Two Albums

Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness - Disc 2

Virgin, 1995

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Shellac - 1000 Hurts

Touch & Go, 2000

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Riding in the car was sort of a downer today. I had in disc 2 of the Smashing Pumpkins' Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. Everything about this album is stellar. The music is beautiful and catchy and meaningful. The performances are exactly how they should be, which isn't to say that everything is in perfect place. The production is so polished but not glossy. It's perfect like every little detail is exactly where it should be, at the right levels and at the right moments.

Every time I listen to this album, I have a meaningful experience. There are always little details that either I've never heard before or I've long since forgotten. They're only strange bleeps and crashes and synth notes out of tune and other digital splashes thrown into a mess of really organic, manmade music with captivating and heart-wrenching melodies. And everything seems perfect for what it is.

The Pumpkins know when to rock and when to lean back and let it settle. Disc 2, of course, starts out frantic, goes through some mood swings, and then finally calms down enough that they can say "goodnight" and really mean it. It's funny how this opus has so few throw-away songs, even though it's got 29 chances. Maybe it's just the nostalgia, but I seriously can't imagine Mellon Collie as one disc.

So I got home and I was sick of the emotional torrent of the Pumpkins, so I choose not to put myself through disc 1, which is just as impactful, but a little more full of "rage." So instead I put in this monster:

What the hell was I thinking?

Albini has a tendency to hit you in the face with exactly whatever he's feeling. But instead of feeling his emotions, I always end up feeling sick because of them. And I sort of get addicted to this sickness.

Production is key on this baby. It's the polar opposite of Mellon Collie in this regard. There are no layers. Where Mellon Collie works in alternating layered hard rock and layered lullabye rythm, 1000 Hurts blasts you in the face with everything the band has. This is exactly one guitar, one bass, one set of drums, and one pissed off singer.

But it's not all blasting and it's not all destruction. It's carefully pieced together patterns that manage to congeal as working songs. Yeah, they're chunky and trippy at times, but never ambient. If you're listening at any reasonable volume, the production puts you into a room with all the components of the music - with enough echo to sound like you're in a concrete room and they've got the volume just right.

And the emotional honesty. There are tons of music out there - really good music even - Mellon Collie even - with just slightly forced emotion. The artists know how it feels but aren't feeling it at this exact moment. 1000 Hurts feels really honest. Frighteningly so. Captivatingly so.

Except of course when Albini's joking. And it's not a nice joke.

Behind the Movie Scenes

Cornershop - When I Was Born For the Seventh Time
Warner Bros, 1997

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I get this album after a long period of "what the hell am I supposed to listen to, now?" And I really don't know what to expect. I guess I was hoping deep down inside that not every song on "When I Was Born" would have the cheesy melodies and redundancy of "Brimful of Asha" but would have some of the catchiness and groove. I didn't really know if that was possible. But I figured that it was worth the risk at less than a buck used on Amazon.

So yeah, I've had Brimful in my head for four days now. The rest of it? Not really. It's one folksy hit song and a couple other thrown together bits of guitar work and then a whole ton of drum loops and remix sounds. For a while it's a simple beat and some noise generated by somebody who just now figured out how to spin a record but doesn't really know what to do with it. Then it's layers of simple noises that come together to weave a recording, sort of like Beck, only softer and farther back. And then it falls into something like Cake only with a more rehersed melody.

It's not bad, but it's not really good, either. Nice for ambience without actually paying attention, driving for long stretches, or falling asleep. Or passing out.

But Nothing Is, No.

Blur - Blur

Virgin, 1997

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Holy hell. You're off to some wine tasting and somehow some album works itself into your car's stereo and suddenly nothing makes sense and there's some asshole driving a giant pickup with milk crates full of God knows what in the back all bungee corded to the bed of his truck who's turning slowly onto the Interstate onramp and going fifteen miles an hour all the way up to the damn interstate itself right infront of you and you can't get around him because there's a semi in the other lane and the music coming out of the speakers sort of mirrors whatever this all is.

Confusion, right? Like, this is a pull away from Britpop and a pull towards something else entirely. It's beats without regard for the melody that just happens to be going on at the same time, sort of like Beck, only noisy in a different way. It's in your face, at the forefront of your thoughts, and then it's somewhere off in the distant background, adding subtle hints to your stream of conscious that your brain would really do good in a different place entirely; peaceful yet full of panic.

And on the way home, you're only sure you're going the right way because you've taken this road so damn many times before that it only makes sense. Like you're itching some part of your dry skin without realizing it because you've done it so many times before. And as you get out of the car, you snicker that you left the music up so loud at such a strange moment in the recording. Heheheheh. Have a good time with that in the morning, tomorrow Greg.

Lonesome Bulldog

Butthole Surfers - Piouhgd

Rough Trade, 1991

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I listen to completely irrelevant music, and I like it that way. It strikes me that I've never really thought of why. I guess I could listen to fresh stuff, but keeping up on trends really isn't my thing. And historically important music is good but intimidating. God knows I'm opinionated about music. Maybe listening to music that never really mattered anywhere except in my head is my way of avoiding the conflict of real discussion.

All I know is that this cover of Donovan's "Hurdy Gurdy Man" is hilarious.

The Butthole Surfers lost something with this album. Like the lunacy stepped back and was replaced by that sort of complacent commercialized confusion commonly mistaken as insanity. The sound is more developed here - the production glossier, but not like the later albums where better production is actually embraced. It's between phases for the Surfers, and where they were from and where they were going didn't really mesh well.