Radiohead - The Bends (LP, 1995)

A band releasing a sophomore album superior to their debut isn't that uncommon, but a band surpassing their debut by the margin that Radiohead did is pretty rare. The Bends is not only a great record, it's an important record, and one that would take the majority of the world a few years to catch up with. That included me.

I have a vague memory of being somewhere (a relative's house or something?) in 1995 and seeing the video for "Fake Plastic Trees" and not feeling much other than, "Huh, they're still at it, eh?" At the time, I wasn't really in a space to be handling what Radiohead was offering, but even if I was, I don't know that it would have really reached me. I know the videos for "Just" and "High and Dry" also got some minor MTV play, but I don't remember seeing them. Honestly, it wasn't until I embraced OK Computer that I went back and bought The Bends and listened to it incessantly for like two years.

And this is the kind of record that you can do that with. From beginning to end, this LP is brilliant, with almost every track sounding like it could be a single. Seems like about half of them were, in fact. And while the band clearly had experience with making songs that hit the mainstream hard, they had never made songs with this much complexity, vigor, and warmth.

From the opening wind-blown swirl that begins the album and "Planet Telex," you can tell this is the work of a band with something to prove. People want to read too much into Yorke's supposed depression-based lyrics on this album, but honestly, a lot of the lyrics here could be interpreted in a ton of different ways. And for me, while I certainly think Radiohead's lyrics are an integral part of the band's approach, I also think melody and arrangement are the forces that drive their songs and really make them powerful. "Fake Plastic Trees" and "Just" are so smart and precise in this regard, it's staggering. Same with the closer, "Street Spirit (Fade Out)," which is layered so smoothly that you can listen to dozens of times before hearing every element at work.

Some folks probably put this record and OK Computer on the same level, and though I probably give the edge to OK Computer, there's a great argument to be made for this record being equally great, and equally important. It's not often you see a band make so much progress in such a short period of time, in such a complete way. Not a stinker on this thing. And that title track: man, that's a good song. But now I'm rambling.

I somehow have an original import Parlaphone pressing of this album, which I think I bought from a friend or something...? Anyway, it's a sweet copy and it sounds incredible. So don't touch it.

"High and Dry"

Radiohead - My Iron Lung (CD, 1994)

If you're looking for the bridge that spans the gap between "Creep"-era Radiohead and "Fake Plastic Trees"-era Radiohead, this is it. And I mean that literally - it was released between Pablo Honey and The Bends. But, it's also the first place where you hear things starting to get noticeably abstract, with both Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood stepping up their respective games considerably.

Yorke's lyrics weren't exactly shitty on Pablo Honey, but some of them were less than memorable - ironic considering they probably represent the most easily decipherable words he would ever sing. His mumbly slur starts to take hold on this EP, but along with it, the ambition in his words takes some real leaps forward. And when he sings, "This, this is our new song/ Just like the last one/ A total waste of time," on the title track, you can tell he's all pissy about their "Creep"-induced rise to stardom, and that sort of harnessed anger might just be what makes this EP such an interesting group of songs.

It also might be because Jonny Greenwood is auditioning a bunch of new sounds and styles with his guitar on these tracks, and though not all of them totally hit it out of the park, it's really cool to hear him going nutso in a variety of ways. "The Trickster" features a much more jagged guitar approach than anything from their debut, and the rest of the band sounds energized as a result. "Lewis (Mistreated)" is one of their more punky songs, with Greenwood's guitar sounding glassy, sharp, and confrontational. "Punchdrunk Lovesick Singalong" is more tonally precise, hinting at some of the larger-scope songs the band had yet to write, where atmospherics and mood took precedence over slamming melodies into the listener's head.

"Lozenge of Love" and "You Never Wash Up After Yourself," two short, acoustic songs that don't seem to feature much more than Greenwood and Yorke, wrap up the album proper, and offer a rare glimpse into a stripped-down version of the band. The inclusion of the acoustic version of "Creep" on the end of this EP just reeks of record company interference, but I'm not basing that on anything other than the fact that everything else about this EP seems to point toward a deliberate shift away from that song and everything it represented. Also weird considering that it was already available on the "Stop Whispering" single. But this would mark the last time the song and the band would be connected for a while.

A nice little EP, but ultimately only a tease of what they would come up with next. And the title track is an incredible song. Think I forgot to mention that.

"My Iron Lung"

Radiohead - Pablo Honey (LP, 1993)

The revisionist history on Pablo Honey usually goes a couple different ways: Either people (the most loyal of fanboys) claim that it's way better than it is and lament its supreme underratedness, or people (ultimate cool guys) shit on it to the point where they don't even acknowledge it as part of the Radiohead catalog.

How much it pains people to admit that the post-Nirvana band of our generation is the same peroxide-blond, grunge-leaning group that scored big with "Creep"! Oh, come on. Who cares.

Radiohead must feel some serious solidarity with Beck, because in the mid-90's, society had written both of them off as one-hit wonders ten minutes into their career, after they had captured the hearts of a disaffected youth with self-deprecating anthems that the artists themselves hadn't even considered particularly strong songs. And then they both, somehow, managed to distance themselves from those ubiquitous tracks and go on to a huge career while never again reaching the masses in that same singular way ever again. Very few artists have done it. Very few would want to.

Along those same lines, Thom Yorke reminds me of Mike Patton in way. (Bear with me here.) Both dudes came out fairly young, scored big with a song with which they'll forever be inextricably linked, and both made some fashion choices that they probably lived to regret. They also both quickly acquired a fanbase of people who they never expected to relate to them, and after realizing what they had done, decided to pull an abrupt 180 and assume that anyone who was really down would follow them.

"Hey, remember that huge radio hit I had last year when my hair was all styled up? Yeah, well, I hate myself for doing that now, and it's led me to a dark, fucked-up place that has somehow turned me into a weird genius. Anyway, I'm writing some incredible songs now, but they sound nothing like that one that you and your friends used to sing along to. In a bit of what might turn out to be career suicide, I'm actually anticipating alienating half of our audience with this stuff. You probably won't like it, But if you do, you'll actually like it way more than that first shit I did, and you'll respect me more, and you'll buy everything else we put out until I die. And when I do, they're going to put the name of that first fucking song on my headstone, but you and I: we'll know the deal."

Too far with that? Possibly. Anyway.

The truth is, Pablo Honey is somewhere in between those two opposing viewpoints I mentioned in the beginning. People who say they can hear the genius of the band trying to poke through on this LP can go ahead and tell themselves that, but it's really not readily apparent. These are the songs that Radiohead had been working on since forming, and some of them are pretty darn good ("Stop Whispering," "You," "Prove Yourself"), and some of them are on the better side of OK ("Vegetable," "I Can't," "How Do You?"). It's almost like the band had to purge itself of all its early material to get to where they were going on their next album. And that's cool. Plenty of bands do that.

But not a lot of bands go on to make records like OK Computer and Kid A. And that's why it's too late for this record to get a fair shake. There's too much big shit that's happened after it. But it's a good record. Maybe a little dated-sounding, but good. And I've actually had a fun time listening to it the past couple days. And that's also good.

"Stop Whispering"

Queens of the Stone Age/Beaver - The Split CD (CD, 1998)

There's conflicting information on the web as to whether this came out before or after Queens of the Stone Age, and though I'm actually inclined to believe that it was released previous to their debut, I somehow didn't put that together yesterday, so it's here today. If it is chronologically off, it's not by much. So there you go.

I bought this around the same time (possibly even the same day) that I picked up up the Queens' debut, and I'm glad I did. This CD has become impossible to find, and since it's only got two QOTSA songs on it - with one of those being an instrumental - I wouldn't be looking to shell out serious dough for it. (The last copy I saw on eBay went for $60. Yikes.) But I do love having it. There's a 10" version that I would love to have more, but that thing's even more in demand. Collecting Queens of the Stone Age vinyl is an expensive habit. Check completed eBay listings sometime. It's nuts. But I'm getting off track here...

Not a ton to say about this one, though. The Queens songs are "The Bronze," a badass three-and-a-half minute rocker that would have fit in perfectly on their debut, and the wonderfully titled "These Aren't the Droids You're Looking For," a loopy instrumental that gets a little nutso in parts, but mostly sounds like a slightly refined jam. Cool song, though.

The two Beaver songs make nice companions for the Queens tracks, as they're equally thick and a little more sprawling.

Also: came across an article that was published today, featuring Josh Homme talking about what went into Queens of the Stone Age. Good read. Check it out.

"The Bronze"

Queens of the Stone Age - Queens of the Stone Age (CD, LP, 1998)

How cosmic that I would end up writing the entry for this album on the same day it was reissued. It's also probably the same day that my CD copy of this record went from being worth $40 on eBay to being worth a buck. This disc's been out of print for a long-ass time, and folks have been internet-clamoring for it for a while. Always thought about selling my copy, but my LP, like my Kyuss/QOTSA split, is a confirmed (yet nicely-made) bootleg, so I guess the thought of not having a legit copy left a bad taste in my mouth.

But that's me: I'm a Queens purist.

Truth be told, I don't mind owning two copies of this album, because it is awesome. Part Kyuss and part something totally brand-new, this record is riff-rock at its finest, even if the production value sludges some of it together in parts. Eh, it really doesn't matter. The bass and drums are huge, and Homme's songwriting is - while in retrospect not fully realized - badass. Tracks like "Mexicola" and "You Can't Quit Me Baby" are rumblers, with thick-ass basslines that lay the foundation for Homme's huge leads and oft-hypnotic noodling.

I bought this CD after hearing (and becoming obsessed with) 2000's Rated R, and honestly, I figured it'd be their "finding their sound" record. Instead, it's pretty much QOTSA right out the gate, with songs like "Regular John" and "You Would Know" sounding like the Queens of two years in the future.

I'm hoping now that this thing's being reissued that it'll get the respect it deserves. I don't think it's underrated, by any means; I just think a lot of people don't associate it with the band as much as their major-label stuff. And while that's understandable, it's a shame. Because while I don't think this record is quite as strong as Rated R, I wouldn't scoff at you if you told me you thought it was. If that makes sense.

I probably won't get the reissue, because I've got the bonus tracks on other releases, but who knows. If they put it out on vinyl, I might pick it up. As sweet as my red vinyl bootleg is, I hate that it's not legit. Yet I still have it... Huh.

"Give the Mule What He Wants"

Kyuss/Queens of the Stone Age - Kyuss/Queens of the Stone Age (CD, LP, 1997)

I've got this one filed under Queens of the Stone Age in my collection, so I guess that's why I'm writing it up here instead of having done it when we covered the few Kyuss albums I own. As you probably know, a few of the dudes from Kyuss (Josh Homme and Alfredo Hernández) formed Queens of the Stone Age after Kyuss broke up, and if there's ever been a transitional album, this would be it.

In fact, does anyone know of another album like this? Where the old band does a split with the new band that the main guy goes on to form, essentially ending the first band and beginning the new one? There's gotta be a few more, but I can't think of any.

This six-song EP features three tracks from each band, with Kyuss offering up two eight-minute bruisers (a cover of Black Sabbath's "Into the Void," and the original "Fatso Forgotso"), as well as a comparably ultra-brief, two-minute, fast-tempoed (for them) jam ("Fatso Forgotso Phase II") that closes out their side. While not their strongest songs, the tracks are vintage Kyuss: lo-fi, brutally dense, and aiming to pound your skull in.

The QOTSA side is, as far as I know, the earliest recorded work from the band. Homme, though not a veteran behind the mic at this point, sings pretty well (even though his vocals are buried in the mix) on the catchy opener, "If Only Everything," and even better on the more Kyuss-ish "Born to Hula," which is probably the best song on this disc. Both of these tracks would get re-recorded, with "If Only Everything" abbreviated to "If Only" and released on the band's self-titled debut, and "Born to Hula" redone sometime around Rated R, where it shows up as a b-side on a single. The later versions are probably technically "better," but these originals still hold up.

The Queens' side finishes up with "Spiders and Vinegaroons," a six-and-a-half minute clappy noodler that foreshadows some of the darker elements the band would eventually embrace and become known for. It's a badass song, but lengthy and vocal-less. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I have this on CD and LP, though I think my CD is a 2000 reissue and I'm fairly certain my LP's a bootleg. So that kind of sucks. I was at the record store like, "Whoah! I didn't even know they put this out on vinyl!" That's because they didn't, idiot. I've learned to never make purchases like that without consulting my iPhone. Looks legit, though, so I don't really care.

Oh, and get ready for Queens of the Stone Age week!

"Born to Hula"

The Promise Ring - Very Emergency (CD, 1999)

I think I mentioned it before, but if I didn't: this was the first Promise Ring album I bought. Picked it up brand new on vinyl (apparently I sold that at some point) after reading a bunch of complimentary articles about the band. I didn't really know what to expect, but given that they were synonymous with the "emo" label, I guess I figured their music would be way more forlorn and depressing than the songs on this record.

In fact, when I heard the opener, "Happiness is All the Rage," I was struck by the feeling that I had made a bad call in picking up the record. "Skips a Beat (Over You)" and "Arms and Danger" (though that one may be sarcastic in its intentions) did little to assuage that notion. After I accepted the record for what it is - peppy pop that is sometimes way too enthusiastic - I learned to enjoy it, though a bit guiltily.

Let's be honest: I'm not usually into bands that regularly tour with Jimmy Eat World. But I liked these songs, and as I mentioned before, this record caught me at a time when I may have been a little more vulnerable to music that was expressing feelings, no matter what they might be. And if this album put me a better mood than I was often in, I don't see the harm in that.

But I don't want to spend this space defending my enjoyment of The Promise Ring (though I apparently feel like I need to). They're certainly not for everybody, but they definitely heavily connect with some people. I don't think I'm that person anymore, because I rarely listen to this record these days. But, I also don't plan on getting rid of it.

If nothing else, it still reminds me of being up at 4am on a Tuesday while singing along with "All of My Everythings." Which is a depressing memory that I've somehow found a way to cherish. That's the most emo thing I've ever said.

"Emergency! Emergency!"

The Promise Ring - Nothing Feels Good (CD, 1997)

The leap that The Promise Ring made between their debut and this album is fairly astounding.

I don't know if it was due to a better recording environment (the album's production is noticeably sharper), the band honing their sound, or them just getting way better at everything that they were doing (this is my blanket assessment), but when "Is This Thing On?" blasts in, opening the record, it barely sounds like the same band. Davey von Bohlen sounds way more assertive on the lead vocals, and instead of the ramshackle rhythms that characterized their first record, they favor a much more propulsive sound.

And not just on that track. "Why Did Ever We Meet" (arguably their signature song) is another great example, and even the slower songs on the record sound tighter. None of that would matter if the songwriting hadn't followed suit, but it did. There's a reason a lot of folks consider this the quintessential "emo" record: it's really good. It's probably their best, but I don't know if it's my favorite. I realize that statement makes little sense. But I'm partial to Wood/Water. We'll get to that.

Anyway, if you know any depressed teenage dudes, give them this record and a couple wine coolers and they'll either feel way better or way worse after they listen to repeatedly in their dark teenage bedroom. Probably better. This record still puts me in a good mood. I'm man enough to admit that.

"Why Did Ever We Meet"

The Promise Ring - The Horse Latitudes (CD, 1997)

This transitional EP collects tracks from The Promise Ring's first three 7"s (one of which I used to have, and must have gotten rid of when I bought this), and adds two other songs that were unavailable elsewhere.

These tracks are from the same era as their debut (some before), and so there's not much movement here. The songs are solid enough, and the two previously unreleased songs ("Miette" and "I Never Trusted the Russians") are short on lyrics, but otherwise don't show any outward signs of why they hadn't seen the light of day.

I never listened to this disc much. It's short, and though, like I said, it's not bad, it really does feel like a collection of singles, so there's not a lot of cohesion to it. Not that that's an excuse to not take a shine to it, but I guess I'm using it as one. And, the production on these tracks suffers from some of the same flaws as their debut: vocals are buried, guitars are undefined, and drums are thuddy.

A nice companion to the first album, I suppose, but again, it sounds noticeably elementary compared to their next stuff.

"E. Texas Ave."

The Promise Ring - 30° Everywhere (CD, 1996)

And here's where we talk about my dark, dark secret: The Promise Ring.

Actually, I don't feel too embarrassed about liking this band. They remind me of a certain time (late 90's/early 00's), and during that time, I needed a wuss-rock band like this for drunken, lonely nights. The Promise Ring were great for that, and they were also great for hammering melodies into your head and writing lyrics that, when they didn't go over-corny and end up sucking super hard, were often unexpectedly good.

I started out with their third album (Very Emergency) after Spin wouldn't shut the hell up about it, so I sort of came in in the middle of things. I worked backwards to the one before it, and eventually made it back to this one, their debut, before their final record came out. I wish I would have heard them in order, but in reality, if I had heard this one first, I might not have gone much further.

As it stood, discovering the band's humble beginnings was somewhat charming after hearing their second and third records, but this one is a pretty steep step down (or I guess the other ones were a huge step up), that it was initially tough to process. The recording ain't great, the songs aren't especially interesting, and lead dude Davey von Bohlen hadn't quite found his voice yet. The guy's got a unique singing style, and he totally got it to work on their next record, but here: not so much.

So, this is easily the Promise Ring Record that I listen to the least. But, I've never gotten rid of it, and I played it through yesterday and remembered that I definitely don't dislike it. It just sounds like a young band finding their sound, because that's exactly what it is. Don't kill me, Promise Ring fanboys. I know you love this record. And that's cool. It just doesn't grip me as much as their later shit.

"Anne You Will Sing"

Primus - Pork Soda (CD, 1993)

I distinctly remember buying this CD from Musicland in Salem Center when I was 17. It must have just come out, because I recall feeling excited about spotting it and having no idea that it was out. I made big plans to love it.

I never really did, though I do recall enjoying it for a short time. This album is ridiculously front-loaded, with the last five (maybe six, or even seven) songs being rough to listen to all in a row. Tracks like "Mr. Krinkle" and the title track were probably very fun for the band to play, but listening to them can be a bit grueling. And the eight-minute "Hamburger Train" is all kinds of wanky. But, I bet there are plenty of Primus fans who were way into that sort of thing. Some people just want to listen to Les Claypool slap the shit out of his bass for hours. Hence their shows over the last decade, which are like three hours long.

I always liked "Bob," "Nature Boy," and "Welcome to This World," but it was never enough for me to really hand myself over to this record like I had wanted to. And that's fine. I don't think I'm really the type to be a Primus fan anyway. I do remember buying Tales from the Punchbowl on cassette a few years after this, but I never got into that, either. Guess I hadn't learned.

I went to see Primus a few years back - think I mentioned this already - and they played a full set and performed the entire Frizzle Fry album. It is one of the only times I've left a show early. And by early, I mean at least two hours after it started. I gave it a go. Apparently that's my deal with this band.

"My Name is Mud"

Primus - Miscellaneous Debris (CD, 1992)

Primus was hot shit when I was in high school, and they should have been. They sounded like nothing else, and they were exactly the kind of band that us "alternative" 90's youths loved. My friends had Suck On This, Frizzle Fry, and Sailing the Seas of Cheese, and I spent some considerable time with cassette copies of those albums. Apparently I was never persuaded to make the CD purchase. But Miscellaneous Debris seemed like a good way to go, so I picked it up. (It was probably the EP pricing that persuaded me.)

I don't really car for Primus much anymore (even though I saw them live six or seven years ago), but I've always liked this little group of cover songs. "Making Plans for Nigel" is the standout, but their version of the Meters' "Tippi Toes" is fun, and "Have a Cigar" is good, too.

Man, I have not listened to this in forever. I remember always being annoyed that it was only 18 minutes long. But you get what you pay for. My love affair with Primus was never as intense as I wanted it to be. I always liked them a lot, but I never go full-on nuts for them. That's probably for the best. Keeping up with them at this point seems like too much work. Though I do own one more of their albums...

"Intruder"

Praxis - Transmutation (Mutatis Mutandis) (CD, 1992)

Bohemia Afterdark showed the video for Praxis's "Animal Behavior" a few times after its release, and apparently that was enough for me to take the plunge with this one. I dug the shit out of that song, and any band that I could out-cool people with was good to go in my book. Turns out this record was perfect for that.

Not only is this album incredibly complex and musically mind-blowing, it's also somehow really fun to listen to. Considering that "Animal Behavior" is the only song with lyrics, and that this CD is almost an hour long, that's damn impressive. It didn't hurt that I was still incredibly into Mr. Bungle around the time this came out, and this music isn't too far removed from the style they were immersed in at the time.

Maybe I was smoking a lot of grass at the time (there's no maybe about it), but I really got heavy into this album for a while. Even by '94 or '95, I still have fond memories of playing this album for people and them hating it. It's good to have CDs like that around.

This was my first exposure to Buckethead, and I was very intrigued by him. He doesn't go too nuts on "Animal Behavior," but when I purchased the CD, I was treated to plenty of his inhuman guitar craziness. Mix that with the bass-thumpery of Bootsy Collins, the skin-hitting of Brain, and the keyboard manipulation of Bernie Worrell, and you've got yourself a band. Oh, and the mighty Bill Laswell headed the whole thing up. He's nuts.

This is as far as I went with Praxis, and I've always regretted that. I still wouldn't mind owning Sacrifist, their black-metal-ish follow-up. I should remember to look for that.

"Animal Behavior"

Porno for Pyros - Good God's Urge (CD, 1996)

Porno for Pyros waited too long to put this CD out, and changed their sound way too much in the interim. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered if these songs were better. Somebody decided to go tropical/exotic with the instrumentation, and they just don't pull it off that well. I'm sure there are plenty of folks who love this record; I'm just not one of 'em.

The difference between 1993 and 1996 was huge, especially if you were my age. It was the difference between high school and college, the difference between Cobain and no Cobain. Things changed a lot. And while I expected Farrel to get crazy ambitious with his first post-Jane's LP, apparently he was saving that for their sophomore effort. Fair enough, and I applaud the band for trying a new direction. And there are some good songs on here. But tracks like "100 Ways" and "Kimberly Austin" are some of the weakest songs that Farrel had released up to this point, and it showed. In fact, this whole record was the first thing he did (not counting Psi Com) that wasn't really, really good.

"Tahitian Moon" remains a great song, and so does "Dogs Rule the Night." And "Freeway" and "Porpoise Head" have their moments. But overall, this thing never clicked with me. Yet I stole it from my girlfriend in 1998 and still have it. Huh.

Seriously - it is bizarre how great a song "Tahitian Moon" is, and how bland the rest of the record is compared to it.

"Tahitian Moon"

Porno for Pyros - Porno for Pyros (CD, 1993)

Though there were a few years between Jane's Addiction's last record and this, Perry Farrel's new project, it wasn't like he ever went away. Lollapalooza was in full effect, and Perry was just around. I remember being excited when this came out, though I thought that the band name was supremely hacky. It remains hacky.

Turns out this album is pretty good, though. I think its simplicity let a lot of people down after the crazy ambition of Ritual de lo Habitual, but whatever. This record sort of sounds like old Jane's Addiction stuff, and any space afforded by the slightly sparse nature of the arrangements just leaves more room for Perry's voice, and there's nothing wrong with that. I actually enjoyed that they stuck to three-and-four minute rock songs, and didn't try to do anything too fancy. If you would have asked me to guess, I would have said that Perry would have come out with something that was trying way too hard. And he didn't. And that was cool.

This record sounds a little dated now, though I still remember why I liked "Meija," "Bad Shit," "Packin' .25," and "Blood Rag." They're great songs, and actually deceptively complex. There's a good amount of variation in the tempos and styles, and they all work. And really, there's not a terrible song on here. "Pets" got played out pretty quick, but it's a catchy tune. I even have a soft spot for "Black Girlfriend" and "Orgasm," even though they're both fairly stupid if you think about them too much.

Still, '93 was a good year for rock, and I definitely played the shit out of this record. It remains the last really good thing Perry Farrel did. And it should at least be remembered for that.

"Blood Rag"

Pond - Rock Collection (CD, 1997)

While most NW bands had already signed their major-label deals and been shit out the bottom of the industry by '97, Pond was bringing up the rear. I didn't know what to think when I heard they had signed with WORK (a now-defunct division of Sony), but I was just happy as shit they were going to put out another record. And considering how disparate their first two albums had been, I didn't know what to expect from the third.

I would take no satisfaction from shitting on Pond for making a weak album to satisfy the industry types, and thankfully I don't have to. Rock Collection is definitely their most "accessible" album, but it's by no means radio-ready, even if Sony thought it might be. Though Brady's songs here do portend the more mainstream-ish stuff he would go on to do with Audio Learning Center, they're not a large enough jump from his songs on their previous record to feel out of place or forced. He continues to write huge hooks, and they work throughout this record.

Campbell continues to be in the zone on this one, too. "My Dog Is An Astronaut, Though" and "You're Not A Seed" are some of the best songs he ever did with the band. And "Rebury Me" keeps his obsession with abstract structures going. "Twins" and "One Day in the Future" are two of his more straightforward songs ever, though they're both decidedly different in tone. His depression clearly hadn't subsided by this point, and the album's closer, "Ugly," is both beautiful and cringe-worthy.

The songs are divided up pretty evenly between the two dudes this time around, with Brady feeling like a much more commanding presence on this record than he did on the previous one. There are tinges of him trying to sound buzzworthy on "Spokes" and "Golden," but thankfully he reins it in before it gets too corny. And those are fine songs - don't get me wrong. The sticker on the front of the CD says "Featuring 'Spokes' and 'Scoliosis.'" "Spokes" was the first (and only) single, but I always felt "Scoliosis" was the catchier song. Not that that matters.

Brady really gets over with "Greyhound" and "Filterless," two songs that seem to go together, and are only separated on the album by "Rebury Me," which fits in well with them, too. They're all towards the end, and they make for a strong ramp-up to the end of this record. Overall, Brady sounds invigorated on this album. Maybe he had high hopes for the major-label situation...

Of course, it ended up being the undoing of the band. This would be their last album together, making for a solid ending to their way-too-short career. Still, I'm glad they got a little taste of the big time, even if it was bitter. And this record really is a fine one. It's another completely unique effort from them, and it's crazy to think that this was only four years removed from their debut.

I've been listening to this record a lot lately, and it holds up well. Pond, we hardly knew ye.

But if nothing else, we've got this surreal video to remember them by:

"Spokes"

Pond - The Practice of Joy Before Death (CD, LP, 1995)

Pond's debut had been unabashedly poppy in parts, and merely happy in others. The songs brimmed with wide-eyed optimism and reflected a band who seemed entirely enamored to be putting out a record. The photo on the back featured all the band members smiling, looking goofy. The front cover was one of the most colorful to ever come out on Sub Pop. Maybe anywhere. Even the toy featured on the inside cover was happy-go-lucky.

This must have been the "Joy" in The Practice of Joy Before Death.

On their sophomore release, the band went hardcore minimal for the mostly-white cover art, not even listing song titles on the back. The CD itself is marked only with a stripe, and Campbell and Brady look exhausted in the photos on the inside. Clearly there was a shift.

I don't know who hurt Charlie Campbell in between the band's debut and this record, but she should be both scolded for bringing the guy down, and thanked (it's been long enough now) for forcing Charlie to write the most personal - and best - songs of his career. Brady is at his peak here, too, though his songs are more about things than people, and don't carry quite the same level of moroseness that Campbell's do. It's actually good, because the comparatively peppy nature of Brady's songs make a nice respite from the beautiful intensity of Campbell's heartbroken tales of repressed anger. Or something to that effect.

I'm jumping around a little here.

I was a little out of the loop in '95 - broke, stoned a lot, not keeping up with music as well as I should have been. At some point during this haze I ran into my brother and he asked me if I had heard the new Pond record yet. I said I had not. "Dude." He said. He hooked me up with a copy and I listened to it and I heard exactly what he was talking about. It was incredible. Not what we expected at all. Better. It was all the good things about Pond, taken and warped and sent in an entirely different direction. As soon as I had the money, I bought a copy on CD and played it constantly. It was mind-blowingly good. I still get excited when I hear the muffled TV sample that comes before the first chords and first lyric ("Tar-baked asphalt...") to "Sideroad," the first song on the record.

It's hard to gauge the response to this record, because Pond was never a big enough band to warrant the kind of reviews that were major enough to still exist on the web these days, but I've come across blurbs that complain about the lo-fi nature of the recordings here. I think, again, it was just another effort to shift the feel of the music the band was making, and it works wonders for the songs on this record. Not that the recording is even that lo-fi. A good amount of the tracks here were recorded at home, but they don't sound noticeably depleted of anything a "real" studio atmosphere would provide. Instead, they sound highly personal and, though loose in parts, very deliberate.

Campbell penned nine of the fourteen tracks here, and co-wrote another one ("Mubby's Theme," which he sings, which makes me think it was mostly his), so he commands the feel of this record a bit more than Brady. Like I mentioned, a handful of his songs seem to be about his relationship troubles, and they make for some of his most - and pardon me for saying this - introspective lyrics. "Happy Cow Farm Family" and "Union" are sad as shit lyrically, but the songs themselves feature huge choruses that betray the delicate nature of the verses. It's great. "Patience" is just plain soul-crushing, a song that feels like it starts in the middle and ends when he gets too exhausted to continue. Yowsa.

Campbell's songs that aren't so dour are just as good: "Carpenter Ant" and "Artificial Turf" are as strange as this record gets, and the fact that they're right next to each other is a great move. Campbell's vocals on each are markedly different, and it's really interesting how their juxtaposition makes both of them stronger. "Glass Sparkles In Their Hair" is one of his most rambunctious songs ever, and it's incredible. And then there's the album's closer, the strangely fun "Gagged and Bound," which wraps things up on a lighter note that you don't see coming.

Brady's songs, though there's only four of 'em, are fantastic. "Sideroad," "Sundial," and "Maginifier" all follow the same basic path, but they're each very different. "Sundial," especially, is just an incredibly catchy tune. And the rumbling bass at the beginning is nuts. But it's "Rock Collection," the almost-ten-minute slow-and-steady rambler, that still holds the title as the only "epic" Pond song. I always forget how long it is, and it never seems like ten minutes go by when I'm listening to it. That's a good sign.

As you can tell, I really dig this record. There are a lot of Pond fans that cry because the band was never popular enough, but whatever. I'm sure the right people heard this record. I know a handful of folks who love it, and come on: this isn't the type of music that's going to sell a ton of records. I get it. In a perfect world, this would be remembered as one of the best records of the 90's. And it should be. It's on my list. It's the band's crowing achievement, no doubt about it. It's a shame that more people don't embrace its brilliance, but I've always liked that it's my thing. Our thing. One of the best sophomore releases I can name off the top of my head.

It should be on your shelf. It'll up your taste in music just by being in your vicinity. It really is that good.

A note for Pond nerds: "Van" is a sweet song on this record that I somehow forgot to mention. If you listen to the end of "Wheel" on Pond's debut, you can hear a backwards recording of Charlie playing it on an acoustic. Nerd on.

And, yes: I have this on CD, LP, and cassette.

"Union"

Pond - Pond (LP, CD, 1993)

I should make a special section on this site for the albums that I own on CD, LP, and cassette. Usually when I get an album in vinyl, I'll sell the CD. But there are some - this being one of them - that I can't bring myself to part with. I want to be prepared to play them at all times, and there's usually some sentimentality involved, too. The first two Pond records would be in there, and so would some Faith No More records. The first Mr. Bungle, too. I'm sure there a few more that I'm forgetting at the moment. Anyway.

I don't clearly remember the first time I heard Pond. I always picture this record coming out in '91 or '92, because it feels like such a big part of my youth. Apparently I only had it during the last few years of high school. But I listened to it a ton. My friend had a copy of the CD that was always in his car, and we spent many an afternoon dicking around, driving while blaring this CD. It never got old. Ten songs that sounded almost like something you'd heard before, but mostly like nothing you'd ever come across.

Pond is remembered by people who don't really know what they're talking about as a "grunge" band, but I wouldn't call them that. Yeah, they rose to prominence in the NW in the early-to-mid 90's, and it's easy to slap that label on them to quickly reference their involvement in that scene, but "grunge" has dumbed-down connotations that I would never attach to Pond. Their music, even though it was never short on gristly, fuzzed-out tones, was deceptively intricate and fully reliant on melody over all else. Trying to compare the resulting sound to any other band is pointless, and in this case, that's a high compliment.

Pond was a three-piece band that sounded like a four-piece, thanks both to Charlie Campbell's dexterous fingers on the guitar, and Chris Brady's penchant for playing weird-ass semi-chords on his bass. (He would also use a bow sometimes.) And, of course, Dave Triebwasser pummeled the drums. That guy was the perfect drummer for this group. They all sound huge, but like I said, it's the precision that made it work. There were plenty of bands who tried to play loud, melodic rock, but Pond was just really fucking good at it.

The fact that Campbell and Brady's voices sound similar to the untrained ear made the whole thing even more interesting. Their harmonies were dead-on, and instead of their being a slight disconnect when one or the other took over the lead vocals (I always just assumed they sang the songs they wrote, and the vocal duties usually ended up being split down the middle - also cool) - like, say, on a Sebadoh record - you were never left with any sense that things had shifted. Tough to do, and a real testament to how well Campbell and Brady worked together.

So, yes, this is their debut, and though I bet the band considers this their finding-their-sound LP, it's full-blown awesomeness. (Quick aside - I went to see Pond in 1997, and someone yelled out "Agatha" - one of the singles from this record - and Brady made a comment about how they're "not that band anymore" and they did not play the song. Hence my assumption that they disowned this record at some point.) Trying to explain what Pond sounds like is difficult, so describing the exact merits of these songs is a little tough. They're heavy in a way, but also the sort of songs that I used to sing along to at the top of my lungs. I still can. They're catchy. And the lyrics are smart. And most of them have one-word titles like "Gone," "Wheel," "Grinned," and "Spots."

"Foamy" has always been one of my favorite tracks, especially after I found out it was about a likable prostitute. That remains one of the only songs on this record that I have any grasp of what it might be about. Although "Tree" may actually be about a tree.

If you don't own this record, you should. You can probably - sadly - find it for a dollar somewhere. I could go on forever about it. And wait until we get to their next record. I won't be able to shut up about it.

"Agatha"

PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love (CD, 1995)

If you're wondering why I didn't put this album under "H," it's because technically PJ Harvey is the name of the band, not just Polly Jean's name. Though I'm sure there's a good argument for why it could be either. I just don't wanna hear it.

To Bring You My Love is the only PJ Harvey album that I've ever fully given myself over to, and even then, it was for a limited time. I've always liked her music; I've just never loved it. Though I do enjoy this record quite a bit. I listened to it for the first time in years the other night, and it came back to me pretty quick. This really is a fantastic batch of songs, but I just have to be in the right frame of mind to enjoy 'em.

The clear standouts are the immediately catchier tracks like "C'mon Billy" and "Down By the Water," but the weirder cuts like "I Think I'm a Mother" and "Teclo" are equally great once you get comfortable with them. In the end, it's Harvey's voice that really makes this thing work so well. Even though the arrangements here are a bit fuller than they are on some of her other work, her voice still steals the show.

Not sure why I could never obsess about this record like some friends of mine, but I've kept it around for 15 years, so that's gotta say something.

"Long Snake Moan"

Pixies - Trompe Le Monde (LP, 1991)

This was the only Pixies album I bought upon its release, and I really could not have been more excited. I immediately loved it, and continue to do so to this day. The band brought back some of the rougher edges that had been smoothed out on Bossanova, and Black Francis wrote some incredibly strong tunes for this record.

Apparently it's not everyone's favorite, but I could easily make an argument for this being the band's best record. Between this record and Frank Black's first two solo records, you've got the golden era of the man whose real name is Charles Thompson. I could go deep into into my Eric Drew Feldman theory right now (he plays on all three of the records), but I'll spare you that. So let's get to the songs and why they're so great.

"Trompe Le Monde" - This was the only Pixies record that took its title from the name of a song and not a lyric from a song, and they just went ahead and put it right out front. And that's where it should be. A great tune to start off with.

Random: In the break in this song, Black Francis sing/talks: "We went to the store and got something great/ Which samples this song from Washington State." A friend of mine in high school had this weird Radio Shack megaphone that not only amplified your voice, but also played college fight songs. Among them was the one from Washington State, and it played it just like the little blips that come after that lyric in the song. We were convinced that this megaphone is what they were talking about. I still am.

Also: This version of the band playing the song on Letterman remains bizarre and awesome.

"Planet of Sound" - If anyone was concerned about whether the Pixies were getting soft, this should have assuaged those fears. What a badass tune. "This ain't no rock & roll town/ This ain't no fuckin' around." Exactly.

"Alec Eiffel" - What an incredible melody (as usual), and Kim Deal really makes it work on this one. One of the singles from this record, and it's definitely one of the more accessible tunes.

"The Sand Punk" - This track contains one of my favorite Pixies lyrics ever: "And evolving from the sea/ Would not be too much time for me/ To walk beside you in the sun." It really doesn't get much better than that. Love this song.

"Head On" - The second of the only two covers that made their way onto proper Pixies albums. It's a fine song, but I prefer their original material.

"U-Mass" - Somewhere along the line this became a Pixies head-bangin' classic, and I'm fairly certain it's more tongue-in-cheek than people realize. Again: great lyrics.

"Palace of the Brine" - One of two minute-and-a-half ass-kickers on this record. This song is untouchable.

"Letter to Memphis" - I always think of this one and "Palace of the Brine" as a one-two combo that should not be separated, because the break between the two songs in short and seamless and they really work well as a pair. Not sure if this is supposed to be a love song in the traditional sense, but it sure works as one.

"Bird Dream of the Olympus Mons" - Leave it to Black Francis to write a frighteningly beautiful song about a bird dreaming that he flies to Mars. These lyrics are insanely good, and the buildup in this song is flawless.

"Space (I Believe In)" - One of the longer songs on the record, and though I certainly like it, it's not one of my favorites. The end is great, though.

"Subbacultcha" - I never had any idea that this was one of the earliest tunes that Black Francis wrote for the band, and I was a bit surprised to find out that it was. It fits in fine with the rest of the songs here, though it remains one of their weirder tunes, which is saying something.

"Distance Equals Rate Times Time" - I always forget the name of this song because "D equals R times T" is mentioned in "Space (I Believe In)" and it mixes me up. This is the other minute-and-a-half ass-kicker on this record and it will knock you over.

"Lovely Day" - Apparently not one of the band's most enduring songs, but I always felt it deserved to be. Wish I had the faintest idea what this song is about, because I bet it's interesting. "You will be my martian honey all the day" makes me very curious.

"Motorway to Roswell" - Black Francis was still obsessed with aliens (and would continue to be), and this song seems to tell the fractured tale of an outer space visitor who ended up somewhere he didn't want to be. It's the longest song on the record, and it deserves the extra space.

"The Navajo Know" - The last song on the last Pixies record, and though I don't know why, it seems like a fitting send-off. It's got a great little melody, obscure-as-shit lyrics, and makes little sense. I love the production on this track.

It's possible that I've listened to this LP more than any other Pixies record. I had it on cassette right when it came out, and it got a lot of play. Tons. Sometimes I still think this is my all-time favorite Pixies album, but that remains a tough call to make. I guess it's safe to say that it's right up there with all their other ones.

And this would be it for the band who pioneered alternative rock and then broke up before they could enjoy the landscape they created. I always thought that was a sweet move. Don't worry, though - there's a bunch more Pixies stuff coming. Settle in.

"Head On"/"Bird Dream of the Olympus Mons"