Happy Father's Day

My dad and I never really talked about music. We just didn't have that common ground. We were close and he loved me like I was his own - he came in to my life when I was 4 and passed away when I was on the cusp of 23 - but he was often working two jobs to make ends meet and wasn't around as much as I wish he would've been. You know, "Cats in the Cradle" shit.

That said, he was a beautiful human, possessed a very kind heart and incredible work ethic, and I'm proud to say that I see many of his better qualities in myself. He was the rock of our family and a role model for me in multiple aspects of my life. Happy Father's Day, big guy. I miss you. Hey...wait. I do remember he liked and listened to "Mack the Knife" by Bobby Darin from time to time. It's the only song I remember him caring about. Not a bad choice at all. This one's for you, dad. 💖

The Mixtape 6/12/18: Kanye / Snail Mail / Beach House

I've been dunking my head and bobbing for good Kanye jams the last couple weeks. Came up with a few that remind me why I'm still able to compartmentalize Kanye the artist and Kanye the douchebag in my head. I've never been so conflicted with a singular musician, but that's fodder for a different post. My point is I'm down with some new Kanye tracks, one so much that it bumped "This is America" right out of the top five. 070 Shake has been a talking point in the media for being the highest high point on Ye. Rightfully so. But it's Yeezy's verse that actually wrung the most emotion out of me. And I find myself caring about Kid Cudi as much as I did in 2009.

So yeah, I drank the water and Kanye sits up top this week. Snail Mail is right behind and, truthfully, I see myself still listening to "Heat Wave" long after "Ghost Town" has dropped off my conscience.

Beach House's "Dive" is the musical equivalent of waves crashing on a beach; fitting that it just continues to rise as summer gets closer.


    

BackTracks: Best of 1995

We first got alternative rock on our radio dial in the Vancouver / Portland area, where I grew up, back in May 1991. Our AM radio dial. After years of a fixed selection of oldies, classic rock, adult-contemporary, country and mainstream pop music comprising our primary radio options, we were finally blessed with 970 AM The Beat. A station that sometimes came in, sometimes didn't. It was AM, so there was an inherent level of static and background fuzz that, I guess at the time, made it feel like you were listening to something different, something slightly underground. The Beat played a style of music that was undergoing an evolution, as mid-late 80's modern rock morphed to the much more marketable (and profitable) "Alternative Rock." Want to make something edgy? Slap "Alternative" on it. That was the deal in the 90s. A deal that eventually went sour as 'alternative' came to represent the norm with the music sounding like a diluted, regurgitated version of Alternative Rock's glory-days persona for years to come. But I get ahead of myself.

On March 6, 1995, my life changed when 94.7 on the Portland FM dial became "94-7 NRK". That's 'NewRocK', not 'NeRK'. Nearly four years after 970 AM The Beat debuted, I could finally hear with clarity, the sonic stew of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jane's Addiction, et. all. A universe of music, previously accessible only via MTV or during one of my many early 90s road trips to Seattle where I'd steal a few days of exposure to the Emerald City's alt-rock taste maker, 107.7 FM The End, was now in my lap and providing me with more exposure to new acts than I ever had before. Dreams really did come true. 

I recently located several notebooks containing my ritualistic weekly top 30 or 40 lists, scrawled out almost exclusively in blue ink, for the better part of 1995-2001. While there are gaps in the chronicling of my musical tastes over time, I was quite diligent during the latter half of the decade; a time when my musical tastes were guided more by Seattle bands and the many flavors of Alternative Rock (now coming at me faster than samples in a Baskin-Robbins) than any pop or rock acts that ruled the mainstream. There was also a notable and significant lack of hip-hop in my diet, again, outside of what I could catch on MTV. Portland wouldn't get a hip-hop / rap station (AM or FM) until KXJM Jammin' 95.5 appeared in 1999 and my life was changed. Again. But I get ahead of myself. Also again.

Today, I'm focusing on the year where I fully shifted from champion of the "Seattle Sound" (I hated the term 'grunge' back then...still not my favorite) to connoisseur of myriad new acts that sounded similar, in that they sounded nothing like each other or anything I had heard before. Yes, Nirvana's influence and sound informed much of alternative rock for the remainder of the 90s, but there were a lot of acts that didn't settle for straight up pillaging, preferring instead to use their time in the spotlight to showcase their own identity and voice. 

It was 1995, a year we were introduced to a nice Canadian lady who transitioned from You Can't Do That On Television to you can do that in a movie theater. A year where Portland band, Everclear, made a nationwide dent in the alternative rock picture with Sparkle and Fade, an album that could more or less double as their Greatest Hits (since their first release, World of Noise, isn't on Spotify). We met a spunky So Cal gal who, it became quickly evident to see, was infinitely more than just a girl. The guy that produced Nirvana's Nevermind had his own band, while the guy that played drums for Nirvana also decided to give the next phase of his career a shot. There were lots of great singles by lots of loud bands. I was front row at the rock and roll buffet and going back for seconds, thirds, and fourths, for acts I'd never heard of. Many of whom wouldn't be heard from again. 

One of my recently unearthed notebooks produced what you see here - my top 100 of 1995. Yes, I did year-end lists too - I even had formulas to determine year-end placement. Some people are stats-nerds for sports, I've always been a stats nerd for music. In finding this list, I rediscovered songs I had completely deleted from my personal RAM. I loved the tracks on here from Dandelion, Ruth Ruth, Jawbreaker, and Seaweed back then, but had completely ceased to remember they ever existed. I've listened to them (and the songs on my playlist below) several times this weekend. The discovery of my notebooks was worth it, if only for those four songs being back in my life again. I'm sure similar discoveries await me for the rest of my 90s lists that I've yet to examine.

The handwritten images below represent my 1995 self's tastes at a particular intersection of space and time. The Spotify playlist is what 2018 me (with hindsight) still considers the essential songs of 1995 from my top 100. I'm sure there were lots of other genres with their respective hits in '95, but I resided in Alterna-ville almost exclusively at that point and most of the mainstream hits just didn't resonate that strongly with me. Seal, Shaggy, Boyz II Men, Blues Traveller...I'm talking to y'all. 

 

My Best of 1995 playlist. The year alternative broke for me. Again. In no particular order.

10FTW: Prince

Today, on what would've been Prince Rogers Nelson's 60th birthday, an unreleased live Prince album from the 80s was announced by his estate and label. I will be waiting anxiously throughout this summer for its arrival on September 21. I'm a fan. From the first time I heard "I Wanna Be Your Lover" as an eight-year-old, I was intrigued. My very young ears hadn't heard anything that slinked and strutted like the falsetto and guitar on Prince's first major hit in the US. It was different than other popular music of that time and felt...naughty might not be the right word, but I definitely felt like it was music that older people (you know...teenagers) listened to. Not a naive 3rd grader. I'm sure other kids around that age felt similar mischievous glee when they heard "Erotic City," "Darling Nikki", or "Sexy MF" for the first several times, years later. Prince's music was certainly something to hide from overbearing, anxiety-ridden parental units, depending on the release in question. 

I was a child of the 80s - raised on radio, babysat by MTV, and thankfully exposed to enough random elements of pop culture to last a lifetime. Prince was a huge part of that. I saw Purple Rain in the theater. Owned the soundtrack album. Had the posters on my wall. Was routinely spouting off (to anyone that would listen to a 13 year-old's reasoning) about how Prince was truly a musical genius. I even had a purple, Prince and the Revolution Velcro wallet. Hey, I was 13. Despite the silkscreen image of Prince on the wallet's exterior looking more like John Oates than the purple wonder himself, it seemed like the right move at the time. Teenage logic... 

Losing anyone from the era that gave shape and meaning to my life is painful enough, but when I heard the news that Prince had died, my jaw unhinged as it did nearly seven years prior when it was announced that Michael Jackson had passed away. I was in a courthouse on April 21, 2016, watching my Turkish sister-in-law take part in her naturalization ceremony to become an official US citizen. Just before things were about to begin, I overheard someone close by say something unintelligible about Prince in a tone that didn't sound positive. I whipped out my phone and did a quick search to discover that Prince was no longer of this Earth. I was floored. Seconds later, the packed room was reminded to turn off all phones during the proceedings. I sat there for the next hour or more, in awe. That stunning news, as well as the humbling, inspirational process unfolding before my eyes, fought for supremacy inside my frozen body. Once my sis was officially a US citizen and the picture-taking and celebration completed for a minute, I hopped back online to confirm that it wasn't a hoax (oh how I was wishing it was). My gut sank. My eyes started to water up a bit (as they had been doing for the opposite reasons of joy and humility throughout that morning) and I began to process the unthinkable. 

Like many others, Prince's music sound tracked my youth, got me on the dance floor, and took me to many places that music previously hadn't. Alexander Nevermind, Christopher, TAFKAP...whatever moniker he went by, Prince was a mercurial mashup. The best parts of James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, and Stevie Wonder, all in one dimunitive, ass-kicking package. 

10FTW: The Cars

Forty years ago today, the debut album from The Cars was released to a world that was cozying up to the umbrella term we still refer to today as New Wave. Acts like Talking Heads, Blondie, The Clash, Elvis Costello, The Police, and our friends The Cars, all had songs that grabbed the attention of punkers and popsters alike in 1978. 

I was seven when The Cars was released. Suffice it to say, they weren't on my radar. In 1978, I was all about Andy Gibb, the Bee Gees, and the Village People (judge me all day; I loved disco then and still hold it close to my heart now). The first time I heard the Cars was a year or two later on a local rock station that played "Let's Go" from 1979's Candy-O. At the time, the airwaves were a veritable potpouri of musical styles. Various flavors of rock (soft, prog, and new wave) mingled with country and disco, which hadn't yet felt the backlash that was around the corner. "Let's Go" was fine, but I was more excited about Donna Summer having two songs in the top five simultaneously ("Bad Girls" and "Hot Stuff") and obssessing over when I would finally Get The Knack. Which I did around Christmas '79. 

I put the Cars out of my head until "Shake It Up" set up shop in my ears in late 1981. For the next couple of years, I heard the bigger  hits from their first four albums on the radio and relied on them as the gospel of The Cars as they weren't releasing any new material. Don't cry for me...I found all kinds of music to surround myself with between 1982 and 1984. Seriously, 1983 is up there with 1979 for one of the best years in music (in my lifetime, at least). Then, in the spring of 1984, "You Might Think" and its visually stunning for the time video turned me in to a Cars fan all over again. Just in time for them to break up after the release of their sixth album, Door to Door, a few years later. Win some, lose some.

I've always gravitated to The Cars' hits for the most part; their deeper tracks never really engaged me enough to consider them alongside their classics. Genres have come, gone, and returned over the past 40 years, but Ric Ocasek, Benjamin Orr, and the rest of the gang's songs still hold up. Many are sing-along worthy and continue to put a smile on my face when I randomly hear them on the radio now. In no particular order, here are my 10 tracks. By The Cars. For the win!

The Mixtape 6/5/18 - A month on top for "This is America"

♪♫♪

Gooooooood day

Muuuuuusic Tuesday

I will wait

All week

For you

♪♫♪

Last week I pondered what impact new releases from Father John Misty and Kanye West would have on this week's Mixtape. The good Father manages one new song on the 'tape (#40's Hangout at the Gallows) and Mr. West (despite Ye not getting the critical acclaim he's historically been accustomed to) finds his way on at numbers 13 and 21 with what I consider the two strongest tracks on an album that I keep going back to. Ye doesn't innovate; it doesn't have truly wow moments (production, lyrically, or sampling) like each release he's put out since donning a backpack. It could lose its bookends and I wouldn't mind, but I can't say I hate any songs on it. I could do an entire piece on Ye (I won't). I could do an entire piece on my ride through Kanye's discography (I might). I can certainly nail down my 'tenultimate' tracks of his for a future 10FTW (it's coming). But there are other songs to talk about.

The Kanye-produced (damnit...this guy's everywhere. It's true, he'll be releasing a collabo with Kid Cudi this Friday as Kids See Ghosts) Pusha T album came out a couple weeks back and it's lead track, "If You Know You Know" is one of eight new songs on the list this week (including the aforementioned, but not yet mentioned by name, Kanye tracks, a surprise Gorillaz track featuring George Benson, and The Roots' BlackThought with his first proper solo effort). A lot of songs that have been in my ears the last five or six months finally fell off to make room for all the new tunes this week; songs that'll pop up on my year-end list for sure.

Okay. The highest new entry this week is "Ghost Town" at #13 by...you already know. I'll make this quick. Let me just say that the first time I listened to it, I got excited for this Friday. I mean, I instantly loved Kid Cudi's drunken, warbly vocals and was mesmerized by the 808s and Heartbreak-esque guitar appearing and disappearing throughout the track. I hope Kids See Ghosts continues on this path. While I always like Kanye's honestly raw lyrics like what he brings to the table here, the magic happens when the song hits around the two-and-a-half minute mark and 070 Shake steps up. I gotta say, I kind of had a moment when she let out her "Whoa". It was smaller scale than when Nicki Minaj took her turn on Kanye's "Monster" eight years ago and straight up owned that track. But 070 Shake makes the most of her time here, drippin' swag like Rihanna on N.E.R.D.'s "Lemon" last year and coming off larger than the songs (she also sings on "Violent Crimes") she's featured on. 070 Shake released Glitter a couple months ago and, who knows, maybe she'll have a Minaj-sized career at some point. She stole the show away from Ye. That much is hard to deny.

I swear, there are other artists to talk about. Childish Gambino sits on top of Mt. Mixtape for a 4th straight week while others slowly begin to threaten its reign. Snail Mail inches up to #3 while Beach House and Malkmus each climb a bit to numbers 5 and 6, respectively.

Elsewhere, if you're looking for a dance party (my kind of dance party at least), check out Hookworms (#8), Drake (#15), and Sink Ya Teeth (#25). 

Feel like rockin' out instead of getting down? Crank your music player of choice to 11 and jam the latest from FIDLAR (#7), Thick (#28), and Blushh (#39). 

Do you just need a hug? Let MorMor (#18) wrap his arms around you and slow dance your worries away. 

On the horizon:

New releases I'm excited for this Friday include Snail Mail's debut full-length, Lush, and that Cudi/Kanye Kids See Ghosts thing. I expect that a song or two from one or the other (or both) will grab my attention, and maybe a spot on next week's 'tape.

Introducing: 10FTW aka Ten For The Win

I like features. Recurring features. Things that you can count on and look forward to.
I also like lists...duh. Top 10 lists are a favorite of mine.

Like a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, a recurring top-ten list and my love of music are two great tastes that taste great together. Also, I freaking LOVE Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Maybe even a little more than top-ten lists.

When I feel the whim, I shall post a 10FTW list here for artists that have at least 10 songs I enjoy listening to. The songs don't have to be their most popular or represent the artist's creative zenith; just their best as determined by my two ears. It doesn't matter how big of a hit the song may have been; if I don't like it or am sick of hearing it, it's probably not going to make the list. Immediate example: "Under the Bridge" by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Huge hit for them? Check. Enabled them to acquire a more mainstream audience than they previously had enjoyed? Check. Iconic (for some) in the annals of popular music history? Check checkity check check check. That said, the first milliseconds of the opening riff results in my changing the radio station immediately. If this 'classic' comes on in someone else's car, I'll take my chances with a good ol' tuck and roll. If I'm in a store and this atrocity is forced upon the masses, you'll spot me running out of it it like I'm an incredibly confused contestant on Supermarket Sweep.



What to choose for a first 10FTW? The options are limitless, so let's go with an act that's timeless (and insanely hard for me to commit only 10 songs to). And these are not in any intended order.

There are at least another 10 songs that deserve a spot on this list - Paperback Writer, In My Life, Eleanor Rigby, Glass Onion...I could go on. It's probably more like 20. The selections above just hit me in all the right spots - musically, lyrically, emotionally. The Fab Four changed the game when they first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show in front of a captive American audience, hungry for something new, fresh, and exciting. They then spent the remainder of the Sixties reinventing the art of production, reimagining song structures, and redefining the sound of popular music. Millions of words have been written about the band, but it's the words and music John, Paul, George and Ringo wrote that will forever resonate with me and generation after generation that discovers their historical output.