The Darkness' new album features a song about trying not to shart on your significant other during sex.
I could stop talking right now, and you would have a full picture of just how awful The Darkness have become. I'm in a bad mood, though, so let's carry on. Last year, I thought quite a bit about the (personal) legacy of "I Believe In a Thing Called Love", where one of the things I noted was that The Darkness is one of those bands that makes me question why I ever liked them at all. "Permission To Land" is a fluke of an album, the one moment in their history where their stupidity did not land the punch with enough force to piss me off.
Ever since, they have gone through breakups and rehab stints, only to come back with more terrible 'humor' that mocks the very idea that they were a mocking band. The tongue-in-cheek love for classic rock they showcased on their debut became terrible slapstick, as limp and flaccid as the genital reaction to the stereotypical British teeth. That's a cheap shot, but we're talking about The Darkness here. I can't exactly go low enough to express the inanity of listening to them continue to be idiots for the third straight decade.
Back to the point; writing a song about farting (dear lord, I hope it was only farting) on your lover is not funny. Or, it's certainly not funny the way Justin Hawkins writes and sings it. Rather, it's a moment in time that makes me glad physical media is not easy to get a hold of, because I would be tempted to snap the CD in half and use it to draw blood and remind myself I'm not dead and in Hell yet. As if that isn't enough, it's also a lousy pastiche of a country song with a lifeless melody, so it's not even an annoying earworm. It makes you cringe, and then disappears... much like the aforementioned fart.
That is by far the worst song I've heard this year, but it is not alone. The Darkness long ago lost their ability to have fun, despite turning everything into a joke. The music is no longer rocking, no longer catchy, and requires the equivalent of toothpicks holding your eyes open to get through. They fail as comedians, and they fail as a rock band. In that way, they're exactly like Spinal Tap. As an aside, I'll use this as an excuse to give a hearty "fuck no" to the upcoming Spinal Tap sequel. It is not only too late, and wholly unnecessary, but no joke they could write will ever be as funny as treating Spinal Tap as a real band over the last forty years. Maximum absurdity was already reached.
Unfortunately, The Darkness treat it as a blueprint, not a cautionary tale.
The album gives us an opening track called "Rock And Roll Party Cowboy", which just so happens to not be rock and roll, nor a party. It is a song as weak, pointless, and forgettable as I have ever heard. In fact, the only thing I remembered about it between its release as a single and writing these words right now is that I hated it. That is apropos, as the very next song is called "I Hate Myself", which is what I said to myself as I listened to more of this album. The Darkness has long thought of themselves in terms of being Queen, but they lack everything Queen ever had; songwriting chops, a vocalist who doesn't elicit snickering when he opens his mouth, charm, etc.
I will sum it up thusly; The Darkness is not a good thing anymore, but the darkness is, because in the latter you can't find the button you have to click to listen to this album.
And just for the record, given how much I hated this experience, let me say this; I hope the story in that song is indeed true. The Darkness literally shitting the bed is too apropos to consider it a metaphor. We deserve this win, right?
This one takes a little while to get the hang of, but the payoff is worth it. BRKN LOVE’s “The Program” is an exercise in reality versus expectation, but if the latter can be suspended, the former will provide reward.
It is easy, and often wise, to take pre-album press statements from an artist with an enormous hunk of salt. Words like ‘darker,’ ‘heavier’ and ‘emotional’ could be safely slotted onto a sardonic bingo card and marked with casual consistency. Justin Benlolo (who, no matter how many people BRKN LOVE puts in a band photo, IS BRKN LOVE, for all intents and purposes,) made a statement in the run-up to this record along the lines of expanding the parameters of the band, pushing the boundaries, and the usual tired cliches that every genre is rife with to the point of nausea.
The difference here, is that Justin, as it turns out, actually meant it. Written across a couple of months on an impromptu trip to South Carolina, Justin guides BRKN LOVE and “The Program” through some territory that will feel unfamiliar from the Canadian, even as it rings close enough to be recognizable.
And this is where expectation comes into play. When one thinks of BRKN LOVE, it’s nearly impossible to separate the mental image of the band from two distinct sounds - the chunky, gloriously over-distorted fuzz of “Shot Down,” and the biting hook of “Like a Drug.” BRKN LOVE, at their best to this point, has been defined by tone and by the inspiration of Benolo’s instantly catchy riffs.
“The Program” takes a few full listens to grasp, because some of that has gone by the wayside. Not entirely, of course. The guitar tone is still syrupy thick, albeit not as thick as on the band’s eponymous debut, and not even quite as gooey as the follow-up “Black Box.” The focus on this album is less about single, memorable moments and more about a long, uninterrupted ride of music. To that end, “The Program” seems more focused on melody and accessibility than on punishing moments of rock ferocity.
To call an album ‘poppy’ is a cardinal sin in some circles, but take the epithet for what it is - BRKN LOVE has composed an album that, in a different era of popular music, would have found a home in consistent radio play, more so than either of its predecessors. It’s hard to imagine a song like “Pulling Leeches,” with a central riff that has vague overtones of INXS, could dodge radio exposure, or have felt at home on either BRKN LOVE album to this point. Same goes for the bright beat of “Callous” and the proto-ballad “Cruel,” at least as far as the latter point is concerned.
The key to the entire experience is “Unholy,” which is in the middle of the record, and is the first song that really bridges the gap between expectation and production. Yes, it’s a little muted relative to the fury of “Bad Blood,” but the riff feels right, and Justin’s borderline indifferent, moderated vocal line helps sell the melody. “Unholy” in turn, serves as the Rosetta Stone for the rest of “The Program.” Once the listener understands that this album is focused on flow and melody and accessible pacing, the album opens up and the skill starts to shine through.
There is a fair criticism to be levied here that in alignment with this compositional shift, BRKN LOVE have put themselves in the nebulous middle ground of rock, somewhere between the jagged edges of Dead Poet Society, and the high-gloss perfection of The Warning. And so long as we’re here, outside of “Unholy,” there are many very good songs on “The Program,” an album’s worth as a matter of fact, but it’s hard to point a prospective listener to a “holy shit” moment, as opposed to the revelation of some of BRKN LOVE’s past singles.
In either case though, those criticisms are immaterial and don’t really matter unless the listener allows them to. It’s been discussed many times on this site, in many ways, that there are two pathways to success in music, especially rock music - either do something no one has heard before, or do something familiar really well. BRKN LOVE, specifically on this new record, falls into the second camp, and that’s totally fine, especially in light of how Benlolo stays true to most of his band’s hallmarks. Good music is good music, and however simple that comes across, that’s what really matters.
The reality of the music business these days is that unless you are in a fairly massive band, many musicians are going to find themselves involved in multiple projects. While that can leads to interesting combinations, and more music for the devoted fans, the downside is that it can burn out songwriters. From my own experiences as both a listener and writer, I fully believe that each of us only has some many songs in us before we start falling back into note patterns we have already used. So when a writer is putting out albums with multiple projects, and in rapid succession, I get worried that the quality is going to drop.
Erik Martensson is in that category of writer who has put out a huge amount of music in recent years. Between his own band Eclipse, his Nordic Union project, and W.E.T., there has been no shortage of songs he has penned. And with Eclipse coming off a double album, that feels even more acute right now. So yes, I was certainly a bit worried that W.E.T. was going to suffer the effects, even though he is not the sole writer in this group, especially given that I was not all that fond of either half of that Eclipse record.
The good news is that the rest of the crew involved in W.E.T. picks up the slack, and smooths out anywhere the songs could have found themselves struggling. The added texture of Jeff Scott Soto's voice is the key to this, but the ability to layer harmonies adds to this as well, letting the sound of W.E.T. expand to a bigger sense of scope than Eclipse is capable of. The larger ensemble sounds exactly that, and picks up right where the last two excellent records left off.
These guys know their way around a hook, and how to sell it. That actually raises some questions about why this project is able to do that more than their other bands, but not every question needs to be asked. We can sit back and enjoy this record for what it is, which is a collection of melodic songs that bridge the rock/metal gap by way of massive choruses that are sure to get stuck in your head.
The difference this time is the band is focusing on the heavier end. There are more cranked guitars and metal riffs, and less balladry this time around. That will appeal to a lot of people, but oddball songs like "Elegantly Wasted" or "How Do I Know" off the previous records are some of the best things W.E.T. is capable of. The diversity of sound meshed with the diversity of their talents in a way this record is missing a bit.
The other difference is that Erik takes a few more lines of lead vocals than in the past. It's another matter of perspective, where you could say it shows the band operating as a collaborative unit, or you could say a band's lead singer should do all the lead vocals. Personally, I fall into the latter category, unless the band's gimmick is a 50/50 situation, which this is not.
Those are minor points. This is as well, but it does gnaw at me a bit. The song "Pay Dirt" spends its verses juxtaposing opposites, like devils and angels, truth and lies, etc. There is a line in the song saying "one man's mistress is another man's whore." Are they implying those are the only two options for what a woman can be to a man? And why pejorative terms for the women, and not for the 'men' who cheat on their wives and/or insult women for making money from their bodies? They move on to something else in the next line, so they clearly were not thinking about the implications of that language, but it stood out to me immediately as the sort of thing that we overlook so often. It would have taken nothing away from the song to tweak the line, just so the chance of it being taken the wrong way was removed, but that didn't happen. Intentional, or oversight?
The band is calling this album "Apex", but that's a bit of wishful thinking. It's a very good record of hugely melodic songs, but I don't think it's as complete of a package as "Earthrage" was. This one is an example of how diversity within a sound is a key component to an album's greatness. You want a band to sound like themselves, but you also want them to do more than deliver the same song a dozen times in a row. This record delivers the goods, but it's closer to being the same thing again and again than they have been in the past.
This is clearly one of the best records so far this year, but it's not W.E.T.'s best. That's all I'm saying.
It’s hard to know what to think about Warbringer. The band is rapidly closing in on twenty years as a going concern, but the road has been tumultuous and rocky. If the band’s breakthrough effort was 2009’s “Waking Into Nightmares,” then the band has rotated ten different members through the lineup in the intervening time, including every position except for the singer.
Given all of that, Warbringer should be praised for their consistency. All of their albums bristle with the same kind of modern thrash that seemed a lost art when the band debuted with “War Without End” in 2008. Which, as far as it concerns this new record “Wrath and Ruin,” means that it’s easy to make the editorially lazy argument that if you like Warbringer, you’ll like this album, and that the opposite is also true.
Yet, isn’t that damning with faint praise? Unfortunately, what comes part and parcel with that is that “Waking Into Nightmares” remains the band’s gold standard, and none of their albums since that time have lived up to that high bar. To listen to that instant classic again, is to hear both the shredding and creativity of guitarist John Laux, but also the extraordinary percussion of Nic Ritter (RIP,) who was without question the best drummer the band ever had, and that’s also the only album he’s on.
Absent those pieces has come a parade of capable and talented musicians, but the pieces are too uniformly emulsified now. There’s the capable solo of “Neuromancer” on this new record, but overall, the songs are fine…but that’s what they are. They don’t stand out from the Warbringer pre-existing music, and most of them don’t truly stand out from each other.
At the risk of copping-out by making an easy parallel, “Wrath and Ruin” feels something like Warbringer’s version of “...And Justice For All.” There are only eight cuts, there are three over six minutes and another at five and a half, and the band is clearly putting pieces together and experimenting with new bridges and sections (“Through a Glass, Darkly” is on the border of black metal, for instance.) Tempo seems to be a big part of “Wrath and Ruin,” as the band tries their hand at different speeds in different sections, trying to find a comfort zone that feels novel and yet still recognizable as Warbringer.
The attempt is laudable, but nothing here truly catches hold - the riffs don’t bite, the drums don’t snap, and there’s no single moment or performance that makes the listener’s eyes (or ears) widen in admiration. It’s more Warbringer, to be certain, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of about that, but that’s all it is.
Of course, historically, after “...And Justice For All” came the Black Album…
"Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"
Those words were spoken by the character Rob Gordon in the movie "High Fidelity", which celebrates its twenty-fifth anniversary this week. In those intervening years, I'm not sure there has been a better interpretation of just what it means to be a music fan than the scenes set in Rob's record shop.
Being a music fan is not merely listening to music and enjoying it, but rather an exercise in discovering yourself through the voice of others, and trying to use those songs to communicate your character to others in ways words do not allow. I have written before about the limitations of language when it comes to discussing complexities such as our emotions and sensory experiences. For those of us who are not entirely what would be called 'normal' in those regards, the failure of words becomes all the more apparent.
Sometimes, the best way we can comment on the way we're feeling is to point to a song that evokes that feeling, and then hoping other people have the same reaction to it that we do. It is no more assured a system than crafting metaphors of intense honesty, but it opens new doors that we might not be able to unlock on our own. That is why we obsess over music, why we craft lists of our favorites in countless categories. By doing so, we are diving into the depths of who we are as people, and trying our best to share ourselves with the people we are wanting to do so with.
"High Fidelity" is a romantic comedy by structure, but I have always seen it more as a movie about friendship, and the relationship we have with music. Rob's journey through his top five break-ups is the catalyst of the narrative, but it is the less important aspect of the movie for me. If I'm being honest, which is sort of the point here, the reason for that is clear. If I was to write my own version of the movie about my own life, I would be unable to do so, as my list would exist solely in my own head. That doesn't necessarily mean they were fantasies, but they were connections whose meaning was mine alone, and confined to my mind.
In that light, it is the scenes set at the record shop which become the focal point of the movie. They might not tell a story in the traditional sense, but they are scenes of life in the way many live it; searching for things only tortured artists can understand, arguing when no one else understands what we are thinking and feeling, gate-keeping to prevent people we know would be wrong for us from getting too close.
For some people, music is the great love of our lives. I'm not saying that is true for me, since love is one of those concepts I rarely claim to have even the slightest understanding of. What I'm trying to say is that music can be more important than people, because so many of them drift in and out of our lives, while the records we love are always going to be there for us. Is a night spent with someone new better than a night spent with a favorite old record? I can't say.
Circumstances likely have a lot to do with the answer to that question. What I can say is in my younger days, I certainly had better times spent listening to my favorite albums than I did being dragged out to bars. Records seldom disappointed the way that people did, and thinking back on them is still a better option than remembering certain episodes.
When the conversation in the shop turns to the top five side one/track ones, it is more than a question about some of their favorite songs. It is a question that gets to the heart of how we introduce ourselves, how we define what is most important for people to know about us. Barry jokes about picking Beethoven's fifth symphony, which is more than a joke about Rob's obvious taste. He is commenting that giving the answer everyone already knows and expects is akin to saying nothing. We don't learn about ourselves by following the expected path. It's when we dig in and share the pieces others might not know about is when genuine connections are made and deepened.
Watching the movie, there's an argument to be made that Rob didn't love Laura so much as he thought he loved her. What cannot be argued is that Rob loved music, because music was never going to find flaws in him and end things. Music would always be there, music could be counted on. Music would not complain if it ever found out about the top five lists the way people certainly would object to being itemized like a grocery list.
The other thread to the movie is that of living in the past. Rob spends the majority of the movie obsessed with his past, trying to figure out everything that went wrong, and led to him being in his predicament. That is a dangerous place to be, which I can speak of from experience. The past is dangerous not just because it doesn't exist anymore, but because it may not have existed as we now think it did. Our memories are faulty, our narratives unreliable, and how we remember our lives is not the actual story. Rob learns to look to the future, and live in the moment, but only when he's tortured himself with the past to the point of bleeding out.
My heart barely beats, so I have not drained my reservoir just yet. I'm talking about a movie from the past, because that is where my head still spends most of my time. I am still staring at blank spaces on my top five lists when it comes to people, but music lets me write to my heart's content.
I don't have to ask the question of whether pop music made me miserable, because I know it wasn't the cause. What may be more interesting to contemplate is why I love a movie that reminds me of my own failings. Perhaps it made me miserable...
A couple months back, when Chris mentioned to me the prospect of ten years of BGM and if we wanted to mark the occasion, I was enthusiastic but admittedly a little stuck on how I wanted to celebrate. I didn’t want to write something that would come off as bloviated or self-important (first time for everything, I know.) I was trying to think of a way to encapsulate what this journey has meant for me, in the context of the music that’s been the medium which enabled me to have so many experiences over the years. Naturally, I started thinking about the last decade as we embarked into the cold void boarded on the good ship Bloody Good Music…but then, that was just the largest benchmark on what’s truly been a longer journey, dating all the way back to 2008 or so, when we began on another website with a similar name.
Since I couldn’t begin to assemble words that felt like they would do that journey justice, and definitely couldn’t do it in a way that celebrated all the bands and musicians and relationships that have gotten us here, I decided to cop out (sorry, Chris!) And as we all know, everybody (me) loves making a good list.
A brief aside - first, I’d like to take a moment to thank all of the generous labels and promoters and press folk who have helped Chris and I get this far. Without all of you, we might literally have had nothing to write about. Many (perhaps even most) of them prefer to remain anonymous, so I won’t take the time to list them here. But if you’re reading this, thank you.
To make a list of all the bands I’ve studied, explored and contemplated as a result of these many years of music editorialism (if I dare ascribe myself to so lofty a position,) would have been a fool’s errand.
So, instead, here’s a list (alphabetical) of all the bands I now consider myself a fan of as a result of my time spent wandering down this extraordinary, unusual and thoroughly enjoyable path:
6:33, The 69 Eyes, A Pale Horse Named Death, Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell, Alestorm, Alien Weaponry, Anti-Mortem, Arch Enemy, As They Sleep, The Ashers, Battlecross, Beartooth, Blackguard, Blood Ceremony, Blues Pills, Bokassa, BRKN Love, The Browning, Cancer Bats, Cave of Swimmers, Combichrist, Cradle of Filth, Cripper, Crowned By Fire, CueStack, Dampf, Darkthrone, Dead Poet Society, Deadlock, Destrage, Destruction, Devil to Pay, Diamond Plate, Ego Fall, Emigrate, Escape the Fate, Evile, Exumer, Fear of Domination, Finntroll, Galaktikon, John Garcia, Goatwhore, Graveyard, Gypsyhawk, Halestorm, Hammers of Misfortune, Hatriot, The Hawkins, The Heavy Eyes, Hell Within, Hellevate, The Hellfreaks, Indestructible Noise Command, John 5 & The Creatures, Kiberspassk, Kontrust, Kreator, Lazarus AD, Lord of the Lost, Mayan, Meldrum, Midnight Dice, The Midnight Ghost Train, Mollo Rilla, Monster Truck, Mothership, Mountain of Wizard, Nachtblut, Nim Vind, Nothnegal, Orphaned Land, PAIN, Power Trip, Powerwolf, Priestess, Pro-Pain, Prototype, Red Dragon Cartel, Red Eleven, Red Fang, Royal Republic, Royal Thunder, Rxptrs, Scorpion Child, Selfish Needy Creatures, Shawn James & The Shapeshifters, The Showdown, Shroud Eater, Sick Puppies, Spit Like This, Static-X, Sundrifter, Taking Dawn, Tengger Cavalry, Texas Hippie Coalition, The Tossers, Toxic Holocaust, Transit Method, Troubled Horse, Turisas, Unearth, Vaelmyst, Vampires Everywhere!, The Veer Union, Viking Skull, Volbeat, Warbringer, The Warning, We Butter the Bread With Butter, Within the Ruins, Wolfmother, DJ Zardonic
To say that my life has been enriched is a dramatic understatement.
Time is not a flat circle, but like a pane of glass it is more fluid than we can often see and sense. Time will pass by in a flash, or drag on for an eternity, depending on our perspective. We measure time in part because we cannot accurately gauge our lives without the objective units to justify our feelings. If we relied solely on our own interpretation of life, time would become irrelevant and incomprehensible. Life may be that way anyhow, but we at least give ourselves the chance of speaking with some degree of certainty about the issue.
Bloody Good Music began ten years ago this month. We had already been writing about music at our former home, but it has been ten years since we decided it was more important to have editorial independence than a built-in audience. Perhaps we have missed out on some opportunities to have more eyes on our writing, or to work with some artists/labels who deem us too small an outlet, but that is balanced by our ability to do what we want when we want. That freedom is what has made this endeavor last as long as it has.
In this past decade, I have probably written a million words about music, and I don't know if that would have happened had I been forced to put myself in a box in terms of what we were covering. As time has unfolded, I have realized the old creases are far deeper than the new ones, and the music we started out being known for covering is not what is truly in my heart anymore.
Contained in those million words are countless opinions, but also countless thoughts on philosophy and self I can't say would have come to mind had I not been using music as a filter to sift through the clutter of my mind. This past fall, I went on a bit of a tangent writing essays that talked about philosophy and psychology as partners with music in explaining elements of both life and myself. Those pieces were inherently selfish, but also the most rewarding work I have done here in quite a while. Reviewing the new albums that find their way into my inbox is its own kind of satisfaction, but figuring out how to explain something that has remained a mystery even to me is exactly the sort of experience thinkers spend their time hoping to find. That I have done so with this blog is a source of comfort when it is needed most.
That isn't to say the music I have covered over these last ten years is inconsequential, but one of the ways I am typical is in the music of my formative years remaining unchallenged as what I cherish the most. In compiling a list of my fifty favorite albums ever, the number that have come from these last ten years is rather small, but I don't consider that a failure. Instead, I am heartened by the continued hunt for music that can grab at that brass ring even as I lose hope that it will ever be plucked from the string that holds it. Music is still my currency of thought, but the end of this decade-long experiment comes with the reality that the love of music has been waning.
Just as time inevitably moves forward, so too does music. The world today is not the same as it was ten years ago, nor are the people who make the music we are listening to. Even within the same band, the paradox of cellular replacement means that literally we may not be the same people we were. To expect music to continue speaking to us in the same way is not a logical assumption to make, but keeping the faith is the sort of illogical absurdity we should nevertheless be proud of. Giving in and giving up is easy, which I know from other areas of life. Wading through the swamps because you know a gem sits at the bottom is a righteous dedication, even if it isn't the most elegant metaphor for this situation.
When I look back at these ten years, I could focus on the records I still pull out to transport my mind to a calmer place. I could, but I actually don't. While there will be time to re-examine the personal legacies albums like Halestorm's "Vicious" or Jorn Lande's "Dracula: Swing Of Death" retain, what I focus on more as the real legacy of Bloody Good Music comes in the form of friendship.
This blog has served foremost as a catalyst for D.M and I to maintain the ties of our friendship, which stretches back over twenty years at this point. Discussing the releases we share interest in, or even just the schedule of our publishing, is reason to check in and keep up on our lives. I have enough friends who have drifted away because we lacked any such impetus to stay connected over the distances that I do treasure what this has meant.
Additionally, there are at least two musicians I have become friends with through these writings my life would have been empty without. While there have been periods of frustration, with recent days being chief among them, they have been closer to me than virtually anyone I have met in 'real life' during the same stretch. Not only is music a communicator, it is my communicator. Music has given me a gift I struggle with in other contexts. To think that an email sent to a voice I saw on television, or someone who appeared as what seemed like a background collaborator at the time, would evolve into meaningful relationships is exactly the sort of mystery of the universe that keeps me wondering what else is possible.
The answer to that question is usually 'nothing', and I spent more than a modicum of time cursing the very ideas of fate or a 'plan', but I cannot be arrogant enough to completely dismiss the concept of hope. There are many days I wish I could, and I probably do right now as I write these words, but these few small gifts are things I cannot otherwise explain or understand. They are ethereal in their own way, and justification of the very idea of dreaming.
All of this is to say that these ten years have been as much about me as they have the music, at least from my perspective. Writing has been my connection to people and the world, and music is the reason any of it was possible. I don't know if we will gather here again in another ten years to see how much has changed, but regardless of when the ride ends, it will have been worth taking.
I spend a lot of time contemplating the past, and regretting nearly every decision I have ever made. I regret the things I did, and I regret the things I didn't do. I can honestly say I have never once regretted our move to start Blood Good Music. That might be the one thing I know was right.
In honor of Bloody Good Music celebrating ten years as the outlet for my various thoughts and ramblings, it felt an appropriate time to once again visit the question of what my favorite albums of all time are. I ask this of myself every couple of years, but the last few times I have stuck with the top twenty choices, separating the elite from everything else. This time, I am digging deeper, listing the fifty albums I would put on the highest pedestal, to give a better indication of exactly who I am at this point in my life.
That is the key element of this. I am by no means saying these are undoubtedly the best albums I have ever heard, or that the list will look much of anything like this if you ask me on a different day. What this list compiles are the albums right now I find myself reaching for, whether it's for nostalgia or therapy. Out of all the music I have heard in my life, these are the ones I find myself going back to most often right now. That was not true five years ago, and it will not be true five years from now. This is merely a frozen frame in a film that will continue to run.
Below each entry, you will find a video of my favorite song from the album. Enjoy.
50. Bruce Springsteen - Darkness On The Edge Of Town
This is one of those 'mood' records. Springsteen had a vision for how he wanted the record to unfold, and it largely does. This is an album for the beaten and down-trodden, those looking for a light on the horizon justifying running off into the night. I think it just might do that.
49. Matchbox Twenty - Mad Season
This used to sit in my top ten (top five?), but love is a fickle thing. While I still love most of these songs, and the jumbled mess they make, I can often focus on only one or two of their tones at a time. This record is an illustration of how we have our different facets, but we do not live them all at once.
48. Jimmy Eat World - Bleed American
It's funny to me that an album that name-drops influences I've never heard of, nor want to listen to, can fit me so well. My emo phase has come much later than most, and perhaps that explains why Jimmy Eat World has been such a heavy part of my listening in recent times. There is a tone to them that is the right sort of melancholy for my mood.
47. Dio - Holy Diver
It wasn't long ago I would not have thought to include this. I love Dio with Black Sabbath, and I love Dio with Rainbow, but this record always felt a bit short of those heights. That isn't true anymore, as the capstone to Dio's untouchable run of greatness now stands as much of a highlight as any other.
46. Nightmare Of You - Nightmare Of You
There's a fine line between being eccentric and being intolerable. This album rides that line, with indie-emo songs that drip with pseudo-literary pretension, balanced with bedroom pop hooks that make the whole thing feel like an impenetrable tome with a velvet cover. This album wouldn't be so great if their only other record wasn't so terrible. I like that it's a fluke for them, and for me.
45. Avantasia - The Metal Opera, Pt II
To this day, I don't know the storyline of this record, nor do I care. All that matters is that this is the record that stands out from my power metal phase above all others. I can't entirely explain why, but for a moment in time this is the road I thought I was going down. It was a detour, but it's nice to have a souvenir.
44. Tonic - Sugar
This is the album that convinced me I needed to listen to Tonic, but the entry point is where I may be personally furthest from these days. I still think so fondly of the days I was obsessed with this record, and the highlights are stone-cold classics, but the whole package has gotten a bit heavier to carry.
43. Soen - Lotus
'Modern metal' is one of those terms that is abused to describe the countless ways the genre has fractured. Soen is what I had hoped it would become more often. No other current band has figured out how to be heavy, rhythmic, melodic, and emotional at the same time the way that Soen has. This album is the best metal has gotten in many years.
42. Bab Catley - Immortal
There are voices you love that are saddled with bands you don't. Bob Catley is one of those, as Magnum is only 'meh' most of the time. This solo album is a melodic gem of metal glory, and about as perfect an example of the format as there is.
41. Trouble - Trouble (1990)
Maybe my favorite 'guitar album' ever. The walls of riffs are great on their own, but the acquired taste of Eric Wagner sets it over the top. This is doom that can't sound sinister if their lives depended on it, which makes it all the more fun.
40. Killswitch Engage - The End Of Heartache
I heard about this through away messages on AOL Instant Messenger (yes, that's how old I am), and I didn't 'get it' until much later. While metalcore was never my thing, the operatic nature of Howard Jones' voice made this emotional metal unlike much else. It still is.
39. My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade
I settled on this being the 'album of my generation', not "American Idiot", so it's only fitting it makes the list. MCR is maybe the only band that got better, and more focused, by having a narrative driving the music. It's a wild ride, and the epic ending is one of those glorious moments I always want to come back to.
38. Dream Theater - A Dramatic Turn Of Events
I'm not one for prog, or music meant to impress me through skill alone, but there was one moment when Dream Theater managed to focus all of that into amazing songs. When I need an album that can sweep me up in something epic, this fits the bill.
37. Jorn Lande & Trond Holter - Dracula: Swing Of Death
This might be the most ridiculous album sitting on my shelf. It's the 60s Batman version of the story of Dracula, and the absurdity of the whole thing is what makes it work. Everyone needs a bit of camp in their lives from time to time, and this is my favorite example of it.
36. Blues Traveler - Travelers & Thieves
I avoided this album for decades, but I can't deny that I have in many ways lived the experience of "Sweet Pain", and it's allusions to Cyrano. The album and its sarcastic allusions are the sort of thing that get better with age, and I'm now old enough to appreciate that I needed time to learn this.
35. Elvis Costello - When I Was Cruel
This is the album that introduced me to Elvis, so it holds a sentimental place, even if I can see the holes in the curtain. I remember asking myself, "Who writes like this?" That's a complicated answer, but the gist is that figuring that out was a journey I needed to take.
34. Graveyard - Graveyard
My favorite guitar tone ever is the on the chunky riff of "Don't Take Us For Fools". Graveyard somehow came to life fully formed, sounding as much themselves on their debut as they ever would. The flaws in the production make the electricity bristle even more, which only heightens the excitement.
33. Alyson Avenue - Presence Of Mind
Few albums are better for bright sunny days than this one. Melodic rock is not done better very often, and the saturated guitars pair with Anette Olzon's piercing voice to make a record that is as sharp as the sun's rays cutting through the glass of a window.
32. Elton John - Peachtree Road
He wasn't making hits, but Elton's late-career surge led to what I think is his best record. This one might sound 'old' to some, but it's the maturity of a lived-in life that makes it more exciting than singing about rockets and crocodiles.
31. Bruce Dickinson - The Chemical Wedding
Sorry to Iron Maiden, but I like Bruce's classic trilogy better than any of their work. This is the crowning achievement of them all, the conceptual piece fusing William Blake's art and poetry with the grandeur of epic metal. It's one of the greatest statements of metal's worth as art.
30. Dan Swano - Moontower
I still like the description of this as 'if Rush played death metal', but that isn't enough, since both Rush and most death metal don't appeal to me at all. What this record truly captures is the ability to make guttural music that retains amazing melodies, which I have never heard done again. It's a one-off I am lucky to have stumbled across.
29. Halestorm - Vicious
This is one of those albums that hits me in ways I can't describe. I shouldn't love it as much as I do, but Lzzy's fire burns hot enough to keep any song from getting cold. There are moments of vocal brilliance I'm not sure she will ever hit again, and maybe that's why it sounds so good to my ears.
28. Edguy - Tinnitus Sanctus
Can you write a song about an aardvark that doesn't sound like a joke? Apparently you can, because Tobi did it on this record. The fact that he made a power metal record that is as tongue-in-cheek as ever, but turned it into a heavier examination of the genre's dark side, is the sort of thing that makes me love it more than anything else the genre has offered.
27. Emerson Hart - Cigarettes & Gasoline
This album was one of the first times I thought about the art of songwriting as a kaleidoscope, in how it presents pieces of Emerson that the songs he wrote for Tonic didn't quite accomplish. From the songs here I absolutely adore, I may have been pointed in the direction of being unabashedly myself.
26. Elvis Costello - My Aim Is True
Few albums have ever opened with a better line than, "Now that your picture's in the paper being rhythmically admired." If that doesn't tell you that this record is perfect for me, I don't know what else I can say.
25. Graveyard - Lights Out
I have never done better than my initial description of this album, which was as a time capsule that lets people like me understand what it must have been like to live in the time of classic rock. This is one of those records that sounds unspectacular, until you realize how hard it is to pull the trick off.
24. Sign Of 4 - Dancing With St Peter
When a voice isn't what it used to be, it can occasionally turn into something even better. That happened for Phil Mogg, who never sounded better than his slightly weathered voice does on this album, which also happens to be the most melodic record I've ever heard from him. It is a mature version of his oddball shtick, and the only time it seems to work for me.
23. Halestorm - Halestorm
Lzzy is on the shortest of short lists of voices that have spoken to me on a higher plane. This record might be contrived, and manufactured by songwriters, but that's also what is so great about it. These are the tightest, hookiest songs Lzzy has ever sung, and never dull a bit despite how many times I have listened to them.
22. Dilana - Beautiful Monster
This album opened up new worlds to me, both in emotion and friendship. Unfortunately, there are many times I wish it hadn't been so successful in that endeavor, and as such I find myself listening to it less often. There are times I don't want to feel, and I can't help it when this is playing.
21. Fall Out Boy - From Under The Cork Tree
There is a side of me that is cringe-inducing, and tries too hard to be clever. That is exactly what this record is, and I think that's why I love it so much. The language is tortured, and full of way too much ego, but the absurdity of something so fake being 'emo' amuses me as much as the hooks stick in my mind.
20. Graham Colton Band - Drive
The band recently recorded their first new song in twenty years, but this record was a moment in time that I can't explain in more objective terms. It was the right album at the right time, and would rank even higher if a particular favorite song of mine from their EP made the record.
19. Kelly Clarkson - Breakaway
I always cite this as the reason I don't like modern pop music. Kelly's voice is a marvel, yes, but the rocking pop of these songs is near perfection. When I need music to be fun, there aren't many better choices available.
18. Meat Loaf - Couldn't Have Said It Better
Meat Loaf is more than Jim Steinman, and this record is the prime example. The pastiches written for him are glorious, and update the formula for one last gasp of greatness before his voice and taste both started to decline.
17. Black Sabbath - Heaven & Hell
Ronnie James Dio. That's all I need to say. The greatest voice in metal at the height of his powers, with a version of Black Sabbath that needed to show they were more than people thought. This record is epic and beautiful, powerful and thoughtful.
16. Graveyard - Hisingen Blues
This is as close as I've come to understanding both the blues and classic rock. Graveyard is one of those bands that feels timeless, and with that, essential. They are less obvious, but more foundational.
15. Weezer - Pinkerton
This one is problematic, but I think I can still enjoy it so long as I recognize it as a cautionary tale. The record is the story of a horrible person, and from one angle reminds me there are worse ways I could have turned out. I could have turned out to be a fan who likes everything Weezer has done. Ugh, perish the thought.
14. The Jayhawks - Hollywood Town Hall
Though it was always ill-fated, I once attempted to work on a collaborative project because of how much the intertwined vocals of The Jayhawks were speaking to me. There is something universal to the simplicity of the songwriting, and the connected spirit of two voices.
13. Jimmy Eat World - Chase This Light
How I went fifteen years thinking this album was a disappointment is a mystery. Now that I have come to understand it, my affection has been growing by leaps and bounds. "Dizzy" has become a song of the dearest importance to me, and I look for music that can pull me back into a proper orbit. This one can.
12. Dilana - InsideOut
My favorite voice in the world, and here singing my favorite song ever. I don't need to say more, but this flawed album is the illustration of human complication, and how puzzle pieces can be as jagged as the imagination allows, but they will still fit together if they belong. I like to imagine she and I are still that.
11. Dave Matthews Band - The Lillywhite Sessions
An album that never got released because it was too much of a 'sad bastard' record sounds perfect for me, doesn't it? The unfinished nature only plays into its strength, where it serves to remind us that the raw expression can be far more real than what it gets turned into later.
10. Tonic - Lemon Parade
While this has been drifting slowly down the list, I can never articulate what it has meant to me, because I would not be a musician without this album. While I don't live in that same sense of post-grunge haze anymore, the spark of inspiration still burns when I listen to this album.
9. Meat Loaf - Bat Out Of Hell
The first line I ever heard that I wish I wrote was "I'm praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you." I didn't know just how much Steinman's music would come to define my psyche, but it's hard for me to think about this record without feeling the sense of wonder I did as a kid who didn't understand what he was listening to.
8. Green Day - Warning
While others will gravitate to "Dookie" or "American Idiot", the subversive power-pop of this record remains Green Day's most alluring offering. Infectious songs that balance snark and sentiment show the band at their least obnoxious, and only get better the more I listen to them.
7. Matchbox Twenty - Yourself Or Someone Like You
Much of my life consists of realizing things much too late. The angst of this record, when compared to those that followed, is one of those things. I was drawn to this album, then pushed it away, only to come back to it. I did so because it is angrier than it seems, which I could probably say about myself right now.
6. Elvis Costello - King Of America
If brevity is the soul of wit, simplicity is the soul of music. This record is sparse, mostly acoustic, and a showcase for how all you need for a great song is a couple of chords, a lyric, and a melody. I learned much from Elvis on this record, and it still reminds me of truths when I forget them.
5. Blues Traveler - Four
I never saw it coming that young me was enthralled with an album of bitter complaints and plaintive yearning. It makes total sense now, as I am much the person John Popper was when he wrote these songs. This is the bitter pill we take to wash away the saccharine aftertaste of trying to be who we are supposed to be.
4. Tonic - Head On Straight
I have come to realize atmosphere means more to me than I thought. This record is proof, as it is the amped up guitars that put the power in power-pop. It isn't Tonic's most important record, but it's the most important to me, because it solidified their place in my life, and set the stage for much of my music exploration thereafter.
3. Meat Loaf - Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell
The album that made me a music fan continues to amaze me. Every year, I see more of myself in Jim Steinman's music, and that terrifies me in many ways. I revel in the melodrama, because my own life has nothing of the sort to offer.
2. The Wallflowers - Breach
Despite my failings and drought, I still consider myself a songwriter at heart. No record has done more to push me in that direction, and hone my skills, than this one. It is my north star, the words I have spent two decades trying to re-write as my own. Forget Bob, this is the best work of any Dylan.
1. Jimmy Eat World - Futures
In difficult times, there is no record I reach for more than this one. It has become my 'comfort food', so to speak, where the atmosphere is that of the night sky; specks of hope sparkling in the blanket of darkness. This was already my favorite album, but it has become essential. This sound echoes the empty feelings I deal with, trying to fill that void with the power and beauty of music.
As I have said before, timing is an element of success we don't often give as much due as we should. No matter how good an album might be, if we hear it at the wrong time, it isn't going to be able to reach us the way it might have at a different point in our lives. That has happened to me, as I'm sure it has happened to everyone. As I've been spending more time listening back to older albums rather than uninspiring new releases, a few examples of that phenomenon have come to mind. Having albums become new favorites is a welcome development, but they raise more questions about how much is still out there timing ripped away from me.
I say this because Ricky Warwick's new solo album is, in the words of the press materials, full of "big cathartic guitar sounds and life-affirming, often joyous assessments" of life. This is not the moment in time where such things speak to me at all.
When someone going through a hard time is told either that everything is 'a plan', or things work out if you want them hard enough, what they're actually being told is their pain is necessary, or is at least their own fault. It's a cruel thing to say, and the worst part is that the people who think they are doling out good advice have absolutely no idea what they're saying. Optimists are, in my experience, incapable of understanding that things don't always work out for everyone. Ricky's optimistic album is a nice triumph for him, but it rubs happiness in the faces of those who are not so lucky.
I don't know if it is a figment of my imagination, or if production trends have indeed changed in recent times, but this record takes the sound I've heard on the Black Star Riders albums and turns on extra reverb and echo. It gives the entire album a slight queasy feeling, as everything lingers just a millisecond longer than it should, and those big guitar sounds blur into a soft wash of noise. It means the whole thing lacks the bits you would expect from a record with punk roots.
The worst element comes in the duet with Lita Ford. When her vocals come in, the slurred rasp of her delivery is mixed with the heavy over-use of effects, so much so it sounds a bit like she is having a stroke while singing. That gets better as she pushes more power later on, but by then I've already decided I don't want to hear that tone again. It's not pleasant to listen to.
Over the rest of the album, Ricky delivers more songs that fit snugly into our expectations. While there are slight detours, like the strumming of the riff in "Don't Sell Your Soul To Fall In Love", the majority of the record is so indicative of Ricky's phrasing that there are a few times I get a sense of deja vu. That happened the last time I listened to one of his records as well.
That means the takeaway is the same as every other time; Ricky Warwick makes records that are enjoyable bits of melodic punky rock, but you probably only need to have one of them. I first heard the debut Black Star Riders album, and since then none of the following records Ricky has been associated has been able to outshine that one. They either lack inspiration, or they do the exact same thing. This record might have a bit of both factors.
To get back to the point I started out with, all of this needs to be taken into context. This is the wrong album for the wrong person at the wrong time. Maybe I would be more generous to the record if I was hearing it at a different time. We'll never know. All I can do is be honest, and explain why I'm thinking the way I am about it.
Today, we have a few records that need to be talked about, but that I didn't feel needed to be expanded into full reviews. I don't need a lot of words to say what I need to say about these.
Bob Mould - Here We Go Crazy
Whether talk is about Sugar or his solo work, people describe Bob Mould's music as being a form of power-pop. As I listen to this solo album, even more than the last couple, I'm not sure I quite understand what other people are hearing. The saturated guitars and nearly unrelenting wall of distortion sets the power part of that equation, but the pop aspect is lost on me. With his awkward voice, lack of backing vocals, and droning melodies, nothing about this sounds infectious of hooky to my ears.
I liked "Sunshine Rock" a fair bit when it came out. There were songs on that record that stuck out to me, and the atmosphere of his sound was something new and interesting. As each album has now followed, it has become incredibly one-note, and this time it cannot overcome the lack of great songs. The melodies on this record are never appealing, and his voice struggles to cut through the mix. Some of that would be acceptable if the guitars were picking up the slack with interesting riffs, but Mould's style is ringing chords that are merely a backdrop. The melodies need to do more heavy lifting, and he doesn't have the songs for it.
When he released "Neanderthal" as a single, I had a feeling this record was going to be a struggle for me. I was right, sadly.
Lady Gaga - Mayhem
I have been questioning my ears lately, and Lady Gaga is feeding into that mass of doubt. This record of hers is a dirty, noisy mess of songs that are a bit like looking back at the past through a dirty rear-view mirror. There are self-referential bits that come across as being far more than a wink-and-nod, and instead feel like recycling ideas because there isn't anything left in the artistic quiver. The gibberish of "Bad Romance" crops up on "Abracadabra", which makes it a truly awful choice to have been a single. Leading with the most creatively bereft song gave us the wrong impression... or more accurately, perhaps the right impression.
The songs that are dance-pop fail spectacularly, as the club beats are buried in fuzz and grit, eschewing all the shine and fun that dancing the night away is supposed to entail. You want to end up a sweaty mess, you don't want to hear a sweaty mess. That's the thing about this record; it sounds like the result of stress and sweat trying harder than ever to come up with ideas that just weren't there. The songs that are closer to Gaga's singer-songwriter roots are not just welcome reprieves, but reminders of how good she can be. The costume of 'Lady Gaga' has always held her back from being the artist she wants to be, and the pop facade has never felt more hollow than it does here.
Much like Miley Cyrus' last album, there are a handful of songs here that could make a very good EP of torch songs. Unfortunately, the rest of the album kowtows to the tropes of modern pop, and makes sitting through the whole record a punishment I'm not willing to inflict on myself more than was necessary to write these words.
Spiritbox - Tsunami Sea
Someone is going to have to explain the appeal of these kinds of bands to me. I have heard all the hype about Spiritbox, with all the people who called their first album one of the best records in years, and I didn't get it. I tried listening to that album, and I found it entirely fine. The hype never died, so I figured I would give them another chance, to see if perhaps I had merely been in the wrong frame of mind when I first encountered them. Nope.
There are two sides to Spiritbox. There are the songs that are full-throated rage, and the songs that are soft and ethereal textures. Neither of them comes along with compelling songs. The heavy songs survive on riffs that hit a groove, but there is barely any movement to the guitar parts at all, so it's as monotonous as waves hitting the side of your boat. The screaming is just as lifeless, shredding Courtney's throat in ways that sound like they say absolutely nothing.
The ethereal songs are no better, as she often coos flat selections of notes that are intended to sound pretty, not compelling. Together, it makes the album a long exercise in how long you can endure without hearing a single melodic phrase worth coming back to. People are going to praise this to the heavens, and I just don't get it at all.
