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.

the weather

Which month is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb? Is that March, or May? Bring it on, lamb! Damn ...

numbers 31-32

32. Neil Young, Rust Never Sleeps. Why haven't I blogged in over a week? Partly it's due to #32 here. Before I started this list, it was a given that Neil Young would be on it. In baseball they talk sometimes of a "5-tool player," meaning a player who's proficient at hitting, fielding, running, spitting and juicing. Neil Young is the rock 'n' roll equivalent. He can totally shred and wail on the guitar. He's one of the great songwriters. He has a distinctive, mellifluous voice. He's taken tons of drugs. He can even match just about anyone out there on the harmonica, except maybe for rock demigod John Popper. There's only one important rock 'n' roll skill that he lacks, and that's dancing. But, you know, I also have a hard time visualizing Neil Young hoofin' it with some backup dancers (CS&N, maybe?).

BUT ... has Neil Young ever put out an album that belonged higher than #32? I dunno. Part of me even wonders if I should've put King Crimson here (Red really does kick ass) and plopped Neil Young's butt in the 40's. But geez, look at what he's accomplished in his lifetime: a whole lot. All the albums, all the groups he's played with, pissing off Lynyrd Skynyrd (who, incidentally, will NOT make it into my Top 50), etc etc. Plus, he wrote perhaps the 2nd-greatest rock song of all time, "Rockin' in the Free World." (Yeah! Rock! Boo yaa!) So this is kind of like a career achievement award for Mr. Young. At one point I even thought about leaving him off the list, just because he has no one album that really, you know, distinctly stands out for me. But then I saw "Rachel Getting Married," and that one scene where the dude from TV on the Radio sang a Neil Young song to Rachel at the altar, and I just completely choked up.

So ... we'll go with Rust Never Sleeps. It's hard to exclude Harvest (how can one leave out an album with a song like "Heart of Gold?"); but all in all there's a few great songs on Harvest and some not-so-great stuff, and I'm all about consistency. I tried not to include any live albums on the list here, but I'll make an exception for Rust Never Sleeps.

31. The Kinks, Something Else by the Kinks. This, also, is something of a career achievement award. However, I do love this album, especially the song "End of the Season." Lots of other good songs on here, too. Ray Davies was one of the cleverest lyricists in rock 'n' roll, but musically The Kinks also rocked the house too. Kind of fascinating, how they spanned the gamut from early British Invasion rock ("You Really Got Me"), to Ray Davies' wry observations on English life ("Victoria," pretty much any song on Village Green Preservation Society), to rock standards ("Lola," "Destroyer").

An interesting bit of trivia: did you know that I've seen both Neil Young and The Kinks in concert? Neil Young: Saratoga Performing Arts Center, solo show, sometime around 1992. The Kinks: Springfield MA during college, I think my freshman or maybe sophomore year. In the second row. Both great shows. I have to wonder if either of them would've made the list, if not for those shows! Damn ...

Numbers 33-34

34. Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes. I can already hear the critics sharpening their knives - how can I include Fleet Foxes on a Top 50 list when their debut CD came out less than 9 months ago? Easy: it's a classic. A unique sound, beautiful vocal harmonies, incredible musicianship from guys in their early 20's. And to top it all off, they're from Seattle. Boo yah!

I've seen them on TV, I've seen them live, I've listened to their CD and EP many times. They're the real deal. And if you don't believe me, their album was also "rated album of the year by Billboard's Critic's Choice and in Metacritic's end of year best album round-up it appeared in 17 lists, topping six of them." (That's from Wikipedia, my sole information source.) I don't live and die by other critics (who else would choose Punch the Clock in his Top 50, for chrissake? King Crimson, too) but sometimes it's nice to have a little validation to back you up.

33. Guided by Voices, Alien Lanes. There's a part of me - not an inconsequential part, either - that wants to include GBV in my Top 10 for several reasons. First of all, they're pretty much just about my favorite band. And second of all, they're underappreciated. It's just a gosh-darn shame that more people don't know about the genius of Robert Pollard, the ridiculously prolific frontman of GBV. In essence, he *is* GBV - he writes the songs, sings, and shuffles the band line-up at his whim. And he's written, like, over 2000 songs. He can't be stopped - he can't even be contained. I don't know if there's anyone else out there who lives, eats, drinks (especially drinks) and smokes rock 'n' roll the way he does.

GBV is officially disbanded now, though I expect that Bob Pollard will continue to write, create and produce new songs for as long as he draws breath. It's been a few years, though, since he came up with something like Alien Lanes. This one has a special place in my heart, for I saw GBV for the first time during their Alien Lanes tour. Part of me is tempted to go with Bee Thousand instead, on the strength of songs like "Hot Freaks" and "Tractor Rape Chain" and also out of solidarity with my friend Chris, who lost a hive of his bees over the winter. But I think Alien Lanes is equally strong musically, and I will never forget that first GBV show and especially the moment they ripped into the 30-second long "Pimple Zoo": it taught me a new definition of rock.

numbers 35 & 36

36. Elvis Costello, Punch the Clock. Everything's gonna be difficult from here on out. Because after you've put The Police at #37, you've gotta make damn sure that everything above really belongs. So what am I doing listing Punch the Clock at #36??? Hell, a lot of people don't even consider it one of Elvis Costello's best albums.

Well, I guess I just can't play it safe. As is true of many great albums, there isn't a weak song on here, and every song has its place. Even "Pills and Soap," probably my least favorite tune, displays some of Costello's legendarily caustic social commentary. Other songs teeter between clever pop and relationship heartache ("The Element Within Her," "Love Went Mad"), and legendary trumpeter Chet Baker hits all the right notes (ha ha) on the slow, classic "Shipbuilding." I've listened to this CD probably 5-10 times as much as any other Elvis Costello recording, so I may have grown biased over time; but then, there's a reason I've listened to it so much.

35. Moby, Play. This bastard step-child of techno and the Delta blues somehow grew into the kind of world-changing tour de force that ... sorry, that metaphor just spun out of control, and the only thing I could do was pull out. But anyhow, Moby created a unique genre with this release, and somehow made it seem effortless. The success of Play was driven in part by the hits "Porcelain" and "South Side" (if Moby'd had the foresight to put the Gwen Stefani version on the album, Play might've cracked my Top 30), but everything on here sounds beautiful and satisfying.

Moby really hasn't come close to matching the popularity of this album with anything he's done since (another common refrain on this list). Maybe because he tried to get away from the formula that worked so well here? Any Moby experts out there? You're welcome to chime in with your theories ...

numbers 37-41

41. Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. This bad boy just seems to get more and more popular with time. Apparently, when it was released, a lot of critics felt that singer/songwriter Jeff Mangum was dabbling in mere sophistry. But time has vindicated Mangum and his wildly inventive work. It's hard to listen now and not be amazed by the way this album incorporates everything from New Orleans funeral marches to Anne Frank references into a dazzling, cohesive whole.

And by the way, I have no idea what "dabbling in mere sophistry" actually means. I just thought those words sounded pretty good together. Especially in a music review.

40. Quasi, Featuring Birds. I'm not gonna lie to you people: I did a little research in putting my Top 50 together. Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, Metacritic, etc etc. Not so much to steal other people's opinions; no, no, this was to make sure I diverged from other people's opinions as much as possible. And to make sure I didn't overlook any truly deserving artists.

I haven't seen Featuring Birds ranked on anyone else's "Best Albums" list. But I challenge you to listen to it, and then say that it doesn't belong. I challenge you, dammit! Janet Weiss and Sam Coomes may be better known for their work with Sleater-Kinney and Elliot Smith, respectively, but in my opinion this is their masterpiece. There isn't a single wasted song on here.

39. Pearl Jam, Ten. I saw Pearl Jam play in Lollapalooza right after their landmark debut album was released. I can't remember the last time I saw a crowd that hyped up, especially for a mid-afternoon performance. They just grew from there; and of course, all this was going on out in Seattle right after I'd left town for a 2-year stint back in upstate NY. Damn!

Vs. was a pretty solid follow-up to Ten, but I just lost interest and lost track of their music after that. Except for that song "Wish List": after hearing it a few times, I decided it was one my least-favorite songs of all time. But I've always respected Pearl Jam for their fight against Ticketmaster (yeah! Kiss my ass, Ticketmaster!), their political activism, and their powerful first release.

38. Spoon, Gimme Fiction. A tip of the hat has to go here to my friends Dean and Caroline, who introduced me to Spoon. Actually, I stole this CD from them while housesitting during their trip to England. But later, I felt bad about it, and returned the CD one night when they had me over for dinner and weren't looking. But I burned a copy of it, so I guess I've also stolen from Spoon. (This whole episode is like some sort of sick morality tale ...)

So here's the payback: I am including Spoon not only in my Top 50, but in my Top 40. I don't know how much they're going to make from this plug, but I'm confident it'll be more than enough to cover all the Spoon CDs I've burned over the years. "I Summon You" is one of my favorite songs of all time, and I will publicly state that Britt Daniel may be the best American songwriter of the new millenium. Anyone out there disagree? Who's better, then? Prove me wrong, people! Prove me wrong ...

37. The Police, Synchronicity. Obviously, The Police had a few good albums in their heyday. So what gives Synchronicity the edge over Ghost in the Machine? Well, I still remember when this one came out, and the huge pressure on them to follow up with another major smash on the heels of Ghost. And The Police knocked this one out of the park. Play it safe? Hell no! There was the artsy primary-color cover, the bombastic videos, and the daring inventiveness of Synchronicity I and II. Even today, when "Synchronicity II" comes on the radio, it sets itself apart from other songs with its ripping guitar and understory about the Loch Ness Monster. My one grievance: Andy Summers' guitar "solo." (Did you, uh, forget to play some notes or something, Andy? You could have totally shredded here, and instead you just dither around until the melody returns!)

Minor details, though. This one belongs, solidly, in anyone's Top 50. At #37. Nowhere else. It has to be at #37.