Just when you thought that every kind of list had been done to death, along comes someone with a relatively untapped idea for a new one. The latest brilliant idea comes from SPIN, in the form of the greatest "fictional" songs ever.
Of course no reader is ever going to agree with all the choices and rankings on any list, but this list is more problematic than most in that regard. I see a lot of pet favourites of the writing staff showing up here, in favour of more obvious choices that are more entrenched in pop culture. However, credit goes to them for not falling into anti-modernity trap and choosing mostly songs that are 20+ years old, for picking from a variety of interesting sources (live action comedies, animated TV shows, mockumentaries, etc.), and for nearly sticking to a one song per "artist" rule (the only show with more than one pick on the list is "The Simpsons", unless you group the three Beatles rip-offs into one unit. And three Beatles tributes/thieveries is at least one too many).
Some of their picks seem to run counter to their own rules, for instance the picks from "Hedwig and hte Angry Inch" and "The Producers" run counter to the "no musicals" rule in my book. Now technically you could claim that they only excluded examples where "characters break into song outside of a performance context". In other words, musical numbers where the characters shift from dialogue to song while standing in the street don't count, but put those same characters in a band or on a stage and they're in. That's a seriously problematic dividing line, and even if you accept that logic then as noted by one commenter, "Time Warp" from the Rocky Horror Picture Show would be an inexcusable omission.
Putting aside my own favourites/biases ("The Wedding Singer", HIMYM, "This Is Spinal Tap"), the rankings should favour songs that could be played on the radio, or even are played on the radio, without coming off like novelty songs from a TV show or movie. In other words, songs that transcend their source and have been accepted into the canon of "real" songs. By that measure, the top two are solid picks. You could argue that The Heights' "How Do You Talk To An Angel" should have been much higher, seeing as it went to #1 on the actual Billboard charts. For anyone who wasn't around at the time, its extraordinary success was inexplicable then and it's still inexplicable now. It wasn't riding on the back of the popularity of a TV show (this explains "Do The Bartman" hitting #1) because the show wasn't even a hit and in fact would be cancelled very soon after the song hit #1. It stayed at #1 for one flukey week and then sank from the charts like a stone, and has been more or less forgotten. Plus, the song sucks, so I'm not going to complain that it couldn't crack the top 20 of this list.
If choosing between The Archies and the Wonders for #1, I personally would have chosen the undeniably classic "Sugar Sugar". But you can make a very good argument for "That Thing You Do". The movie is a fondly remembered minor classic, and the song hits exactly the right notes, and more importantly, is completely believable in its role as the perfect top ten hit for the time and place it's supposed to be capturing. For all of the other songs on the list, the song adds a bonus element to the movie/episode that puts it over the top as something even more memorable. But without the perfect song to represent "That Thing You Do", there simply is no movie at all.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Diary of Musical Thoughts Podcast Episode 26
"He endangered the safety of the mix and the ambassador held no authority to forgive him", 58 minutes
Once in a while I play around with the idea of doing a beatmatched mix without actual beats, that is, mixing rhythmic parts and long intros/outros rather than stringing together one 4/4 track after another. This mix contains plenty of weirdo rhythms, but also some proto-big beat, classic early 90's electronica, and a few just for the hell of it slamming techno beats. I think this is one of my most unique mixes, and has quickly become of the favourites that I've done (judging by how much I've listened to it over the past couple of months).
Once in a while I play around with the idea of doing a beatmatched mix without actual beats, that is, mixing rhythmic parts and long intros/outros rather than stringing together one 4/4 track after another. This mix contains plenty of weirdo rhythms, but also some proto-big beat, classic early 90's electronica, and a few just for the hell of it slamming techno beats. I think this is one of my most unique mixes, and has quickly become of the favourites that I've done (judging by how much I've listened to it over the past couple of months).
He endangered the safety of the mix and the ambassador held no authority to forgive him by Bruiserfs on Mixcloud
Thursday, September 03, 2015
X-Factor Israel Season 2: now with MORE talent and a BETTER Bar! And less fixed than before!
The first season was something of a work in progress while they tried to figure out how to distinguish themselves from the glut of other music-themed reality shows. One thing was clear -- whereas other shows tended to go with a simple, no-frills stage setup with the singer's voice front and centre, X-Factor wanted full-on MTV Awards glitz and glamour, with no bells and whistles spared. Contestants were backed by flashy video backdrops, dance troupes, and elaborate stage props in every effort to have them come off as stars. Songs in English with a clear emphasis on pop were not only tolerated, but encouraged. Nevertheless, there were a number of problems in the first season, some of which I wrote about here.
I still don't like the pacing of the season -- the taped audition and cutback episodes are endless, whereas the live episodes whittle twelve contestants down to four in the blink of an eye. The judging has been devoid of genuine honesty and insightful criticism because presumably the judges don't want to insult each other's pet projects. Criticism was doled out almost for variety's sake. In one episode nobody could do anything wrong, and in the next episode everyone would get critcized despite nothing really changing. Example: one week about Anna Timofei it's "you're voice is so operatic, it's incredible", the next week it's "you can sing, but does everything have to be an aria all the time?", and the week after that they're back to "you've combined opera with pop -- we love it!" If there were twelve weeks of live episodes (like American Idol) then I can understand trying to create some uncertainty amongst the favourites, but we're less than a month into the live episodes now with only the final left.
The blatantly fixed vote trading that nearly made a joke out of last season's results is thankfully no more, but Almog Krief was predictably eliminated last night, mainly because there's an unwritten rule to have exactly one finalist for each judge.
The plusses: Bar Refaeli is miles better than last season. She would woodenly read from the teleprompter, too focused on getting her lines right to let her genuine enthusiasm come through in any way that wasn't forced. This season she sounds much more natural, and shows more personality than the judges do most of the time.
Best of all, there's some real talent this year! I have no clue who will win and you could argue for three or four of the other top twelve acts to deserve a place in the finals. But ultimately I think the voters and judges have gotten it right this year, with the best of each grouping taking their place in the finals. The exceptions are the horrible Ido and Attara, but there were no good groups this year anyhow, so it's not as if they stole a spot from a clearly deserving group. If a group had to make the final then what can you do.
Ido and Attara sing amazing love songs in the most bland and sterile way possible. Their appeal seems to be based on their boy/girl next door squeaky clean looks and the way they permasmile at each other when they sing, take criticism from the judges, eat lunch with Moshe Peretz and his wife ... in short, this pair does nothing for me. And for a show that constantly obsessed with pigeonholing its contestants into a well labeled category of contemporary Israeli or North American pop, how are these two supposed to sell records? Are Kenny Rogers-style duets about to make a comeback and nobody told me?
Yossi Shitrit is a phenomenon, an effortlessly great performer, and the equivalent of the country-themed Idol contestant who "knows exactly who he is" from the very start of the competition and never wavers. This happens a lot with the Mizrahi singers on these shows. The pop singers are so much further removed from the source material, they're copies of copies of what they think an American singer should sound like, and so much gets lost in the translation.
With the exception of the amazing Danielle Yafe, that is. If she doesn't win X Factor she can start a revue performing Madonna covers, she's already halfway there. She also sings in perfectly enunciated English. Flip between channels and you'd think her performances were straight off of an awards show. She's the most underrated contestant this season -- sure, they tell her she's great, but they undersell how great she really is.
Finally, there's Anna Timofei, the wild card of the finals. She's beautiful, has a unique voice that can make the lions lie down with the lambs, and sings well in several languages. She's the only contestant that can stun me into silence, shocked that such a person actually makes it onto my television and can be successful. Lastly, she's marketable, maybe not to kids, but there's obviously a market for opera mixed with pop (e.g. Andrea Bocelli). That said, her Evanescence performance showed that her pop side still isn't completely convincing, and her uniqueness as a TV character may wear off when she's not on TV and wants to make a living in the music business.
Predictions? I'll go with Yossi Shitrit, but any of the four could win and it wouldn't surprise me.
I still don't like the pacing of the season -- the taped audition and cutback episodes are endless, whereas the live episodes whittle twelve contestants down to four in the blink of an eye. The judging has been devoid of genuine honesty and insightful criticism because presumably the judges don't want to insult each other's pet projects. Criticism was doled out almost for variety's sake. In one episode nobody could do anything wrong, and in the next episode everyone would get critcized despite nothing really changing. Example: one week about Anna Timofei it's "you're voice is so operatic, it's incredible", the next week it's "you can sing, but does everything have to be an aria all the time?", and the week after that they're back to "you've combined opera with pop -- we love it!" If there were twelve weeks of live episodes (like American Idol) then I can understand trying to create some uncertainty amongst the favourites, but we're less than a month into the live episodes now with only the final left.
The blatantly fixed vote trading that nearly made a joke out of last season's results is thankfully no more, but Almog Krief was predictably eliminated last night, mainly because there's an unwritten rule to have exactly one finalist for each judge.
The plusses: Bar Refaeli is miles better than last season. She would woodenly read from the teleprompter, too focused on getting her lines right to let her genuine enthusiasm come through in any way that wasn't forced. This season she sounds much more natural, and shows more personality than the judges do most of the time.
Best of all, there's some real talent this year! I have no clue who will win and you could argue for three or four of the other top twelve acts to deserve a place in the finals. But ultimately I think the voters and judges have gotten it right this year, with the best of each grouping taking their place in the finals. The exceptions are the horrible Ido and Attara, but there were no good groups this year anyhow, so it's not as if they stole a spot from a clearly deserving group. If a group had to make the final then what can you do.
Ido and Attara sing amazing love songs in the most bland and sterile way possible. Their appeal seems to be based on their boy/girl next door squeaky clean looks and the way they permasmile at each other when they sing, take criticism from the judges, eat lunch with Moshe Peretz and his wife ... in short, this pair does nothing for me. And for a show that constantly obsessed with pigeonholing its contestants into a well labeled category of contemporary Israeli or North American pop, how are these two supposed to sell records? Are Kenny Rogers-style duets about to make a comeback and nobody told me?
Yossi Shitrit is a phenomenon, an effortlessly great performer, and the equivalent of the country-themed Idol contestant who "knows exactly who he is" from the very start of the competition and never wavers. This happens a lot with the Mizrahi singers on these shows. The pop singers are so much further removed from the source material, they're copies of copies of what they think an American singer should sound like, and so much gets lost in the translation.
With the exception of the amazing Danielle Yafe, that is. If she doesn't win X Factor she can start a revue performing Madonna covers, she's already halfway there. She also sings in perfectly enunciated English. Flip between channels and you'd think her performances were straight off of an awards show. She's the most underrated contestant this season -- sure, they tell her she's great, but they undersell how great she really is.
Finally, there's Anna Timofei, the wild card of the finals. She's beautiful, has a unique voice that can make the lions lie down with the lambs, and sings well in several languages. She's the only contestant that can stun me into silence, shocked that such a person actually makes it onto my television and can be successful. Lastly, she's marketable, maybe not to kids, but there's obviously a market for opera mixed with pop (e.g. Andrea Bocelli). That said, her Evanescence performance showed that her pop side still isn't completely convincing, and her uniqueness as a TV character may wear off when she's not on TV and wants to make a living in the music business.
Predictions? I'll go with Yossi Shitrit, but any of the four could win and it wouldn't surprise me.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Omar Souleyman profile in the Guardian
I'm not sure why these types of articles bother me, but they do.
I like Omar Souleyman, but that's not the point of this post. This is about the way in which he's profiled in Western media. These kinds of 750-1000 word mini-profiles are standard fare for non-music exclusive online and print media, but even within that relatively short word limit, there is plenty of space for digging into a musician's background and providing some meaningful analysis. But for this piece about Omar Souleyman (which is typical of the coverage he's been given since becoming a semi-known name in the English speaking world), it's amazing how little research goes into understanding the culture he comes from.
First, the article tap dances around the reasons for his success. It's presented as a mystery still waiting to be solved -- his music is unlike anything else on US and UK pop radio, so why have people taken to it? If you've never heard a Souleyman song, the article offers a description -- his music features "[a] dizzying use of ululating keyboards, pounding synthesized beats, and throaty vocals". You might as well say that a certain techno artist's music features "looping, hypnotic beats, a club-rattling bassline, and a catchy electronic riff that belies the lack of vocals". In other words, thousands of Middle Eastern musicians could fit that description, so it doesn't tell us very much at all.
We know why Western audiences have been paying attention to Souleyman's music. Kieran Hebden (aka Four Tet) likes his music and has produced albums for Souleyman that have been released on Western music labels. Souleyman has a few well-connected friends who have helped open doors for him. That's what sets him apart from other Middle Eastern artists who don't have the same connections. I've read countless articles about white rock bands that meticulously catalog their rise to prominence in the music industry in ways that are less than flattering -- in the right place at the right time when four A&R people happened to wander into one of their concerts hoping to check out a different band on the same bill, mentored by managers and producers with plenty of clout, etc. -- and searched for quality within their music as an afterthought. With Souleyman the narrative gets flipped, the role of his well-connected collaborators are ignored, and a desperate search for greater meaning behind his popularity is halfheartedly begun but left unfinished lest people find (justifiable) reasons to doubt the entire premise.
Second, for an article about an artist from a troubled country, politically, there is absolutely no attempt to dig deeper into the artist's thoughts on the subject. Half of the paragraphs mention the Syrian civil war and/or Souleyman's relationship with his home country. Don't get me wrong, I am not at all a fan of bringing political discussion into musician profiles. But if you're going to devote so much attention to it in the article (and obviously Souleyman's career has been influenced by the situation in Syria), then why not ask Souleyman for his opinion on the matter? Which side is he on? Again, it shouldn't be relevant which side he's on, but it's impossible to imagine taking a "political" bent in an article about a Western (or Israeli) artist and not at least raising the issue. Is Syrian politics off-limits in a way that Western (or Israeli) is not?
Third, every article on Souleyman makes reference to him as a "wedding singer" with hundreds of live albums to his credit. The inference is that he has only recently crossed over to being a "proper" recording artist after decades performing in obscurity at weddings. To a Western reader, a wedding singer is not a "real" artist (i.e. not a contemporary pop music singer), just like a "wedding DJ" isn't a real club DJ who tours the world and plays in top dance clubs. Nobody would assume anything different without the proper context. Another example -- in North American movies, hit songs from movies are songs contributed to the soundtrack by established artists, not songs that are sung by the actors themselves (exceptions such as the Grease soundtrack are rare). This is not true for many movies made in India, for example.
The truth is that the natural sphere for a performer like Souleyman is the wedding circuit. Appearances at weddings and other celebrations pay extremely well and are considered prestige gigs. For a Western artist, once your songs get on the radio and you release an album, your days playing concerts at non-ticketed events are over. That's not how it works in the Middle East -- even the biggest artists with their songs all over the radio will still hire themselves out for private parties (in addition to whatever solo gigs they might play).
Why does it matter? The first two points can be hand-waved away via vague notions of adhering to "cultural sensitivity". That's fine, but for the third point, cultural sensitivity suddenly becomes unimportant, and Souleyman is presented as somewhat who rose from wedding singer obscurity to performing for adoring ticket-buying customers at Western clubs and festivals. That's the kind of narrative that Western readers can easily relate to, but it's not accurate and actually disrespects Souleyman, his culture, and his music.
I like Omar Souleyman, but that's not the point of this post. This is about the way in which he's profiled in Western media. These kinds of 750-1000 word mini-profiles are standard fare for non-music exclusive online and print media, but even within that relatively short word limit, there is plenty of space for digging into a musician's background and providing some meaningful analysis. But for this piece about Omar Souleyman (which is typical of the coverage he's been given since becoming a semi-known name in the English speaking world), it's amazing how little research goes into understanding the culture he comes from.
First, the article tap dances around the reasons for his success. It's presented as a mystery still waiting to be solved -- his music is unlike anything else on US and UK pop radio, so why have people taken to it? If you've never heard a Souleyman song, the article offers a description -- his music features "[a] dizzying use of ululating keyboards, pounding synthesized beats, and throaty vocals". You might as well say that a certain techno artist's music features "looping, hypnotic beats, a club-rattling bassline, and a catchy electronic riff that belies the lack of vocals". In other words, thousands of Middle Eastern musicians could fit that description, so it doesn't tell us very much at all.
We know why Western audiences have been paying attention to Souleyman's music. Kieran Hebden (aka Four Tet) likes his music and has produced albums for Souleyman that have been released on Western music labels. Souleyman has a few well-connected friends who have helped open doors for him. That's what sets him apart from other Middle Eastern artists who don't have the same connections. I've read countless articles about white rock bands that meticulously catalog their rise to prominence in the music industry in ways that are less than flattering -- in the right place at the right time when four A&R people happened to wander into one of their concerts hoping to check out a different band on the same bill, mentored by managers and producers with plenty of clout, etc. -- and searched for quality within their music as an afterthought. With Souleyman the narrative gets flipped, the role of his well-connected collaborators are ignored, and a desperate search for greater meaning behind his popularity is halfheartedly begun but left unfinished lest people find (justifiable) reasons to doubt the entire premise.
Second, for an article about an artist from a troubled country, politically, there is absolutely no attempt to dig deeper into the artist's thoughts on the subject. Half of the paragraphs mention the Syrian civil war and/or Souleyman's relationship with his home country. Don't get me wrong, I am not at all a fan of bringing political discussion into musician profiles. But if you're going to devote so much attention to it in the article (and obviously Souleyman's career has been influenced by the situation in Syria), then why not ask Souleyman for his opinion on the matter? Which side is he on? Again, it shouldn't be relevant which side he's on, but it's impossible to imagine taking a "political" bent in an article about a Western (or Israeli) artist and not at least raising the issue. Is Syrian politics off-limits in a way that Western (or Israeli) is not?
Third, every article on Souleyman makes reference to him as a "wedding singer" with hundreds of live albums to his credit. The inference is that he has only recently crossed over to being a "proper" recording artist after decades performing in obscurity at weddings. To a Western reader, a wedding singer is not a "real" artist (i.e. not a contemporary pop music singer), just like a "wedding DJ" isn't a real club DJ who tours the world and plays in top dance clubs. Nobody would assume anything different without the proper context. Another example -- in North American movies, hit songs from movies are songs contributed to the soundtrack by established artists, not songs that are sung by the actors themselves (exceptions such as the Grease soundtrack are rare). This is not true for many movies made in India, for example.
The truth is that the natural sphere for a performer like Souleyman is the wedding circuit. Appearances at weddings and other celebrations pay extremely well and are considered prestige gigs. For a Western artist, once your songs get on the radio and you release an album, your days playing concerts at non-ticketed events are over. That's not how it works in the Middle East -- even the biggest artists with their songs all over the radio will still hire themselves out for private parties (in addition to whatever solo gigs they might play).
Why does it matter? The first two points can be hand-waved away via vague notions of adhering to "cultural sensitivity". That's fine, but for the third point, cultural sensitivity suddenly becomes unimportant, and Souleyman is presented as somewhat who rose from wedding singer obscurity to performing for adoring ticket-buying customers at Western clubs and festivals. That's the kind of narrative that Western readers can easily relate to, but it's not accurate and actually disrespects Souleyman, his culture, and his music.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Straight Outta Compton
I haven't seen "Straight Outta Compton" yet, but there have been plenty of good articles about the film so far, and a fair number of strong criticisms about what got left out or glossed over. Most notably, incidents involving women have been left out of the story completely, such as Dr. Dre's assault of Dee Barnes, and JJ Fad legitimizing Ruthless Records and giving them the credibility to release NWA records. JJ Fad's "Supersonic" (the song and album) was legitimately huge, the album went gold, the group earned a Grammy nomination, their singles ruled the clubs, and I honestly have no idea how this kind of thing gets left out of the movie.
Most Hollywood biopics get scorched by critics over what they leave out, or the liberties they take with the truth. I usually accept this as part of the challenge of trying to bring a complicated subject to the big screen, and am understanding of the fact that not every great story necessarily makes for a great movie (without some embellishment or added scenes that likely never took place). Again, I haven't yet seen the movie, but the always excellent Wesley Morris touches on many of the movie's weaknesses for Grantland. The final paragraph stings, paraphrasing, the movie avoids showing the realities of the lives of the people it claims to be accurately portraying in favour of accentuating how rich and famous they all got. That could apply to just about any Hollywood biopic. The only thing that Hollywood likes more than movies about people who are success stories are movies about people who overcame serious obstacles to become success stories. Anything that interferes with the telling of that basic narrative gets left out. Even the biopics that end on a tragic note make sure to redeem their subjects by emphasizing that their legacy lived on far longer than they did, in which case anything that detracts from their ordeals is also quietly left out (I'm looking at you, "The Imitation Game").
NWA didn't invent "black reality", for instance, Public Enemy were superstars long before "Straight Outta Compton" and famously described their music as "black CNN". The critical respect they garnered at the time was widespread even among white critics. Hip hop already knew how to portray the reality of the streets in a way that would sell records, but NWA were selling something a bit different. As Morris writes, "NWA didn't invent 'scary' as the black-male trope. They perfected it". That reality includes the misogyny and other stuff that seems to have been dropped from the movie. A movie about black kids who grew up in a dangerous neighbourhood and became rich is a salable concept. A movie about rappers who beat up women and made money off their reputation as such is not.
Finally, there's a clear interest on the part of any filmaker to put on rose coloured glasses when taking on a project like this. Movies like these get made to honour their subjects, not to show them up by dragging old skeletons out of the closet. It should also be said that Dr. Dre is a billionaire who is one of the most powerful people in the music industry, and counts several other powerful heavyweights among his best friends and business partners. Did we really expect anyone involved in this picture (who still plans on being involved in the music industry in any way) to insist on telling the whole truth?
Most Hollywood biopics get scorched by critics over what they leave out, or the liberties they take with the truth. I usually accept this as part of the challenge of trying to bring a complicated subject to the big screen, and am understanding of the fact that not every great story necessarily makes for a great movie (without some embellishment or added scenes that likely never took place). Again, I haven't yet seen the movie, but the always excellent Wesley Morris touches on many of the movie's weaknesses for Grantland. The final paragraph stings, paraphrasing, the movie avoids showing the realities of the lives of the people it claims to be accurately portraying in favour of accentuating how rich and famous they all got. That could apply to just about any Hollywood biopic. The only thing that Hollywood likes more than movies about people who are success stories are movies about people who overcame serious obstacles to become success stories. Anything that interferes with the telling of that basic narrative gets left out. Even the biopics that end on a tragic note make sure to redeem their subjects by emphasizing that their legacy lived on far longer than they did, in which case anything that detracts from their ordeals is also quietly left out (I'm looking at you, "The Imitation Game").
NWA didn't invent "black reality", for instance, Public Enemy were superstars long before "Straight Outta Compton" and famously described their music as "black CNN". The critical respect they garnered at the time was widespread even among white critics. Hip hop already knew how to portray the reality of the streets in a way that would sell records, but NWA were selling something a bit different. As Morris writes, "NWA didn't invent 'scary' as the black-male trope. They perfected it". That reality includes the misogyny and other stuff that seems to have been dropped from the movie. A movie about black kids who grew up in a dangerous neighbourhood and became rich is a salable concept. A movie about rappers who beat up women and made money off their reputation as such is not.
Finally, there's a clear interest on the part of any filmaker to put on rose coloured glasses when taking on a project like this. Movies like these get made to honour their subjects, not to show them up by dragging old skeletons out of the closet. It should also be said that Dr. Dre is a billionaire who is one of the most powerful people in the music industry, and counts several other powerful heavyweights among his best friends and business partners. Did we really expect anyone involved in this picture (who still plans on being involved in the music industry in any way) to insist on telling the whole truth?
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Diary of Musical Thoughts Podcast Episode 25
"This hot streak has suddenly turned the MVP race into a two way mix", 74 minutes
Yet another mix for baking in the summer heat, but with a completely different feel from the previous podcast. This was another one of those "dig out some old CD's and see what happens" mixes, and is mostly downtempo but with a moody, tension-filled edge to it. The slower parts aren't strictly ambient either, as you might expect from previous mixes.
Saturday, August 01, 2015
A brief history of the featured rapper in pop music
In all seriousness, I've been waiting for someone to write this article for about fifteen years. I had assumed that the trend had its roots in hip-hop and had later spread to pop music in general. However, Molanphy's analysis shows that it was more likely that pop hitmakers wanted to hybridize the then-popular styles of R&B and dance, while siphoning off hip-hop's cred in the process. Early 90's producers racked up the hits and helped rap become more palatable to mainstream listeners, and in the long run everybody won.
At some point in the early to mid 90's, the guest spot went from a rare occurrence (and one that often required a careful reading of the liner notes to uncover) to a requirement, particularly in hip-hop. I've heard that attributed to LL Cool J ("Mr Smith" was his turn away from rap and towards R&B and was full of guest spots), or the massive success of "Gangstas Paradise" by Coolio featuring L.V., or any one of a handful of other candidates. Featured raps were prevalent in the G-Funk scene -- Snoop Dogg's career was famously jumpstarted by his verses on "Ain't Nothin But a G Thang" -- but the scene was too insular, with the same crew guesting on each others records, in the spirit of Molanphy's claims, their influence didn't cross genre lines, that is, unless you want to claim an indirect influence when Dr. Dre branched out and worked with other artists (e.g. Blackstreet). Molanphy does a great job of tracing out the history of the trend, finding clear answers to all the "hows" but the "whys" are still lacking. Did musicians suddenly become more democratic? When Mick Jagger or John Lennon would sing background vocals for their friends, they hardly needed the publicity. Was the "featured" spot looked upon as a way to break a new artist in a relatively low pressure setting? In other words, the lead artists' name value would have to carry the record, but the featured artist could still break through if the record was a success. That might have been the case twenty years ago, but you could argue that the pressure is now shared equally because featured spots are now so prevalent.
Chaka Khan's "I Feel For You" comes across as the unsung hero of the piece. Melle Mel didn't get a "featuring" credit, but his rap is the most iconic and most imitated part of the song. Previous collaborations blended backing vocals into an existing song, or gave the songwriter/producer a featured space to put their stamp on a record that was theirs to begin with. The rap on "I Feel For You" brought a completely new element to a Chaka Khan song, and even overshadowed her while paradoxically cementing the song as a hit (as well as Chaka's big comeback). The song was written and recorded by Prince, and covered in previous years by other acts, but it's Chaka Khan and Melle Mel's version that everyone remembers. As with other songs that were covered multiple times but eventually owned by one particular artist (Aretha Franklin's "Respect" is a more well-known example), this version had a certain it factor that the others didn't.
Unsurprisingly, Eurodance gets somewhat overlooked in the article, as is usually the case with modern day critical reappraisals of 90's music. Dozens of Eurodance records featured verses by unsung rappers who never received their proper credit, or vocal hooks by singers who were replaced by models in the videos. Molanphy discusses C+C Music Factory and Marky Mark's "Good Vibrations", but there are countless other examples that are waiting to be thoroughly unpacked in an article like this. It's a difficult task mainly because of the maze of labels/remixes/re-recordings involved. The labels wouldn't bother to clear samples, the song would be re-released with new vocalists who also weren't properly credited (and were dis-invited to the video shoots and occasional live performances).
I could swear that there was a version of Snap!'s "The Power" credited to Snap featuring Chill Rob G, but I can't find any evidence of that now. The original version featured his rap over the same backing track that was on the megahit version. "Featured" is too strong a word -- Snap!'s svengali producers lifted the rap word for word from one of his songs -- and later rerecorded it with new verses (keeping only the "it's getting kinda hectic" line) and a different rapper (who also never got the proper credit), in order to avoid getting sued into tiny bits. The new version was an even bigger smash, and a transcontinental one at that. I thought that eventually something was worked out and the Chill Rob G version was rereleased as a type of remix to go along with the more famous version, but I seem to have been wrong about that. Technotronic's "Pump Up the Jam" was credited to Technotronic featuring Felly and was a huge smash, which would appear to predate all of Molanphy's early 90's examples. But of course all the vocals were by Ya Kid K and Felly was only the model they put in the video. It's also not like they were hiding Ya Kid K completely, like C+C Music Factory did with Martha Wash. She was duly credited on other singles. To make things more confusing, the album track "Move This" was featured in a Revlon ad campaign for years (this may have only been in Canada and not worldwide), and if you were alive between 1992 and 1995 you will remember being bombarded by it constantly. It was remixed from the three year old album version, rereleased to capitalize on its newfound popularity, and retroactively credited to Technotronic featuring Ya Kid K. Why the sudden change? Why did the song "feature" a singer who was already a regular collaborator for Technotronic? I'm not sure.
If you've read this far and still not clicked on Molanphy's article, do it now. His pop chart analyses are consistently some of the best music writing around.
At some point in the early to mid 90's, the guest spot went from a rare occurrence (and one that often required a careful reading of the liner notes to uncover) to a requirement, particularly in hip-hop. I've heard that attributed to LL Cool J ("Mr Smith" was his turn away from rap and towards R&B and was full of guest spots), or the massive success of "Gangstas Paradise" by Coolio featuring L.V., or any one of a handful of other candidates. Featured raps were prevalent in the G-Funk scene -- Snoop Dogg's career was famously jumpstarted by his verses on "Ain't Nothin But a G Thang" -- but the scene was too insular, with the same crew guesting on each others records, in the spirit of Molanphy's claims, their influence didn't cross genre lines, that is, unless you want to claim an indirect influence when Dr. Dre branched out and worked with other artists (e.g. Blackstreet). Molanphy does a great job of tracing out the history of the trend, finding clear answers to all the "hows" but the "whys" are still lacking. Did musicians suddenly become more democratic? When Mick Jagger or John Lennon would sing background vocals for their friends, they hardly needed the publicity. Was the "featured" spot looked upon as a way to break a new artist in a relatively low pressure setting? In other words, the lead artists' name value would have to carry the record, but the featured artist could still break through if the record was a success. That might have been the case twenty years ago, but you could argue that the pressure is now shared equally because featured spots are now so prevalent.
Chaka Khan's "I Feel For You" comes across as the unsung hero of the piece. Melle Mel didn't get a "featuring" credit, but his rap is the most iconic and most imitated part of the song. Previous collaborations blended backing vocals into an existing song, or gave the songwriter/producer a featured space to put their stamp on a record that was theirs to begin with. The rap on "I Feel For You" brought a completely new element to a Chaka Khan song, and even overshadowed her while paradoxically cementing the song as a hit (as well as Chaka's big comeback). The song was written and recorded by Prince, and covered in previous years by other acts, but it's Chaka Khan and Melle Mel's version that everyone remembers. As with other songs that were covered multiple times but eventually owned by one particular artist (Aretha Franklin's "Respect" is a more well-known example), this version had a certain it factor that the others didn't.
Unsurprisingly, Eurodance gets somewhat overlooked in the article, as is usually the case with modern day critical reappraisals of 90's music. Dozens of Eurodance records featured verses by unsung rappers who never received their proper credit, or vocal hooks by singers who were replaced by models in the videos. Molanphy discusses C+C Music Factory and Marky Mark's "Good Vibrations", but there are countless other examples that are waiting to be thoroughly unpacked in an article like this. It's a difficult task mainly because of the maze of labels/remixes/re-recordings involved. The labels wouldn't bother to clear samples, the song would be re-released with new vocalists who also weren't properly credited (and were dis-invited to the video shoots and occasional live performances).
I could swear that there was a version of Snap!'s "The Power" credited to Snap featuring Chill Rob G, but I can't find any evidence of that now. The original version featured his rap over the same backing track that was on the megahit version. "Featured" is too strong a word -- Snap!'s svengali producers lifted the rap word for word from one of his songs -- and later rerecorded it with new verses (keeping only the "it's getting kinda hectic" line) and a different rapper (who also never got the proper credit), in order to avoid getting sued into tiny bits. The new version was an even bigger smash, and a transcontinental one at that. I thought that eventually something was worked out and the Chill Rob G version was rereleased as a type of remix to go along with the more famous version, but I seem to have been wrong about that. Technotronic's "Pump Up the Jam" was credited to Technotronic featuring Felly and was a huge smash, which would appear to predate all of Molanphy's early 90's examples. But of course all the vocals were by Ya Kid K and Felly was only the model they put in the video. It's also not like they were hiding Ya Kid K completely, like C+C Music Factory did with Martha Wash. She was duly credited on other singles. To make things more confusing, the album track "Move This" was featured in a Revlon ad campaign for years (this may have only been in Canada and not worldwide), and if you were alive between 1992 and 1995 you will remember being bombarded by it constantly. It was remixed from the three year old album version, rereleased to capitalize on its newfound popularity, and retroactively credited to Technotronic featuring Ya Kid K. Why the sudden change? Why did the song "feature" a singer who was already a regular collaborator for Technotronic? I'm not sure.
If you've read this far and still not clicked on Molanphy's article, do it now. His pop chart analyses are consistently some of the best music writing around.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Diary of Musical Thoughts Podcast Episode 24
"A luxurious stone exterior according to the choice of mix" -- 114 minutes
It's a baking hot summer and you just want to chill out. Or do you want to dance and sweat? With this mix, you can do both!
The ambient parts fit safely into my comfort zone, but the dancier parts aren't typical of my other mixes. I stayed away from moody techno and tried for something approaching the sound of bouncy fun.
It's a baking hot summer and you just want to chill out. Or do you want to dance and sweat? With this mix, you can do both!
The ambient parts fit safely into my comfort zone, but the dancier parts aren't typical of my other mixes. I stayed away from moody techno and tried for something approaching the sound of bouncy fun.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
33 1/3: Daphne Carr, "Pretty Hate Machine"
This was easily my favourite of the handful of books in the 33 1/3 that I've read. Much like a number of recent books in the series, it's ostensibly about the titular album although it contains almost no information about the making of the album and no new interviews from any of the principals involved. It's about Trent Reznor's role in shaping 90's alternative and mall culture, why his fans are driven to obsession over his music and lyrics, and the Rust Belt towns that serve both as a backdrop to Reznor's upbringing and to characterize the frustration and despair felt by so many of the people who grew up with his music. It was a difficult book to put down, although I frequently had to in order to revisit my own memories or look up further information about the decline of the once mighty northern US manufacturing sector.
Most of the book consists of testimonials with NIN fans, assembled via a series of interviews with people Carr encountered on message boards and friends of friends who still live near to where she grew up in Ohio. The oral history genre is in good hands as long as Carr is holding the reigns. She collected a motley crew of nobodies with fascinating stories to tell, all of them. Each of them live in the Mercer to Cleveland corridor where Reznor grew up and got his start. She features people from broken homes, lapsed fans, young professionals, dreamers who still hope of escaping their dreary communities, and those who have given up and have accepted the reality of spending the rest of their lives in unglamorous small town Ohio.
Their stories elicit sympathy, pride, and pity, sometimes all at once. There are bad endings and happy endings. But their transcend class structure and international boundaries -- their voices are familiar to any formerly teenage NIN fan. I'm not used to reading about NIN in the same way you'd read about idol worship of 60's and 70's music stars from the generation before mine. People my age easily bought into the mythology of the Beatles and the Stones, even if you weren't a huge fan, you still got it, you understood why people drank the Kool-Aid. The spectre of NIN as a hero of the black clad suburban teen of the 90's looms large amongst the kids even further removed from the classic rock era.
I was surprised at the praise heaped on "The Fragile". Many of the subject didn't start listening to NIN until later in the 90's, they were too young to absorb "Pretty Hate Machine" when it was first released. They became obsessed during the long layoff between "The Downward Spiral" and "The Fragile", and the latter was the first NIN album they got to experience firsthand. By the time of "The Fragile", my fandom had run its course, I was sick of the horrible Reznor clones he had inspired and couldn't stand Marilyn Manson or the wave of industrial-rock and horrible nu-metal that had sprung up to carry the torch that Reznor had dropped. I viewed "The Fragile" as the last straw, an act of misguided indulgence by a millionaire drug addict whose forced anger and rage seemed like a quaint relic of what had once been real feelings expressed by a real person. Interestingly, many fans who were ten years younger than me saw it as his masterpiece, "The Wall" for the 90's generation.
"Pretty Hate Machine" came along at the perfect time. Rock stars could still celebrate being rich and famous and untouchable in the 80's. Duran Duran (who were awesome, this is not a knock on them) would make the most glamorous videos imaginable and people lapped it up throughout the Me decade -- yes, yes, more yachts, more beaches, more beautiful models, what's what we want from our musical heroes, that's how they should behave. PHM came along at a time when a critical mass of young fans wanted to listen to music that better represented what was happening in their own lives. For the most part there was no internet, no social media. We obsessed over NIN by listening to the albums countless times, fandom was spoken about in hushed tones among trusted confidants in high school lest the greater populace accused you of being a disturbed freak. Reznor was untouchable in a different way because he seemed like one of us, and yet besides the lyrics and the occasional fantastical rumour (did you hear he's recording an album in the Sharon Tate murder house??), information was scarce and a cult of personality developed to fill the void. Celebrities now are almost too real, they tweet their lives in real time, and appear on countless TV award and reality shows. Social media has sold people on the illusion of getting closer to their idols than any generation ever had before. It's become cool to tweet bikini body pictures from luxurious beaches and to flaunt one's wealth wherever possible. Envy subsides at the relatively low price of giving fans a bit more access. It's cool once again to be a rich music star.
That's what makes the second act of Reznor's career so interesting. Carr explicitly calls for someone to write a comprehensive biography about his post-2004 body of work multiple times in her book. He's gone from being a junkie that time forgot (c. 2003, rock had vanished from the top of the pop charts and NIN couldn't have been any less relevant) to having a successful comeback with NIN, a pioneer of marketing music over the internet, an Oscar-winning composer, and a key player for Beats and Apple Music. He seamlessly became one of the rich, beautiful people and I for one am still not sure how exactly it happened.
Most of the book consists of testimonials with NIN fans, assembled via a series of interviews with people Carr encountered on message boards and friends of friends who still live near to where she grew up in Ohio. The oral history genre is in good hands as long as Carr is holding the reigns. She collected a motley crew of nobodies with fascinating stories to tell, all of them. Each of them live in the Mercer to Cleveland corridor where Reznor grew up and got his start. She features people from broken homes, lapsed fans, young professionals, dreamers who still hope of escaping their dreary communities, and those who have given up and have accepted the reality of spending the rest of their lives in unglamorous small town Ohio.
Their stories elicit sympathy, pride, and pity, sometimes all at once. There are bad endings and happy endings. But their transcend class structure and international boundaries -- their voices are familiar to any formerly teenage NIN fan. I'm not used to reading about NIN in the same way you'd read about idol worship of 60's and 70's music stars from the generation before mine. People my age easily bought into the mythology of the Beatles and the Stones, even if you weren't a huge fan, you still got it, you understood why people drank the Kool-Aid. The spectre of NIN as a hero of the black clad suburban teen of the 90's looms large amongst the kids even further removed from the classic rock era.
I was surprised at the praise heaped on "The Fragile". Many of the subject didn't start listening to NIN until later in the 90's, they were too young to absorb "Pretty Hate Machine" when it was first released. They became obsessed during the long layoff between "The Downward Spiral" and "The Fragile", and the latter was the first NIN album they got to experience firsthand. By the time of "The Fragile", my fandom had run its course, I was sick of the horrible Reznor clones he had inspired and couldn't stand Marilyn Manson or the wave of industrial-rock and horrible nu-metal that had sprung up to carry the torch that Reznor had dropped. I viewed "The Fragile" as the last straw, an act of misguided indulgence by a millionaire drug addict whose forced anger and rage seemed like a quaint relic of what had once been real feelings expressed by a real person. Interestingly, many fans who were ten years younger than me saw it as his masterpiece, "The Wall" for the 90's generation.
"Pretty Hate Machine" came along at the perfect time. Rock stars could still celebrate being rich and famous and untouchable in the 80's. Duran Duran (who were awesome, this is not a knock on them) would make the most glamorous videos imaginable and people lapped it up throughout the Me decade -- yes, yes, more yachts, more beaches, more beautiful models, what's what we want from our musical heroes, that's how they should behave. PHM came along at a time when a critical mass of young fans wanted to listen to music that better represented what was happening in their own lives. For the most part there was no internet, no social media. We obsessed over NIN by listening to the albums countless times, fandom was spoken about in hushed tones among trusted confidants in high school lest the greater populace accused you of being a disturbed freak. Reznor was untouchable in a different way because he seemed like one of us, and yet besides the lyrics and the occasional fantastical rumour (did you hear he's recording an album in the Sharon Tate murder house??), information was scarce and a cult of personality developed to fill the void. Celebrities now are almost too real, they tweet their lives in real time, and appear on countless TV award and reality shows. Social media has sold people on the illusion of getting closer to their idols than any generation ever had before. It's become cool to tweet bikini body pictures from luxurious beaches and to flaunt one's wealth wherever possible. Envy subsides at the relatively low price of giving fans a bit more access. It's cool once again to be a rich music star.
That's what makes the second act of Reznor's career so interesting. Carr explicitly calls for someone to write a comprehensive biography about his post-2004 body of work multiple times in her book. He's gone from being a junkie that time forgot (c. 2003, rock had vanished from the top of the pop charts and NIN couldn't have been any less relevant) to having a successful comeback with NIN, a pioneer of marketing music over the internet, an Oscar-winning composer, and a key player for Beats and Apple Music. He seamlessly became one of the rich, beautiful people and I for one am still not sure how exactly it happened.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Beach House, "Depression Cherry"
Beach House's new single "Sparks" started streaming this week and when I heard it my jaw nearly hit the floor. Between "Teen Dream" and "Bloom" they'd become a band with a more fully realized, complete sound, moving away from the concept of a duo playing sparse dream pop in their living room and becoming a weightier, Cocteaus-inspired full band. And now, with "Sparks", it seems they'd done it again, adding MBV's head-swirling walls of feedback to add even more awesomeness to a sonic palate that somehow hadn't yet topped out on its awesomeness.
But the full album isn't "Sparks Parts I-IX", and that's undoubtedly a good thing, because no band wants to be tarred with an MBV-lite brush. "Depression Cherry" is a return to the more subdued, inward-looking sound of "Teen Dream", a succession of blissful lullabies recorded with a more expensive bag of production tricks. I've been listening to "Teen Dream" a lot lately, and I'm more than happy to get a more grown-up sounding sequel. The more upbeat and commercial sounding "Bloom" has been bypassed almost completely.
The opener, "Levitation", is a slow burning ballad that builds via gentle repetition like a "Playing With Fire"-era Spacemen 3 track. Whereas "Myth" set the tone for "Bloom" and clearly indicated that the album was going to be something they'd never attempted before, "Levitation" also gives notice that its time to get tucked in and concentrate on the upcoming forty minutes of dream pop minimalism.
"Space Song" is a likely future single, with its insistent rhythms, simple but catchy ascending scale keyboard riff, and wailing guitar solos. The album then hits a more downtempo middle section, much like "Teen Dream" did, but there will be no room-filling "10 Mile Stereo" acceleration to the finish here. "Days of Candy" leads off with a choir and spends several minutes gathering its strength for the swampy, candlelit finish. It's like "Irene" ("Bloom"'s closing track) played at half speed, with all its muscle and arrogance stripped away, leaving only winsome apologies in its place.
"Depression Cherry" is said to be a reaction to the band's increase in popularity, a return to their simpler roots. That's clearly true even from the most cursory first listen. But it also sounds almost nothing like their early albums. "Depression Cherry" might be their most studio-centric album, taking them closer to the Cocteaus' form of precision-refined studio wizardry where reproducing that sound in concert becomes ever more difficult.
But the full album isn't "Sparks Parts I-IX", and that's undoubtedly a good thing, because no band wants to be tarred with an MBV-lite brush. "Depression Cherry" is a return to the more subdued, inward-looking sound of "Teen Dream", a succession of blissful lullabies recorded with a more expensive bag of production tricks. I've been listening to "Teen Dream" a lot lately, and I'm more than happy to get a more grown-up sounding sequel. The more upbeat and commercial sounding "Bloom" has been bypassed almost completely.
The opener, "Levitation", is a slow burning ballad that builds via gentle repetition like a "Playing With Fire"-era Spacemen 3 track. Whereas "Myth" set the tone for "Bloom" and clearly indicated that the album was going to be something they'd never attempted before, "Levitation" also gives notice that its time to get tucked in and concentrate on the upcoming forty minutes of dream pop minimalism.
"Space Song" is a likely future single, with its insistent rhythms, simple but catchy ascending scale keyboard riff, and wailing guitar solos. The album then hits a more downtempo middle section, much like "Teen Dream" did, but there will be no room-filling "10 Mile Stereo" acceleration to the finish here. "Days of Candy" leads off with a choir and spends several minutes gathering its strength for the swampy, candlelit finish. It's like "Irene" ("Bloom"'s closing track) played at half speed, with all its muscle and arrogance stripped away, leaving only winsome apologies in its place.
"Depression Cherry" is said to be a reaction to the band's increase in popularity, a return to their simpler roots. That's clearly true even from the most cursory first listen. But it also sounds almost nothing like their early albums. "Depression Cherry" might be their most studio-centric album, taking them closer to the Cocteaus' form of precision-refined studio wizardry where reproducing that sound in concert becomes ever more difficult.
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