numbers 21-22

22. Elton John, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. There's a dude I know who's also doing a Top 50 list, and earlier tonight he mentioned "Bennie & the Jets" in passing, so I figured it was time to bring out GYBR before he beat me to the punch. But really, this album belongs to me. This was one of the very first albums I recall listening to as a kid, on the old record player behind the cabinet in the living room. I didn't actually know how to work the record player: I listened at the whim of my oldest brother. He owned this, and Queen's A Night at the Opera, and some Rush, and sadly also some stuff like April Wine and Nazareth.

I don't know if I really appreciated the brilliance of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road at that tender age - I do recall thinking that Elton John seemed like a rather "fancy" guy - but this is one of those albums that's truly stood the test of time. The whole sweeping odyssey of "Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding." The blistering pace of "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting." The sweet melancholy of the title track. Buh-buh-buh Bennie and the Jets. Sigh. Some of my earliest rock memories! Of course, GYBR also had some clunkers like "Jamaica Jerk Off" ... but what do you expect from a double album? I'm not the absolute hugest Elton John fan in the world, but I think this is his crowning achievement, and undeniably a classic.

21. Philip Glass, 1000 Airplanes on the Roof. Look out! Here comes controversy! Because Philip Glass ... well, you either love him or hate him, or don't know about him. And of the people who love him, I think, very few would choose this album as his most outstanding representation. And maybe it's not, if you judge it critically and weigh its parts and compare it to some modern-day Glassian juggernauts like Einstein on the Beach and Koyaanisqatsi. But ... I love it! I really do. It's got the distinctive Philip Glass sound, and this incredible vibrancy and energy, and then there's Linda Ronstadt warbling these beautiful otherworldly wordless vocals like some siren out of Star Trek, and the theme revolving around people who've experienced alien abduction, and the fact that it debuted in an airport hangar ... damn. It gives me shivers just to think about it.

Maybe some of you people haven't considered this recently, but Philip Glass really is one of the giants of modern American music. Some of you would also mention Steve Reich - OK, what's he done? Maybe he's written some great works; but my point is, Philip Glass has put out 10 times as much great material as some people considered to be American masters. That makes him a giant, and I am trying to include the deserving giants here as much as possible, while also paying tribute to underappreciated works by bands like Young Marble Giants.

(And speaking of giants, anybody out there seen the Watchmen movie? There's one scene in the movie - my favorite part in the book - where Dr. Manhattan secludes himself on Mars. Now, one of my criticisms of the movie was Zack Snyder's erratic and occasionally ham-handed use of music, but his use of "Prophecies" from Koyaanisqatsi in this scene was perfect. Just shows how hard it is to make a great movie without some Philip Glass in the soundtrack. And FYI, once I'm done with all this nonsense, I plan to publish my list of Top 50 Soundtracks; and trust me, Philip Glass is going to f&*!#*ing rule there ...)

vampire weekend ...

Vampire Weekend, what's the buzz? How do you say "overrated" with a Brooklyn accent? The European tours, the Rolling Stone covers, the glowing reviews: how did this happen? Trust me, in 5 years, there are going to be many people embarrassed by the fact that they bought so heavily into this.

I mean, I have no personal animosity against the band members; I'm sure they're all decent fellows. And if I had gone to a campus party, somewhere back east, and heard Vampire Weekend for the first time there ... I might have talked about it with others afterward. Maybe. I might have found them good for a local college band.

But basically, they've been handed to me, and you, and everyone else, as the Next Big Independent Thing. And that shit don't fly. You feel me?

Vampire Weekend is like Phish Lite, then dialed down just a notch or two. And "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" is the most precious song title of all time. Now, I don't know what a kwassa kwassa is - it may be the coolest f*&#%!!ing thing on the planet, for all I know - but it does NOT belong next to "Cape Cod" in any context, song titles especially.

VW also has this song that sounds exactly like Tom Petty's "Don't Do Me Like That," except the singer does this little squeaky thing with his voice at the end of each line. And that's precious, too.

Did any of you out there mistakenly think I was putting Vampire Weekend in my Top 50? Good god. Once again, it's nothing personal - I was just bitterly disappointed. So much buzz ...

numbers 23-24

24. Grateful Dead, bootleg tape from the second set of Fillmore East show 10/14/78. All right, I confess that I made this particular one up. I never did become a connoisseur of Grateful Dead bootlegs, though I'm sure there are some legendary shows out there in somebody's cassette player. But my point here is that the Grateful Dead should not be snubbed from Top Albums lists, just because they focused on touring and live shows and treated studio albums as kind of an afterthought. They really were one of the Great American Bands, and deserve their place in the pantheon.

There's a legend that's gone around, people, which says that the first rock show I ever attended was the Grateful Dead. And this particular legend happens to be true: it was the summer of 1984, and I saw them in Saratoga Springs, NY with my brother and some friends. I'm pretty sure I was also the first kid in my high school to be into the Dead. I ended up seeing about 6-7 Dead shows altogether, and it was always a good time. It wasn't just the music - it was a unique cultural experience, kind of like immersing yourself in a huge lost Amazon tribe for a few fascinating hours.

I've never really been a jam-band kind of guy, and I had started to drift away from the Grateful Dead a bit even before Jerry Garcia joined the celestial choir, but they still hold a special place in my memories. And they really did make some great music in their time. RIP, Jerry ...

23. The Beach Boys, Pet Sounds. I'm including this one partly under protest. I've had a number of heated arguments with my friend Brian about the place of the Beach Boys in rock 'n' roll history, with him saying "The Beach Boys were so awesome!" and me saying "Eh, they weren't all that." And I knew that if I excluded them from my Top 50 list, there would be a ruckus. So I just figured, "Eh, let's just give the baby his bottle," and decided to do a little research on them.

So, Pet Sounds is pretty much universally acclaimed not just as the Beach Boys' best album, but one of the greatest rock albums of all time. The story goes that Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band would never have happened without Pet Sounds, since it had such an influence on the Beatles. So I focused on Pet Sounds, listening to it a number of times over. And ... it's good. Really good. Especially because I thought "Hang Onto Your Ego" (not on the original, but included on a re-issue) was originally done by Frank Black, and "God Only Knows" was written as the theme song for Big Love!

(By the way, is there a worse opening credit sequence than Big Love's? I mean, the ice skating and the crack in the ice, etc? It's just dreadful! But I do like Chloe Sevigny. And I also like rock songs with some good French horn. Best French horn player in rock 'n' roll history, in my opinion: John Entwistle. His horning on "Pictures of Lily" rocks!)

Also, I think Brian Wilson is one of the more fascinating figures in rock 'n' roll. One of these days, I'm going to read a biography about him. But in spite of all that, I'm not putting Pet Sounds in my Top 10. Like I said, it's really good, but I just can't put it there. So it'll go here, with the Grateful Dead: a fascinating juxtaposition of bands at opposite ends of the California spectrum.

numbers 25-27

27. Lounge Lizards, Voice of Chunk. All right, I've got a confession to make: I screwed up. I miscalculated the number of albums I would need for my Top 50 list. Don't ask me how it happened: just accept that it did, and move on. I already have.

So, today's trio are all selections I probably would've put somewhere between #'s 40 and 50, if I could do it all over again. (And there will be a corrected recap of my Top 50 once I'm done, if anyone was wondering.) Not to dismiss these great albums - I mean, they're in my Top 50! Geezus! - but I already feel bad about putting King Crimson way back there, and these all would've come behind King Crimson if I'd finalized my list before I started. But that would've been too easy. I never do things the easy way ...

But back to the music: the Lounge Lizards. Heard of them? If not, you have nothing to lose by checking them out. From what I understand, they're pretty much inactive now, but put out some great nouveau jazz (my term) back in the 90's and early 90's. I haven't heard all their albums, but I'm confident Voice of Chunk belongs here. Featuring the great John Lurie (star of Jim Jarmusch's "Stranger than Paradise") on saxophone, his brother Evan on piano, and the really great Marc Ribot on guitar, Chunk seamlessly goes from warm soft instrumentals to anguished sax wailings without missing a beat, no pun intended. I learned about the Lounge Lizards from Brook, one of my earliest Seattle housemates, who also fostered my appreciation for Public Enemy (foreshadowing: more on them later) and some other great groups.

Brook, where are you now??? Thanks for sharing your CD's, dude.

(And FYI, don't get this group confused with the Austin Lounge Lizards. These are the plain old Lounge Lizards.)

26. Andrew Bird, The Mysterious Production of Eggs. A tip of the hat to my friend Cindy for introducing me to Andrew Bird indirectly through her husband, my friend B-Phat. I didn't quite know what to make of this album the first few times I listened to it, because Andrew Bird really does have a unique sound and writes unique songs. And also, he's pretty much the best whistler going. But before he gets pigeon-holed as a whistler, by those not familiar with him, let me say that he's also an oustanding violin player, a glockenspielist, and a deceptively good singer. In fact, I would dare to call him the enfant formidable of modern American music. There aren't too many others who can match his musical range and creativity, and Production of Eggs is a fine representation of his abilities. Haven't heard the new CD, Noble Beast, but I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't also a humdinger.

25. Neko Case, Furnace Room Lullaby. To my mind, there's something perverse about Neko Case's ascendancy: she's becoming more and more popular even as her music has become less enticing to me. Her greatest strength, of course, is that rich, magnificent, alt-country voice of hers, which has always reminded me of Patsy Cline more than anyone else. And I don't think it's displayed better anywhere than Furnace Room Lullaby, where it aches and soars across a range of great songs culminating in the memorable title track. Except for maybe "Deep Red Bells," which is on a different CD - I think that's Neko's best song ever. (Did you know "Deep Red Bells" is about the Green River Killer? It's true. I guess the whole Green River Killer thing made a strong impression on her when she was growing up in Tacoma.)

Anyhow, I know there's a lot of people out there who really dug Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, and there's probably a bunch more who are into her new CD. But let me ask you this: when did you hop on the Neko bandwagon? Because if it was after Furnace Room Lullaby, you need to backtrack a little, whoever you are. But with that being said, it's still gratifying that more and more people are enjoying her music. It's hard to believe that Neko can look as cute as a button, and have that unreal voice, and still be a terrific person. But from everything I've read about her, it's true.

getting my ass handed to me, part 2

Well, this has been the longest break in my blogging since Mad City first made its inglorious debut in the blogosphere. And there's a good reason for that: lately, I've been getting my ass handed to me. Been quite busy. Had a big presentation last week, and then took off for some quick R&R and BBQ in Austin before heading back home (I'll get to my Austin adventures at a later date). And before I could get back home, the chuckleheads at American Airlines stranded me in Dallas overnight, which sucked.
Anyhow, I'm back and ready to kick some butt. Stay tuned ...

bike mechanics

Why are bicycle mechanics so f*!^#ing arrogant? I would estimate that at least 50 percent of bike mechanics out there are arrogant sunsabitches. And I don't know why. Today, for instance, I went to this big bike exposition here in Mad City to just browse a bit. There were a bunch of mechanics working on bikes at one side of the expo hall, and the air over there was just thick with arrogance. All these guys (and they were all guys, FYI, which may be why arrogance is so endemic in their culture, because maybe they need a woman's noble and serene presence to show them humility; there's so much you could learn from women, guys ...) were just strutting and cranking and preening and boasting. And every one of them had some piece of flair - a big backwoods-crazy-guy beard (Look at me! I ride so damn fast, I don't have to worry about aerodynamics!), or some cocky bad-ass T-shirt, or an insane neck tat, etc - to make sure that they stood out from the commoners.

And this is not unique to Mad City: no matter where I go in this fair land, from the East Coast to the West Coast to the Midwest, it seems like that's the case. Tell me if you haven't had this experience: you bring your bike to the bike shop for a simple repair. And you either get the guy with the crazy beard and the why-don't-you-fix-it-yourself attitude, or the one nice dude who's patient and helpful, but all of his co-workers are smirking and groaning behind him, waiting for you to leave so they can be all like, "Dude! Why didn't you tell him what a dumb shit he is, for not fixing it himself?"

But here's the thing: auto mechanics aren't like that! Auto mechanics are rarely arrogant. They're typically just humble, blue-collar, Joe Lunchpail kind of guys. Sure, some of them are trying to rip you off, but they do it in a quiet, dignified, non-arrogant manner. (And bikes don't even have engines! They have only 2 wheels! There's no exhaust system! So why are bike mechanics so f*&#!*ing high on themselves?)

Which reminds me, I should send a shout-out to the guy who works on my car, who's about the sweetest guy you'd ever want to meet: hey Dave! And I'll also send one to my bike mechanic, who's a smug prick: kiss my ass, Tanner!

numbers 28-30

30. The Replacements, Tim. The Replacements were hardly one-album wonders, but in terms of longevity and consistency they weren't exactly The Kinks or Neil Young either. I don't know enough about their history to explain why (I don't think we're on close enough terms where I can call them The Mats), but I think it basically came down to not being able to keep their Minnesota shizzle together. Which is a shame, because Paul Westerberg was a hell of a songwriter and had one of the great voices in rock 'n' roll. Some out there will be howling for Let it Be instead, but my vote goes to Tim. This baby just rocks in all the right ways. You've got the straight-out rockers - "Lay it Down Clown," "I'll Buy" - mixed with the more easygoing but equally brilliant classics "Waitress in the Sky" and "Kiss Me on the Bus." And then there's "Little Mascara": one of my all-time favorite songs, and it should be yours too. The kind of album that leaves you deeply satisfied, every time you listen to it.

29. Belle and Sebastian, Tigermilk. Another controversial pick. Every one of my sources says that If You're Feeling Sinister is Belle and Sebastian's opus grande. And yes, it too is a great album. (Greatest B&S song, in my opinion: "Seeing Other People") But I stand behind my pick, and I don't think it wins by a tiger's whisker either, ha ha. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: the best albums have this kind of organic quality to them, where you have to hear the songs in their natural order to appreciate them to their fullest. Tigermilk is so organic, it makes PCC look like an abattoir. The songs aren't carbon copies of each other; instead, they show off the various facets of a wonderfully talented band, like ... a diamond. The fact that this art-school project ever became one of the landmarks of independent rock is a miracle in itself - read about it sometime.

28. REM, Murmur. I still remember seeing the video for REM's "South Central Rain" on MTV at age 12 or so and thinking to myself, "What the hell? What's that guy's problem?" But at the same time, I had this sort of uneasy sensation, deep down inside, that there was something appealing about the song, but I couldn't admit that to anyone or I would get beaten down. (I grew up in a small, somewhat backwards town, you see.)

Thankfully, by the time I reached college, I had matured into a semblance of the man that you all know and love today. And Murmur was the album that finally put me in touch with my REM side, although it did mess somewhat with my preconceived notions of The South. (You were supposed to be walking around barefoot in overalls and spitting tobacco juice through your snaggly teeth, Stipe! Not writing songs about moral kiosks and shit like that, for chrissake.) I may love other albums more than Murmur (again, I'm kicking myself about not ranking King Crimson higher), but where would modern American music be without REM? If they're not in the Top 5 of the most "important" American bands ... no, they're definitely in the Top 5. Not just my Top 5: anyone's Top 5.