THE GREAT GADFLY:

'02, Brute?



Here's what I loved, liked, didn't like, and might have liked in this year's hit parade from hell. All in all, not such a bad year - a bit schizzy, as the popular taste in music has been making a slow, awkward, lumbering transition from bubblegum ennui to something more interesting which nobody's quite been able to nail down just yet. If music were food, the last couple of years might have been nothing but bags of cold McDonalds' Filet O' Fish, but the past twelve months have been more of a show and tell potluck. Here's what made me go back for seconds (or reach for the Pepto):

1. David Bowie - Heathen. It's a beautiful thing when a classic rocker lifts himself from an over-the-hill slump and finally "gets it", especially when the dinosaur rawker in question is he who gave us Ziggy Stardust, "Station to Station" and Major Tom. If anyone knows how to manipulate style and re-form it to the here and now without embarrassing himself, it's this man - though I will never forgive or forget the craptastic 1987 "Never Let Me Down", featuring the morbidly awful "hip-hop" duet with, uh, Mickey Rourke...?! Well, we all do embarrassing things, don't we? Heck, one time when I worked as a waiter, someone ordered an ice cream sundae with diced peanuts on the side and I got yelled at by my manager for replying, "so you want me to put your nuts in a bowl?" Bad judgment. But thankfully, some people live and learn, and beautifully dark, addictively melodic albums like "Heathen" are proof.

2. The Residents - Demons Dance Alone. Score another point for the healing power of geezers in an age of moribund music with this ancient band's 30th anniversary release, which brings them back to their original appeal of offering grab bags of bizarro dadaist freakshow balladry. Simultaneously lo-fi and hi-fi, both weirdo and shamelessly poppy, this album is one of the greatest overlooked treasures of the year.

3. Missy Elliott - Under Construction. Deserving of high praise, if for no other reason, blessing us with the phrase "I've got to shave my cho-cha." Both shamelessly irreverent and unapologetically ernest. Missy's occasional spoken-word interruptions are at first intrusive and annoying, but after a few listens, it feels like I'm listening to a homemade mix tape from my favorite wacky auntie. My other favorite quote from this album: "Beyonce BETTER not answer that phone." Yummy.

4. Sonic Youth - Murray Street. Perhaps they aren't youth anymore, but they're by all means still sonic. Wonderfully droney musical wallpaper for neverending rainy days. They haven't gotten any less artsy-fartsy over the years (with the possible exception of the indulgently fun trash-rock epic "Goo"), but perhaps the addition of Jim O'Rourke to the SY roster has given them an edge of freshness and spontaneity that's been elusive over the past few years of their recent "serious artistes" phase.

5. Kimya Dawson - I'm Sorry Sometimes I'm Mean. Our girl Kimya has been enjoying chirps of praise and shout-outs from some pretty hi-falutin' magazines lately, and the quiet, low-maintenance edgy fun of her Moldy Peaches side project couldn't be more deserving of good word if it tried. Silly music without lowering itself to the ghetto of novelty music, moody lyrics without lapsing into Lilith Fair lugubriousness, and folky sounds without the feeling I'm listening to the audio equivalent of Metamucil.

6. Beck - Sea Change. This album elevates Beck from jokey hipster funk monkey to, well, I don't know what, exactly. It's nice to hear an album that sounds as if it were made by someone thoroughly enthusiastic about the ideas he has to share. Right on. Listening to this album takes me back to the days of music before video, when I'd see some surrealistically cryptic new '70s album cover painted against the wall of a stoner record store and think to my little pre-pube self, "what must it all MEAN?!", then puzzle all the more once I caught an aural whiff of the accompanying music. This album is smoke and mirrors, airbrush and sparkle, egg temperas and black velvet canvases.

7. MC Paul Barman - Paullelujah! "I emerge in Kirstie Alley's thirsty valley." What more can I say, really? The skanky rhymefest of "Cock Mobster" is reason enough to love this album, though fortunately there's lots more low-brow candy on which to suck, wrapped in smartypants lyrical chops. I don't know if I'm capable of disliking an album that luridly asks me if I want a smelly breakfast. Some damn fine packaging and liner notes on this one, as well. Buying this album was like purchasing a pornographic activity book. Whee!

8. The Distillers - Sing Sing Death House. I can't help but consider this a guilty pleasure, but to hell with it. It makes me bop around and make growly noises. I'm not sure how seriously I'm to take Mrs. Brody Armstrong and the boys, but I don't really care. This is the best jumping on the bed music I've heard in quite some time. Twelve songs in well under half an hour - SO punk rawk.

9. N*E*R*D* - In Search Of. Justin Timberlake can have them - just let me keep this album. I don't really care about the work they do for other artists, and I'm not really big on the idea of hearing this album performed live, or even hearing remixed versions of the songs. This album stands alone as a nasty little gem, and if they never did another thing it would be just fine by me.

10. Suicide - American Deluxe. In the space of nearly 25 years, this electropunk duo have put out maybe three or four albums. Thankfully, this is yet another geezer rawk entry that stands as a testament to the stability of the tried and true - the songs on this album are every bit as subversive and trashy as "Frankie Teardrop", though perhaps not as bound for legendary infamy. The sound of a drunken, washed-up old has-been barfly against indifferent blips and bleeps has never sounded more deliciously tragic. Perfect music for nursing a hangover in a pit-stained undershirt.

Honorable Discharges: Johnny Cash - American Recordings IV; Patti Smith - Land; Prince and the NPG - One Nite Alone Live; Sahara Hotnights - Jenny Bomb; David Cross - Shut Up, You Fucking Baby.

Dishonorable Unmentionables: Jello Biafra's latest spoken-word rantfest (okay already, we get it - your propaganda is better than their propaganda), anything the Gorillaz tried to re-hash this year (though I hear their recent DVD is good times), the ass-ugly cover of Bowie's latest best-of anthology (not to mention the impossibly frustrating easter eggs in the companion DVD).

Albums I'm sure to have squawked over if they weren't overpriced imports or if my local wrecka stows weren't too square to stock them: the new Primal Scream, the new Snoop Dogg, Songs In The Key Of Z Volume II, Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted super-deluxe re-issue.




2003-10-14 - Last Haiku
2003-10-09 - Don't Cry Out Loud
2003-10-09 - Sit Down, You're Making Me Nervous
2003-10-08 - I'm Sure Miss Thing, I'm Sure
2003-10-07 - Carbonated Water, Caramel Color, Aspartame

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