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At some point during college, my friend P.O. made the observation that if it weren’t for the Jackson 5, 90′s hip-hop would have either not existed or sounded a lot different. His point being that so much of the great hip-hop music released during that decade sampled music from the Jackson 5. Indeed, there are songs I loved in high school, which I cannot remember the name of the song or artist, but only the music the song sampled, which made it extremely tricky to try and hunt down the actual song to add to my music library.

And it’s not just limited to the Jackson 5. For years, I wanted to find a Too $hort song I remembered from the early 90′s. I vaguely remembered the lyrics, but definitely remembered that it sampled Kool & the Gang’s “Hollywood Swinging”. Eventually, I remembered the song I was looking for was “Money in the Ghetto” (In the ghetto/you think life is hard/Food stamps and to’ up cars…), but during the time it took me to think of the name of the song I seriously considered creating a database of sampled music.

Today, I had another hip-hop song from youth stuck in my head. This time, I could only remember it sampled the Jackson 5′s “I Want You Back”. In my search for this particular song, I stumbled across Who Sampled, an online database of who sampled who or, as they describe their site, “exploring and discussing the DNA of music.” Within in 20 seconds, I had conducted a simple search and found the song  I was looking for, Father’s “I Beeped You.”

The site is extremely user friendly and seems to include even the deepest of cuts. If you’re a music dork like me, you have to check it out.

I Beeped You

Continue reading »]]> I admit I was a bit dismissive when Fleet Foxes originally released Helplessness Blues. I suppose I was expecting a bit more and felt underwhelmed. However, over the past couple of months, I’ve watched as the album has launched the band into super stardom and I decided to give the album another chance. I’ve come to the conclusion that I may have been a little harsh in my initial assessment of the album.

Initially, the album struck me as self-indulgent–a group of Seattle musicians desperate to become the city’s next big act, yet equally as determined to distance themselves from the “sound” that defined their city, yet signing to gunge’s most iconic label. It would be like Kid Rock signing with Motown. Sure, Kid Rock is a Detroit native, but his brand of music is a little bit different than that of the artists who made the Motown name. But, hipsters do love irony.

Over the past few months, as I’ve listened to Helplessness Blues with more of an open mind, I’ve begun to put away some of my personal bitterness (I accept that today grunge lives only in my heart) and accept the album for what it is–a shining example of post-modern Americana folk rock. This mindset completely changes the listening experience.  I now accept that Blues is probably the best album of 2011, but I’m still skeptical of some of the critical praise heaped upon the band.

Almost every review of Blues that I  have read makes some mention to the band’s unique harmony. Indeed, when you listen to any of their work that is the first thing you notice. But is this really a unique trait? Didn’t Crosby, Stills & Nash create this very sound in the 60′s & 70′s?

Sure, it takes talent to pull off an album like Blues, but let’s tap the brakes on calling it “original.” A great album indeed, but not groundbreaking by any stretch of the imagination.

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When I attended Lon Morris College, dorms bookended the campus, two at each end. On one end you Clark Hall and Brown Hall, which served as the dorms for the baseball and softball teams respectively. On the other end, you had Fair Hall, which housed the other male students, and Craven-Wilson, which housed all other female students.

This unique arrangement created an odd dichotomy on the culture of the campus. The “students” in Brown and Clark, lived a life isolated from the rest of the campus, as well as the greater Jacksonville community.

Sure, we’d occasionally see these folks in class or the cafeteria, but the baseball/softball players never participated in regular campus activities.

When we threw parties, the entire population of Fair and Craven-Wilson, would party together, including the basketball and volleyball teams, proving that this schism was much deeper than “jocks versus geeks”. Indeed, the basketball and volleyball teams even showed up for opening night at the theatre, for concerts performed by the choir, and for student led chapel services, all to support their fellow students. Of course we reciprocated by showing up for basketball and volleyball games.

Needless to say, we didn’t have many baseball or softball players showing up at theatre or for chapel. From a distance, this group of students enjoyed a very philistine lifestyle, void of emotion and meaning. They went to class, went to practice and then went home.

While we developed our social skills, they worked on developing their sliders. While we talked about Sartre, they talked about, well they didn’t really talk. While we took full advantage of being young and in college, and all that entails, they walked around campus with their chests pumped out and a scowl on their face, presumably enjoying nothing other than playing baseball and the occasional locker room reach-around.

While we lived on two different ends of a common campus, we may as well have lived on two different planets, our lifestyles completely foreign to the other.

We couldn’t comprehend how anyone could take themselves that seriously. They couldn’t understand how we could be so carefree. Needless to say, this created a lot of tension and resentment between the two ends of campus.

At this same time, many of us in Fair Hall were undergoing a metamorphosis. For the first time in our lives, it paid to be different. While we were often ridiculed in high school for being quirky, we were now told by our peers and professors that we understood the college experience. Now, the baseball players, praised in high school for their athletic prowess, were the ones being ridiculed for being normal.

I soon learned that this wasn’t unique to Lon Morris. Apparently baseball players at every college in the country are notorious for being pompous douchebags, more so than any other athletic group.

It’s a trend that continues well after high school. Indeed, Major League and minor league rosters are filled these egotistical simpletons. Part of me believes this why I stopped following baseball as closely somewhere around the age of 15.

Around that time, Derek Jeter–King Douche–joined the Yankees and their modern dynasty was born. Never had the world seen such a collection of douchebags. They had taken over and ruined a sport I had once loved.

As I stated in my previous post, I continued to follow the Rangers just to have something to do in between Mavs and Cowboys. Then Ron Washington took over the club and I saw a different style of baseball team–one that wasn’t afraid to smile.

When the Rangers defeated the Yankees in the 2010 ALCS, part of me wanted to believe that represented the end of the era of douche in the Majors, especially when we lost to Giants in the World Series, a team that featured some unique free-spirits.

As I watched tonight’s Game 7, I realized it was all just an illusion. Pujols, Berkman, Freese, Craig? Yes sir the era of douche is still alive and well. As the blinders were removed, I realized that my beloved Rangers are not douche free–Young, Wilson and Kinsler, I could go on.

Then it hit me. As soon as the game was over, I switched over to PBS. This is what I always do when my teams lose. It’s the only sure-fire way I know to avoid hearing anything about sports. When I flipped over, it was an episode of Austin City Limits, with Widespread Panic performing. Thirty seconds into the show and I immediately felt better. This was more my style. There couldn’t be a bigger cultural difference between the two. It was like I was back at Lon Morris all over again.

Enjoy your World Series St. Louis! I’m going to sit here and jam to a little Widespread. Tonight, we both win.

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A few nights ago, while sorting through a spool of CDs on my desk, I stumbled across my wife’s copy of the Pixies’ Surfer Rosa. Intrigued, I added the CD to my iPod. I’ve always felt my knowledge of the Pixies to be a bit inadequate, so I was super excited to experience an album I had heard a lot about, but outside of “Gigantic”, had never never heard.

I have to say, I haven’t been disappointed. I always read that Kurt Cobain credited Surfer Ross for a lot of the sound on Nevermimd and that Billy Corgan credited the album for influencing the sound of the Smashing Pumpkins and the influence becomes immediately obvious. I have to keep reminding myself the album was released in 1988, not ’91 or ’92.

The sound on Surfer Rosa is more raw than the Pixies material I am more familiar with (e.g. Doolittle) and I think that’s what made it such an inspiration to the sound of the 90′s. The music of the mid to late 80′s was overly produced and filled with glamor & glitz. This album is the antithesis of that and I love it.

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I love rock ‘n roll, always have and I’m sure I always will. Most kids grow up listening to cutesy sing-alongs like “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” or “The Wheels on the Bus”, while I cut my teeth on Billy Idol, Cinderella, Ratt, Bruce Springsteen & Dire Straits. From the age of 8 until 13, around the time the new began to wear off MTV, I slowly began to lose interest in music and retreated into a sort of radio silence. Indeed, the only albums I can recall listening to in between 1986 and 1990 were the Beach Boys’ “Still Cruisin’”, Billy Joel’s “Storm Front” and the soundtrack to “UHF”, which consisted almost entirely of “Weird Al” Yankovic’s word. I know, so hardcore, right?

Shortly before the start of 7th grade, I began to slowly crawl out of the musical rock I inhabited and began to explore a little more of the contemporary fare. You have to understand that in 1991, in Atlanta, Texas, it was unhip to listen to rock music. Indeed, many interpreted it as a sign of a meth problem, possible demon possession or both. Instead, the “cool kids” listened to the latest & greatest in the world of urban contemporary, so as I slowly emerged from musical hibernation, my earliest encounters were with acts like Mint Condition, Boyz II Men, Public Enemy & Jodeci.

That’s not to say that I wasn’t aware of what was going on in the world of rock. It’s just that I found nothing appealing about Skid Row and Damn Yankees.

But then one day my sister brought home the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” cassette single and my music world was turned upside down. I had yet to discover real punk, so I had never heard a trio create music so loud, so powerful, so raw, so real. A few days later, I saw the video for the first time and gone was the Aqua Net, spandex and eye-liner and in were t-shirts and jeans and an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude that appealed to every teenage loner out there.

Over the last 20 years, I’ve listened to Nevermind more than any other album, with the possible exception of Pearl Jam’s No Code. I’m no musician, but Nevermind was so simple, musically speaking, I was able to pick out the base line to every song on the album. Many of my friends that play guitar point to Nevermind as the first album they were able to play all the riffs, all the way through. Yet the songs were so complex and powerful that I continue to hear something different and continue to refine my understanding of the songs each time I listen.

The songs off Nevermind work on so many different levels.  Part rock, part punk, but ironically, intentionally pop at the core. Take “Smells Like Teen Spirit” for example. When stripped of  guitars, drums and distortions, it continues to work. Indeed, there is something beautiful about Tori Amos’ rendition that makes the song much more discernible. The Bad Plus proved that a jazz trio can even strip the song of its lyrics, give it a Dave Brubeck treatment, and still maintain its integrity.

“I’m worst at what I do best/And for this gift I feel blessed/Our little group has always been/And always will until the end…”

And with that a decade of self-indulgent music was quashed and commercial music took a decidedly existential and introspective look at this thing we call life. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” , “Come As You Are”, and “Lithium” received the most airplay and are great songs, but the best songs lie in the deeper cuts.

“Breed” captures the essence of pre-Nevermind work of the band and sounds like it could have been on Bleach. Likewise, “Drain You” is another raw track that immediately transports you to the rock clubs of early 90′s Seattle. Without a doubt, my favorite track–my second favorite Nirvana track next to “Sliver”–has to be “Lounge Act.” We may never know the true meaning of Kurt Cobain’s lyrics, but the beauty is they all make you think and demand an immediate emotional response, especially with “Lounge Act”, which contains one of the  greatest song lyrics of all time, “Don’t–tell me what I wanna hear/Afraid of never knowing fear/Experience anything you need/And I’ll keep fighting jealousy/Until it’s fucking gone.”

But how does Nevermind hold up 20 years later?

One of my main complaints against contemporary, mainstream rock is that it all sounds the same. Even in the 90′s, Nevermind had a unique sounds. Sure, there were a lot of bands that got signed because of Nirvana, but more bands tried to emulate the sound of Pearl Jam’s Ten than Nevermind. Because of that, the tracks off Nevermind still sound fresh and as original as they did 20 years ago.

It could be said that Nevermind represents both the zenith of mainstream radio rock, taking rock to a level of greatness it hadn’t experienced since at least the early 70′s. It launched a five year period in music where rock was once again king in American music and the rebirth of iconic rock stars. Virtually everyone from 13 to 40 in America knew who Kurt Cobain was and today he is still considered a “voice of a generation.”

It seems that from the point on, a majority of mainstream rock bands were so concerned with creating the next Nevermind they neglected to grow their own style, sound and personality. Pearl Jam was the one exception. To this day, the continue to mature as a band and have one of the most loyal fan bases because of this dedication. For the rest of the bands of that period, the success was unsustainable.

I often heard people wrongly attribute the Neil Young lyric, “it’s better to burn out, than to fade away“, to Kurt Cobain, but in a sense, it a fits Nirvana perfect. Less than three years after the release of Nevermind, Cobain was dead. Yet in that short time period, Nirvana forever change the landscape of rock music and it wasn’t because of Bleach or In Utero, their two other studio LP’s (and both great albums), that they achieved that success. No other band has ever had such an impact, with such a small inventory of work.

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There was a time, believe it or not, when I did not appreciate the Grateful Dead. I blame it on ignorance. Early on, my exposure to the Dead was limited to the few times the local classic rock station would play “Casey Jones” or “Touch of Grey”. Based on those two songs alone, I formed a very unfortunate opinion of the band. Not until college did I choose to reexamine this position, but once I did and began exploring a bit more of their inventory, I discovered why they had developed such a loyal following.

Today, I consider myself a pretty hardcore Dead head, but certainly recognize they can be an acquired taste. For me, the allure of the Dead transcends the music and is something much deeper, something intangible and impossible to explain. However, there are millions of Dead Heads worldwide who share this passion with whom I feel an especially tight bond.

I feel that being an Aggie is very similar.

Indeed, one of the sayings the best captures the uniqueness of Aggieland is the uncredited adage, “From the outside looking in, you can’t understand it. From the inside looking out, you can’t explain it.”

Aggies have always been a source of ridicule in Texas. Entitled Texas fans feel they are superior in every aspect of life. Fans of other college programs fail to understand the meaning of our many traditions. They see a bunch of rural Southerners, dressing up to play army or an all-male “cheerleading” squad and shake their head. They don’t understand why we don’t walk on the grass or why class can be dismissed on the whim of a canine. They don’t understand why after graduation, Aggies continue to gather with other Aggies, many of whom they have never, commune with one another, and remember the lost.

They don’t understand the true meaning of “Howdy” or the importance of engaging in “good bull.” They cannot comprehend why we gather to practice our yells or our “scoring”.

They do not understand that being an Aggie is much more than football, just as being a Dead Head is about much more than music. Indeed, both are ways of life.

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Scientists have long searched for “missing links,” those archaeological finds that fill evolutionary gaps. Just as an archaeological link exists between the species, so to an album (link) exists between all points in rock history. For example, our parents didn’t just wake up one morning to find Elvis after decades of Lawrence Welk . Music aficionados will tell you there were several “missing link” albums sprinkled in between. Similar gaps and companion “missing link” albums can be charted throughout the history of rock.

Without a doubt, one of the most dynamic gaps in music exists between 1989 and 1991. During that time span, fans of rock watched as Aqua Net & leather pants gave away to flannel, insulated underwear & Dr. Martens. No other album captures the essence of this evolution like Mother Love Bone’s 1990 release Apple, which is why it is one the most important releases in the annals of rock music.

Apple begins with “This is Shagrila,” an up-tempo, good times tune, in which Andrew Wood’s falsetto reaches highs that would make Vince Neil envious. It ends with the melancholic, “Crown of Thorns,” which established the blueprint for the grunge anthems that would define a generation. Sprinkled in between you have a blend of hair bands and grunge, but the album is at its best when it  hints at what’s to come, such as in “Man of Golden Words” or “Stardog Champion.”

In “Stardog Champion,” Wood hints to the addiction, which would eventually lead to his tragic demise:

San Francisco, where the flowers bloom in spring
I said, fade to winter – and see what disease brings
Augustino, with his eyes once a shining sea
I said he’s half a shadow – God don’t let that be me
I’m a Stardog Champion

While themes of addiction are nothing new in music–certainly the 80′s hair metal was fueled by cocaine and liquor–exploring the roots of this addiction, tracing it back to the family, screams 1990′s grunge. Indeed, this was the decade and the genre that invented the term, “teen angst.”

West Virginia, that’s where my father lies
He was a wartime hero, the kind that money buys
It’s a diamond bracelet, for my mommy’s memory
That’s all she wrote boy – that’s all she wrote for me

Another hallmark of early 90′s music, specifically grunge”, was sarcasm. In “Captain Hi-Top,” the band mocks the philistine mindset and superfluousness of the 80′s:

I’m the instigator of the me generation
the official seminator of the female population
and i scoff at my rivals cause they ain’t cool
and i rewrote the bible and made my own rules
i’m Captain Hi-Top the love commander
the Ego Star forever after.
Captain Hi-Top the love commander

Of course, the crown jewel of the album is the aforementioned “Crown of Thorns,” a tale of heartache and tormented love that seems more suited for Nashville than Seattle. Keep in mind, this was released during the era of romantic power ballads–”I Remember You”, “Can You Take Me High Enough,” “Love Song”–but Mother Love Bone decided to take a different angle, one we would see throughout the rest of the decade. In it, we see the unmistakeable fingerprints of both Jeff Ament and especially that of Stone Gossard, whose riffs would be repeated throughout his next project–Pearl Jam’s Ten. Indeed, you expect Eddie Vedder’s booming baritone to enter at any second during the song.

You ever heard the story of Mr. Faded Glory?
Say he who rides a pony must someday fall
I been talkin’ to my alter
Life is what you make it
And if you make it death well then rest your soul away
Away away yeah child
It’s a broken kind of feeling
She’d have to tie me to the ceiling
A bad moon’s a comin’ better say your prayers
I wanna tell her that I love her
But does it really matter?
I just can’t stand to see you dragging down

As we approach the 20th Anniversary of both Ten and Nevermind, it’s prudent to pause and consider the bands that paved the way for them. Bands like Green River, Mudhoney, The Melvins and of course Mother Love Bone, provided the creative impetus for an entire movement.  We’ll definitely take time to recognize the importance of these other albums over the next few months, but for now, do yourself a favor and spend some time with Mother Love Bone.

Continue reading »]]> Do you remember the summer of ’91? That summer we watched the Soviet Union continue to dissolve, Jeffrey Dahmer was arrested in Milwaukee and the Super Nintendo was introduced. In the world of music, The Scorpions rocked the world with their “farewell to communism” ballad–”Winds of Change”–women all over the nation swooned to Extreme’s “More Than Words,” my buddies P.O. and Matt undoubtedly were rocking out to Queensryche’s “Silent Lucidity” and Michael Bolton–the GREAT Michael Bolton–taught us all that “Love Is a Wonderful Thing.” Little did we know we were on the edge of history.

On August 24, 1991, Natalie Cole held down the top spot on the Billboard 200. The top rock album? Van Halen’s For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. During that week, an unknown band from the Pacific Northwest would release their major label debut and set the course for the most explosive 36 months in rock history. That band of course was Pearl Jam and the album was Ten. One month later, Nirvana would release Nevermind. By November 16, 1991, Nevermind had entered the Billboard Top 10 and the music landscape was forever changed.

As we prepare to celebrate the 20th Anniversary of these two landmark albums, I thought we should take time to remember some of the other great albums released during that time period. On the 20th Anniversary of the release date of these albums, we’ll stop down for Gen-X Radio and remember just how great we had it.

Before we get there,  on Monday let’s take a look at an album that made the 90′s possible–Mother Love Bone’s Apple.

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Yesterday, as the tragic news of Amy Winehouse’s death began to  break, my Twitter and Facebook feed began to explode with various references to Ms. Winehouse joining a very exclusive club of young, talented musicians who passed at the age of 27–Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain and Brian Jones. While I certainly don’t wish to taint Ms. Winehouse’s legacy in the wake of this tragedy, I do think it would be prudent to tap the brakes a bit on making comparisons to the likes of Morrison, Hendrix, Joplin, Cobain and Jones. The aforementioned artists defined a generation–no disrespect to Winehouse, but she did not. I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not familiar with a lot of Winehouse’s work, but further proves my point. While people may not know much about Coabin’s life, they certainly have heard of Nirvana and know “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Likewise, a lot of people may not know who Brian Jones is, but they do know the Rolling Stones. So, it’s sad that Winehouse has passed, especially since it seems that she may been turning a corner, but in the wake of that emotion, let’s not rush to put her into a sacred group of musicians.

Continue reading »]]> Today, something odd happened. My iPod stumped me. I had my iPod on shuffle (all 7,153 songs) and had just finished listening to Willie Nelson’s “Sad Songs and Waltzes”, when I heard the slow whine of a pedal steel. “Wonderful,” I thought, “from Willie to a nice alt-country tune.” But as hard as I tried, I could not place the tune. I had no other choice but to look at the iPod to determine the name of the mystery tune and was shocked to learn it was “I Wish I Felt Nothing,” a deep cut from The Wallflower’s 1996 album, Bringing Down the Horse.

When I purchased Bringing Down the Horse as a senior in high school, I did so for the two smash hit singles–”One Headlight” and “6th Avenue Heartache”. I rarely strayed from these two staples, although from time to time I would take in “Three Marlenas.” As times changed, and I converted my music library to digital, Bringing Down the Horse was transferred to my iPod, but a quick glance at the number of “Plays” show that “One Headlight” and “Six Avenue Heartache” continued to get most of the plays, until today.

I decided to give the album a listen straight through, probably for the first time in my life and was surprised at how well the album has aged. In fact, remove the album’s two most noticeable tracks and you would have no idea the album was released in the 90′s.

Jakob Dylan will never reach the level of music genius of his father, but the album proves to that he did receive some genetic blessings. Dylan avoided the mistake of trying to adopt his father’s sound. Indeed, the album sounds more like Bruce Springsteen than Bob Dylan, with it’s infusion of rich keys and lyrics straight out of the Heartland.
By the time I got to “Invisible City,” the album’s sixth track, I was ashamed I had never given the album a full listen. Again, I heard the same pedal steel from “I Wish I Felt Nothing,” and was intrigued enough to do some further research. Turns out, that’s the late-great Leo LeBlanc, a legendary session musician, who played with many country greats.From there, the album is a journey through some great deep cuts–”"Laughing Out Loud”, “Josephine”, the very Nashville-like “God Don’t Make Lonely Girls”–before finishing with “Angel on My Bike” and the aforementioned “I Wish I Felt Nothing.”

The one common thread running through all of the tracks, and one of the elements so desperately lacking in modern rock today, is the tightness of the musicianship. Today, mainstream music is so digitally overdone, you rarely feel like you’re listening to a band at all, but rather to computer-generated noise. With Bringing Down the Horse, that’s not an issue. There’s no doubt in my mind, the star of the group–musically–is Rami Jaffee on keys, piano and the Hammond B3, but all the way around the group was filled with solid musicians, from Dylan on down.

Since it’s release, several albums have taken the album’s concept, built on it and improved on it. It could be argued that Neko Case is the female answer to Jakob Dylan, and God knows I love Neko, but Bringing Down the Horse was mainstream—very mainstream–and I don’t really think there’s been a mainstream album since then that has come close to “nailing it”, musically and lyrically. In fact, I’m tempted to call it the “last great mainstream album.”