The Greatest Album Cover Ever Made

Devolutionary Tactics

Devo - Something For Everybody
Warner Bros. Records. 2010.

Devolution is a painful process for many bands, often slipping into a period of releasing a series of bad records before descending into self-parody and, yikes, Greatest Hits Tours. It happens to the best of them, and in many cases, the successes of the past aren’t even enough to make up for the sins of today. Starting out great is often the worst career move a band can make, with the full knowledge that it only gets worse from then on out.

Fortunately for Devo, this isn’t a problem. Self-Parody was part of the initial concept. While little should be said of their last two albums – in some ways, unforgivable even by Devo standards – they were the evidence cited by most everyone that it was the end of their all-too brief career. However, their recent adoption of Greatest Hits Tours (complete with critiques of the conceits and conventions of Greatest Hits Tours) worked perfectly for their particular brand of musical repartee, and the occasional new song surfaced for compilation albums and other assorted appearances. However, even this fan was not expecting this, an entirely new album of songs that – what’s this? – are not that bad? Say what?

Leave it to Devo to surprise me yet again. Not only is this album 88% Focus Group Approved (assumedly a reference to the fan voting system they had on the clubdevo.com website), but the songs are catchy. The guitars are prominent, and the synths are dancey and appropriate. Rather than embrace the pop conventions of now (the knife that slit the throats of Smooth Noodle Maps and Total Devo), they stick to what they’re good at historically, which is off-kilter social commentary, strange New Wave ballads, and an affinity for strange costumes and pseudo-narratives for the players in the story of Devo.

While I cannot say that this will ever enter into the realm of being my favorite Devo album, my initial fears were entirely dissipated after hearing “Later Is Now,” “Don’t Shoot (I’m A Man),” and even “Mind Games.” There are a few low moments, as can be expected. “No Place Like Home,” sort of plods and drones, getting lost when it tries to be profound, and the lyrics aren’t as sharp as the rest of the record. (While leading a track with a strong piano part might seem like a good idea, it just doesn’t translate on headphones.) And some of the other lyrics dance around in that area that seems poignant at first, but loose their punch after a couple listens.

Still, if that is the worst this album offers, then it is definitely a return to form for these lovely Akron weirdoes. The fact I want to listen to it a few times in a row is an excellent sign that things are improving for these devolutionary heroes, and that alone makes me excited. A change of clothing can sometimes set a new tone for someone who has been stuck in a rut, and the new jumpsuits and masks are a sure sign that things are changing for the better. Not that they were in any danger of loosing this fan, but if future efforts are this good, I’ll even take back some of the things I said about the two “mistakes” in my record collection.

Deal?

So Dig This Big Crux

List monitors arrive with petition.
Iron-fisted philosophy
Is your life worth a painting?
Is this 'girl vs. boy' with different symbols?
Being born is power
Scout leader nazi tagged as 'big sin'.
Your risk chains me hostage.
Me, I'm fighting with my head,
I am not ambiguous.

I must look like a dork.

Me, naked with textbook poems
spout fountain against the Nazis,
With weird kinds of sex symbols in speeches
that are big dance thumps.
If we heard mortar shells,
we'd cuss more in our songs
and cut down the guitar solos.

So dig this big crux.

Organizing the boy scouts for murder is wrong,
ten years beyond the big sweat point.
Man, it was still there,
ever without you coming back around, look!
Coming together, for just a second, a peek.
A guess at the wholeness that's way too big,
at the wholeness that's way too big

Landslide

Took this love and I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
Till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
And can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Oh oh I don't know, oh I don't know

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older I'm getting older too
Yes I'm getting older too, so

So, take this love, take it down
Oh if you climb a mountain and you turn around
If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide will bring you down, down
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well maybe the landslide will bring you down
Well well, the landslide will bring you down

Move On by The Rentals

Let's get up and leave this town
I just want to go right now
Once we get out of here
No one will notice that we disappeared

So what do you say we go right now
Get away from everyone that hangs around
They seem so insincere
So why don't we just leave them here

And move on
Move on

We'll find some new place nice
Some other city or the countryside
We'll make new friends in time
We'll pack up and say goodbye

It's been six long years
Six years of hanging about without a care
It don't matter where we go
Anywhere is better I know

So move on

Come on let's get away
So far away
Come on let's run away, run away
Run away today

And move on

The Worst Taste

Here is a deep dark secret: I have terrible taste in music. It is true, and there is no denying it. I must come clean. For anyone in doubt, this can be evidenced by the fact that today on the bus I heard a snippet of, "Journey of the Sorcerer," - A fucking Eagles song, mind you! - and I almost started crying.

(Mind you, I could easily defend this by explaining that the song in question is the theme song to the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy radio show, but does that excuse me in any way from liking the song anyway? Certainly not.)

I have always related to the song, "180 lbs." by Atom & His Package (see below for the lyrics), because I have this obsession with music, but there seems almost no real way of objectively judging the quality of my "taste." I recently made fun of a co-worker of mine for liking Oasis, not at all remembering the 500 records I own that are much, much worse than anything they've recorded. (Styx? Rush? King Crimson albums after "In The Court Of The Crimson King"? ELO? The Band!?! Need I say more?)

I like a lot of shitty music, but I think it is finally time to own up. Absolute, utter tripe, and I love it. (Ahem, Ke$ha.) We all do, and I think we would all be much better off if we stopped trying to one-up each other when it comes to records. I'll admit that I am guilty of it constantly. But there is something more impressive about admitting bad taste, and I'd like to get to that point. This isn't to say that I don't like good music either, and you will find a healthy dose of Miles Davis, Dead Kennedys, Acid Mothers Temple, and most everything by Johnathan Richman. But they're often filed next to terrible '80's compilations, ensemble recordings of musicals that not even gay men will listen to, and a selection of absolutely Earl-awful 45s by bands named "Chicano-Christ" and "Boba Fett Youth." Someone has got to draw the line somewhere, right?

Or, perhaps not. Perhaps the point is to embrace these absurdities, and finally admit to myself that it's only music, and move on. Yes, I know there are very few reasons to own any Springsteen album after the first three or four. But someday I would like to live in a world where I can, publicly, stand up and say, "I own the complete works of The Moody Blues, and I don't care who knows about it," and not feel like a complete and utter tit.

...and with that, I have now alienated 2/3s of my readers. Until next time...

180 Lbs :
I own the worst records, of all time.
I got 'em stored on a Ikea shelf of mine.
They make me laugh.
They make me cry.
For owning the Voice of the Voiceless,
I deserve to die.

Why do I own Fireparty?
The last Dag Nasty CD?
The 1st Snapcase 7",
or anything by F.Y.P.?
I own S.N.F.U. and fucking Pennywise.
Oh my god, what is wrong with me?

I got a bad curse that follows me.
It makes me purchase the worst records produced in history.
I've sworn off buying records, after this one I'm done.
I buy 15 bad records to every good one.

Guh?

Where do I even begin?

I follow the Planet Money Podcast, mostly because I don't understand anything about Money, Savings, Spending, The Economy, The Housing Market, Where Dollar Bills Come From, Budgeting, How I'm Gonna Pay Off My $25,000 in Student Loans, or anything else that is remotely considered "financial." Not that it's helped at all; I've been listening for a couple months now, and I'm still not quite sure I have a clearer understanding of how a bank works. But I do recognize an educational rap song, and a misplaced dollar sign, when I see one.

Yesterday I finally heard the " 'Yo!' Planet Money Raps" episode, and found myself confronted by a number of strange and confusing things. My questions, for the world at large, are as follows:

1.) Does the world really need a rap song where Friedrich Hayek and John Maynard Keynes duke it out in in a Rap called "Fear The Boom And Bust"?

2.) Why do we need Ke$ha to confirm if the song is "legit" or not?

3.) Why am I obsessed with Ke$ha enough to Google the video for "TiK ToK" multiple times?

4.) Is there a way to prevent NPR from negatively impacting my psyche as they try to make sure my misguided obsessions leaks into their everyday news story podcasts?

I used to think that I could listen to NPR and count on some dry, sobering monotone that would cause me to reflect upon my place in the world at large, and reconsider all the terrible things I've said / done in the last 20 odd years. Why, instead, am I getting the 2010 economic equivalent of the Space Goblin "Stay In School" rap from Space Ghost Coast To Coast?

And, really: why do I love, "TiK ToK"? Is this an illness?

Help!

Some Good News

As was recently reported on Sound Opinions (footnote 3), a UK study has been researching the actually financial impact that music downloaders have on the Music Industry. The narrative that has been spread by the Music Industry has been consistent since downloading music even became possible: downloaders are killing the Music Industry, costing the labels millions of dollars every year. I have always been highly suspicious of this argument, as personal experience has proved that, when you have the ability to listen to a lot of music for free, you actually tend to spend more money on albums you actually want to own. For those who don't have access to free music like this, they tend to be more cautious with their record buying dollars.

Well, the results are in, and it appears that I was right. According to the research, downloaders spend 75% more money on music (physical records as well as digital sales) than people who do not. The access to free music online, according to the research, creates more music fans who are more dedicated to the bands and genres they love, who then go out and buy the albums they become fans of. This behavior injects into the Music Industry four times the amount of money than your average, non-downloading music consumer does. So, downloading isn't actually a lost sale, but rather, much like radio exposure to music that a fan might not get to hear any other way. Well, duh. I could have told you that. And did, many, many, times before.

My question, now, is: where does The Music Industry get the $330 million figure that they say they loose in sales to downloaders? In light of this research, it seems that the figure in question has to have been completely fabricated in order to gain sympathy for new Internet Legislation, and other means of keeping huge Media Entities in power. Plus, labels have to account for the lagging sales from Mainstream Media, so they don't get in too much trouble from their stockholders.

Yes, new records are not moving in the same numbers that they did in the old days. Boo hoo. But overall sales, new and used, are up, and spread out among small bands, labels, and in other areas of the Music Industry that are not easily controlled by big Media companies. Yes, U2 and Brittney Spears are not the cash cows they used to be. But the number of fans that are spending their money on a larger number of less-famous artists and albums is going up. Fans are diversifying, and you can't just expect a new Springsteen or Mariah Carey album to cover your ass. If anything, rather than blame downloaders for causing you to loose money (which is not true), here's a suggestion for big Media that will benefit everyone, CEOs, stockholders, bands, and fans alike:

Only release good albums by good artists, and make the records affordable (and accessible) to fans.

I know, I know. I must be crazy to even suggest it. Sorry to interrupt your morning. Now, go back to playing Second Life and reading Yahoo. Thank you for your time.

Obligatory Record Review

I've been really impressed with the number of Great Albums The Flaming Lips have put out so far. Starting with In A Priest Driven Ambulance (their first Great Album), they have done an incredible job of maintaining that kind of energy and songwriting, while rarely repeating themselves, or getting stale. Which is saying a lot; not only are their early efforts extremely illustrative of how far they had to come to be able to record a Great Album, but the number of Great Albums that follow defies all logic, in that most bands are lucky to even record one.

Cursory listens of Embryonic has me convinced that, after a short break, they are back to defying all logic once again. Between In A Priest Driven Ambulance and their newest effort, the band has produced some really amazing (and occasionally quizzical) records. After producing Clouds Taste Metallic - to this author, a peak of songwriting skill that has yet to be fully recaptured - they released three records in a row that were all incredibly different, and each spectacular in their own unique ways. But it seemed as if the band had tapped much of their creative juices by the time At War With The Mystics was released, which, at best, is a well performed tribute to their influences. After nearly 20 years, I was beginning to think that they may want to throw in the towel, or at the very least, become a Greatest Hits band, touring the County Fair circuit, and cashing in on t-shirt and back-catalog sales.

However, Embryonic has, in my mind, proved that I had the band completely wrong. I'm sure I'm not the first to say it, but this record is their Kid A, another reinvention for the band in the same way that both Clouds and Yoshimi were. But what makes this record a must for me is the simple fact that, like discovering Parts And Labor, or that Opal record (that is admittedly over 20 years old itself), this is an album that instantly grabbed me and demanded close, careful listening. That, alone, is something I can't ignore.

Unmistakably The Lips, and unmistakably new territory (simultaneously!), this record will once again polarize fans, critics, and anyone else who has even heard of the band. If you have never been a fan, this is a great place to start. If you've hated them in the past, this could be your entry-point, too. And if you already know and love them, then you probably already have the record, anyway, so, 'nuff said.

Bomb Culture

I've had this album for a while now, and I've probably listened to this song 7 or 8 times. But today, for some reason, I was really floored by the lyrics:

My dreams were all about submission
To get on top I gave up dreaming
I get hard thinking about the sixties
But I hit a wall when I reach the now

I'm acquainted with too many punk rockers
Nothing rose so nothing converged
Technology draws a very hard line
The future's pinned beneath a power surge

I'll keep moving so nobody can pin me
I'll die alone, yeah, so will you
I had a plan, it depended on outrage
When every one knows we're all pure

Portland was a soft city
But now its surfaces are hard
One day I'll stop reading
My center could be a bomb

("Bomb Culture" by Crack City Rockers. Thanks Eric. You will never cease to impress me.)

The Good Life

I haven't listened to Weezer, consciously, in quite some time. I went through a phase where I had to listen to Pinkerton once a day, and had almost all of lyrics (that I could make out) memorized. I would sit in my office (when I worked at the Museum), listen to Pinkerton all the way through, let out a life-long sigh, and get to work.

It was actually kind of terrible; there were a lot of days where I would just start crying before I got to the end.

It's strange the kinds of relationships we build with albums. Since those cube-dwelling, working-days, my music-listening habits have transformed so drastically, that the only time I sit down to listen to albums anymore is when I actually pull out a record, lift the needle, etc. (And this is generally a fairly social occasion, with other people around.) The i-ification of our music listening habits (through shuffle and random features being prominent in the Apple-dominated world of music listening) has de-centered the album and returned music to the pre-Beatles world of The Single. Songs, Earl-forbid, have taken prominence again, and while I miss the album quite a bit (and still cling to the belief that it will return as a form), I have to admit that the next generation of music fans that have come after me are not as attached to 45 minutes of listening as they are to three minutes. Sad, but true.

Nonetheless, I have faith in the album as something that has an unbreakable hold, at least on this listener: while I was getting ready for school this morning, I shuffled my way through a half dozen songs until "Falling For You" came up. I had to stop, suddenly; I unconsciously began to mouth the words, and my skin began to crawl with the chord progressions. The hours and hours I spent listening to this album had practically become muscle memory, but even worse, everything embedded in listening to that record came back to me in a wash of huge, tangled, complicated, and frustrating emotions that I wasn't exactly sure how to purge.

The solution was simple: I had to stop the shuffle, and put the album on from start to finish, the way it was meant to be heard. It wasn't easy; chance is a bitch, and it just so happens that a lot of what I was trying to sort out then has come back to haunt me, now. "The Good Life" has never meant more; "No Other One" & "Tired Of Sex" not only sound just as good as I remember, but it's weird to think that I still quote lines from these songs in everyday interactions. This record has become part of my DNA, and if I give blood, I imagine anyone who receives it will probably get Pinkerton as part of the package deal.

I just wish, for my own sake, that I didn't need it so bad anymore.

Off The Subject

Are there any Skoidats fans out there?

If so, let me know. I've got a totally random, off-the-wall question for you.

Thank you for your time.

Generic Question

With regards to music, what do you think of when someone mentions "genre"? What "genres" first come to mind when you think of music in this way? Can music be "genre-less"?

Favorite genres? Least favorite? Given the crumbling state of the music industry, does the word even have meaning anymore, or is it merely a marketing tool?

Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?

Dogs! In! Space!

After many years of being obsessed with this movie (mostly due to the near-daily viewings of it when I lived with Lyra Cyst), I finally managed to borrow of cassette copy of it, encode it digitally, and make myself a CD version I can now bump and grind whenever I want.

While I can never adequately explicate how stoked I am about this, liken it to when you finally managed to figure out the name of a song you taped off the radio years ago because a friend of yours just so happened to play it at a party.

Why is it that encapsulated in the two above-mentioned experiences, I think I've managed to summarize a good 70% of my previous emotional experiences? Sigh.

Really?

When I was closing up the computer lab last night, I found a binder that a student had left behind. It happens all the time, actually, and with today being the last day for finals, I imagine some student was in a hurry to get to a party after his last test. I forget things all the time, and unless it's valuable, you don't have to worry about anything getting stolen.

So, no harm, no foul; I picked it up and went to put it in the Lost & Found box. As I set it down, I noticed that on the front was a huge, slightly torn Sublime sticker.

What? Sublime? Are they even still a thing? I mean, when was the last time you met an actual Sublime fan? At least, a big enough one to have a sticker on your binder for at least a year. In 2008. I mean, really?

Sometimes, I just don't get people.

a.k.a. Used Books & Records

In the late '80's and '90's my mom ran a bookstore / record store called a.k.a. Used Books & Records. She and her partner took care of every aspect of the store: they traveled all over the West Coast buying books, records, & comics, built home-made tables, shelves, and racks for the merchandise, and painted / made every sign they hung in the store. It was a huge undertaking; almost every waking hour involved something with "The Shop," and my first job was helping them out in the store. It was a formative experience; the three things I seem to value most in life are books, comics & records.

Eventually they went out of business. There was just too much work to do, not enough money coming in, and few places a pair of lesbian business owners could turn in the small, closed-minded town of Cottage Grove. Eventually they sold the business, except for the Records, which the new owner was not interested in. Ever since, my mom has had the back-stock from The Shop in storage.

Every so often she would kick down a few Records here or there, and then we eventually fell into a regular routine: she would deliver to me a box of Records that she didn't want, and I would keep anything I was interested in and dispose of the rest for her. It was a fair deal, as I got free records for a little amount of work, and she was rid of a box that was cluttering up her house.

Yesterday I got the most recent delivery when my sister and brother were passing through town. These boxes of records are always very well picked over by the time I get them. Occasionally you'll find a gem here and there, but on the whole, you are better off selecting for reasons other than the music contained within. I now have the complete Moody Blues collection; aside from looking at the album covers, however, they remain unplayed.

Here are a few selections that came in yesterday's shipment:

Chilling, Thrilling Sounds Of The Haunted House. I collect Halloween Records and music, but so does everyone else that has any good taste. Thus, there are certain ones that I've been looking for, but have never managed to get. My roommate laughed at me when I found this one, because I actually gasped audibly and quickly began pouring over the liner notes. This record is the Soundtrack to The Haunted House in Disneyland, and is one of the earliest Halloween "Scary Sounds" Records around. Side A is a series of scary stories, while Side B is a collection of scary noises and sounds (Screams, Animals Howling, Doors Creaking, etc.) I can't wait to put this next to Sounds To Make You Shiver and A Night In A Haunted House.

Robert Gordon w/ Link Wray - Fresh Fish Special. Robert Gordon was the primary mover and shaker behind Tuff Darts, a little-known band in the NY punk scene. Robert went solo and started playing with Link Wray (yes, THE Link Wray), and recorded a few albums of covers with Wray as the primary guitar player. Gordon led the East Coast rockabilly revival in the late '70's, but without any original tunes on this album, nor the promise of the full power of Link Wray coming to the forefront, this can't possibly be as good as, say, actually listening to a real Link Wray album instead. Why my mom had this or knew about it is still beyond me. (My guess: this album is most notable for Gordon & Wray doing a cover of the Springsteen hit, "Fire." )

Emerson Lake & Palmer - Love Beach. As allmusic.com is quick to point out, this is ELP's "contractual obligation" record with Atlantic, and thus, is all you need to know about this album. I would contend that you should also know that all three of these men have their shirts unbuttoned to some degree, are all wearing gold chains, and have hairy chests. I would also assert that you should know that Side B consists of one, 20-Minute long suite that is broken up into four parts, and was also released in 1978. Aside from that, I don't think I ever need to know anything else about this album, or even listen to it, for that matter. It's the little pleasures in life...

Al Hirt - Music To Watch Girls By. Al "He's The King" Hirt released this "Dynagroove Recording" in 1967, and was (apparently) available in both Mono & Stereo. The back of the album shows Al playing trumpet, next to his name inside of a crown logo, above the phrase, "Al Hirt - A man for all girl watchers."

Which is funny, because I have always been looking for the perfect man to compliment my girl watching activities, and now it turns out that he recorded a soundtrack for me to do this by, too. Will wonders never cease?