Given the twenty-year cycle of music trends, Britpop is due for a major revival, as we’ve seen the last great Brit behemoths disintegrate (and reunite for a few commemorative gigs) and Coldplay assume the of English rock superstardom.
Somewhere beneath the hubbub lies Keane, who have been faithfully been plugging away at their swooning brand of piano rock for almost a decade. You still may know the British threesome best for their mega-hit “Somewhere Only We Know,” but Keane has kept busy since their 2004 moment in the sun, putting a twist on the ‘90s Britpop tradition with their signature guitar-less piano ballads.
Keane play the Strathmore on June 14th in support of their fourth full-length release, Strangeland, their first since 2008′s Perfect Symmetry.
With the Love American Style EP, The Beastie Boys gave the public a small taste of their new and improved direction. Some ears were ready and many were not, but this twelve-inch contained a tidy morsel of a true hip-hop classic.
In retrospect, Licensed to Ill came on like a ton of bricks. Out of the blue the group just seemed to suddenly be everywhere; on stereos and television naturally, but also in magazines, in car tape decks, as the soundtrack to parties, in the parking lot at school. This level of saturation wasn’t all that unusual, for the same sort of situation happened with Purple Rain, Thriller, Madonna’s debut and Born in the USA. Unless you were a hermit, it was ultimately all music the ears couldn’t escape, particularly in a suburban existence. What made Licensed to Ill feel like such a haymaker was its heightened sense of immaturity and its use (some said hijacking) of a musical form that many observers were still coming to terms with.
The Beastie Boys were generation gap music in its purest form. As expected, parents were indignant; Who raised these ingrates, What has happened to the youth of America, Where are the values, When I was your age we thought Pat Boone was risqué, Why I oughta lock you in your room without your stereo for playing that noise in the house, and in front of your sweet, impressionable little sister at that. How does it feel to feel old?
“Vinyl, thats all I know. Thats all I want to know! I’m very much into vinyl, a ‘vinyl junkie,’ someone once said.”
“How did it all start…
My parents gave me their music box when I was a kid which had a tape deck, turntable, and radio tuner (that got me hooked). I’d spend hours stacking the records on the arm and playing my favourites. So, from an early age I was buying records, but as a kid money was tight. Well, still is!
So, I did a deal with this kid at school—I’d buy a week’s meal tokens from him for the price of a day’s dinner money from my mum! I’d then save the rest of the week’s dinner money and go buy a slab of vinyl at the weekend. When my mum found out she wasn’t happy…haha!
If Lee Hazlewood lingers in the contemporary cultural memory, it’s easily due to his work with Nancy Sinatra. On The LHI Years: Nudes, Singles and Backsides (1968-1971), the Light in the Attic label collects a bunch of his post-Nancy collaborations and a welcome helping of his solo shots, and the results are highly recommended not just for Hazlewood’s fans but for anyone with an inclination for well-crafted oddball pop.
Though his music never wavered from its thoroughly commercial designs, Lee Hazelwood was still a truly strange duck. And the undeniable datedness of his work can really add to the overall weirdness factor, though that’s in no way a bad thing; if often possessing production values and orchestrations that are accurately assessed as “middle of the road” (not the same as “mainstream”), his songs almost always avoid falling into simple kitsch.
But Hazlewood was more than just a bizarro/sophisto cowboy that blended Vegas-inclined pop with a country-inflected folksiness both on his own and in a collaboration with Sinatra that still comes off like a Swingin’ ‘60’s reaction to Dolly and Porter. Indeed, while loads of folks are familiar with the string of late-‘50s hits that he produced and co-wrote with Duane Eddy, it’s also true that most of those listeners aren’t cognizant of Hazlewood’s actual involvement with those songs, a short flowering of creativity that stands amongst the finest instrumental rock music ever recorded.
Mary Alouette plays Sofar Sounds this Friday, May 11 and the Kennedy Center’s Millennium Stage on May 24.
“Records lived in boxes in my basement when I was growing up. They belonged to my dad, and having no record player at home, they sat preserved. There had obviously been some love given to them as their covers were a bit rough around the edges. They’re a bunch of cool records.”
“My dad was somewhat of a hippie – he went to a small college of 300 people in Wisconsin, and a professor at his school lived in a teepee. His record collection defines the ’60s and these times of experimental adventures. I’d always been curious about these records, but for a long while, they sat under the table, waiting in the dark.
Jump forward. My friends in Montreal had record players and we’d sit and listen to their records, hearing warmth in the sound as if a live band were playing. We also found that listening to records took you on a journey. Just letting the sides play from beginning to end takes you on the musical road with the band.
Led as always by Anton Newcombe, The Brian Jonestown Massacre has returned with its twelfth studio album, Aufheben. While not a complete washout, in the end it does little to displace the notion that the man’s best artistic days are far behind him.
Back in the ‘80s is when I first heard The Chesterfield Kings, a garage band with a definite ‘60s bent. Taking the genre’s limitations in mind, they were rather good. They also had a pronounced love of The Rolling Stones. One interesting thing about the Kings; while they certainly had a strong fan base and were bolder in conception than most other ‘80s garage acts, they were still somewhat hindered by the nagging viewpoint of many who considered their music to be decidedly retrograde.
Spacemen 3 and Flaming Lips were just two examples of late-‘80s bands with a detectable ‘60s focus that managed to dodge the retro tag, with both bands at different stages of their existence considered to be groundbreakers. The Kings on the other hand were dogged with the retro stigma, often by those who liked them even. If they made a very good record, it was ultimately very good from within the confines of a limited context, a bit like setting a home-run mark for a single-A farm club; it’s an admirable achievement, sure, but it still pales next to the more grandly scaled activity of the big boys.
I think of The Chesterfield Kings and The Brian Jonestown Massacre together for a couple of reasons. First is their rather obvious shared love of the Stones. The other concerns the differences in reception these bands received for doing something roughly comparable. Yes, BJM first made their mark with a spin on the sound of shoegaze, but they quickly shifted into the role of a retro-inclined band that wore their Stonesian inspiration proudly and defiantly.
Clarence Bucaro’s new album Walls of the World is available now on 20/20 Records.
“Finding an unknown vinyl gem feels like discovering a secret road to somewhere really special.”
“When I am record shopping at my favorite shops I will go home with records I am familiar with or ones I know mostly what I’m getting into. But often times I will go home with a couple blind shots in the dark. Perhaps I liked the cover, the title, the artist’s picture, etc…..and ever so often one of those blind chances will end up being a rare piece of my collection I could not do without.
Many of times of course taking chances on certain unknown records burns me (yes, Bill Evans Symphony Record….I’m looking at you…and that Gram Parsons Lost Recordings buy I made in 2009….I still feel like a fool for that one) but in my collection I can think of 5 pieces that were just magical finds that have given me countless hours of inspiration, reflection and joy.
I have my favorite spots for shopping in the country (Amoeba in LA, Used Kids in Columbus, OH, and Academy Records in Williamsburg, Brooklyn) and these five I discovered at these three over the past years and I still revel in their discovery every time I put them on or share them with a fellow music loving friend. I love taking chances on new records, it’s at least half the fun of record shopping and when you catch a good one, it feels that fate has somehow given you and only you a little gift.
It’s our weekly Twitter #MusicMonday recap of the brand new tracks from last week that the folks in the press offices want you to be hearing. We post, you download.
Do you believe in ghosts? I’m not sure I know too many folks who don’t. One nice thing about living in the Canyon is that it’s totally . . . not creepy. I’m just guessing, but the ghosts who live up here must be of the happy kind. Call’em “cool spooks!”
Last week I went to see and hear some much needed metal in the form of a great sounding Mastodon show. Opening the bill was Ghost, a heavy band from Sweden with a mighty buzz. At first glance the band looked fairly ridiculous dressed as hooded Monks wearing over-sized, upside down crosses. I was thinking that maybe they thought these get-ups would make us go running home to our parents, terrified by the prospect of priests falling into the hands of Satan. Then again, these Sweeds are no dum dums. They know Mastodon fans have all seen Transatlantic Feedback, that incredible documentary about Monks (the world’s first punk band).
The more I pondered, the more incredible and interesting Ghost was becoming. Then it dawned on me . . .
“Heavy Ghosts”—what a cool idea for an Idelic muse!
I quickly rushed to the garage, frantically flipping through my collection for rock records to melt minds with a set of ghostly bone crushing jams. The result was something far from what I initially expected, really—much more moody—a Laurel Canyon ghostly session of sorts. An Idelic Hour close to home.
Added to the mix, none other than Mr. Jack White. Ironically ol’ Jack can look mighty ghostly himself. Check out his new Blunderbuss album. It calls on ghosts from White Stripes past…
“It’s a winter night around November 25th, 1986 back in rural middle England when I hear the most distinct little screech and crackle coming from the living room of my parents’ house. The rugged hands of my father delicately (in his own special way) lays down the needle onto the Nat King Cole Christmas special edition record and there the memory begins.”
“The rest is simply a warmth, an EQ which has never since been rivaled, albeit some of the more advanced plug-ins today do a pretty good job, and a voice that would send a chill down most peoples back.
So, I grew up surrounded by the vinyl collection of my parents and brothers, taking every chance I could as a kid to work my way through their catalogue and bask in the glory of the old school record, from John Denver, Elvis Costello, and Queen, to the Happy Mondays, Dark Side of the Moon to Thriller.
