Operation Appreciation Day 8: Prince and the number 3

I think on day 1 of this series, mentioned that Prince's LOTUSFLOW3R release would be the lone exception to my "no new music for a month" vow.

It is interesting to note that Prince did a similar trick back when he split with Warner Bros., with the release of the Emancipation album. Each of these releases are 3 discs with distinct themes. In the case of Emancipation, each disc is 60 minutes, and the separation is more thematic than sonic. Disc 1 was full of party/pop songs, the second love songs, and the third was funk music that often related to the theme of freedom.

All of this was perhaps the hungriest thing Prince did in the 90s - it was at least as ambitious as his Love Symbol album (featuring the hit "7," a video that is a must-see for its literalism, but I can't find it), but much more inflected with hip-hop. The album as a whole showcased a Prince who was lost in the hip-hop landscape of the 90s, but in love with a wife and looking to prove he was still as shocking and dirty as ever.

I bring this up because it is through this lens that I see LOTUSFLOW3R. In 2009, we have Prince the Jehovah's Witness, a man who has performed at the Superbowl halftime show and exorcised the swearing from his setlists, but seemingly much more at peace with his place in the pop landscape. He's not an innovator, anymore; he's a seasoned vet who makes tasteful albums that don't enhance or detract from his legacy. As such, LOTUSFLOW3R as a whole is less ambitious, yet each separate album is more consistent than any on Emancipation.

LOTUSFLOW3R, the disc, is a guitar-heavy rock album that best shows the chops that Prince often shows off in concert. It's a dream for a long-time fan, since Prince albums aside from Purple Rain tend to be very synthesizer or horn-heavy, working on setting up a groove rather than showing off his instrumental prowess. MPLSOUND is a funk-heavy disc made of synthesized instrumentation like the albums early in his career. "(There'll Never B) Another Like Me" and "Chocolate Box" kick things off with a fantastic 1-2 punch. The slower moments are less interesting, but it works as an overall success.

The real wild card of the set, then, is the debut of his latest protege, Bria Valente, Elixer This album is meant to be sensual, somewhat jazzy and very R&B-oriented. It is only slightly less effective than MLPSOUND, which has songs that are more distinctive. If there is one criticism that can be used against the purple one, it's that his use of proteges manage to reduce them to little more than a vessel for his creative energies. For every song on Elixer, one can imagine Prince singing the lyrics in exactly the same tone, with the same delivery. The album echoes the second disc of Emancipation, with songs as a window into domestic bliss, but with more of a focus on monogamy than parenthood (his own son died a week after birth in 1996).

While most of the artists of the 60s and 70s suffered through an awkward 80s (I'm looking at you, Dylan and Bowie), Prince suffered through an awkward 90s, trying on trends, living much of the decade with a symbol for a name, even doing a Santana-esque "comeback" album full of guest stars. Here, he is in full control of his destiny and his legacy. He's left his audacious plans to his live shows (often with multi-night stints at the same venue, a series of conceptual concerts, the Super Bowl, etc.), leaving the music to be occasionally bland but genial and pleasant. The LOTUSFLOW3R disc is some of the most challenging and dynamic music he's recorded in years, though, maybe since the first half of 3121, if not since his Jehovah's Witness jazz romp, The Rainbow Children. The 00s have found Prince living comfortably, always on the verge of something truly great.

And I mean that as a high compliment.

Operation Appreciation Day 7: Drive-By Truckers

I have had a whirlwind past two days filled with incredible high points and all-time low points (and I Love You, Man, which is pretty strictly in the middle). I will keep this brief, though: Drive-By Truckers are the best band of this decade.

If you had asked me earlier this week, I would have said The Hold Steady, and for the most part, their albums hit me at a greater core emotionally. But after looking at DBT's discography, I realized a few simple facts:

1. Southern Rock Opera came out in 2001; Almost Killed Me came out in 2004.
2. DBT have released 5 albums this decade, while THS have only released 4.
3. While each band is responsible for one of the more far-reaching yet excellently executed concept albums of this decade, Southern Rock Opera perhaps reaches a little farther.
4. I highly regret missing seeing them co-headline a tour.

Aside from that last point, I have to say that Drive-By Truckers may be the best band of this decade. They're consistently smart, rock hard, and manage to fill their albums with great, soft moments that are reflective and immediate.

Good night. I promise I will write more tomorrow.

Operation Appreciation Day 6: Maybe I Need More Live Funk Albums...

Or maybe then again, I don't.

I remember my first couple days in Amherst, going to UMASS. Not really. But I remember on the drive there, I noticed the Newbury Comics on Main St. Once I walked to town the first time, I noticed the other two music shops: Mystery Train and For the Record.

For the Record is closed now, unfortunately. I remember finding the indie pressing of Val Emmich's first album (on Childlike records) there in the used bin, randomly. They were also the only store open earlier enough for me to get Rhett Miller's The Believer before my classes on that day. I also got a few of my Elvis Costello albums and The Band from there. Otherwise, though, their prices could be a bit expensive and their used CD selection rather sparse.

On the other hand, Mystery Train is still my favorite place to browse used CDs. Never know what kind of random stuff you'll find in a used music store. For instance, in my first stop to that store, I found a 4-CD live Parliament-Funkadelic set. Not the most consistent set I've ever heard, but is there any better way to  celebrate the magic of George Clinton's 70s peak than an excessive 4-CD boxed set? I think not. I'm listening to "Funkentelechy" right now, a 24-minute groove that just never seems to end, and this box is full of treasures like this.

I don't think I have ever seen these CDs anywhere else; hell, I'm barely sure if they're official releases or a bootleg. All I am sure about is that this is probably one of the best places to get your fix for Parliament and Funkadelic. It has just about all of their essential songs, as they should be: overlong, ambitious, wacky and with lots of crowd interaction. The sound quality is on and off, but their actual albums haven't been remastered yet (to my knowledge), so the albums don't sound all that great yet, either (except the albums before The Mothership Connection).

Anyway, I just want to rave about the magic of record stores and funk music. Maybe that is why I'm a traditionalist (other than Robert Randolph, has there been another great funk guitarist since Prince? Sigh, right?). Though Amazon offers cheaper prices on used stuff, I still love sorting through disorganized vinyl and CDs to find gems. It's one of the handful of reasons that I buy a lot of my music, even knowing I could download things illegally.

Anyway, I'm gonna dance until I fall asleep. "When you're taking every kind of pill..."

Operation Appreciation Day 5: What's So Wrong About Be Here Now?

Yesterday, I mentioned that I am a fan of Oasis' third album, Be Here Now. Don't know why people get so down on it; supposedly the songs aren't as strong as those on Oasis' first two albums and the arrangements are overblown wanking. Bollocks, I say! The songs undoubtedly aren't the concentrated bursts of Definitely Maybe or (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, but what is? For my money, "My Big Mouth" and "It's Getting Better Man" are as good as any of the album tracks on those two albums, and "Stand By Me" is a peak for the band.

 

While listening it today, I realized that my feelings for it are similar to those of Chinese Democracy. Sure, it's overblown and egotistical, but is it any moreso than Houses of the Holy? I am still surprised, too, that the album has not been seen more favorably as time passed (like Exile on Main St.) I'm not saying that it's equal to those, but it certainly doesn't strike me as being handicapped by its ambitions. Sure, almost every song could be trimmed by about a minute, but it doesn't make those songs bad.

 

Oasis is a band that is marked by its audacity. They wanted to be a modern Beatles, and currently think they rank with the Rolling Stones. Be Here Now is kind of a tipping point, but it certainly outranks the two albums that follow it. From here on, they scaled down a bit without saying so. Frankly, I enjoy when a band aims for the sky and burns a little close to the sun.

Operation Appreciation: Day 4: Britain: 1994-1997

I mentioned yesterday that Radiohead's first three albums are being re-released today as 2CD+DVD versions with B-sides and blah blah blahs all added up and packaged sexy and all. That got me in the mood to listen to The Bends and Ok Computer. Great albums, each, and for different reasons. The Bends is much stronger on a song-by-song basis, but Ok Computer was revolutionary and works fantastically as its own singular work; the former would not have been as successful in the current musical climate.

Somewhere halfway, Blur's Parklife hits me as a little bit of both. It's an album wrapped around a conceptual theme (modern British life), but individual songs ("Girls & Boys," "Jubilee," "Tracy Jacks") stand out. It's definitely one of those things I would miss from listening to individual tracks. Albums will die soon, that is a pretty set trend. It's listening to Ok Computer that makes me hope that putting out albums in some form (or even a song a month, like serialization! Why hasn't anyone done that yet [that I know of]?) can possibly still have a cultural impact in music's song-based future.
Because of the quality of its best albums (and a ton of individual songs), the "Britpop" era, from about 1993-1997 or so is my favorite of any musical time period. A number of my favorite albums came out in this time period, from the aforementioned three to Pulp's His 'n' Hers, Different Class and This Is Hardcore, plus Happy Mondays's Pills 'n' Thrills and Bellyaches. And that's not even counting Oasis' trio of albums from this time period! (And yes, I do love Be Here Now). I also have to shout out Menswe@r, Elastica and The Auteurs, and Blur's output from Modern Life is Rubbish through Blur.
I would absolutely go to far to say that this time period was significantly more fruitful than America's more-touted "Grunge" movement. Perhaps I got into that scene late in the game - years after Cobain's life was finished, where the fruits of the rise of the underground gave birth to Nickelback, Saliva and bands of their ilk. Living with that legacy in no ways diminishes what Nirvana, Pearl Jam, etc. accomplished, but it definitely makes me think twice about how amazing they were in their prime (Pearl Jam is almost certainly going to be covered in this blog eventually, though).

Meanwhile, maybe because of geographic distance, I find that I don't have the same problem with any Britpop band except for possibly Oasis, whose "Wonderwall" seems to have infested the fingertips of every open-mic college acoustic guitarist (and I was not excluded in this!) since its release.

Anyway, this all reflected on my most recent musical-purchasing concentration: The Kinks. Their albums have been remastered with bonus tracks tacked on overseas, and I had been collecting them before I decided to take up this feature. Ray Davies is the grandfather of the whole movement, celebrating  traditionalism while calling it out for being stodgy and conservative. I always make a point to work backwards in my exploration of music, but sometimes it helps to remember that even if The Bends isn't The Kink Kontroversy and Parklife isn't The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society, there are many joys to be found in them before I move on.

Operation Appreciation Day 3: Pulp's Intro: The Gift Recordings

While on a bus (not nearly as exciting as being on a boat, by the way), I gave Pulp's Intro: The Gift Recordings a spin, and it's fascinating to hear that band hit that point. Because of the sound of this compilation - recorded shortly before their sound-defining album His 'n' Hers, Intro straddles the line between the fantastic, exuberant dance-pop that makes me think Jarvis Cocker might be some kind of intellectual sex-deity, and the clunky experimentation that makes me remember that's probably not true.

 

Pulp is one of my favorite bands, but from what I've heard on their Pulp: The John Peel Sessions and Intro, I am not too keen on going in the direction of their pre-90s work. Disparate strands of what the band they would become float throughout these songs, such as "Space," which has a seemingly interminable introduction with what sounds like a theramin, while "OU (Gone, Gone)" utilizes fragile-sounding synths and some decent pop hooks.

 

But it's on the two songs that get repeated on His 'n' Hers, "Babies" and "Razzmatazz" that blow the friggin' lid off the set. Suddenly, the synthesizers sound bracing, tense and dangerous all at once. The lyrics are like a dirty secret let out in public thanks to Cocker's baritone which oozes Barry White sensuality and newscaster gravitas ("The trouble with your brother/he's always sleeping/with your mother," from "Razzmatazz"). One is a lustful story-song and the other a fantastic kiss-off that belongs ranked with Dylan's "Positively 4th Street."

 

The rest of the set isn't nearly as memorable, but there are almost always gems to be found in an artist's first step before greatness (like Radiohead's "Creep" before The Bends; some kind of "collector's edition" for their first 3 albums are out tomorrow, by the way, in addition to a crazy-super-collector's item version of Pearl Jam's Ten -- see the things I miss when I choose not to buy music for a month?! Should've done this in January!). It's the reason why a good chunk of the time, if I like a band, I wind up with all their stuff.

Operation Appreciation Day 2: The Who - The Who Sell Out

I have been a little sick all day - headaches here and there, very tired, etc. But for some reason while driving home today I was digging The Who Sell Out more than I have in years. Maybe it's because I never realized how long "Odorono" goes before it hits the punchline, or I never noticed the faux-radio announcement, "Radio London reminds you: atteeeend the chuuurch of your choiiiice!" It's such a wonderfully kooky album with a great sense of humor, and yet the serious songs ("I Can See for Miles," "Our Love Was") kick high levels of ass.

This album was always in my top 5 Who albums, but tonight it gets easily in the top 3, even if the "album-as-fake-radio-station" idea does not stick on the second side.

Speaking of The Who, last week, I got The Who Sing My Generation on vinyl. Can we get a good CD mix of this album? Sometime? Please? The original CD mix, as with all original CD mixes, is awful and muddy. The Deluxe Edition that came out a few years ago rocks a faux-stereo sound that features too much spacial separation. The title track doesn't sound muscular, and everything's a bit off. I sometimes disagree with vinyl enthusiasts*, but this is one example of where it is totally worth it.

I apologize in advance for using the word "faux" twice in the same post. That's some kind of pretension fail**.

*(sometimes - all my Elvis Costello and Who albums sound better on the black circle, but the difference between a first-pressing Born to Run and the 25th anniversary remaster don't really set my ears on fire)

**I almost wrote "fale."