In the grand scheme of Miles Davis’ immense, indelible catalog, there is not necessarily anything particularly special about My Funny Valentine. But, it was the first Miles Davis record I owned (because I found this copy for cheap ten years ago), and for a while, it was the only Davis record I owned.
But it was also recorded fifty-five years ago today, which is a happy accident. Continue reading
Miles Davis once said that you could sum up all of jazz history in four words: “Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker.” And as elegantly concise as that history may be, it ignores the “Prince of Darkness” himself.
No individual left a larger footprint on jazz—or perhaps music history overall—than Miles Davis. And Kind of Blue, his most popular record—and most popular jazz record ever—demonstrates his mastery as a composer and a bandleader.
If you’ve been following along at all, you’ve probably noticed that I have a deep love for weird metal. Particularly, heavy metal that looses itself from the macho tropes that have conventionally marred metal music and stretches beyond the rigid confines of the genre. Bands like Alcest, Deafheaven, Isis, Spotlights…the list goes on.
The Boston outfit Astronoid hits every single one of those buttons—and then some.
No matter how much music evolves, a few things remain absolutely timeless. Things like easy melodies, singalong choruses, and a truly gnarly electric guitar tone.
Mikal Cronin understands this better than most people. His second solo record isn’t revolutionary by any stretch, but dang if it isn’t great.
For a moment, let’s forget about the plastic surgery, the Peter Pan syndrome, the dynastic marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, the allegations against him, and his bizarre persona.
Michael Jackson was the bonafide King of Pop. And no one else even comes close.
And while his studio discography has no shortage of straight bangers, Thriller was the album that cemented that status, and it remains the most consistent and rewarding listen. But hidden deep within the wall-to-wall hit singles is one of the most revolutionary albums for racial justice ever.
HUM may have never gotten much mainstream recognition, but you’d never guess their cult status based on the pantheon of groups that list them as an influence. Their huge, earth-shattering brand of space rock influenced groups from Deftones to Hopesfall to Cloakroom to Smashing Pumpkins (who some accuse of getting famous off of HUM’s template).
Most people point to their seminal record You’d Prefer An Astronaut as their finest work. And while they pioneered their trademark sound on that record, their swansong Downward Is Heavenward is a much heavier and more cohesive record.
It’s often said that music is just organized vibrations.
Most musicians achieve that purpose by using instruments to create those vibrations. But on Low’s Double Negative, it sounds like the group is manipulating the air directly, creating a dense, otherworldly sonic landscape that is as unsettling as it is transcendent.
At some point in college, I decided that I was “over” all of my adolescent tastes. I ignored all of the emo, punk, metal, and whatever else in favor of folk, indie rock, post punk, and “weird” stuff like Krautrock and dub reggae.
I’ve since come back around, but I’m still trying to catch up on all of the stuff I’ve missed during that time (I still haven’t listened to a full album by The World Is A Beautiful Place). In trying to sort out what’s worth diving into and what isn’t worth my time, a friend recommended Basement. And from the first listen, I was absolutely enraptured by the jangling chords, soaring melodies, and dynamic shifts.
A hit song is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it can thrust you into widespread acclaim. But on the other, it can pigeonhole you, your audience forever using your old stuff as a metric. Your work progresses, but your fans are stuck in the past. For a great example, remind yourself that “Creep” is still Radiohead’s biggest hit.
For another example, look to MGMT, who had three such songs. “Time to Pretend” and “Kids” especially were already several years old by the time they appeared on Oracular Spectacular. And overall, that synthpop sound wasn’t very representative of that record. If you just look at the neo-psychedelic freak folk on the deep cuts, Congratulations is a faithful follow up.
Every once in a while, a new act comes around that lands like a nuclear bomb. No matter where you go, you can’t escape them—not that you’d want to.
MGMT was this act. And their debut full-length, Oracular Spectacular was one of those rare records that was as poppy as it was bizarre, as dancy as it was experimental. Tracks from this album appeared on Top 40 radio, TV commercials, and even the most cynical hipster’s year-end list.
It was a groundswell, and rightly so.