Showing posts with label 1993. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1993. Show all posts

"The Lady in the Front Row,' Redd Kross (1993)

 


I became a fan of Power Pop very early on; Beatles, The Who, Badfinger, the Guess Who, like that. My young love for the stuff peaked in the late '70s with Cheap Trick; their album Heaven Tonight (1978) is a platonic ideal of Power Pop in my book. So a version of Beatlesque remains a constant to this day in my affection for the stuff but with a few formal refinements to the prototype formula. Ringing guitars are good but more important than whatever instrumentation is the uptempo insistent and urgent (with the occasional heartbreaker slow one) Mod or rocker-like '60s tempos; The Shoes, The Records, The Bangles, The Veronicas, all still power pop. To be honest, I often find a lot of latter day power pop, neo-Power pop or Pop Punk, too formulaic. But it's still power pop. Power pop doesn't have to have a British accent for me either; although an accent, say, Big Star's Memphis drawl does add welcome flavor. My bare minimum for power pop rests on vocal group harmonies, even if mostly the creation of studio multitracking. I want a group of voices blended together in big chorus harmonies and sing-along hooks. Power pop has to have stacked vocal group harmonies and be semi-fast or hard; not hard like hard rock hard but hard like a Jolly Rancher. So important are the harmonies that they often put over otherwise by-the-numbers 1980s-1990s neo-power pop like this Redd Kross single from their album Phaseshifter (1993). It's those bubblegum sweet rave-up harmonies. Still works for me. 

"Cash Rules Everything Around Me," Wu-Tang Clan (1993)

From "Money (That's What I Want)" to "For the Love of Money" to "Paid in Full" to "C.R.E.A.M.," a venerable tradition in pop music history; a dose of gotta get paid urgent realities and cautionary tales set to some delectable funk. I clump Wu Tang and the Geto Boys and Outkast and E-40 together. Post-golden age of hiphop, post-NWA gangster rap, lots of fuck this and bitch that; rap seemed to be going in a pulpy cartoon hardcore direction I wasn't sure I liked that much. No way my wife at the time liked it. But my sister, now passed, more fluent with popular rap, made me this mix tape including those groups and others. I hesitated listening to it much at first; partly because I wouldn't have the occasion to unless I was driving somewhere alone. But two or three times through I was hooked and it became a regular driving to and from work, especially on the way home. Harder, darker than the golden age stuff but also more cinematic and more authentically underclass ethnography in the crack era in a way, say, Salt & Pepa or De La Soul could not be. Wu Tang was emblematic of a shift. The golden age days of cramming samples of esoteric old pop tunes, cut and spliced into small bits, was over. Wu Tang collaged the mood or feel of old soul hits, not the words, and then layered on top snippets from kung fu movies and spoken word interludes from TV history. It felt like DIY Black arts for the '90s. Their first album, Enter the Wu-Tang, was undeniable.   


 

Oh! Brother. Won't you give me one more chance?

"Oh! little brother

We are in a mess

Don't look at me that way

Don't put me to the test

When I first saw you

People said:

"He scrutinised a little monster"

And disappeared through red door

Now everyone is disinformation

Disinformation

Disinformation

He says:

"Won't you give me one more chance?"

"I'm not a communist"

Disinformation

Disinformation

Disinformation"


"Oh! Brother," The Fall (1984): Mark E. Smith (MES) at his most affable. Off Wonderful and Frightening World, Brix's first full album and also the last Fall album with two drummers. 

"League of Bald Headed Men," The Fall (1993): More of MES's semi-affable tip. Off Infotainment Scan, their highest charting album, graphically the worst Fall album, with a couple of standout covers, maybe a slight step back musically from the articulated tribalism, avant-primitivism, of their best work but MES's typically caustic lyrics are playfully sharp.  

"Lost in Music" and "Why Are People Grudgeful" The Fall (1993)

Smith in his disco homage phase. Both songs associated with The Infotainment Scam album, their highest charting album ever reaching a Top Ten 9th position, most embarrassingly obvious title and ugliest album cover (give me the scribbled montages or horror grotesque comics, any day), and equally obvious old guard post-punk Smith staking out a respected niche position in the EDM rave music takeover of 1990s British pop music. The music on TIS, however, is considerably punchier and offers more edgy rock contrast to Smith's deadpan than these live takes. But they'll do and I like the way this live version of The Fall leans into Disco's monotonously simple bass heavy melodic groovelines and still manages to give them their own stamp of post-punk rumble like old pros. I'd like to think Bryan Ferry would give this his nod. The lead track is a cover of the 1979 Sister Sledge disco masterpiece, "Lost in Music," Smith adding, cynically, ominously, chanted, "the roads of access lead to the palace of excess." His "I feel so alive" isn't entirely convincing either but his shrieks of "hideaway, hideaway, hideaway" are the only time we're sure he's being moved by the music. The B-side, and the actual single of the pair, "Why Are People Grudgeful?" merges reggae great Joe Gibb's "People Grudgeful" and some Lee 'Scratch' Perry. A sort of reggae world music post-punk lament for an illusions-free peaceful coexistence, as fanciful as that sounds today. Or difficult to swallow coming from such a crank as Smith. Post-punk noir disco. 

TGIDF


The Revenge of Jim Jones

"Jim Jones," traditional song, 19th century; Jim Jones, found guilty by a jury in England, sent to Australia to toil in a penal colony at Botany Bay, vows revenge against the "tyrants" and "floggers" that put him in "chains." 

Now it's day and night and the irons clangAnd like poor galley slavesWe toil and toil, and when we dieMust fill dishonored gravesAnd it's by and by I'll slip my chainsWell, into the bush I'll goAnd I'll join the bravest rankers thereJack Donohue and coAnd some dark night, when everythingIs silent in the townI'll shoot those tyrants one and allI'll gun the floggers downOh, I'll give the land a little shockRemember what I sayAnd they'll yet regret they've sent Jim JonesIn chains to Botany Bay

Bob Dylan "Jim Jones" (appears on Good as I Been to You, 1992)

Gorecki's Symphony of Sorrowful Songs (Symphony No. 3) and Losing Loved Ones

 Henryk Gorecki's Symphony of Sorrowful Songs is maybe most familiar from the way a piece of it makes this scene in Peter Weir's 1993 film Fearless:


His symphony No. 3 was written in three movements; two, the first and last, from the perspective of a parent who has lost a child and the middle from the perspective of a child who has been separated from a parent. Here's the whole thing: 


 It's relentlessly sad, sure. But awesome in its powers of acceptance and enduring love, sympathy, feeling, something?