The Breeders - Last Splash (CD, 1993)

This CD came out a few weeks before my senior year of high school. I remember the first time I heard it, and being floored that it was the same band who I had heard doing "Safari" a year before. While that song was sonically leaps and bounds ahead of Pod, it didn't prepare me for this one. I still don't know what it was, but The Breeders went from "Kim Deal's other band" to MTV heroes overnight. And they deserved it. This album is that good.

The Pixies had broken up, and judging from even the first ten seconds of this record, Kim had been putting all her time into this thing. When the aptly titled "New Year" starts, something fires up, and Kim half-cries "We have..." and then the whole fucking thing crashes in, and it's really something. By the point where it goes to double time and the song really takes off, you struggle to figure out what's going on, where the hell this all came from, and then it's over. Then "Cannonball" comes in and then it happens all over again.

This album will always be linked with "Cannonball" (and so will the Breeders, unfortunately), but it's really selling the whole of this record short. While "Cannonball" is, at the end of the day, a great little song, I'd take "No Aloha" or "Divine Hammer" over its click-clackiness every time. Same with "Do You Love Me Now?", a song that surely graced countless teenage mix tapes in the mid-90's.

I think part of me loves this record because I still equate it with a simpler time in my life, but it's also not my fault that that simpler time happened to be a time when some really important records were being made. While an album like this was probably considered a "minor" hit in 1993, that was partly because there was so much other great stuff happening. That a band like The Breeders could have a radio/MTV hit with a bizarre song like "Cannonball" actually gives me pride in my generation. That's a weird thing to say, and it makes me sound old.

Whatever. This album is 15 years old and it still sounds fantastic.

"Divine Hammer"

The Breeders - Pod (CD, 1990)

You get the vibe The Breeders started out with little aspiration, that maybe it was not much more than a way to pass the time, so it's actually quite remarkable they're as good as they are. Looking at Kim Deal in the Pixies, you wouldn't really peg her as someone with the ability to write some really great songs. Sure, "Gigantic" has always been a fan favorite, but she had a way of coming across as ditzy and unfocused.

The Breeders' music is the exact opposite. While it's fun and a bit noisy in parts, you can tell it's all deliberate, and that's what's great about it. This records has the feel of a side project, as there are multiple drummers and the sound quality is scattershot. Also, covering a Beatles song and placing it as the third track is a gutsy move. In my mind, it compromises a bit of legitimacy, in both the song they chose, and where they chose to put it. Maybe that's over-thinking it, but what the hey.

This album's really short, so maybe they needed to fill some time. Either way, the songs that are Kim Deal originals here are really good, though, for me, it took some time to adjust to the lo-fi-ness of it all. Her vocals are buried on a lot of the tracks, and rather than sounding like part of the music, she often just sounds really far away. It's tough to get past that, but if you can, the songs are fun. And, like I said, they're short, which is a good call for some of them. But, songs like "Hellbound" could be a minute longer and it wouldn't bother me.

Deal's lyrics are interesting, and it's too bad that some of them are rendered unintelligible here. They really work on songs like "When I Was A Painter," which is pretty basic all-around, but nonetheless a song that gleefully reeks of everything that was great about early 90's alt rock.

"Glorious"

Break Bread - Break Bread EP (CD, 2004)

I'm not sure that Break Bread is even an official group, but I guess for the purposes of this EP they are. Six of the big names from the Peanuts & Corn fam (Gruf, mcenroe, Pip Skid, Yy, John Smith, and DJ Hunnicutt) get down on five tracks here. The songs are long and filled to the brim with straight rapping. Makes for a solid listen.

That it's good is not surprising, but it might be a little frustrating because it'll leave you wanting more. The EP is always a tough sell for me if it's not to be followed quickly with a full-length. That's nothing against this record, just five-song releases in general. They often reek of laziness or uncontrollable eagerness to get something out there. Not sure what the deal was on this one.

These guys are an acquired taste (especially Gruf), but once you get the feel for 'em, it's easy to handle. John Smith has the tendency to get a little ruffneck, but if you don't take it too seriously, it's not a problem. I haven't had this CD for very long, so I unfortunately can't get too specific with any of the tracks.

You may be able to listen to some of 'em here.

On a side note, this is my 100th entry. Yowsa. We're up to the Br's. By my rough calculations, this should all be over in about four years.

Braid - Frame & Canvas (LP, 1998)

I hate the word "emo."

But, I own some music that often gets lumped under that label. This is one of 'em. I really wish I knew this record better. I've had it for at least eight years, and during the first year I had it, I remember listening to it quite a bit. Listening to it now, it's not really coming back to me.

This record was a gift. My friend Dave "Two Beers" Parker came to Portland from the Bay Area to visit me in 2000, and while we were discussing our mutual admiration of The Promise Ring, he asked me if I had ever listened to Braid. I said no. What about Hey Mercedes? Nope. He was determined to fix that. We hit Jackpot Records, and I ended up walking out of there with a copy of this, courtesy of the man they sometimes call "Dos Cervezas."

Apparently this is a fairly influential record. To me, it always sounded like a band who couldn't decide if they wanted to be Fugazi or Superchunk. In the end, their t-shirts may have been too black for me.

"The New Nathan Detroits"

David Bowie - The Singles 1969-1993 (2xCD, 1993)

Confession: I don't like David Bowie nearly as much as I am supposed to.

Sure, I'll tell you I like his music. Ten years ago I would have told you I loved his music. I was lying then, and I'm mostly lying now. I do have legitimate fondness for a few of his songs, but when it comes down to it, I never put his music on by choice. I know for a fact I used to have Changes on CD; and I'm sure I used to have Aladdin Sane and David Live on LP. I don't anymore. And I just noticed that. I bet I traded or sold them years ago. And it's rare that I trade in records.

I bought Aladdin Sane at a weird thrift/record shop in Eugene in or around 1995, and although I tried my best to like it, I just never got into it. It looked good on my shelf, but it was all show. I even went to see David Bowie live about four years ago. The tickets were free. It was a fine show, but when it was over, I was ready to leave. But I'm sure I told plenty of people that I went to it. That's my sad existence. That's my cross to bear.

My initial infatuation with Bowie rests in a sad, terribly cliched high school party happening that, at the time, seemed mind blowing. In actuality, I'm an idiot. I was at a get-together when I was probably 17, and somehow ended up with a group of people in some guy's car, passing around the doobage. We were out in the country, and the kid who was having the party lived on some big piece of land. It was a clear night, and after we got horrendously stoned, our driver turned the lights out on the car and drove, very slowly, through a field that slanted upward and directly towards the moon. He blasted "Space Oddity" and we bounced over the divots in the dirt, staring at the sky and "freaking out, man." I knew the song before this, but bro, I had never really heard it. I shit you not. This is how high and dumb I was.

Turned out, after I came down from the effects of the reefer, Bowie was only so-so. I kept trying to recapture the magic/idiocy of that night, but it never happened. I've had this collection for probably 15 years, and I bet I've never even listened to the second disc. "Loving the Alien"? What the hell is that?

But, I will say this. He has some great songs, and while I may not be a huge fan of some of them, I've always been able to respect his place in the annals of rock. However, I've long since given up hope of being a true Bowie fan. I'm more of a Marc Bolan man. We'll get to that.

"John, I'm Only Dancing"

Blur - Think Tank (Special Edition) (CD, 2003)

I could have sworn I had a Blondie record. If you're out there and you have my Parallel Lines LP, you can keep it. I never really listened to it anyway.

This is the only Blur album I own. I really like this CD, and I like pretty much everything I've heard by the band. I just haven't ever taken the time to get into their stuff. I loved "There's No Other Way" when I was in high school, and I'm sure that was the first song I heard of theirs. Still a great song. Still never picked up Leisure. I think it's too late. I had a boner for Madchester-ish bands for a short time in the early 90's. That was my window. Blur missed it.

Yet, at some point in 2003, Blur dropped this CD, I heard a bit of it, I dug their "hot new sound," and I ended up with it. Pretty sure it was a gift (that would explain the "special edition," which is basically a little red bound book), but it was a gift I certainly asked for and welcomed with open arms. This is the last Blur album, and it definitely doesn't sound like their other releases, though, like I said, I'm not the authority on those. It's a lot of electronic mish-mash, with melodies playing the other big part in the songs.

The biggest reason I love this CD is track two: "Out of Time." It's made its way onto many a mixtape and found itself always on my iPod. To me, it feels a bit like Blur trying to sound like Radiohead (it's almost excessively intricate with stuff that is tucked way in the back of the mix), but it's far from a copycat track or a simple emulation of a style. Damon Albarn's vocals are eerie but not downtrodden, and the melody is just a killer. The lyrics keep it simple, but I'm not sure it would even matter what he's singing. Just a great, great song.

It's followed by "Crazy Beat," which is more like "Song 2" style Blur than anything else on the album. Fun times. There's some other tracks like this, more dance-y than pensive, but its the slower ones that seem more effective to me. "Caravan" is an odd one, and it gets a bit tedious in parts, but once it falls into the chorus, it's a great little song. A lot of the record seems to be alluding to a 1984-type scenario, and I think we've all heard enough of that. But I suppose there are worse things to focus on.

I guess I should probably listen to Gorillaz at some point. Eh, that sounds like a whole big thing.

"Out of Time" Live on Letterman

The Black Crowes - Amorica (LP, 1994)

In November of 1994, I was a freshman in college, living in Eugene, Oregon, and smoking way too much grass.

That should explain a lot about why I own this record.

Why I kept it is another story. I am not a big Black Crowes fan. I don't mind them, and I'm while I'm admittedly a fan of this album, after trying to take it farther than that, I failed. I waited too long. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen 13 or 14 years ago. It didn't take, and all I'm left with is this. I don't even remember where I bought this. It's pressed on white vinyl, it's a great looking record, apparently a collector's item now, but I know I didn't pay more than ten bucks for it at the time. And I remember it being sealed...it's not going to come to me.

Anyway, back to 1994. I had friends who lived in a dorm, and I used to go over there all the time. They had other friends, we hung out, did what 18 year old kids did. What they did a lot of was take bong hits and listen to this album. I initially scoffed at the idea of the Black Crowes being any good, but after hearing this record repeatedly for a few months, it grew on me. I finally gave in one night, drunkenly confessing my admiration for the album. It was a big step for me.

I eventually came upon a used copy on cassette (it was the mid-90's and I was poor) and it spent some time in my car stereo for a while. My little crush on this record grew. I don't really know what I'm talking about, but for some reason, this album always seemed WAY better than any other Black Crowes album. It's like it's almost a different band. But, that may have been the three-foot-tall blown glass bong talking. I know that was part of it, but I listen to this record now and I can easily remember why I liked it. It's the songs. They're great. I think it might be that simple.

I picked up the follow-up to this one and didn't like it all. My expectations were way too high, the record wasn't that good, and it soured me. So, like I said, that was the end of that. I was always told I should pick up the one that came before this one, but you know, eh. That seemed like a lot of work. It wouldn't leave me as much time to be annoyingly fickle.

Now for an uneducated blanket statement: "Wiser Time" is the best Black Crowes song ever. It's the best song on this record, and a song that I've never gotten sick of. It would also top of my list of "best songs to drive to when you're flying down the freeway in a state you've never been to before that is arid and desolate."

Now there's a playlist to get started on.

"Wiser Time"