Not New

Evening, one and all.

There are times, it would seem, that I make a plea for the obvious choice. That I take something solid and hold it up, saying "See? Solid," as though it's some grand pronouncement. I do this not out of a sense of self-satisfying delusion, but because while something is solid we forget that it is solid. That's a big reason of why I do this every day. There's just so much amazing music out there that some of the stuff that has been vetted and adored becomes neglected, relegated to Best-of lists but never really listened to. Hopefully I can get you to dust out these gems and give them a real examination, together seeing what all the fuss was about.

Today is one of those days.

Bjork, despite the jokes people make about her eccentric personality or unusual vocals, is an incredibly talented and undeniably unique presence in the world of music. I've written about the genius of her 1997 release Homogenic here, and that stands out as a master work. As much as I love that album, there is an earlier, equally celebrated album of hers that holds a more special place in my heart. Her 1993 work, Debut, will always represent something much larger to me, something somehow more hip and urbane. It is something I listen to that still has the same effect on my head now, all these years later, as when I first purchased it.

As I've written great lengths on, growing up in a rural Middle Western town afford little in the ways of the hip and urbane. The simple act of wearing one's hair longer than their ear earned scorn and taunting. So a dude like myself, inclined to writing, reading and unusual music was not likely to have a great deal of exposure to things that excited him. I did the best I could, given the circumstances, which resulted in a lot of grunge and alt-rock, Nirvana, Pumpkins, STP. Even those standards earned derision, though. Having no internet (at least in its modern form) compounded the problem; I didn't even realize how isolated I was, at the time. MTV, Rolling Stone and Spin were the sole bastions of the larger musical world for a long, long time. Now imagine reading a music mag and not being able to Google or Youtube everything you see. Imagine reading a magazine, period. I count myself lucky for turning out as well as I have. 'But Bon Iver hails from the next town over!' you might object, to which I would counter this was almost 20 years ago, when there was no segmenting of music audiences and no one gave a crap about indie.

Occasionally, though, there would be these flashes or snippets of something, just these fleeting glimpses of a little pixie woman bobbing around excitedly and dancing to something not-quite-techno but not quiet anything else. I would see logos for her album(s) in print, or a glimpse of her video on Beavis & Butthead when I could sneak an episode or two. It all added up to something mysterious and tragically hip. Even her name was unusual - Bjork. I had no idea how to pronounce it. So this little bug gets into my head that Bjork somehow represents the larger world, the big city where things happen and people dress well and don't punch each other over accusations of a lack masculinity. Years passed before I would have the occasion to dig in, though.

On a whim in high school while shopping for CDs I realized I had never looked into Bjork, so I picked up Homogenic. It was magnificent. It was revelatory. It was not enough, and not quite what I thought it would be. So I dug for more. Less than a month after I fell in love with Homogenic I went out and picked up Debut. This was the album that clicked with me. Much more subdued, or perhaps just less aggressive and intense than Homogenic, it was a serene experience for my ears. I loved the sounds put down on this record. It quickly became the album to put on when driving home at night, the 20 minute drive into the countryside to my parents home transforming into contemplative journeys.

Another excellent album I adore produced by Nellee Hooper, Debut is quite electronic. In contrast to the production, however, is Bjork's exceedingly vibrant voice, the machine and human contrasting so well. While there are a handful of Euro-pop dance numbers ('Big Time Sensuality' 'Human Behaviour' 'Violently Happy') there are also a good number of subdued, trip-hop tunes ('Venus As A Boy' 'One Day' 'Aeroplane') as well as a couple jazz numbers ('Like Someone In Love' 'The Anchor Song'). While the album has drawn criticism for these changes in sound (even from Bjork herself) I still get a sense of cohesion from them, that there's a common thread to the songs. To me they're relaxing, soothing. They feel like wrapping my mind in a warm towel. It's not her most adventurous work, but I like that it sets a base level, establishing who she was after The Sugarcubes dissolved.

Debut is a phenomenal album that everyone ought to listen to again. It's critically hailed now, of course, but who ever goes back to listen to the established hits? I love it - both the sound and the feeling it gives me. Riding the bus downtown to my office this morning, I realized as I listened to it that I have become the person I used to wish I could be. This album reminds me of that success. Hopefully you'll find as much joy in it as I still do. 

Reassembly

I'm typing this during a rainstorm while wearing gigantic headphones.


Not because I mind the sound of the rain, I should clarify, but because I'm trying to pay rapt attention to the music. After yesterday's long winded autopsy on Nine Inch Nails and the stretched-to-the-max The Fragile, I wanted to go back in for one last peak at the body. What I found surprised me.


As I tried to convey yesterday, there's an undercurrent of decay and collapse running through The Fragile. From lyrical references to song titles to the cover art suggesting entombing, the album has a pervasive sense of death and decomposition. The coda to the album, the incredibly divisive and derided Things Falling Apart, addresses this theme in a rather meta-contextual manner.

Released in freshly on the heels of The Fragile in 2000, I picked up the remix/manipulation compilation almost on a whim, as I had really enjoyed the source material. There were a few tunes that stuck out as interesting but they were surrounded by a relentless army of remixes of 'Starf*ckers, Inc.', an already abrasive track whose problems were only exasperated in their re-working. These others, though...something was trying to get through. 


I should clarify that I am aware of the reputation Nine Inch Nails have for theatrics and heavy handed emoting. I get it. I do. I see the overwrought nature of the posing and hit-you-on-the-head subtlety of some of the themes and analogies Reznor has employed. Despite these obvious quirks and flaws, I am still a fan of the band, if not for the unconventional sounds, then for the groundbreaking distribution methods and innovations they conjure. So hopefully that stops any internal monologues about "well what does this guy know?" because, hey - it fits with the rest of my obsession with spooky nighttime music.


Moving on.


The point I was making earlier in the post was that if The Fragile represented Reznor accepting the death and decay of a relationship and the loss of life we all accept as people (subtle stuff, right?) then Things Falling Apart would be the process of replacing the failing parts with mechanical workings, swapping out decayed tissue for metal plates. Strings and guitars get swapped for thumps and clicks, whirs and hums. While critics bagged on this release for it's lack of new sounds, save for a Gary Numan cover appropriately titled 'Metal', I loved the re-working of the sounds from The Fragile.

Hearing Reznor take 'Into The Void' and transmogrify it into a slippery, robotic chant where the only vocals are Reznor insisting "I keep slipping away..." is a strange and evocative thing when you love the source material. 'The Wretched' becomes a swarm of angry robotics, clicking and buzzing instead of churning over a piano beat. 'The Frail' becomes an uncanny hybrid of machine sounds and violins, illustrating the dichotomy at hand in gorgeous fashion. 'Where Is Everybody?' sees Reznor's vocals completely hacked into new sounds and phrases, creating the feeling of machines imploring the question in the title. 'The Great Collapse' is a new track but in keeping with the concept, it is a wholly metallic and synthetic tune, reminiscent of material from the Pretty Hate Machine era.

I can go all apologist with this material, but I still unabashedly adore what Reznor can do with simple ideas. The Fragile is both great and flawed for it's simple concepts stretched to long form. Here we see the same ideas flipped and turned inside out, only now it does sound more fresh than at the end of The Fragile. While I love the corpse of The Fragile, the cyborg/reanimated monster of Things Falling Apart is just as fascinating.

Breaking Down

Evening, kids.


To be honest, I initially had big plans to do a two part write up on my favorite Nine Inch Nails album, 1999's The Fragile, similar to how I approached Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness. Upon greater reflection, however, it's not really necessary. But before you assume that I'm dismissing what many consider to be Trent Reznor's magnum opus, let's take a look at what led me to this conclusion.

As I stated, this is hands down my favorite NIN album. I picked it up on a trip to Europe when it was released, allowing me plenty of time to listen to the entire thing and digest all 100+ minutes of music Reznor put down. In the ensuing years I continue to return to it, no matter where I am in my life or what I would otherwise be enamored with. There's something in the personal nature of what is on tape that I find simply fascinating. I definitely enjoy the majority of the NIN canon but this is my favorite, for some reason I can't quite pin down. Maybe it's the subdued and more introspective nature to the music. Maybe it's the use of motifs and thematic repetition. Hell, maybe the artwork hit something on a subconscious level. Whatever it is, I can't get away from it.


So why the single post on it, if I love it so much and there's so much material? 


I suppose it has to do with the united and singular nature of the music and ideas Reznor put forth in The Fragile. While Trent has stated in interviews that there's no over-arching plot, it still is a concept album - one whose themes have been stretched a hair thin. There are absolutely moments of great music here - the massive orchestrations and wild climaxes, the evolution of ideas and motifs. Despite these successes, though, there are still times when it's apparent a stronger hand in editing might have trimmed some of the fat. As far as double albums go, however, this isn't that egregious of an offender.

The personal nature of the album makes it hard, at times, to decipher what the actual concept being presented is. It is telling, though, that it starts with the song 'Somewhat Damaged' and ends almost two hours later with 'Ripe (With Decay'. It would appear the main element is one of loss and breaking apart, in every facet of the word. The first (Left) disc establishes this theme with titles like 'The Day The Whole World Went Away' followed by 'The Frail', then 'The Wretched'. The last track on the first disc is titled 'The Great Below'; the second (Right) disc picks right up where we've left off with 'The Way Out Is Through'. The titles and lyrics and sonic structure of all these songs show the narrator (Reznor or whatever perspective he claims to write from) almost looking forward to an end with acceptance and contentment. 

The musical themes are carried here by common instrumentation and motifs that sneak in and out, weaving their sounds into the album. This creative design choice does a significant part of the uniting of the album; were the instruments and soundscapes to shift over two hours, this album might not feel so cohesive. Piano melodies are introduced in 'The Frail' only to blossom into the eponymous track 'The Fragile' fully formed. A jazzy bass-line comes to life in the dreamy track 'La Mer' on disc one, only to pop up in the raucous single on disc two, 'Into The Void' as the main groove. When listened to as a single piece (which is no small investment in these harried days) it creates the subconscious feeling of one massively orchestrated album.

Interestingly some of the strongest work and the singles stand out almost as too unique. They tend to stray from the central themes, as though they're the meat in the musical sandwich. As great as 'Into The Void', 'We're In This Together' and 'Starf*cukers, Inc.' are, they stand apart from the generally subdued and ominous tracks that fill out the album. They're rocking, at times even funky songs. Not like Kool & The Gang funky, but stuff you could almost hear at a club, due to their liberal use of drum machines and thumping bass. The Fragile, as a whole, seems to be more about moments like the orchestral and string experiments Reznor creates in songs like 'Just Like You Imagined' and 'Ripe (With Decay)'. Maybe it's just softened in the years I've heard it, though - there are still burners like 'Where Is Everybody?' and 'Complication', so maybe they don't stand out as much as I perceive them to.

What I feel the only real flaw here is the fact that at times there is little in the way of lyrics and broader ideas. While it's a very united and cohesive album, it feels like it's two or three massive, twenty-minute songs that have been stretched out thematically until the album gets thin at certain points. That's where the quiet parts come from, I suppose. Despite this problem, I still love The Fragile. It's grand, fantastic stuff.

Hidden Glory

Evening, gang!

Yesterday I wrote about Young the Giant's superb single 'My Body', which has proven to be a great song that has some staying power. In the interest of looking at the world from the opposite perspective I want to spread the good word about a song that never hit the charts like that, at all. I want to let everyone know about the amazing-ness that is Craig's Brother and their phenomenal song, 'Glory'.

Whereas Young the Giant have had the backing of a major label and tons of buzz, Craig's Brother were/are a fairly obscure band on Tooth & Nail Records. Tooth & Nail is often labeled a Christian record label, but that's really not the case - they just tended to be more affiliated with Christian acts than others and ended up with that reputation as a result. So Craig's Brother was a small punk outfit, grinding away on the label. They released a couple albums with them, but their behavior (which tended to cause issues with some family-friendly distributors) got them dropped. The band split for a while, but has since reformed and released another album. In all that time, though, I really only heard one great song of theirs on a compilation and then nothing after that for years. That one song, though, really stayed with me. So I want to make sure just as many people are aware of this great song as they are of yesterday's song.

'Glory', released by the band on their barely-promoted 2001 album Lost At Sea, is a speeding and intense number about the absurdity of sending our children off to war. To clarify, this is not critical of American foreign policy and our current conflicts, as it was released before any of our modern wars. Rather the song is about the seemingly incomprehensible notion of sending impossibly young men out to wage war and die for concepts that are, at times, ill defined. The opening lines, in particular, are revelatory: "And I wonder how Franklin felt in '42 when the war's still new but I'm tired of fighting..." Singer Ted Bond goes on to sing about the dichotomy of how we tend to idealize these young men as unimpeachable heroes while in reality they were just as scared and uncertain as anyone else could be. It is, in essence, a complex song whose message is not clear cut.

Despite the uncertain tone of the lyrics I was hooked by the music Bond put beneath them. The vocals and instrumentation are clearly inspired by Bad Religion and Pennywise, possessing the fast-ball tempo and rapid-fire guitar and bass parts. I love the central riff with the single guitar lick over the chords. The way the band drops to half-time in the chorus is fantastic, as well. That subtle switch offers a brief respite from what would otherwise be a repetitive number.


Not every band gets their fair shake. Not every album leaps to the top of the charts, or even finds their audience in the world of P2P and iTunes. Craig's Brother was troubled from the get go, but in their time together they crafted one of my secret favorite songs. There is no one else I know that has even heard of the group. Hopefully after reading this, you'll give them a chance.

Fantastic Body

The weather has changed, seemingly overnight. 


Suddenly there's that cool, fresh feel in the air, despite it still being early August. The oppressive, sweltering heat of summer is already on the decline and we Minnesotans are free to venture out of doors and into the streets. I've been able to slowly start running again, having gotten an immensely helpful brace for my knee. Getting out and pounding the pavement, pulling in the cool air in the morning is exhilarating. It makes me feel alive, despite the knowledge that winter is out there, waiting to send us all into hibernation. In the meantime, we've got to live it up. The Pizza Luce Block Party is tonight and I plan on checking out the scene, as there are tons of great acts on the bill. Knowing there's something so awesome (and totally free!) out there makes me so happy - that it's so popular only makes it better. We've got to get out and seize the day!

To get in the mood for a night out with great tunes, I want to spread the good word about Young the Giant. While some of you may already be aware of who they are and just why they're so great, I want to do all I can to let the world know how fantastic they are. This fresh band from California has been getting tons of praise in the last year. Their single 'My Body' is just the kind of thing you can put on, crank up and really feel like something good is going to happen. Propelled by this passionate single, Young the Giant's eponymous debut album has been selling like crazy. The band has had tons of airplay and made numerous TV appearances in support of it.

This single, with its thumping rhythm and U2-mimicking guitars, is a joyous affair, worthy of all the adoration it has received. The driving hook, with singer Sameer Gadhia wailing "My body tells me no, but I won't quit cause I want more!" is moving and sincere. This positive and unflappable perspective is a refreshing change of pace from the world at large. When life seems overwhelming and stressful, as it certainly can if you watch too much of the news cycle, songs like this can be a re-invigorating reminder not to throw in the towel. It's insanely catchy and well written, the parts all building to a grandiose whole that lifts up the listener. I love everything about it - from the rolling drums to the churning bass to clean and shining echo of the guitars.

While Young the Giant has been riding a wave of success, our fickle and ADD afflicted worlds move on too quickly. Technically speaking, this single already peaked on the charts. That hardly matters, though, as the song is so solid and lovely that it deserves a spot in everyone's playlist, regardless of a spot on the Billboard charts. Do yourself a favor and give it a listen. I'll see you all tomorrow, after I've enjoyed a night full of adventure.

Live Wire

Happy Weekend!

I wrote yesterday about the mixed reaction I had (along with everyone else) about Bush's Razorblade Suitcase. It was an album I loved at the time, but of which I have since become skeptical. In contrast, today's post is about an album with which I was initially quite disappointed but have since warmed to greatly. The suspect in question? On A Wire by The Get Up Kids.

 I've previously given long winded dissertations on The Get Up Kids and how much their music meant to me, especially at a time in my life when music like theirs could really lift my spirits. I was, as a teenager, head over heels for the group, devotedly listening to Four Minute Mile, Something To Write Home About and the b-Side/outtakes collection Eudora. At the time, I was gasping for more material, having worn out those albums in my ears. As great as they were, I could hardly wait for their next album to come out. When the group released On A Wire in the spring of my senior year of high school I was perplexed, to say the least. A quiet album full of unfamiliar sounds, I felt that I had little to relate to in it. Where were the raging anthems and howling cries of anguished teenage angst?

They outgrew them, it turned out. In turn I would as well.

While I scratched my head at the time, I understand now that band had simply gotten tired of playing the kind of music they did, night after night. Shows like that will drain the life out of you, even if you enjoy it, let alone being on the road non-stop. So the band took a step back and examined their perspective, beginning to write songs from a new creative place. The results were more measured, the kind of album you put on while cleaning your apartment, not while enduring the angst of teenage melodrama. Songs were softer. Their playing was more restrained. I was, as a die hard fan, completely confused. Certainly I wasn't the only one who felt this way, given their track record in light of this shift in tone.



But I persisted. 


I gave the album a chance, listening to a song or two, here and there. There were songs that immediately jumped out as solid and enjoyable - the single 'Overdue', with it's soft strumming and cooed melody, or the closer 'Hannah Hold On', which fit easily in their canon. 'Walking On A Wire' really struck me then, and has only grown more powerful as I've grown older, the mixed emotion and tone playing so strongly. Still, though - the album felt like it wasn't written to with my audience in mind. Years later I would get a better sense of why.

As I edge closer to 30, like the band that wrote the album, I appreciate the slowing down. I dig the songwriting on display and the experiments the band made. The Get Up Kids took a hell of a risk with On A Wire and while it may have hobbled their momentum, it was an inevitable and necessary step. They've never really gone back to the hurtling anthems of their glory days, but then who ever does? They've grown older and more insightful and the songs reflect that. There was a feeling I got, listening to this album as I left my entire life behind to leave home, that the band was writing to that idea. A huge chapter in my life had come to a close and the same had happened with the band. They were done being the emo-rockers they had been revered as, and simply moved on. 


Truth be told, I didn't get it when it came out. I felt betrayed and let down, like a magical thing had vanished from the earth. What I found instead, was the band had hidden something in plain sight. On A Wire is actually a great album, I just wasn't ready for it yet.

Heavy Baggage

Salutations.

There are times, as I reflect on what I've written, that I cringe just a bit. I should clarify, I always cringe at what I've written - that's a natural part of reading anything that comes from my own head. What gives the extra little cringe is the realization that I have just given a long, apologist diatribe on something that no doubt will bring scorn from the more discerning or developed part of my readership. I can write all I want on the merits of Haruki Murakami or inspired bits of art that I come across but I still end up sharing just as many words about Cyndi Lauper or some obscure, neglected video game. My imagined response to these pieces is that of upturned noses and scoffs, but thankfully I have yet to hear them.

So I persist.

Today's subject matter is not of the exception but the rule. It is another in a long line of albums and artists from the 90s who have either been brushed aside or given a bum rap. No matter the circumstances, there is so much awesome stuff out there in the world that we just zip right past, never stopping to reflect on. I know I can certainly be as misanthropic as anyone on a bad day but I really do try to give every artistic endeavor the benefit of the doubt before weighing in on it, to see if I can fit it into my ever-growing series of pieces of positivity in an otherwise vitriol-polluted cesspool of negativity we call the internet. So it is with a cautious optimism that I write today's post about a much maligned band's quirky effort to follow up a smash debut, Bush's Razorblade Suitcase. The whooshing sound you hear is any remaining indie cred flying right out of my head.

Bush was huge in the 90s, much to the chagrin of music critics everywhere. Their debut album, Sixteen Stone, was full of radio-friendly grunge-lite, coasting in on a wave of distorted guitars, long hair and growling vocals. Hits like 'Comedown', 'Machine Head' and the huge 'Glycerine' made them famous. So when the time came to follow it up, the did exactly what their progenitors Nirvana did - make a messy, muddled album with Steve Albini. The band's choice rode the thin line separating inspiration from imitation, but the similarity is undeniable. Depending on who you asked, the choice was either fantastic or dreadful - withering reviews from big names called it watered down and messy, while everyone I've asked liked it (at least when it first came out).  Simply from the fact that I'm devoting the words to Razorblade Suitcase, it should be obvious I was a fan. To look back on it now offers interesting hindsight. It was a high point for the band, commercially and artistically. Much like my piece on Garbage's excellent Version 2.0, Razorblade Suitcase was the high water mark for Bush. Ensuing efforts (1999's The Science of Things and 2001's Golden State) never came close to repeating these efforts, with only the odd modest hit to keep the band going.

 So what makes this album work? To pin it down is no easy task, but it seemed to be the familiar case of a band making it big and having room to play, but then later being unable to replicate what broke them in the first place. Sixteen Stone was all fuzzy guitars and radio friendly hits. It would be understandable, then, that when doing a follow-up the band would want more edge, more teeth to their sound, as if to scare off claims of being safe or watered down. Indeed, even the biggest hit 'Swallowed' is a loose, jangley mess of broken riffs and lead parts left to wander the song. It's a great song, but felt broken from the get-go. 'Cold Contagious' was another modest hit, but it feels like the band was too indulged in meandering through a dreary and bleak set of chords and melody. Still, there are some bright moments among the missteps, like the distilled pop-purity of 'Strait No Chaser' or the creepy-crawly vibe of 'Greedy Fly'. There's this intense and dangerous build to 'Insect Kin' that has a great dramatic flair to it. The crumbling and head tilting riff in 'Synapse' is haunting. In fact, the off kilter and at times eerie mood of the album make it a nice fit for the cool fall weather approaching, a Halloween-esque tone pervading the air.

 I know it feels like I just spent the last 700 words kicking an album when it's down but I really do have a soft spot for Razorblade Suitcase, forsaking any indie cred I would have left. It's an interesting bit of music from a divisive band that really spread it's wings a bit on this release. It's too bad they never really found their footing again. Word is they've recently gotten back together to work on new stuff, but I'm not optimistic, to be honest. I dig this album, warts and all. 

Lechuza Love

Hello, hello.

Music changes, as does the weather. While it's getting slightly cooler here, that tinge of fall coming into the air, I find myself unintentionally flashing back to my high school years and the music I listened to as classes resumed. I recall the feeling of crisp fall air as I pulled in to the practice field for soccer, playing my tunes loudly to get myself geared up to run for far too long. One band I adored, who never got proper recognition for their excellent music, was Fenix Tx.

Originally named River Fenix, the group had to amend their name after threats from the Fenix estate. Their first full release, a self-titled album propelled by the single 'All My Fault',  was a middling affair that I loved, warts and all. The songs were kinda punky, but a little more straight forward than anything else I was listening to at the time. When I saw their sophomore effort in the bin at the music shop I frequented (yes, that was still a thing, just a decade ago) I picked it up automatically. Titled Lechuza, this release saw the band go harder and faster, their songwriting developing further and as a result, rocked harder than their first release.

 The thing about Fenix Tx, and Lechuza as a whole, is that the band never really was much of a pop-punk outfit. You'd see that title thrown at, say Blink 182 or Green Day, but there was a harder edge to Fenix Tx, just a tad more grit to their writing and production that gave the group a heavier, more serious feel. Sure, you could have a poppy and pop-culture focused album opener like 'Phoebe Cates' to hook in the casual listener, but it gives way to the fantastic Foo Fighters-aping 'Katie W.' With it's clean/soft, hard/loud dynamics it could easily have been an outtake from The Foo's spectacular The Colour & The Shape. Here, though, it stands out among the tracks as a reason not to dismiss Fenix Tx as just another pop punk band from the turn of the millennium. Further illustrating their growth and divergence from under the feet of their forbearers, the next track, the single 'Threesome', also makes deft use of tempo changes and stuttering riffs. When the chorus whips in with singer Will Salazar wailing "Let's try this all again, only faster now!" it works on a couple levels. It's a great song and was a natural choice for a single.

 Another inspired song that is more the Foo Fighters vein than (ugh) New Found Glory is the grand and sweeping alt-rock 'Tearjerker'. The song, with it's singing guitar lines and heavy rhythms, is a fantastic way to show not all of the music from this time frame was horrible. While so many people were enduring pre-fabricated pop or the horrors of (ugh) nu-metal, I had this album to let my head breathe a bit. It's an album that rocks, but without being balls-to-the-wall, in-your-face about every track. It has energy, but it's not manic. To give a back handed compliment, it's a great album almost for what it's not. It's not over-the-top, it's not aggro, it's not a rip off and it's not just their first album re-hashed. In a sense the almost unremarkable is what makes it so solid.

Lechuza is a straight-ahead, no frills rock record that got too-quickly passed over by an ever changing scene right after the turn of the millennium. If you have any affection for left-of-center rock bands that evoke a Foo Fighters vibe, give this album a listen and see what they were. It's a far stronger outing than their debut and an under-appreciated stealth effort.

Get It While It's Good

Alright, kids. Gather round and listen.


I've written about Toussaint Morrison before, but you need to hustle up and get on his momentum while you still have a chance. His new mixtape dropped yesterday and it's even better than the last.


Hot on the heels of his last outing with Dr. Wylie, last spring's Toussaint Morrison Is Not My Homeboy, this week saw the Middle West rapper let loose his best outing yet. Titled Makin' Mistakes & Feelin' Great, the mixtape is full of the perfect little idiosyncrasies that make Toussaint so unique and fantastic. I hate to fawn but there are times, listening to it, that it feels eerily like it was tailor made to suit my tastes, only with more laser-like precision this time around.

 Lighting right up with an assist by local charmer and songbird K. Raydio, 'Jon Bones Jones' sets up the soundscape deftly. While Morrison whips through his verses like it's a steeple chases, his hooks get a touch of lightness and snap from K. Raydio's melodies. Showcasing the energetic mad-scientist work ethic of Dr. Wylie, 'Veronica Hotel' kicks in with a manic beat that practically knocks your ear off kilter intentionally. When it switches gears about 45 seconds in, Toussaint slips effortlessly into the pocket and you get the best of both worlds - heavy hip hop with insanely catchy dance track synths. Some new-wave-esgue stuff that gets you moving, no matter the office. Toussaint makes cracks about his critics still bringing their ipods to the office but at least I get to bob my head on the bus.


There are fresh new sounds on this mixtape, too. 'N.O.A.' has a fresh feel due to it's throw-back roots - it has an air of soul music and Al Green channeled through modern day thinking man's lyricism. 'F*uck School', a super fun rager with Jus Rhyme, shows that Morrison knows how to write a hook, making you want to shout out the title whenever it comes up. Despite the fact I've not set foot in a college in five years, it still feels fresh and rebellious. 'Favorite Game', featuring vocals by local legend Lucy Michelle, is a classic example of Toussaint at his most introspective while spinning yarns and name checking heavy hitters on the Minneapolis scene. The tone of the keys is so smooth and slick, it's a great track. 'Freedom Cobra', featuring Mayda, makes great use of a sample from The Strokes, while 'Mutant After All' has a hooky bit from Natalie Fine, adding to both track's dance-ability. From the construction and production of the track 'Ashley', there are times it feels like marketing execs wrote it just to appeal to every divergent taste in my brain.

My favorite track hands down, though, has to be 'Uppercut', with a guest spot by my favorite underground rapper, Homeless. Homeless, as you may or may not know, granted the first ever interview for this site. His back and forth volley with Morrison on this track is fantastic, their distinct but complimentary voices playing well off each other. I love the references they both drop, from Minneapolis landmarks to special moves in Street Fighter. 


It's easy to see why this mixtape is great. If you were lucky like I was, you were able to catch a download while they were available. If not, you can still stream it, but your best bet may be catching the man live, in action. Follow his twitter feed to see what's up and when he has a show coming. You'd do well to keep your ear on the ground.

Nobody Wins, Ever

What's up, gang?


Book Worm Week is over and done. I feel pretty good about it. In hindsight I don't feel like I made a total fool out of myself or betrayed a complete lack of comprehension. If I did I certainly wasn't aware of it. To thank you for stick around during the theme week, I thought I'd share a bit of a tale about music and the ebb and flow of bands. Something a little literary and a little musical, perhaps. 


Here goes.


After a tumultuous senior year of high school my parents made the kind suggestion that perhaps I'd be better off with my uncle Chuck on the west coast, where I could make a little money in his tavern and get away from unsavory influences. I figured my life as I knew it, up to that point, was ending, so what the hell? A single suitcase later, I was heading to Federal Way, Washington to live with Chuck, the two of us sharing his lovely suburban home. I toiled away in the tavern and spent my free time either chain-smoking and reading on his deck (I've long since quit - youthful indiscretion) or wandering local galleries and taking in the Seattle sights.

Being a young man with no friends and little family in the area (Hi Gail! Hi Ben!) I was at a loss for what to do while in the area for the four months I lived in the Pacific Northwest. Unlike my recent obsession with Twin Peaks, this was a sunny, adventurous time of my life, full of punk music and sunshine. So imagine my delight then, when my cousin Jason (and boss, let's be honest) offered a ticket from a friend to the Warped Tour. I was stoked. Only catch - it was three hours away in the Gorge amphitheater and I had no one to go with. This being the days before Craigslist, I decided to just say the hell with it and hopped in the car with a couple packs of smokes and some soda, making the three hour drive through the mountains to see the show.

It was a beautiful drive - we have nothing like the mountains in the middle west. There's just nothing that compares to the clear air of the coast. The Gorge is a hell of a place to see a show, I should say. A natural amphitheater, a whole slew of stages were set up, too many bands to see at any given time to take it all sufficiently in. Aside from the mainstays like NOFX, Bad Religion and Lagwagon and some local band that did a great cover of 'Holiday Road' from National Lampoon's Vacation, there was one little band that caught my ear.


Nobody Wins.


I asked some pierced and tattooed girl near me who they were and she could only offer a name. In my pre-wiki days I thought I'd never hear them again, so I paid rapt attention to their heavy yet melodic show, damn energetic and passionate. I thought I had stumbled on something fantastic and unknown. Plunking down what little money I had at the time, I picked up their only CD - a single with two B-sides, title 'Words Unspoken'. I loved it.


But that was all I ever heard from them. 


Even now, I can only find this bare bones Myspace page. How is that possible? Listen to the tracks they put on their page and tell me there aren't countless inferior groups that get more airplay every day. How did I hear this band once, and then never again?


It's stayed with me all these years, this secret awesome single that no one else seems to have any knowledge of. Anyone with any info on the band, throw it in the comments. All I know is they were based out of Seattle and may have put out one more album that I've heard, but it was like a rough precursor to the single. What connection do they have to this other group, The Four Color Process? There seemed like so much promise, but instead they vanished into thin air. 


Damn shame.