Quick Reviews: John Popper & Ann Wilson

Quite the unexpected combination of albums to talk about today.

John Popper & Jono Manson - Cabin Fever

It's been quite a while since John Popper engaged in a solo endeavor, and this one is a surprise, both in the music it delivers and the fact it exists at all. Considering that Blues Traveler's last album was covers, and their next album is slated to be covers, I figured the desire to make new music was drying up. So to hear a new record was coming along caught me off-guard. And considering that last one, John Popper & The Duskray Troubadors, was as good as it was, that means this should be a highlight of the year.

Unfortunately, it isn't. The name Blues Traveler has always been a bit of a misnomer, since there was very little blues in their sound, and it was my least favorite stuff when it did pop up. This record leans more into the blues and old Americana folk, and because of that I'm at a bit of a loss to explain my feelings toward it. While I'm always happy to hear something new from Popper, this record feels so much like a relic of history I can hear the dust in the grooves.

I've never been fond of the traditional blues structure, where we hear the same basic melody time and time again, and this record has some of that. It also has plenty of slow-moving music that is sparse, and puts the attention on lyrics that tell a story I can't bring myself to care about. All of the usual charm I associate with Popper is absent from this record, and while I'm sure it will be more enjoyable for people who love the blues and the music that inspired this bootlegging story, but that isn't me.

This is a big disappointment.

Ann Wilson & Tripsitter - Another Door

There aren't many vocalists who have ever had a better voice than Ann Wilson. Even today, her voice sounds fantastic throughout the songs on this record. Her instrument has never been in question, and she is almost always the highlight of whatever she is doing. That is both a good and a bad thing, because while it does speak to the enormous respect she deserves as a vocalist, it also speaks to the... lackluster nature of some of the material she has been singing, especially recently.

This record is frustrating because it does so little with such a magnificent voice. It's a rather slow and plodding record, but even that isn't the problem. If she wanted to focus on putting the clarity of her voice front and center, I would be on board with that. The problem is that few of these songs give her anything compelling to sing. They lack strong melodies, leaving her to push air out over an uncrossable expanse. Even with a massive voice, there are limits to how much can be accomplished.

Other than Ann's voice, there is simply nothing compelling about this record. When I hear the big Heart hits from the 80s, I still get a thrill, no matter how many times I've heard them. When I listen to this record, even with it being a totally new experience, my mind is wandering. I hate to say it, but this record just leaves me sad.

Singles Roundup: Temperance, Miley Cyrus, Art Of Anarchy, & Creeper

It's an angry day here in the singles department.

Temperance – Daruma/No Return

Only one band might be better at hyper-pop metal than Temperance, which means a new album is a big deal. I remember being blown away by "Of Jupiters And Moons", and while the music since hasn't been able to hit me the same way, it's always nice to get another dose of expertly crafted melody. The first two singles from their upcoming record are out, and they continue the trend I've noticed. Each album since I discovered them has been just a bit less interesting than the last. In fact, I was struggling to remember the previous album when this one was announced. After hearing the songs, I understand why. The music whizzes by, and the melodies amp things up, all in a way that almost does too much. The same is true of the production, where the blending of the voices is flatter, and it's harder to pick out the individuals and the way they interact. There just seems to be less drama to the music now, even if it sounds bigger. I'm sure the album will be good, but I'm not as excited as I should be.

Miley Cyrus – Used To Be Young

Oh, Miley. Not too long after "Endless Summer Vacation", she returns with a new single that's better than half of that album. This song not only delivers another fantastic vocal, but it fits right in with the half of the album I loved, which just makes me even more angry. If she could have settled on one sound (the good one), and delivered an entire album in that style, it might be one of the best records of this disappointing year. She didn't, but this single shows she absolutely could have, since obviously there either were more songs written in that style already, or she's still interested in doing that. This song is great, but also terrible, because it makes the "What if?" even louder and harder to ignore.

Art Of Anarchy – Vilified

Album number three from this band means a third different singer. So is it even a band at this point? The problem this time is that by bringing in Jeff Scott Soto, teaming him with Bumblefoot's guitar, this sounds like a discount version of Sons Of Apollo. And considering I don't think that band is all that great to begin with, a lesser version of them is even less interesting. The biggest issue is that this can't possibly feel like a band, as each album features a completely different lineup and sound. It's difficult for me to get invested when history tells me this album will come out, the band will go quiet for a few more years, and if they ever come back it will be in a completely different form. Is this song good enough to make that worth it? Hell no.

Creeper – Black Heaven

Creeper, Creeper, Creeper. You were doing so well, and then you fell victim to 80s garbage nostalgia. I wasn't sold on the first two singles, but now I'm dreading listening to the album. This song is so bad, I have no more hope the record is going to be a contender. This one borrows from 80s goth, which means a synthetic drum beat and croaked vocals that have never heard of the idea of melody. This also makes me a bit angry, since they've dedicated the album to Jim Steinman, who is my foremost musical hero. It's insulting to attach his name to a song this worthless. Boo, Creeper. Boo.

Double Album Review: Graveyard - 6

D.M: For just a second, great fears were realized.  The first listening of Graveyard’s newest full-length, “6,” yielded no great epiphanies.  It sounded like a tired record, treading old ground with less enthusiasm than in years past.  Could this be the end of the arc of Graveyard’s silently monumental impact on the rock scene? 

Have patience.  Stay the course.  Stop multitasking.  Listen. 

 

That’s when “6” opens its petals to the rain, ever so deliberately and with great care, blossoming into another entry in the ongoing pantheon of great Graveyard music.  The maturity of the band and the return of producer Don Ahlsterberg blend together to give audiences the band at their most cinematic. 

Skip the first two cuts.  Go ahead, you’re not missing anything there.  Then sit back for “I Follow You,” and languish in the stew of plodding blues sensibilities. Picture the rain-drenched city streets on an overcast, black night, music pouring out of a dozen ill-reputed houses of libation, the crowds milling about, everyone at their own pace, possessed of a hundred different reasons and intents.  The song never feels balanced, which is an odd trait for a blues song, but works to the advantage here. 

 

It does deserve to be said, as the album careens headlong into the soft insistence of “Breathe In, Breathe Out”: if someone were to call this album “Peace, Part II,” it’s hard to argue that’s not true to a degree.  There are a lot of cuts here that sound very similar to “Del Manic” or “Bird of Paradise.”  “Breathe In, Breathe Out” is the most prevalent of these examples, but if the album’s worst sin is that emulates previous success rather than evolves from it, that’s hardly a complaint. 

 

The singing of Truls Mörck has been a source of some division among Graveyard fans since the experiment began (you know who you are,) but his minor-key, bitten crooning works especially well for the tenor of “Sad Song,” especially when accompanied by the piano deep in the background.   

Graveyard has always been at their best in their slow burns, dating back to “No Good, Mr. Holden.”  The trend has been the band’s lifeblood for every album since, be it the melancholic “Slow Motion Countdown” or the dramatic “Too Much Is Not Enough,” or the aforementioned “Del Manic.”  For “6,” the rich tradition continues with “No Way Out,” a song that begins low and easy, building layer upon layer until the listener is enveloped in warm analog tones, surrounded by a blanket of the best blues rock on the market today. 

 

It also bears mentioning that if those are the Graveyard songs that you’ve always enjoyed best, “6” will be even more rewarding for you, as the album is content to proceed at a wallowing pace, certainly more than we’ve heard from them in their career, and definitely more than we heard most recently with the shattering bombast of “Peace.”  “6,” good, bad or indifferent, simply doesn’t possess the same virile bite of the albums that precede it. 

 

As discussed at the top though, this is Graveyard at their most cinematic.  These songs craft images; are meant to be played in the corners of smoky lounges with shifty characters enjoying mellow whiskey and expensive cigars in the forbidden hours of the morning.  This is Graveyard’s deepest, most atmospheric album to date, and it should not be missed.  Be patient.  Listen. 

----

Chris C: They say you can never go home again. It's an adage of warning, but there is truth to what is being said. Everything from the past is a moment in time, and it cannot be recaptured, no matter how much you try to set the stage in the same way. We are simply not the same people we were in the past, so it all becomes an act. Some of us are better performers than others, but it doesn't change the underlying principal.

Five years after "Peace" changed the Graveyard sound, the band has reunited with the producer of their first three records. The sonic texture is unmistakable as early Graveyard, but is that enough to convince us we've gone back in time? Those records are among my favorite rock records of the last fifteen years, so I certainly would like to answer to be yes, but I'm also smart enough to know when an illusion is skill and when it is a gimmick.

As mentioned, this record sounds like classic Graveyard. The noisier guitars and crushing loudness of "Peace" is replaced by the more natural fuzz of their earliest works, which is a most welcome development. Graveyard is a band of dynamics, and the ensuing years have led me to believe the tones on "Peace" did not allow for as much light and shade as Graveyard requires. They are not a 'heavy' band, and trying to be one limited the scope of what they are capable of. That has been corrected here, as the sound is back to being as timeless as can be.

Now comes the big question; Five years after "Peace", and an additional four years on from "Innocence & Decadence", does Graveyard still carve songs out of rock with the precision of a diamond blade? The worrying trend is how the first three records came so quickly, but now the band is taking longer and longer between records. From my own experiences, I know there comes a point where ideas are harder to find, and the music isn't the same when you have to work harder to pull it out of yourself.

If that is the case, Graveyard has masked it well. The time spent making this record has been productive, as the band mines the more contemplative side of psych-rock, producing songs that prefer to play to the low lights of a late-night crowd, as opposed to screaming over the raucous cheers of a not yet inebriated audience. Joakim doesn't use the bellowing power of his voice as often, and at times barely sounds like himself, but it's what the songs require. Other than moments like the crecendo of "I Follow You", the band is playing with restraint, and not pushing the speakers to their limits.

On first blush, some listeners might be underwhelmed. Rock is not known for its nuance, and this record does not hit you over the head with its power. These songs take time to unfold and reveal themselves, for the melodies to unravel from the production and get pulled out by your memory. These are the kinds of records that have staying power, because you couldn't hear everything right away. Graveyard requires us to dig a bit to find the gems, but they are waiting for us if we put in the effort.

The pure soul backing vocals in "Breathe In Breathe Out" call back to "Innocence & Decadence", and it's that record which serves as the prism by which this one makes the most sense. The production might go back further, but the band's light touch, and focus on mood and feeling, is pulled from that one. "Hisingen Blues" and "Lights Out" have always felt like a pair to me, and not just because of how quickly they were released one after the other. Similarly, "6" does feel like a spiritual successor to "Innocence & Decadence", which also means this feels like the Graveyard album we should have gotten five years ago.

I don't mean to say that "Peace" was a mistake, but it is the one time Graveyard didn't feel authentic. As much as I love the band, I have gone back to revisit that record less than any of the others, and by an order of magnitude.

"6" is a statement that Graveyard is back to being Graveyard, and there isn't much more we can ask for than that. Graveyard is special, as they are one of the select few band mining the past who are able to bring classic rock into the modern day without it sounding like an act. If the blues is truly timeless, Graveyard is the link between the past and the future. And like all chains, we are only as strong as our weakest link. For Graveyard, that was "Peace", and "6" goes a long way to welding shut whatever hole may have been opening.

No, Graveyard is not going to rock our faces off, but that's not what I want them to do. They play with a fuller palate, and like an old noir movie, mood can be just as important as the plot. Graveyard have recaptured their signature sound, and it makes for a most welcome return.

The long wait required patience, but it has been rewarded.

Album Review: Apostolica - Animae Haeretica

Sometimes my mind goes off on the oddest of tangents. When I saw a new Apostolica album come across my desk, I thought back to their first album. That record was quite good, and in some ways did elements of Powerwolf's sound even better than the original. But what I was thinking about is the nature of 'mysterious' bands, and why they choose to shroud themselves in anonymity. Maybe it's all just an issue of contracts with record labels requiring them not to compete with their own other bands, but I wonder if there's also some hedging of their bets involved. Do these musicians not put their name on these bands in case they don't succeed? It's an interesting question, I think.

It's also not really relevant to what is going on here.

With album number two, a major problem comes to the forefront within the first two minutes. Billed as a concept album based on the beliefs of the Apostolics, the combination of vocal delivery and ultra-layered choirs renders many of the lyrics completely indecipherable. As I've said many times before, if you have something you're trying to actually say with your songs, you've utterly failed if the lyrics can't be understood. Even if it's all an in-joke that the group's beliefs never made any sense, it makes for a frustrating album for us as listeners.

Things get going with "Rasputin", where the mix of groove and swell the back half of the debut record mastered shows up once again. It's very much in the Powerwolf playbook, but anyone who can do it as well as they can deserves plenty of credit. Compared to when I felt like Bloodbound was copying that sound, Apostolica has done it far better.

That's potential. Reality is that they don't hit that mark nearly as often as they should. Like their first album, the front half of this one is lacking in the kind of massive hooks necessary to make this a power metal feast. The melodies are 'big', but in the sense they amp up the volume on flat and boring lines. That doesn't make them any more interesting, or any stickier. Those are the 'filler' tracks on an album, and to string so many of them at the start of the record pretty much kills my interest before there's a chance for better material to win me over.

Just take "Gloria" as an example. It starts off with some crunchy and heavy guitars, and an aggressive vocal that fits the bill. Then the chorus comes along, and every line is a choir shouting "Gloria". It's too short and simple a word to get much melodic movement going, and I grow bored by the time the chorus is over. That's not a good thing to say about the hook of your song.

The whole of the album can be summed up as being similar to the debut, but weaker in every regard. They try to be bigger and heavier, but it leads to an album with less hooks and worse vocals. Compared to what Powerwolf does, Apostolica has yet to master the ability to put a fist-pumping hook into every song. Drama is great, but it needs something behind the curtain. This time around, I can see through the staging to how cheaply constructed the scenery is.

Go listen to their first album instead of this one. You'll be much better off doing so.

Album Review: Baroness - Stone

With this new album, Baroness has broken tradition, and I have (sort of) broken my word. For the band, they have finally abandoned their color theme, with this being their first album to have a traditional title. For me, I pretty much swore I was done with the band after being truly angry at how unlistenable the production made their last two albums. But I've heard there were new choices made this time around, so being the glutton for punishment I am, a bit of investigation might be worth the effort. And so here we are, with me wading into troubled waters once again.

We had might as well start with the biggest point of contention I have with Baroness; their insistence on making distorted records that are an utter failure of basic production. I thought I loved "Purple" when it came out, only to find I got a migraine when I tried to go back and listen to it. "Gold & Grey" was just as distorted, and I was smart enough to avoid ever listening to it again. You can call it an artistic choice if you want to, but putting out a record that sounds like absolute crap is an insult to your audience. There's no way of sugar-coating that. I felt like Baroness was giving me the finger, and laughing at me for even trying to listen to their songs.

This record is a bit better. It doesn't clip and distort as painfully as its predecessors, but the band still gravitates toward guitar tones that sound filthy to the point of being uncomfortable. It sounds like there's something wrong with the amps, as they aren't usually supposed to sound like that. It's made even worse by the fact the band spends so much time playing with soft tones and ambient beauty, which only makes the crust stand out even more when it gets broken over our heads. We all hear things differently, I guess, and Baroness is a prime example of that.

As for the music itself, I'm not entirely sure what to make of this record. There are some beautiful moments and guitar melodies, but I don't hear a lot of connective tissue holding them together as songs. Every time the band tries to get heavy, it feels like the life gets sucked out of the songs. Despite their reputation, and their image, Baroness is a lot better as a soft band than a heavy one. Just look at "Beneath The Rose". The verses with the chugging guitars and the alternating spoken/barked vocals are rather tedious and boring, and then there's a swelling chorus with a booming vocal and acoustic guitar strumming that feels like an entirely different world. That's the one I want to spend my time in, because that's the one where the songs are big and memorable.

I certainly don't want to listen to "Choir", which spends four minutes meditating on a spoken/shouted delivery in between bare-bones music, barely sounding like a song at all. I used the word 'meditating' there, partly because it gives me the same numbing feeling as listening to someone chanting "Om" again and again. I don't understand the point of the song, or what idea in there the band thought was so good it needed to be put on the record. And considering that it's followed up by a one-minute transition piece, the middle of the record is a giant lull that feels like a roller-coaster designed in reverse. It just doesn't work.

My biggest issue with this record is that it doesn't feel fully developed. With two interlude pieces, the aforementioned "Choir", and another short and pointless track in "Anodyne", there aren't that many fleshed-out songs that deliver on the good things Baroness can do. And don't get me wrong; Baroness can do good things. There's a reason I still hold out hope they'll one day re-mix "Purple".

This record sure ain't "Purple".

25 Years of Hellbilly Deluxe

Recently I had occasion to see Rob Zombie in concert, and he was talking about the 25th anniversary of his album “Hellbilly Deluxe” and it got me to thinking: what is it about that album? It still resonates after so many years without fading.  Certainly it’s surrounded by contemporary albums of similar or even greater success (some of the works of Marilyn Manson come to mind.) Rammstein, Korn, a few others that were contemporaries of Rob Zombie at that time all had their moment or moments.  But it’s interesting that most of them have faded, or been forgotten, and even Rob to some degree isn’t at the apex that he used to be.  It should be noted for context, it’s easy to forget that at the time of the release of “Hellbilly Deluxe,” there was a brief moment for the next two or three years where Rob Zombie was on an even playing field with names like Metallica.  Now, Metallica was at the nadir of their mainstream popularity at that moment. Even so, Rob Zombie was in the same sentence as the mighty Met, and a large part of that was due to the release of “Hellbilly Deluxe,” which, of course was possessed of such superior singles as “Superbeast” and the omnipresent “Dragula” and “Living Dead Girl.”

There’s a certain gray area within “Hellbilly Deluxe” that obfuscates, albeit unintentionally, the transmutation of White Zombie into Rob Zombie.  After all, the transition into Rob Zombie as a solo artist seemed then, and seems now perhaps, like a lateral move whose motives even 25 years on remain somewhat unclear.

Well, the differences between “Hellbilly Deluxe,” and say, the hearty crust punk of “La Sexorcisto” are apparent, but much less evident to the undiscerning music fan would be the subtle variances between “Hellbilly Deluxe” and “Astrocreep 2000.” It’s entirely possible that there is little to no difference between those latter two albums, excepting the fact that there’s a different name on the cover, and that Zombie’s solo effort certainly stays more true to a single theme

Nevertheless, the fact remains that when one thinks of Rob Zombie, with the exception of the superlative single “More Human Than Human” and maybe, maybe for learned fans “Thunderkiss 65,” all of Rob Zombie‘s most memorable moments come from “Hellbilly Deluxe.“

Fine, I will allow that there is a case that “Feel So Numb” belongs on the list of Rob‘s most memorable musical moments, but even that fails to gain the popularity of even White Zombie’s pinnacle hits.  (And boy, “Feel So Numb” has a great video, but man, it is a product of the precise moment when it made.)

With that said, then, what is it about hillbilly deluxe that makes us remember it as a separate paragon of the Zombie catalog?  What establishes it as being just as vital and unique as it was then?  Contemporaries that we’ve already mentioned notwithstanding, no one had ever really heard an album like this in 1998 and yet it seems to be the apex of what it was that Rob was building from his early days slugging it out in dirty punk clubs in New York City.   Even with that, so much of the metal from the late ‘90s hasn’t aged particularly well (looking at you, Fred Durst,) and has to some degree become the subject of satire, while “Hellbilly Deluxe” sounds just as nouveau now, and remains in a class entirely unto itself.

One of the things that Rob Zombie has always been so adroit at is the ability to make his music discernible by more than its riff.  “More Human Than Human” is the classic example of this, a radio-ready metal banger known for its beat, but that momentum carries forward into all of the greatest moments of the album we’re talking about.  And with the exception of “Superbeast,” known so well for the screaming held notes that fly over the top of the proceedings from jump, that really remains the case for all of Rob‘s first solo effort especially when you get into the lesser known tracks like “Demonoid Phenomenon” or “Meet the Creeper.” Yes, it’s true, the riffs are part and parcel to the beat in many ways,  but it’s not the rift that creates the idiomatic chug, the rift merely emboldens it.

And there were, as we mentioned, plenty of artists who were experimenting with the same basic principle at the same time, and this was even before djent became a popular and much debated topic. But what makes “Hellbilly Deluxe” stand out from all those albums around it, and I think what makes it withstand the test of time is not just the majesty of unusual sampling and indecipherably absurd lyrics about demons and wizards and possession, is that there’s a sense of joy here.  Whether or not you agree that this is Rob Zombie‘s best musical album (even I personally don’t believe it. I prefer “Astrocreep 2000” as a top to bottom effort,) it’s undeniable that what we see showcased here is Rob Zombie exhibiting alpha Rob Zombie.  That’s really how we got here, if we’re being honest.  Rob’s spirit lends the album a character that none of those contemporary albums had, and that even Rob Zombie would never be able to replicate fully.  Nothing else from that time has that same sense of pure bliss coming from the mind of the creator.

And it seems insane to suggest that it could be something as indefinable as that which gilds this album around its edges, and prevents it from rusting, rotting, or decaying with the passage of a quarter century.  Yet I can find no other tangible explanation for why “Hellbilly Deluxe” should feel this way. 

With all that said, perhaps I’ve taken all of this time and valuable column space to say nothing.  Reading this back, it feels like there’s not really a central theme to my argument other than I enjoy this album, and a lot of other people do as well, and maybe that’s the purpose of this essay if I dare call it one.  “Hellbilly Deluxe,” with whatever formaldehyde seems to pump through its veins preventing its dissipation into the background void of music from days gone by, is simply a fun album that has few if any peers and is the pristine example of a sound that many others try to imitate, but nobody ever really found.  Certainly it makes one pine, however cynically, for the days when Rob’s music career was at the forefront of his mind. In the meantime, if you haven’t listened to “Hellbilly Deluxe” recently, go back and listen to it again you’ll be surprised how good it still sounds.

40 Songs For 40 Years

Time doesn't come in discrete packages, but rather like sunshine radiating constantly, whether we see it or not. For our own sanity, and to make sense of our lives, we break things up into periods more digestible for ourselves. The immensity of time can be too much, but if we focus on one day, one week, or one year at a time, we have a better chance of wrapping our heads around enough to say we understand.

When those years reach a round number, it's hard not to think back to the previous ones, to take stock of where life has been, and where it is headed. For this occasion, I could have tried to go back through the annuls of history and pick one song for every year of my life to tell my story. I could, but I won't. Instead, I've picked forty songs that are both among my favorites, and songs that have held great importance to me as both a person and musician.

I suppose this is the soundtrack to my life, much of which you've already heard me discuss before.

Meat Loaf - I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

Where better to start than at the beginning? I did not grow up in a musical house, and there was not an old pile of albums for me to dig through and discover music from. I only listened to whatever the hits of the day were on the radio, until this song hit me. As I think about it now, there is no reason why the ten year-old version of me was captivated by the overblown drama and lingering teenage angst of this song. It would be many years before I would truly understand what it was trying to tell me, and even then I was processing on a theoretical level. I laugh now at how Jim Steinman was able to get people singing along to the line, "some days it don't come at all, and these are the days that never end." Change the spelling just slightly, and it's no wonder why blue humor can sometimes be the first thought I have. I wouldn't be a music fan without this song, which means I wouldn't be the person I am either. Happenstance can direct so much of our lives, it seems.

Meat Loaf - Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad

That love of music developed from "Bat Out Of Hell II" back to its prequel. They were the first albums I owned, and I couldn't dare count how many times I've heard them over the years. While this isn't my favorite song from the original, the sarcasm of Steinman's writing has been a deep influence on my own personality. My writing has been described by my colleague here as 'sarcastic noir', and that is a direct reflection of my love for Steinman's music. He exposed me to a wealth of one-liners used to cover up the painful truths that anchor melodrama. With as ephemeral as love can feel, the idea "I want you, I need you, but there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you" might just define the human condition as well as anything ever has.

Tonic - If You Could Only See

A good portion of my self-image is wrapped up in being a creator in general, and a songwriter in particular. That all stems from this song, which is the reason I picked up a guitar in the first place. There was something about the tension and release of the acoustic/electric blend that captured my attention, and my own misinterpretation of the song let it resonate before I was really thinking about what lyrics meant to me. It was a song I felt drawn to, even before Tonic was my favorite band, and it was the song I felt I needed to play for myself. I don't know if it was the first song I managed to learn, but I did, and so much has flowed from that decision.

Tonic - You Wanted More

I would like to say I was smart enough to have heard "Lemon Parade" and declared Tonic my favorite band, but that's not how it went. The influences on that record went over my head, and it wasn't until "You Wanted More" popped up as a single that I fully bought in. I can still remember nodding my head to that riff, and asking for the album when it would be released. "Sugar" is not my favorite Tonic album, but hearing it is what made me re-evaluate "Lemon Parade", and what ultimately set me on my favorite band for the next at least twenty-odd years.

Blues Traveler – Hook

"Four" was the first CD I owned (those Meat Loaf albums were on cassette - ugh, I feel old now), and of course that was because of "Run Around" being such a hit, but it was also because my childhood friend would play the album when we were coming dangerously close to breaking ourselves on his trampoline. We rarely made it to "Hook", so that was a discovery I made for myself when I had the CD sitting in front of me. I didn't understand the cynicism of John Popper's lyric, nor did I know why more than one of my favorite songwriters had Peter Pan obsessions, but for someone who has trouble opening the doors to what is inside me, the message still got through. The idea of convincing someone merely through affectation was appealing, and it may have motivated me to take on guises that helped me figure some things out. Whistling along with the harmonica solo might have also been more than a little fun, even if it did sometimes trigger headaches. Ah, memories.

Dilana - Falling Apart

It says something about a song when you first hear a terribly recorded live version with blurry video and struggling audio, and yet you still know immediately the song is something special. I haven't seen that video in years, but I remember the red light bleeding over the entire image, and the way the mic clipped as it couldn't handle the volume of the performance. I also remember how I felt, completely mesmerized by a song that captured feelings I was already having, but couldn't yet explain. When she belts out "I'm so bloody fucked up", it was the beginning of a relationship stronger than any other I've had.

Dilana - When You're Around

Working backward to this song, I was led to the moment in time where everything became clear. I already loved Dilana, and knew hers was the voice that spoke to me like no other, but it was hearing the way it rattled my chest as I got lost in the details that gave me my realization. It was this song, and the room it gave for her voice to shine in the spotlight, that proved to me one of my favorite lines; her voice reverberates at the frequency of my soul. Some voices are able to shatter glass, while others are designed to shatter glass hearts. That is the magic of music, and few things have been as magical as the first time I heard this song.

Natalie Imbruglia - Torn

I know where my tastes lie, and much of that derives from this song. I was completely taken by it when it was released, and as I watched the video seemingly every time it would come on MTV or VH-1, I was learning about myself as much as anything. Natalie's breathy voice and 90s slacker look had a profound influence on me, pointing my sights in the direction they still gravitate toward. Most people would point to soul as the home of the sexiest music ever made, but for me, that's the role this song serves. It might be bland to many, and hard for anyone else to wrap their mind around, but this song is to me the sound the fires of passion make.

Matchbox Twenty - 3AM

It seems so stupid now, but younger me would be watching the weekly video countdown and rooting for songs to show up towards the top. It made no difference to anything, but back then I cared about sharing some sort of connection with other people, which largely came through music. When this song would pop up at #1, I would smile as I listened to the song for the god-knows-how-many-eth time. I had never been awake at three in the morning to know the feelings the song talked about, but I could imagine the fatigue of trying to maintain a smile long after your muscles have exhausted your energy. By the time I felt that hour for myself, it came with a comfortable familiarity.

Matchbox Twenty - Bent

Maybe I hung on tight to Matchbox Twenty because of the way people talked about them. Rob Thomas' voice was too weird to be on the charts, or there were the whispered rumors at least one friend threw out there despite such things not mattering at all. Despite their popularity, they felt like a band of outcasts, maybe a band for outcasts. They made it cool to feel uncool, and it was that guitar line at the start of the song which might have been the first bit of lead playing I ever learned to play. I needed a call-to-arms for the bent among us, and that's what I was given when I heard this for the first time. I still wonder if I'll ever get put together, so I was also ahead of my time when I first was given the thought.

The Wallflowers - One Headlight

I find the human voice endlessly fascinating. We all hear them differently, to the point where I often ask myself the philosophical question about whether we can even know we share the same experiences. That's more than I can dive into in this paragraph. While many would say Jakob Dylan can't sing all that well, as they did his father, from the first moment I heard this song, I was sold. Perhaps it was because I wanted to destroy my own voice, which would ideally give me that kind of tonal rasp. Whatever the case, hearing Jakob singing those cryptic lyrics over the radio began my relationship with one of my favorite bands, and it would ultimately lead me to something far more important than some albums I love. Case in point...

The Wallflowers - I've Been Delivered

There is one line I have spent more time than any other obsessing over. It's the one in this song where Jakob Dylan sings, "I can't fix something this complex any more than I can build a rose." Even though I was a dumb teenager at the time the record came out, the part of me that would become a poet heard something that awakened it. The image is so striking, and the thought so deep, it showed me much about the power of a lyric. I hadn't given too much thought to the poetry of rock music previous to that, and the decades of disappointment that have come thereafter are a side-effect for sure, but this song is the one that taught me how important a lyric can be. It isn't a great song otherwise, but the scattered imagery and inventive phrasing used throughout is a stream-of-consciousness bit of surrealism I have taken more than a little inspiration from.

Dave Matthews Band - Grey Street

I always liked Dave Matthews Band, but hearing the unreleased "Lillywhite Sessions" was a revelation. That was clear to me most of all on this song, where Dave's talk about wanting to paint with color to erase the grey of life hit a chord with me. It has been described as a 'sad bastard' record, and that's exactly why I love it so much. When those hopeless moments come around, and the world does indeed feel like an oppressive wave of grey eating away at the edges of the shore, few things feel as right as this music does. Hearing that somber sadness coming at me through the speakers is a sense of comfort, both because it tells me it isn't abnormal, but also because it reminds me that beautiful things can come out of those feelings. I've tried to embrace that with my own work.

Weezer - Hash Pipe

I was absolutely the target audience for "Buddy Holly", except that I was a couple of years too young to understand it. By the time Weezer had disappeared and then come back, I was ready to accept that 'nerd rock' was certainly a description of myself. "Has Pipe", with it's deceptively heavy riff, piqued my interest enough to dig into the weird world of Weezer. While the music would be important, so too would the community. I found a group of online friends who were deeply important to me at the time, even though almost all of us have drifted away from each other over the years. Weezer was my first taste of musical community, and I haven't really had that replicated in the same way again. I do miss that sometimes.

Alana Myles - Black Velvet

Sometimes a song has an impact you don't realize until years later. I was too young when I first heard "Black Velvet" to really give it much thought at all. And since it came from someone who would become a one-hit wonder, forgetting about it was easy enough to do. But every once in a while, the song would pop back up, and at a certain point I understood why. Our musical tastes are forged by what we hear when we are young, and Alana's voice has deeply influenced the way I hear voices. I knew I always liked the song, but only when I reached a certain age did I notice how some of my favorite voices all stem from the same tonal family as hers. Without knowing it, I was pointed in a direction by this song, and that has led me to some of the most meaningful parts of my life. All that from a song I heard on the radio by someone whose name would become a trivia note. Funny how life works, isn't it?

Edguy - The Headless Game

I sat in the college radio studio, keeping my friend company while he played records I had never heard of. Eventually, one came one that caught my attention. The chugging riff had more of a groove than most heavier music I had heard, and the chorus was a proper sing-along. I was intrigued, and in that moment first learned of the existence of Edguy. I went online and listened to as much as I could, and that sent me down the rabbit hole of power metal, which in turn led me to where I am right now. If it wasn't for Edguy getting me into metal, which then created the discussions my colleague and I have here, I would not have been recruited to ever start writing about music. Edguy changed the course of my life. Doesn't that sound weird to say?

Metallica - Enter Sandman

Would I have ever gotten into metal, to the extent I did, without this song? That's a question impossible to answer, but there is probably something to being primed ahead of time. I don't think I even knew what metal was when I heard this song, which I was hearing mostly in the background of young hijinx. But when you hear something enough times, it starts to sink in, and eventually I found myself with a copy of "The Black Album", even though I wasn't sure why. My feelings about that record have ebbed and flower over the years, but I can't underestimate how important is was to hear heavy music at that point in my life, and open my ears to sounds outside of my comfort zone. Metallica wouldn't blow it open, but they provided the first crack.

Slayer - Angel Of Death

When I finally started playing guitar, I wasn't really interested in learning songs. I was more concerned with creating my own music, but there were a few things so lodged in my brain I needed to understand how they were created. 'The riff' in this song was one of them. You know which riff I mean. I took it as a challenge to train my fingers to move fast enough to pull those notes out of the guitar, and when I had more or less figured it out, there was a sense of satisfaction I haven't had very often with the instrument. Whatever skills I have would be lesser if Slayer didn't force me to want to get better, just so I could amuse myself and claim a bit of credit for being able to do one cool thing with a guitar.

Opeth - Bleak

I was sitting in my dorm room in the late hours of the night, headphones on, listening to music that felt appropriate for the quiet darkness. I don't remember where Opeth entered my life, but they were a regular part of that experience. I never did warm up to their earlier albums, but "Bleak" turned my thinking on its head. Never before had I heard anything quite like it, and anything that approached that sound was nothing I ever wanted to hear again. Opeth was different, and the balance between the ferocity of the growling verses and the calm of the clean chorus hit me in the space between my two personalities. I could see how they fit together, and even if growls would seldom ever placate me again, for a brief moment I completely understand the need to roar.

Killswitch Engage - A Bid Farewell

Remember when 'away messages' were a thing on AOL Instant Messenger? I read a lyric from this song on a friend's message day after day, and eventually found myself listening to the song. Killswitch Engage is one of those bands that should be out of my wheelhouse, but the operatic drama of their choruses pulls me in. What I learned here is that sometimes differences aren't nearly what we think they are. That friend and I are radically different, and yet share more similarities than might be expected. That dawned on me when I came to love this song, as I knew I was hearing it from a completely different perspective than they were, and yet we were pointed in the same direction. That's worth remembering.

Elvis Costello - Indoor Fireworks

When I think about what makes a great song, this one taught me a lot about my answer to the question. With just an acoustic guitar and his voice, Elvis made a recording that is frustratingly simple, but achingly beautiful. All you need to prove your worth as a songwriter is a lyric, a melody, and a few chords. It sounds easy, and that's what makes it so hard. When you strip things down to the basics, to the foundation, you realize that is where all the strength must reside. The ear-candy might be pretty, and it might catch our attention, but the bones are everything. Between the limitations of talent and technology, and perhaps learning that lesson too well, my own music has borne that influence greatly.

Jimmy Eat World - Dizzy

If you ask me today, Jimmy Eat World is one of my favorite bands. If you asked me before "Dizzy" finally hit me fifteen years after it was released, I wouldn't have said that. There's something magical about this song that embodies everything I need out of music. The melody is gorgeous, the atmosphere is beautifully melancholic, and I get a wry smile every time the lyric "if you always knew the truth/then the world would spin around you/are you dizzy yet" comes on. A liking turned into love at that point, and made me realize how much Jimmy Eat World reflects myself. It's rare to find a new favorite band after so long, but "Dizzy" reminded me I was missing out all this time.

Jimmy Eat World - 23

In retrospect, it makes sense that "Futures" has moved to become my favorite album of all time. I have embraced the somber side of my personality, and it's that darkness about the album that now speaks to me in a way my other favorites cannot. That all happened because of this song, where Jimmy Eat World transcended their penchant for drawing out their slow numbers with a song that is haunting in its beauty, and captivating in its sweep. The line finishing the chorus, "don't give away the end/the one thing that's still mine", is one of the few things that gives me optimism that all hope is not lost. This whole album helps me find my way back.

Halestorm - I Miss The Misery

From the very first time I hears Lzzy Hale's voice, I knew she was special. That feeling hasn't happened often, and perhaps the only other time it did is when I heard Dilana, but 'love at first sound' is very much a real thing. It's hard to explain, but even when Lzzy is screaming, the fire of that passion feels warm, not like it's burning me. There aren't many voices I can listen to and get swept up in feelings, regardless of the song, but Lzzy is one of them. Listening to her is the kind of experience I keep searching out, and finding who I declared the voice of my generation is surely a watershed moment. I would be worse off without her, that is for sure.

The Smiths - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

The concept of two people having 'their song' is mostly foreign to me, but not in this case. This song came to define my connection with someone, and I'm not sure whether to credit or blame them for introducing me to Morrissey. I can go either way on that one. This is one of the best songs he ever helped pen, of course, but it's also a fitting coda to the way things can fall apart between two people. Posed as a long song about dying, Morrissey takes the 'love you to death' idea to its endpoint, and while the time together might have indeed been a privilege, it makes what comes after feel like an afterlife. Perhaps it is, and instead of harps we get serenaded by Morrissey. Wait, so doesn't that mean I'm in Heaven or Hell?

Dio - Don't Talk To Strangers

When I made my list of favorite singers of all time, Ronnie James Dio came in at #4. That should tell you how important Dio has been to me. It's hard to imagine a world of music without Dio's voice in it, and I owe that to this little gem of a song. "Rainbow In The Dark" was the hit single, but it was only when I heard the "Holy Diver" album, and this song in particular, that Dio's masterful vocal storytelling hit me like a truck. Those treads are still visible on me.

Rainbow - Stargazer

Other than "Bat Out Of Hell", I never cared to dive deep into the past. The music of the 70s were artifacts of a time I had no interest in unearthing... until my discovery of Dio took me back to Rainbow. Those three albums he made with them are classics, and few songs in the history of rock have ever lived up to what "Stargazer" managed. Here we had a song so epic it made me reconsider an entire decade of music. No, I wouldn't find myself knee-deep in classic rock after that, but it played a part in my newfound love of Bruce Springsteen's "Darkness On The Edge Of Town". Salvaging an entire decade of music is a pretty good feat for a song.

Graham Colton - Can't Stand Here Waiting

Some mistakes work out for the best. I discovered Graham Colton in the days of file sharing, where a song of his was mislabeled as my favorite band. Though disappointed not to have found an obscure gem from them, Graham caught my ears. I kept listening, and eventually stumbled on this song, which taught me a whole way of writing chord progressions I previously didn't know, and have since abused in my own songs. I won't give away what I mean, but I love a song that is able to infiltrate itself in my own creative process. That means it has truly become a part of me, and I wouldn't be the same without it. *Note - The version of the song I'm referring to doesn't seem to be available online anywhere these days, so you'll have to trust me.

Jim Steinman - Bad For Good

I've spend most of the last twenty years convincing myself that someday I will be a songwriter behind the scenes, as Jim Steinman was, but this song keeps me from fully purging the idea I might end up having to sing for myself always. Steinman shouldn't have made a solo album, but circumstances led him to that point, and there was something about listening to him fight to get through this song that struck a chord with me. If he could put this out on a major record label, then surely I should have the confidence to sing for my limited audience of myself a couple of other people. I don't know if it was good advice, but fortunately not many people have had to deal with results.

Richard Marx - Now And Forever

If I ever had a delusion about being a singer, I trace it back to this song. There was something about this ballad, and the way Richard Marx delivered it, that made me think I could follow suit. I would try to rough up my voice, and at the volume of a whisper, I felt like I was succeeding. That was an illusion, and it would be dispelled as soon as I ever tried to sing with any real volume, but I suppose it planted the seed in my head to think my voice was there for more than trying to imitate cartoon characters. I would never have the voice I wanted, but something gave me enough confidence to at least start making demos, which only fueled my creative cycle. It feels good to blame someone.

Michelle Branch - All You Wanted

I've lost count of how many times I've used the chord progression from the chorus of this song. I had heard "Everywhere", and thought it was fine, but there was something in this moodier song that haunted me. The combination of the sharpness in her voice, and the melancholy of the atmosphere, was far more appealing than the brighter bits of pop/rock that were coming out at the time. I've strummed those chords almost reflexively for years and years, and there was a brief period of time when I thought Michelle was going to become one of my favorites.

The Darkness - I Believe In A Thing Called Love

The one and only time I sang in public was, unfortunately, this song. Singing a song about the power of love when you want to bury your fist in someone's skull cavities is a bit ironic, as is feeling your lowest when hitting a slew of high notes. Both of those were true when I found myself forced to the stage of karaoke night by people who were larger than me, and who thought it would be funny to sign me up against my will. Letting people know I had a falsetto was a mistake on my part, and I would regret it as I made my way through the song. I'm pretty sure I did better at it than the usual drunks who had no hope, but I learned rather quickly I never wanted to be in that position again. Performing was not for me.

Green Day - Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)

Around that same time, I was not yet even a competent guitar player. One thing I could do, though, was strum the chords to a friend's favorite song. It was by no means my top Green Day song, but I liked it just fine, so I didn't mind doing it. My favorite memory of the song is not the song itself, or its overuse as a marker of the end of adolescence, but rather the fact that no matter how many times I went through the chord progression, that friend could not enter at the right time to sing along. It was his favorite song in the world, and it get messed up every time I didn't lead him in. Maybe that made me feel a bit better about my own ear.

Backstreet Boys - I Want It That Way

The same people involved in the previous two stories also loved this song, and belting it out at all hours of the day. They were so enamored they set out to record their own performance video, which was amusing for my brief cameo giving them the side-eye and wondering what in the world they thought they were doing. Even when the internet hadn't become so overly saturated with everything, there was never a need for an unchoreographed sing-along with a record where only one of the people could actually sing. Watching them make idiots of themselves was mildly amusing, and it did serve what was perhaps the intended purpose; it drilled the song into my head so much it gives me the fondest memories of that era of pop music of anyone from that time. I like remembering that I wasn't always so out of sync with the world.

Guns N Roses - November Rain

I trace my love of bombast to Meat Loaf, but probably just before I discovered him, this song was smacking me in the face. I hadn't heard anything of this scope before, and I still think Slash ruined guitar solos for me. His playing on all three solos was moving, fiery, and lyrical. His solos alone would have been a great song, unlike just about anything I hear today (including Slash's own playing), and throwing them into Axl's drama was the kind of moment an earlier generation must have heard when "Bohemian Rhapsody" came out. Indeed, nothing lasts forever, including the appeal to me of Guns N Roses.

Bonnie Tyler - Total Eclipse Of The Heart

Oh dear, yet another Jim Steinman song. This time, the meaning on my life comes in the form of those pesky little "turn around" backing vocals. Those quick interjections I would have heard before any of Meat Loaf's duets, and they sparked my interest in the idea of the duet. Nothing would come of it for decades, but there was always a nagging thought in the back of my head that two voices were better than one, and it was an itch I would need to scratch. Eventually, I would quiet those thoughts by writing one, but since I still haven't heard it sung as such, I think I just cursed myself once again, just like the vampires Steinman was writing about. Wait... does that explain why I love that one concept album about Dracula so much?

The Offspring - Come Out And Play

I remember getting up early on Saturday mornings to plug my headphones into the tv and quietly watch ECW wrestling before anyone else got up. I didn't want them to see, and the secrecy turned into part of the fun. I was drawn to one character in particular, for reasons that make more sense now, and it was there that I heard this song. I didn't know anything of punk, but I knew that guitar line was something unforgettable. I bought "Smash" on a whim, and has been the one and only bit of 'real' punk I've ever needed. They were one of the first bands to teach me how hard I was due to be let down over and over again, and maybe it was a good thing to get that out of the way early. I still appreciate the gems interspersed among their cringe, but I don't know if anything will ever balance the two quite like this song did.

Taylor Swift - Blank Space

When I felt completely disconnected from pop music, I thought I might have grown sick of the genre even as a thought. Taylor Swift changed that. I'm sure I had heard some of her earlier hits, but they passed me by. It was this song that caught my ear, and make me stop to question if there was still some hope for me in pop. There certainly was, although it was largely limited to Taylor herself. "1989" would be the first pop album I bought in ages, and her ability to turn a phrase reminded me that even as the times change, I shouldn't settle for vapid lyrics that say nothing, and say it in dull ways. Taylor was my re-focus on what matters.

The Thorns - I Can't Remember

VH-1 used to be good for something, and that is exemplified by this song. Not only is it one of those beautiful little songs that has stuck with me longer than any one-non-hit-wonder should, it pointed me in the direction of a band that has been with me for quite a while. Listening to the album this song came from, and the glorious harmonies they embodied, there was one other song that stuck out to me. As it happened, it was a cover of the song "Blue" by The Jayhawks, whom I had never heard of. That soon changed, and "Hollywood Town Hall" currently ranks as one of my favorite records of all time. I have The Thorns to thank for that.
 

Eve6 - Inside Out

I started my journey as a musician with an off-handed comment that lyrics were easy, since they didn't even need to make sense. I believe that bit of sarcasm on my part came from listening to this song, where the overactive wordplay of the lyrics seemed so trite and full of non-sequitirs, the teenage version of me missed the point about the song being intentionally overwrought. It wasn't supposed to all make sense, but in a weird way it did, because it shifted my relationship with music and the written word. I was determined to prove I could do better, and all these years later, I'm still trying to prove to myself I haven't run out of words to say what I want to say. A sarcastic song led to a sarcastic comment, and that led to one of the most significant developments in my life.