These days, the Knack is mostly remembered for just one single: the infectious, raunchy “My Sherona” that still gets airtime on every classic rock station in the country.
But that’s a real shame, because Get the Knack is filled with cuts that are almost more enjoyable.
Here’s a hot take for you: “Separate Ways” is the best song Journey ever put out.
People might lift up “Don’t Stop Believin'” or “Any Way You Want It,” but those songs can’t compete with the urgency and moodiness of the opening track of Frontiers.
I first got into music back in the dial-up days. We didn’t have Spotify or Pandora; the closest thing we had to music streaming was our rich friend’s dad’s satellite radio. If we wanted to hear a specific song, we had to wait an hour or more to download it – yes, just one song. And there was nothing worse than spending hours waiting for a song to download, only for it to suck. Before adding anything to my Limewire queue, I needed assurance that it was gonna be worth it.
I spent hours a day poring over music sites, record label rosters, and liner notes, hoping to find bands that would be worth the download time.
In the early 1970s, Miles Davis waged war against jazz traditionalism. His electric period, featuring the spaced out In a Silent Way and the manic Bitches Brew set a new course for the direction of jazz.
And through those years of fearless exploration and fierce iconoclasm, Herbie Hancock was right by his side.
“If there’s no such thing as time, you’re already there,” asserts the professorial voice that opens the record.
But given that it took me seven years to add this record to my collection, I have to take issue with his claims.
Last year, some friends of mine were playing through town with a solo post rock musician I hadn’t heard of. After his set, we got to talking.
“I didn’t get your name,” I said.
“Billy Mays III.”
“Descended from the original Billy Mays, of course?” I joked.
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s my dad.”
And that’s the story of how I met Infinite Third.
The last few months, in a completely unexpected move, I have developed a fascination with soft rock duo Hall & Oates. I had been somewhat familiar with their big radio hits—”Maneater,” “Kiss On My List,” “Rich Girl,” et al—but when I actually delved into their studio albums, I was surprised to find a much richer sonic palette than their radio hits suggested.
Most of the conversation around Magma record talks about how it’s an artistic shift for the legendary French metal outfit.
But Magma was my introduction to Gojira, so I don’t really have a point of reference for how they’ve changed.
But I don’t need to be familiar with the rest of their discography to recognize that this record kicks serious ass.
Generally, I’m not much of a fan of greatest hits compilations. I see little value in stripping songs from the context of their albums.
But when you’re dealing with a catalogue as varied and inconsistent as The Doors’, a bird’s eye view can be a valuable thing. Continue reading
By now, my (relatively newfound) fascination with the Deftones is very, very, very well documented. For those of you just joining us, a few months ago, I realized that I was entirely unsure of how I felt about the alt-metal legends, so I set a week aside to figure it out.
And I like them. A lot. Continue reading