Category: Music

I had a profoundly strange musical experience the other day. For a month or so, I’ve been feeling tired of my music collection, and I haven’t known what to try next. Nothing has reached out and grabbed me by the ears, but at the weekend I remembered that I’ve been meaning to check out some Jellyfish.

The reason for that is that a lot of musical threads I’ve picked up recently can be traced back to this band. To start with, there was Bleu, who I saw in support of Toad The Wet Sprocket back in 2003. I absolutely loved his album Redhead. One of the songs on the album, “Could be worse”, was co-written by Andy Sturmer, and I think that Bleu has co-operated with Sturmer on a few other projects as well. Andy Sturmer was the drummer and lead singer for Jellyfish.

Bleu has also worked with Puffy AmiYumi, who also work closely with Sturmer, and whose album Nice has been recommended to me at various points.

Back in February, Keith passed me Jason Falkner’s CD, Presents Author Unknown, which I liked quite a bit. Jason Falkner was Jellyfish’s guitarist.

Then, in April, Glen Phillips (formerly of Toad The Wet Sprocket, see above) released his excellent new CD Winter Pays For Summer, on which he is supported on several tracks by–guess who–Andy Sturmer.

So, hoping that they would break me out of my musical ennui, on Monday evening I finally downloaded their album Bellybutton from 1990. (They only put out two albums, the other one is Spilt Milk from 1993)

I skipped through the first two tracks, thinking, hmm, yeah, that’s okay. But I pulled up short on the third song: “The King Is Half Undressed”. The opening guitar riff sent a shiver up my spine. I recognized it. Then the drums came in, and the vocals, and the sense of familiarity grew even stronger. When the chorus burst out, I was in full-body goosebumps mode. Not only did I know the song, but it a favourite from many years ago. In fact, I’m almost certain I have it sitting on an old cassette tape in a box in our garage.

And yet I’d completely failed to recognize the band name “Jellyfish”. Weird. I’m usually pretty good about remembering music and artists, and around 1990 I was at a very impressionable age (first/second year of Uni) and a lot of the music I was listening to was laying down strong permanent associations. But also: from what I can find by looking around the web, Jellyfish made virtually no imact on the British music scene. So how did I know that song?

It gets even more interesting. It turns out that “The King Is Half Undressed” is not the only song I know from the album. I didn’t have time to listen to any more of it on Monday evening, but when I was in the car with Scott on Tuesday, we listening to the whole thing, and I knew three other tracks: “That Is Why”, “I Wanna Stay Home”, and “Baby’s Coming Back”.

But…how? Without any transatlantic success on their part, the only thing I can think of is that they must have been getting a lot of airplay when I spent the summer of 1991 in California. The station I listened to most was KFOG, and I reckon that Jellyfish’s music would have been right up their street at that time. But on the other hand, I bought a lot of (second-hand) CDs that summer (yay Amoeba!), and if I’d heard four tracks I really liked by an artist I hadn’t come across before, I’m sure I would have picked up their CD. But I didn’t.

I’m confused and disoriented. The music is tapping into a deep visceral pool of recognition, but I can’t make any conscious, intellectual connection with even actually hearing it or being aware of it before. It’s like a kind of amnesia. I’m feeling the same kind of cognitive dissonance as I did when I temporarily lost all muscle memory of how to tie a necktie. There’s just something wrong in my head.

(As for whether I like the rest of the album, well, it’s so-so. Apart from the four songs I noted above, I don’t think there’s anything on there that is likely to make my permanent playlist.)

If you look at the ratings for my quick reviews, you’ll see that each star rating has a descriptive label associated with it. For example, a two-star rating is “Disappointing”, three stars is “Solid and enjoyable”, and four stars is “Recommended”. I use these extra descriptions as guidelines for myself when I’m assigning a rating, to try and keep ratings consistent over time. I have a tendency to be over-generous with ratings, and I need a way to keep myself grounded.

I realized this morning, though, that I don’t have a similar set of descriptions for the star ratings I give to music in my iTunes library. I’ve just been dishing out stars because of what the music feels like at the time, without giving much thought to why it ends up with a particular rating. With only five choices (1-5 stars, no in-betweens), you’d think that the options would be limited enough to eliminate most grey areas, but now that become aware of what I’m doing, it feels haphazard. I’m not a compulsive categorizer, but it feels nice to have some kind of a system for when I do want to rate things. So here are my new definitions for assigning music ratings:

• 5 stars : An absolute favourite song, that I like listening to again and again. Must have this available on the iPod at all times.
• 4 stars : An good song that I like listening to both in an album context, on its own, and mixed in with other playlists.
• 3 stars : I’ll usually only listen to this song when I’m listening to the whole album it appears on.
• 2 stars : I’ll usually skip this song if it comes up while I’m playing an album.
• 1 star : I could live a happy and fulfilling life without ever hearing this song again.

(Note that “no stars” means “not rated yet” rather than “worst song in the world EVER”. The ones that are so bad just get removed from the library.)

Do you have a consistent way of rating music?

Listening to Zane Lowe on Radio 1 this evening, I heard a song that completely blew me away: “Hide and Seek” by Imogen Heap from her album Speak For Yourself. It’s a far out, haunting, electronic a cappella that I don’t completely understand, but can’t get out of my head. There isn’t even a melody to it–it’s just there, and it’s awesome.

If you’ve got RealPlayer (hack, spit) installed, you can listen to Zane’s show from this evening (26 July) on the BBC web site for the next week. The “Hide And Seek” is on about 40 minutes in.

(Shag, it’s February already. If I don’t get this list out of my head now, it’ll just sit in there forever. Here goes…)

Top 10 albums of 2004

Note: Some of these albums were released in 2003, but I’m still counting them in my “best of 2004” list, even though I used different criteria for films. This is mostly because I listened to far fewer new albums than I saw new films, and if I had to restrict myself purely to 2004 releases, the top 10 list would include some pretty weak material. And that’s just not cool.

(Also, take the rankings with a grain of salt. I’m sure of numbers 1 and 2, but after that things the distinctions get a little blurry. Ask me again tomorrow, and you’ll probably get a different order.)

1. Outkast – Speakerboxxx/The Love Below
   I’ve already raved about this one, and a year on it still sounds great. Amazing blend of hip-hop, rap, rock, and soul. Favourite tracks: almost everything.
2. Green Day – American Idiot
   With a loose storyline connecting the songs, this is more than just a great rock album–it’s a rock opera. An anti-establishment Les Miserables for the media generation. Plus it has some of the best rock drumming I have ever heard. Favourite tracks: Jesus of Suburbia, Wake Me Up When September Ends.
3. Sondre Lerche – Two Way Monologue
   It was Keith’s raving about Sondre Lerche that made me go out and buy this album. It sounded a bit bland at first (I’m a sucker for hard drums & some heavy bass), but I stuck with it and on every play a new track stuck with me. Light, beautiful pop, with subtle, happy melodies. Favourite tracks: It’s Too Late, Stupid Memory, Days That Are Over, Track You Down.
4. Blink 182 – Blink 182
   Blink 182 have grown up. This is still a youthful, bouncy speed-rock album, but underlying it all is a great deal of maturity and sophistication. It’s a fantastic pick-me-up energy booster for a slow afternoon. Favourite tracks: almost everything.
5. Dogs Die In Hot Cars – Please Describe Yourself
   Fabulous debut album from a Scottish band worth keeping an eye on. In terms of stardom they’ve been overshadowed by Franz Ferdinand (see below), but that’s not really the zone they occupy. Think XTC, with perhaps a little Crash Test Dummies thrown in. But in a cheerful kind of way. Favourite tracks: Modern Woman, Pastimes & Lifestyles, Godhopping.
6. Alanis Morissette – So-called Chaos
   It’s a lot less bitter and angry than her earlier albums. Actually, it’s happy. On the one hand, this robs it of some of her traditional songwriting highs, but on the other hand, it has cut out almost all of the disjointed lows that littered Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie and Under Rug Swept. What’s left is an album consisting of ten near-perfect pop songs. From the up-tempo to the slow and moody, each one has a solid hook, and you’ll find yourself singing along with the choruses before you know it. Favourite tracks: Excuses, So-called Chaos, Not All Me, Spineless.
7. Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand
   Scotland’s answer to The Strokes, apparently. Only better. Meandering, spiky pop with easy listening punk leanings. Favourite tracks: Take Me Out, This Fire, Auf Achse.
8. Tears For Fears – Everybody Loves A Happy Ending
   Nothing like a big comeback, is there? Orzabal and Smith back together again, making music like it’s 1989. Not quite The Seeds Of Love revisited, but it’s got the flavour. Big, spacious soudscapes, and gorgeous melodies. A must for any fan. Favourite tracks: Who Killed Tangerine?, Secret World, Last Days On Earth
9. Beastie Boys – To The 5 Boroughs
   Taken individually, the songs here sound a bit sparse; I tend to prefer a fuller mix. But put them all together as an album, and they resolve into an energetic old-skool whole. The rhymes are filled with a tasty blend of politics, silliness, and genuine affection for New York. Favourite tracks: Ch-Check It Out, Triple Trouble, All Lifestyles, An Open Letter To NYC, We Got The.
10. Belle And Sebastian – Dear Catastrophe Waitress
    Hard to believe that this was my first exposure to Belle and Sebastian, but there you go. It’s lovely, too. Light, airy pop, with a melancholy twist. Favourite tracks: Step Into My Office Baby, I’m A Cuckoo, Roy Walker.

Honourable mentions:

• Barenaked Ladies – Everything To Everyone
  I’ve had my doubts about this album. But whenever I start thinking about it closely, I have to figure in the fact that there are three tracks here that are some of the best they’ve ever done: For You, Aluminum, and Take It Outside. (Make that four, if you ignore the main version of Second Best, and take the far superior bonus acoustic version instead.)
• Mutual Admiration Society – Mutual Admiration Society
  Glen Phillips (formerly of Toad The Wet Sprocket) and Nickel Creek often play together, and this is their collaboration album. All-acoustic, laid back and a bit folky. Very pleasant. Favourite tracks: Somewhere Out There, Trouble, Think About Your Troubles.
• Groove Armada – Goodbye Country, Hello Nightclub
  Okay, so we’re way out of the 2003/2004 zone with this one, but this has a minor, yet special significance for me. I’ve had a low-grade rip of this disc for a few years, and it has been a solid favourite for ages. It was one of the first albums I loaded up when I got my iPod in November last year. It has now also become one of the few albums that I associate with a memory of a specific time or place: just after I got the iPod I took a trip from Oakland to San Jose. Most people would do this by car, but I took the train instead. The trip took about an hour and a half, and took me through abandoned industrial estates, pleasant residential areas, parks, and reed-filled mud flats. I had a book with me, but most of the time I spent gazing out of the window, watching California pass by. With Groove Armada in my ears. Fabulously chilled-out music to go with a fabulously relaxing journey.

2004: The compilation album

Around Christmas I put together a CD of my favourite songs of 2004. There are some tracks here from albums that didn’t make it onto the list above, and there are a few albums above that aren’t represented in this mix. These are not ordered by preference; I fitted them together in a sequence that I thought sounded nice. It starts upbeat, goes mellow in the middle, and has a strong finish with a fruity aftertaste. Or at least, I think so.

• Muse – “Hysteria” (Absolution)
• Franz Ferdinand – “Take Me Out” (Franz Ferdinand)
• Outkast – “Flip Flop Rock” (Speakerboxxx/The Love Below)
• Dogs Die In Hot Cars – “Modern Woman” (Please Describe Yourself)
• Belle & Sebastian – “I’m A Cuckoo” (Dear Catastrophe Waitress)
• Elvis Costello & The Imposters – “Bedlam” (The Delivery Man)
• Groove Armada – “Hands Of Time” (“Collateral” Soundtrack)
• Maroon 5 – “Sunday Morning” (Songs About Jane)
• Scissor Sisters – “Comfortably Numb” (Scissor Sisters)
• Tears For Fears – “Secret World” (Everybody Loves A Happy Ending)
• Blink-182 – “I Miss You” (Blink-182)
• Barenaked Ladies – “Aluminum” (Everything To Everyone)
• Mutual Admiration Society – “Trouble” (Mutual Admiration Society)
• The Blue Nile – “I Would Never” (High)
• Keane – “Somewhere Only We Know” (Hopes & Fears)
• Barenaked Ladies – “Second Best” (Everything To Everyone)

Just a quick plug for the new album by Scottish band The Blue Nile: High. Mellow, melodic, deliciously moody, and over far too quickly. I’ve only listened to it a few times, but I can tell it’s going to stay under my skin for a long time. You need to own this disc.

Update (5 November): After listening to it a few more times, it seems to have lost some of its initial magic. There are still about three or four stand-out tracks on it, but the overall brilliance seems to have worn off rather quickly. Huh. So much for my musical radar.