July 16: Ryan Adams, Frank Black, Blue Nile, Deep Purple, Massive Attack,Orange Juice, REM

This week, we’ll be looking at one of our flimsiest categories yet, as this week’s septet are included because either the band name or album name features a colour! What will be joining Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, ‘Kind of Blue’ and the White Stripes in the 1001 canon? Read on.

Ryan Adams, ‘Gold’

This album’s title confuses the heck out of music shop staff, as this album and Cat Power’s ‘The Greatest’ are frequently found lumped in with Best Of collections. In fact, it’s just Adams’s second solo album after leaving Whiskeytown. It’s a bewilderingly uninspiring 70 minutes of country rock, the sound of someone aiming to be nominated for multiple Grammys, taking his cues from Bruce Springsteen and Neil Young yet learning nothing about their urgency or intensity. Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, whose own work is arranged starkly, turn up for a brace of writing credits, but even their songs are smothered in uninspiring full band line-ups. The album’s highlight is CC White’s ‘Gimme Shelter’ impression on ‘Tina Toledo’s Street Walking Blues’, but it’s just an album.

Frank Black, ‘Teenager of the Year’

The former Pixie and one-time Teenager of the Year clearly had a lot to say on his second solo album, flexing his songwriting muscles over a whopping 22 songs in 62 minutes. With former Beefheart/Pere Ubu bassist Eric Drew Feldman at the helm, the songs are more sonically diverse than Pixies, with synths and pianos prominent and one song pausing for a dub reggae breakdown. The album’s fine, but some editorial control would have helped: it felt as though I was listening to one of Spotify’s extended editions.

Blue Nile, ‘A Walk Across the Rooftops’

Recorded in the 80s and put out on a record label owned by drum machine manufacturers Linn, ‘A Walk Across the Rooftops’ is sophisti-pop in a Scotch brogue, mostly based around piano and synth, topped lightly with ‘Baba O’Riley’ ARP drizzle, but lacking essential ingredients like melody or hook. Too often, the album receded into the background, partially due to its gentle subtlety, but generally due to meandering instrumental sections with no obvious value. This was not very good.

Deep Purple, ‘Deep Purple in Rock’

Our second visit to the organ-driven hard-rockers is a lot like the first: heavy riffs, lengthy solos, falsetto, and the tempo-shifting quasi-prog ‘Child in Time’. Ritchie Blackmore and Jon Lord give the band its distinctive flavour: the former adding screeching histronics whenever he lets loose, the latter plugging his organ into whatever amplifier was available, with unique results. An album which codified hard rock early, and feels like it has all the essential components of Purple’s style. Beware though: contains drum solo.

Massive Attack, ‘Blue Lines’

Like Harlow’s theory of bonding in developmental child psychology, I think there was probably a crucial period in which I could have got into Massive Attack, but once that had passed, I’d never be able to do it. The end of that period was probably 1999, after which their context and significance receded into the past. ‘Blue Lines’ came out in 1991, a bit before I got into music, and by the time I caught up, all its parts had been looted for other works: trip-hop, Warp electronica, Bjork, BBC muzak. At the time, though, this downtempo collection’s fusion of Herbie Hancock, Lee Perry, house music and hip-hop must have sounded astonishing. To the modern listener, it’s mostly better when Shara Nelson is on vocals, rather than the boys rapping inexactly and doing Topol impressions. This does, of course, have the immaculate ‘Unfinished Sympathy’, which turns up mid-album but just about avoids overshadowing everything else on it.

Orange Juice, ‘Rip It Up’

The band are best remembered for the title track here, a Franz Ferdinand template which also named Simon Reynolds’s exhaustive post-punk study. The band’s second album in less than 12 months, the line-up only retained Edwyn Collins and bassist David McClymont from the first, adding Zimbabwean drummer Zeke Manyika and songwriting guitarist Malcolm Ross here. The diversity of the sound kind of positions them as a Scottish Talking Heads: most of the tracks sound distinct from one another, from African rhythms to reggae to Wedding Present-ish lo-fi indie, while maintaining a coherency. Pretty good.

REM, ‘Green’

There are a few more REM albums on the list, and I already did ‘Automatic for the People‘, so this is probably their best-known album on the list. It bounces between jangly, if introverted, 80s guitar pop and acoustic, mandolin-heavy numbers, with Mike Mills occasionally contributing keyboards as well as bass. The album’s biggest song is also consistent with this week’s theme: ‘Orange Crush’. It’s very listenable, but I suspect the albums of REM’s I’m most interested in are not on the list (‘Out of Time’, ‘Monster’, ‘New Adventures in Hi-Fi’).

Next week: we’ll be bringing the beat back with another rap week!

Status update: 569 listened to (57%), 432 remaining

 

Advertisements

May 10: Buena Vista Social Club, The Doors, ‘Let’s Get It On’, ‘Automatic for the People’, Soft Cell, ‘Born in the USA’

Buena Vista Social Club, ‘Buena Vista Social Club’.

An album of mostly acoustic traditional Cuban music by an American guitarist and some local Cuban musicians. Suited the sunny weather we had for half an hour there; if none of it particularly jumped out to me, it’s probably my lack of familiarity with the genre.

The Doors, ‘Morrison Hotel’.

I’d heard the Doors before, of course, but not knowing any of their albums I picked one arbitrarily from the three (!) on this list. Perhaps the wrong choice: I prefer their brooding ‘Riders on the Storm’ stuff to their “ordinary blues band with jaunty keyboards” setting, and the latter is more prominent here.

Marvin Gaye, ‘Let’s Get It On’.

Gaye’s 70s were up there with Bowie’s in terms of wildly varied highs. Social issues album? Brilliant. Shagging album? Great. Divorce album? Excellent. This one is of course the sex album and is pretty marvellous.

REM, ‘Automatic for the People’.

I’m not sure I’d ever heard an REM album all the way through. This is a hard one to judge objectively as it sounds like a lot of alt.rock did when I was growing up: of course, that’s largely because of the success of this album with all its mega-hits (‘Everybody Hurts’ and ‘The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight’ and ‘Nightswimming’ and etc). Like ‘Psycho’, you can’t experience it for the first time. Pretty good I guess.

Soft Cell, ‘Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret’.

In which a Lytham St Annes schoolboy makes a load of campy songs about sex with a bunch of knackered equipment; sounds familiar. It’s incredible that this stuff sold in the volumes it did, with the hysterical shrieks of opener ‘Frustration’, the atonal chords of Top Five single (!!!) ‘Bedsitter’ and the gauchely-named ghost-train freakout ‘Sex Dwarf’. This oscillates between pretty great (the other two big singles) and dreadful rubbish (anything with a saxophone, but then isn’t that always the way?).

Bruce Springsteen, ‘Born in the USA’.

In these post-Arcade Fire times, the Boss is the hipsters’ choice, but I’ve always wondered if I was listening to a different Springsteen: the rugged American Bloke with those corny 80s synths and that Courtney Cox video and that Bob Clearmountain stadium rock production is the cognoscienti’s favourite? Are you kidding? This is, of course, his most mainstream, with a hit every two tracks, and perhaps repeated listens might reveal more subtlety in his lyrics, and at least there’s no harmonica, but the appeal’s completely lost on me. Luckily there’s another four (!) albums of his on this list. Perhaps Stockholm Syndrome will kick in.

Project update: 199 albums heard (20%) – however, 145 of those I’d heard before I started doing this.