar fans, this record is pure crack, and you really have no choice but to crank it up (my poor aging ears) if you want the true Deep Purple experience. It’s a bouncy album, which was surprising since I’ve always had in my mind the image of a rather plodding dinosaur of a band. Even the label “heavy metal” feels like a misnomer: there are blues elements here, but also pop and improvisational jazz, so it’s enough to just call it “rock” and leave it at that.

The speed at which Blackmore plays inspires awe: the guitar in “Highway Star” races along, sounding almost like a sitar at one point. Organ is also prominent on many tracks, although it sometimes feels like it’s a guitar being made to sound like an organ. “Never Before” opens with a funky jam band feel, before becoming a more conventional bluesy rocker with a get-up-and-dance vibe. “Lazy” is not so much a song as a collection of solos wrapped around a bare set of lyrics, though some of those solos are among the more interesting things on the album. Overall, I enjoyed this record, but it probably won’t readily come to mind when looking for something to play down the line. We can’t love everything.

(Originally posted on Facebook, June 19, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #6

Lou Reed – Transformer

I never thought of Lou Reed as fun. He always seemed so serious, and the songs I was familiar with spoke of outsiders and people generally on the margins of polite society, like sex workers and junkies. It’s nuts that I thought that, given the evident humour in those tales (or the weirdness of something like “The Gift” from his Velvet Underground days). Plus, he was part of Warhol’s circle in the ‘60s, and though those folks were so pompous and narcissistic that it left little air in the room for visitors, no one would ever say they didn’t know how to party. (It may have helped that Warhol hung around with aliens.)

I no longer feel that way, at least based on this record. Co-Produced by David Bowie, it fits well as a glam rock complement to “Ziggy Stardust”. It earns its stripes as a rock record with tracks like “Vicious”, with its fuzzy guitar and not-so-vicious lyric “you hit me with a flower”, the jangly piano of “Hangin’ Round” and its dis of an old friend, and “I’m So Free”, a get-up-and-shake tune with a bit of a rockabilly feel. “Wagon Wheel” starts out like T-Rex’s “Bang A Gong (Get It On)” before finding its own path.

What stands out for me are the odd little touches in quieter songs that are playful or whimsical. The ba-ba-ba-ba-ba’s on the chorus to “Andy’s Chest”, the bum-bum-bum’s of “Satellite of Love”, the endless do-do’s on “Walk on the Wild Side” or the tuba oom-pah-pah’s in “Make Up” (I’ve been walking around singing “slick little girl” for no good reason). More theatrical tunes like “New York Telephone Conversation” and “Goodnight Ladies” feature off-Broadway level backing that highlights the frolic within. My favourite – and, yes, I’ve been walking around singing this a lot, too – is the gentle piano and strings of the beautifully un-ironic “Perfect Day” (I assume I’m not the only person who first heard a version of it in this PlayStation commercial.) There is fun to be found in unexpected places.

(Originally posted on Facebook, June 13, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #5

Neil Young – Harvest

I will always stan for Canadian artists (except Bieber – screw that guy). I still feel a slight rush when I see something recognizably Canadian in an American movie or television show. I love it when I learn that some famous entertainer has a Canuck connection. I’m not confused about where this weirdness comes from – I grew up in an era where our national culture was not very interesting (to a person of my age), and our government felt the need to step in and put rules in place to try and help our artists develop free of the oppressive shadow coming from the south. (As good as acts like Trooper and April Wine might have been, they were mostly Canada-only pleasures.) When I see one of our own break through, it gives me an unearned sense of pride. In 1970s pop and rock, with a few exceptions like BTO, that was mostly limited to one-offs, like Nick Gilder. (I didn’t have a lot of interest then in the music of our international superstars, like Gordon Lightfoot (who I was wrong about), Joni Mitchell (probably wrong) or Anne Murray (yeah, I’m good).) Now, we have Drake and The Weeknd and Carly Rae and Alessia Cara and Shawn Mendes and even that twerp from Stratford.

So why didn’t Neil get more love from Canadian radio in the ‘70s? He was a massive star and insanely prolific, but other than endless repeats of “Heart of Gold”, I don’t remember hearing him very often. (I’ve checked, and this wasn’t just another case of Cape Breton being behind the curve.) Was he not Canadian enough for our culture overlords? His dad was a hockey writer, for God’s sake. Sure, he worked in America with mostly American collaborators, but he probably bled MAPL syrup. Remember when Bryan Adams got so upset about CanCon? (I know Robert Barrie does.) Why wasn’t someone speaking up for Neil two decades earlier? Of course, he didn’t really need the help – “Harvest” was the best-selling album of the year.

This record is awesome. I’ve owned it on CD for about two decades, but hadn’t played it through in ages (because I pretty much haven’t been playing any of my old CDs for the past decade). It’s a (mostly) understated album, with relaxed drums, guitar and piano leading the way, occasionally jolted from their reverie by harmonica or harder guitar. I like every song here, including the two hits, but highlights include “Out on the Weekend”, which washes over you, the gentle pedal steel guitar contrasting with the harmonica, then is followed by the pleasant slow country crawl of “Harvest”. The cinematic orchestral flourishes of the haunting “A Man Needs A Maid” (no, it is NOT chauvinistic) are my favourite thing here (and would be more impactful if he did not go back to that well later in the record on “There’s A World”), and “Are You Ready for the Country?” is the bounciest track, led by Young banging on the piano like a drunk at a house party. The record peaks with the simple and heartbreaking “The Needle and the Damage Done”, ending with an epic duel between loud guitar and a relaxed piano melody on “Words (Between the Lines of Age)”. CanCon at its finest – no matter what our government of the day may have thought.

(Originally posted on Facebook, June 8, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #4

Yes – Close to the Edge

I loved this album on the first listen, which was unexpected since more progressive rock after the displeasing Jethro Tull experience was not my idea of a good time. I loved it less on listens 2 and 3, but was still happy with it overall. Plus, it lead me to some nostalgia listens of Jon Anderson’s team-up with Vangelis on “Friends of Mr. Cairo”, leading into Vangelis’ “Chariots of Fire” theme, an all-time Top 2 inspirational sports movie theme (along with “Gonna Fly Now” from “Rocky”, of course).

You can’t really talk about songs – these are true epics – but of moments and movements within tracks. Anderson says the album was inspired by “Siddhartha”, which I read in high school and only vaguely remember. I kept hearing the Beach Boys in some of the vocals, especially in “Close to the Edge” and “Siberian Khatru”. The beginning isn’t promising – nature sounds are the hallmark of a pretentious band, as are four-part songs that take up an entire side of vinyl. The opening few minutes is discordant, like the musicians haven’t agreed yet on what they’re going to play. I love the chorus in parts 1 and 2 (and 4) of “Close to the Edge”, but part 3, “I Get Up, I Get Down”, is one of my two favourite things here. There is a crazy tonal shift from what surrounds it – haunting keyboards, gently beautiful harmonies on the chorus and overlapping during the verses, rising to the sounds of a church organ encircling the last unmussed run-through of the chorus. My other favourite is the jazz fusion-funk (yes, you can dance to Yes) of “Siberian Khatru”, which is just a really fun way to end a fairly serious record. If it makes you think of Red Hot Chili Peppers, that isn’t an accident.

The sound is so rich, so immersive, at times it can feel like you are at a live show for one listener – this record was made to be played with headphones on, your head thrown back as the sound washes over you, especially the “Eclipse” portion of “And You and I” and the lead in to “Apocalypse”. There’s a strange unity, with the songs echoing each other in tiny snippets of instrumentation or vocal tics.

You know, I take it back – I do still love this record. It just took writing this (and my 4th listen) to make me realize it. Music is funny that way.

(Originally posted on Facebook, May 30, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #3

Nick Drake – Pink Moon

I first encountered Nick Drake in the early 2000s when my new computer included Musicmatch, which allowed you to pick an artist you liked and the service would stream songs in a similar vein. Basically, the forerunner of any artist radio channel on Spotify today. I don’t remember who the match was. Probably Elliott Smith. His spare acoustic guitar, (usually) unmessy production and straightforward vocals caught my ear, and I’ve been a fan ever since, so I was very pleased to see this album coming up.

Except, as it turns out, I wasn’t a fan of this particular record. One of the effects of the streaming culture is that you forget where songs, taken out of their original context, first appeared. And most of what I’ve been listening to over the years is from his other two albums. It makes sense, as they are more playlist friendly, with sunnier production and a little less gloomy lyrically. (Reading a Drake lyric sheet is not as a general rule going to brighten your day.) This album is Drake’s voice and acoustic guitar and almost nothing else. After being caught off guard by so much unfamiliarity on the first listen, I dug in and now love it as much as “Five Leaves Left” and “Bryter Layter”. The longing in “Place to Be” hits hard, and “Which Will” and “Things Behind the Sun” are among the more welcoming tracks here. The final track, “From the Morning”, is almost bouncy, and quite hopeful. In the end, it’s a simple record from an incredibly complicated human, and worthy of our attention.

As a side note, Drake’s mom, Molly, was also a singer and songwriter, though none of her work was released during her lifetime. A few years back, an album of home recordings from the 1950s was released. It’s a bit of a slog at times – accompanied only by piano, her voice is limited and untrained, and the lo-fi production wears over the course of 26 songs. But there is one genuine masterpiece, “I Remember”, a bittersweet reminiscence that reminds us that a shared experience isn’t a shared response to that experience. (Also, the guy in this song seems like a total dick. Molly, I hope it isn’t about the guy you married.)

(Originally posted on Facebook, May 22, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #2

The Rolling Stones – Exile on Main Street

I would never call myself a Stones fan: I think fandom requires a bit more than just liking anything you hear on the radio or a Spotify playlist. Having heard so much of the band over the years, I had a pretty good idea what a Stones record would sound like before listening to it. It would reliably be in the blues-rock vein, but with lots of honky tonk-style piano, maybe some country, soul or gospel elements. They own that lane – everyone else should be smart enough to stay out of their way – but it’s still a fairly recognizable path. The songs I really love by them – the ones that I want to crank up – are those that don’t sound like they came from exactly the same band, like “Ruby Tuesday”, “Sympathy for the Devil” or “Gimme Shelter”.

The thing is, I was wrong, and it took the third listen for me to realize it. There are nuances that only become clear in repeated plays. This song is like a church spiritual (“Torn and Frayed”), that song is like a swing classic updated to late 50s rockabilly (“Rip this Joint”), another is a country-blues shuffle (“Sweet Virginia”), and this other song sounds like it was mixed by a drunk in a gas station bathroom (“Rocks Off”). There was, unexpectedly, another near-brush with solo public dancing during “Loving Cup”.

Part of the problem with double albums is listener fatigue. You start record two full of gusto, but after an hour of the same band, side four is usually the least-listened to of the set. I never felt that way here – much of what I like best on this record is on disc two: the gospel-tinged jam of “I Just Want to See His Face”, the spine-tingling ballad “Let it Loose” (my favourite new-to-me song on the record, and as lovely as anything I’ve ever heard from them), the dance-rocker “All Down the Line”, the balls out Robert Johnson cover “Stop Breaking Down”. The pinnacle comes with “Shine A Light”, the penultimate track, which steers into the gospel elements played with earlier in the record and is haunting in places, followed by “Soul Survivor”, a true show stopper to end the record. It’s a good feeling to be wrong about something this great.

(Originally posted on Facebook, May 16, 2021)

Not the Pazz and Jop 1972 – #1

David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

For reasons unknown (to me – Robert Christgau certainly knows), there was no Pazz & Jop poll in 1972 or 1973. I was going to skip these years, but instead hunted down an alternate source – Best Ever Albums. It isn’t ideal, since it doesn’t match the zeitgeist feel of Pazz and Jop and has a heavy non-critic component, but we work with what we have. For comparison’s sake, had I used this source for 1971, I would have been spared Jeff Beck and Mahavishnu Orchestra (but not, sadly, Jethro Tull), but would have missed out on Joy of Cooking, Janis Joplin and, most tragically, the Kinks. I think I came out way ahead (even with having to listen to Jethro Tull – I can’t slam these guys enough).

So we begin with Bowie, whose 1971 offering didn’t overwhelm me. Consider me now overwhelmed. You know that feeling when you finally do something you’ve been putting off and it turns out great and now you’re full of regret that you didn’t do it sooner? That’s how I feel about this record. Like, WTF was I thinking by never even once giving this a spin over the last 40+ years? I am now on my fourth listen of this record and it won’t be my last. All is forgiven – even Little Drummer Boy. (Well, maybe not that.)

This is a sort-of concept album – Earth has five years left and Ziggy is coming to save us – but that’s really just a pretty wrapping for individually great songs. Piano is still prominent, with some serious rock guitar familiar to anyone who knows the “hits” (because there weren’t any at the time of release) like “Suffragette City”, “Moonage Daydream” (forever linked in my mind to “Guardians of the Galaxy”) or “Ziggy Stardust”. Starting with a simple drum like a heartbeat, the anthemic “Five Years” sets the tone – this is not your older brother’s Bowie, assuming your older brother was cool enough to notice an artist who’d had limited commercial success to this point. I love the line “All I have is my love of love” from the deceptively sad “Soul Love”. I have a new appreciation of “Starman”, which is a great listen with the car windows down on one of the first warm days of the season. “Star” is mostly a romp, but it has nothing on the next track. “Hang on to Yourself” is a blast, a cleaned-up precursor of what the Sex Pistols and other punks would get up to 5 years later. I nearly broke out dancing on the boardwalk during my morning walk, which would have been awkward AF without someone else in my company. If I hear nothing else I like on this journey (spoiler alert: that ain’t happening), it would be worth it for having finally “discovered” this jewel. And now I’m excited to hear more Bowie.

(Originally posted on Facebook, May 15, 2021)

Pazz and Jop 1971 – #20

Jethro Tull – Aqualung

We end our journey through 1971 with this, umm, classic. It’s hard to be objective about Jethro Tull: everything about them cries out pretension, from the name (taken from an agriculturist who died in 1741) to the prominence of flute in their music to the image I have never been able to clear from my memory banks of Ian Anderson in tights looking like a demented Pan. The whole thing is ripe for parody, and maybe that’s part of the problem: I’ve seen too many things over the years making fun of Tull-like bands to take the real thing very seriously.

But the real problem is that it simply isn’t very memorable. As I listened to this for a second time, I couldn’t think of anything to say about it. I don’t really dislike any of this, but that’s because I don’t have much of a reaction to it at all. Yeah, the flute is unique for a rock record, there are some lovely piano bits, the guitar definitely rocks, and I give a shit about almost none of it. I can imagine lots of effort being put into interpreting the profundities found on the lyric sheet, but I can’t be bothered to try. No one track stands out enough to call it my favourite, and there is nothing here worth hating. It just is. And so 1971 ends with a whimper. That 1972 will begin with a bang is an understatement.

(I thought about leaving out the Spotify link since I can’t recommend this record, but figured that if you wanted to punish yourself, it’s not my place to get in the way.)

(Originally posted on Facebook, May 8, 2021)