And here is where I abandon every single amount of musical elitism I’ve built up and out myself as the poser I am.
Because this is my favorite Modest Mouse record—by a pretty significant margin.
Maybe it’s because it’s the first record of theirs that I heard. Maybe it’s because at the deepest core of my being, I am a pirate and am thus a sucker for anything nautical-themed.
Or maybe it’s just because it’s a really, really great record.
Every once in a while, a record comes around that completely transcends what it was trying to do.
For example, no one ever would have guessed that what started as an emo-leaning indie band with a manic, ranting lead singer would one day release a pop song as perfect as “Float On.” Yet fifteen years later after that song hit #68 on the Billboard charts, it remains an indelible part of the cultural consciousness.
While I’m generally very cautious with my record budget, every once in a while I take a gamble. One of the best gambles I’ve ever taken was a five-record mystery pack from Top Shelf Records for $25.
As far as gambles go, that that was a home run. But perhaps the best thing that came out of it was this record from emo punk/indie rockers Mock Orange. Continue reading
Minus the Bear is most well-known for their asymmetrical drum rhythms, effects pedal experimentation, and double-handed guitar tapping.
But if you give a casual listen to Menos El Oso, you might miss all that. The group is so comfortable in their experimentation that they use their mad scientist tactics to create a record that might be mistaken for a pretty accessible pop record.
In the spring of 2006, I drove to Grand Rapids with my best friend to see mewithoutYou with Thursday. In between the two was a group called Minus the Bear.
I had heard the name before (and kept confusing them for Iwrestledabearonce), but had never heard them. Honestly, I was a little underwhelmed by their almost clinical stage presence, but there was a technical prowess to what they were building that enticed me. And on record, those technicalities blossom into an intricate masterpiece.
Before Fugazi became the best punk band in the world, and before Embrace essentially invented post-hardcore, Ian MacKaye fronted what may be the single most iconic hardcore band of all time.
This 1984 release compiles the seminal straight edge band’s blistering first two EPs into a single 12″, and those songs are just as visceral and frantic as they were in the early 80s.
When I first heard Astronoid’s debut record Air, I was spellbound. Their particular brand of genre-bending heavy metal (which they call “dream thrash”) had all of the punishing heaviness of traditional thrash but with an tender, life-affirming heart. It’s blast beats and hairspray-soaked guitar solos were paired with dreamy melodies and anthemic harmonies.
But knowing that lightning rarely strikes the same place twice, I was a little apprehensive when I saw they were releasing a new record. Could the gimmick really pay off again?
The answer is, “yes, and handsomely.”
Miles Davis’ monstrous 1971 double album purports to be two things: Live, and Evil.
Live? It’s unlike any other live record ever. A fiery 1970 performance at the Cellar Door was stitched together and interjected with studio tracks.
Evil? This record is positively wicked. Continue reading
If you mention Miles Davis among older individuals, you might get an almost dismissive, “Oh, he’s too weird for me.” Almost invariably, they’re talking about Bitches Brew, his 1970 jazz fusion opus.
And brother, it’s as weird as advertised.
Throughout his five-decade career, Miles Davis record over fifty records as a bandleader (and dozens more as a sideman). But none of those records are as singularly important than 1969’s In A Silent Way.
And no, that’s not an exaggeration.