The Summer of Rediscovered Pop Music
For me this summer is framed by my rediscovery of pop music. I'm not sure what touched it off - perhaps Jay-Z's inescapable massacre of "Mundian Te Bach Ke" by Panjabi MC (which led me back to the original, a true joy); maybe the disillusionment of Yo La Tengo's first mistep since the 80's with Summer Sun . I turned on the radio, and found little pieces of heaven.
It has been the better part of ten years since I listened to pop radio and heard anything to get excited about. There are exceptions of course - Missy Elliott's output jumps to mind - yet they really are the ones that prove the rule. What to choose from between Tupac and Biggie (guns and Benz and bitches on my tip), and their even less talented followers who ruled urban image in the mid-nineties? Or the bling bling bull of the Cash Money crowd? DMX - the man who even now recycles the "Ruff Ryders' Anthem" into the homophobic rant of "Where the Hood At"?
"Alternative radio" offered nothing better - five years of grunge retreads followed by rap/metal mistakes (didn't anyone learn from Urban Dance Squad or Scatterbrain how to do it well?) and the now ubiquitous Nü-Metal, the path paved and destroyed by Helmet and Faith No More. Its bastard step-child "college radio" didn't do any better, championing Bob Pollard - the man most in need of someone to say "NO!" - and other favorite sons like Malkmus/Pavement (the single most overrated band of the last ten years. Even more than the Strokes), or the entire amalgam of Scottish Twee bands rising listlessly, cardigan in hand, from the limply fertile loins of Belle and Sebastian (Note: I actually like much of Belle and Sebastian's output, except it does all sound much the same and is, undeniably, Twee).
So this summer has brought me back from the brink, to revel in the disposable and the sure to be timeless. "Crazy In Love" probably started it all - it quickly became as inescapable as "Beware of the Boys" - and I was so happy to hear the Vaness Wu Chinese remix (thanks Mr. Perpetua!) which eliminates the weakest part of "Crazy In Love", the ubiquitous Jay-Z. I can't grasp his appeal, much as I try. It's not that he sounds like someone else (a la 50 Cent or Ja Rule or DMX or, well, you get the idea), it's that he seems to not care what beat or rhythm he raps on. Completely oblivious to all around him, just a lost street poet, missing the beat of life. But he has fine things, and he's a rap Midas, for good or bad.
From "Crazy In Love" to "Ignition (Remix)" from the Teflon Don himself, R. Kelly. It's amazing how he sounds so lackadaisical and out of it, yet he brings it strong. It's more of a remake than a remix, and he sounds like he's having fun, enjoying it all, regardless of the trouble he's in. He's just making shit up, flying by the seat of his pants, yet he's always on the beat, flowing even and true. It's a shame that the mediocre "The Best of Both Worlds" didn't at least teach Jay-Z how to find some rhythm.
I also picked up some albums that have me hummin' - Give Up from The Postal Service, The New Pornographers' The Electric Version and the Notwist's Neon Golden. The Postal Service album is a little gem, a light bite of synthesized goodness. You hear that the top chef's are trying to create foods that are just essences, as close to air as possible; Give Up is that airy trifle made music. I heard "Clark Gable" on local independent station WMPG and I knew I needed this album, I needed it's sweet goodness. It is what it is, disposable and indispensable at the same time. I don't understand why I smile so, but I do, and I like it.
The Electric Version charms and beguiles me, at turns attracting and repulsing. I think the first three tracks catch and go - than I hit the Dan Bejar pieces which stop me like a wall. I can't warm to his voice, and the highly vaunted lyrical content is BS 101, as pointless as the purposeful cheese of The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights". It's weird, an album I want to like more, a band I think may be just that talented, and yet they seem to try to be a little too indie, too "credible for the cool", to actually achieve what they aim for. It's that willful sabotage that seems to infect indie guitar rock - the Lou Barlow plan of small world conquest. Cut the first 45 seconds of "From Blown Speakers" and all will fall before them.
Where to place Neon Golden - distinctly approachable, overly arch and cold, unforgettable and capital "I" Important. It sounds to me like what Radiohead was reaching for in their quest for the next evolution of pop music, but they were too self-conscious to get there. You can sing along, even dance to most of it, yet it rewards serious heavy listening, with eyes closed and mind cleared. I had heard "Thrashing Days" last year on an Uncut magazine disc, and was intrigued. Then I was too lazy to import it (or pay for it), and it slipped through the cracks upon release here. It is the hands-down album of the year at this point - I can only hope to hear more of it's caliber.
But how can I end this on such a serious note? Summer is fleeting, and pop music is about anthems that capture that golden moment - a musical snapshot of every summer high (some day remind me to talk about Seal's "Crazy" and the summer after High School graduation). THE song I hold to me for the summer of '03 will be that formerly Dirty Bastard, aka Big Baby Jesus, aka Osiris, the one and only Dirt McGirt, and his Neptune's produced "Pop Shit". It's brilliant - sloppy, catchy, with my favorite Pharrell guest spot, limiting himself to background and chorus, allowing ODB to come back straight from jail to rock the house. Simple guitar loop, Ol' Dirty Bastard's unique flow and natural rhythm, the sound all about the bounce, the bump. Club banger, car rocker, sing-along groover, silly and dirty; "Pop shit, nigger what's up?" How can you take it seriously? It's the official theme song for my new ride - chillin' with the sunroof open, windows down, bangin', smilin' and cold lampin' in my Saab 9000.
It has been the better part of ten years since I listened to pop radio and heard anything to get excited about. There are exceptions of course - Missy Elliott's output jumps to mind - yet they really are the ones that prove the rule. What to choose from between Tupac and Biggie (guns and Benz and bitches on my tip), and their even less talented followers who ruled urban image in the mid-nineties? Or the bling bling bull of the Cash Money crowd? DMX - the man who even now recycles the "Ruff Ryders' Anthem" into the homophobic rant of "Where the Hood At"?
"Alternative radio" offered nothing better - five years of grunge retreads followed by rap/metal mistakes (didn't anyone learn from Urban Dance Squad or Scatterbrain how to do it well?) and the now ubiquitous Nü-Metal, the path paved and destroyed by Helmet and Faith No More. Its bastard step-child "college radio" didn't do any better, championing Bob Pollard - the man most in need of someone to say "NO!" - and other favorite sons like Malkmus/Pavement (the single most overrated band of the last ten years. Even more than the Strokes), or the entire amalgam of Scottish Twee bands rising listlessly, cardigan in hand, from the limply fertile loins of Belle and Sebastian (Note: I actually like much of Belle and Sebastian's output, except it does all sound much the same and is, undeniably, Twee).
So this summer has brought me back from the brink, to revel in the disposable and the sure to be timeless. "Crazy In Love" probably started it all - it quickly became as inescapable as "Beware of the Boys" - and I was so happy to hear the Vaness Wu Chinese remix (thanks Mr. Perpetua!) which eliminates the weakest part of "Crazy In Love", the ubiquitous Jay-Z. I can't grasp his appeal, much as I try. It's not that he sounds like someone else (a la 50 Cent or Ja Rule or DMX or, well, you get the idea), it's that he seems to not care what beat or rhythm he raps on. Completely oblivious to all around him, just a lost street poet, missing the beat of life. But he has fine things, and he's a rap Midas, for good or bad.
From "Crazy In Love" to "Ignition (Remix)" from the Teflon Don himself, R. Kelly. It's amazing how he sounds so lackadaisical and out of it, yet he brings it strong. It's more of a remake than a remix, and he sounds like he's having fun, enjoying it all, regardless of the trouble he's in. He's just making shit up, flying by the seat of his pants, yet he's always on the beat, flowing even and true. It's a shame that the mediocre "The Best of Both Worlds" didn't at least teach Jay-Z how to find some rhythm.
I also picked up some albums that have me hummin' - Give Up from The Postal Service, The New Pornographers' The Electric Version and the Notwist's Neon Golden. The Postal Service album is a little gem, a light bite of synthesized goodness. You hear that the top chef's are trying to create foods that are just essences, as close to air as possible; Give Up is that airy trifle made music. I heard "Clark Gable" on local independent station WMPG and I knew I needed this album, I needed it's sweet goodness. It is what it is, disposable and indispensable at the same time. I don't understand why I smile so, but I do, and I like it.
The Electric Version charms and beguiles me, at turns attracting and repulsing. I think the first three tracks catch and go - than I hit the Dan Bejar pieces which stop me like a wall. I can't warm to his voice, and the highly vaunted lyrical content is BS 101, as pointless as the purposeful cheese of The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights". It's weird, an album I want to like more, a band I think may be just that talented, and yet they seem to try to be a little too indie, too "credible for the cool", to actually achieve what they aim for. It's that willful sabotage that seems to infect indie guitar rock - the Lou Barlow plan of small world conquest. Cut the first 45 seconds of "From Blown Speakers" and all will fall before them.
Where to place Neon Golden - distinctly approachable, overly arch and cold, unforgettable and capital "I" Important. It sounds to me like what Radiohead was reaching for in their quest for the next evolution of pop music, but they were too self-conscious to get there. You can sing along, even dance to most of it, yet it rewards serious heavy listening, with eyes closed and mind cleared. I had heard "Thrashing Days" last year on an Uncut magazine disc, and was intrigued. Then I was too lazy to import it (or pay for it), and it slipped through the cracks upon release here. It is the hands-down album of the year at this point - I can only hope to hear more of it's caliber.
But how can I end this on such a serious note? Summer is fleeting, and pop music is about anthems that capture that golden moment - a musical snapshot of every summer high (some day remind me to talk about Seal's "Crazy" and the summer after High School graduation). THE song I hold to me for the summer of '03 will be that formerly Dirty Bastard, aka Big Baby Jesus, aka Osiris, the one and only Dirt McGirt, and his Neptune's produced "Pop Shit". It's brilliant - sloppy, catchy, with my favorite Pharrell guest spot, limiting himself to background and chorus, allowing ODB to come back straight from jail to rock the house. Simple guitar loop, Ol' Dirty Bastard's unique flow and natural rhythm, the sound all about the bounce, the bump. Club banger, car rocker, sing-along groover, silly and dirty; "Pop shit, nigger what's up?" How can you take it seriously? It's the official theme song for my new ride - chillin' with the sunroof open, windows down, bangin', smilin' and cold lampin' in my Saab 9000.
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