Why Noel Gallagher is a Badass: A Beginner's Guide

Really, Noel Gallagher doesn’t need a whole list of reasons to explain his badassery. Just look at him.

But, for those who still need convincing, and those who already know, here’s a list of reasons why I find “The Chief” aggressively astounding:

• Though he spent time around music (being a roadie), he didn’t join a band until he was 24 years old. That’s a relatively late start for the music business. But he’s done so well.

• Oasis was just his little brother’s garage band, anyway. When he got to it, it became something glorious. (video: "See the Sun" 1992 Demo)

• He isn’t classically musically trained. He can’t sight read, and, according to him he knows 11 guitar chords (and God help us, he states, when he figures out a 12th). But he has made Em7 earn it’s keep. I am constantly impressed with the simplicity of the bones of his songs. I’ve learned half of Oasis’ songs just by rearranging the chords to “Wonderwall” and moving the capo. Many people find that this simplicity is akin to poor musicianship. I say if it’s not broke, don’t fix it. (videos of a few songs involving Em7: Talk Tonight Supersonic Acoustic and D’ya Know What I Mean Acoustic <—-if you haven’t heard that acoustically, you will think that he’s about to play “Wonderwall.”)

• He is the most confident human being on the planet. And rightfully so. He knows he’s good at what he does.

• He supports Manchester City.

• He’s a blue-eyed, left-handed stammerer (If you’ve read my post about Peter Murphy, you’ll know that that matters to me for some strange reason.)

• His b-sides are always a-side material as well. Examples: "Step Out" "(As Long as They’ve Got) Cigarettes in Hell" and "D’yer Wanna be a Spaceman and Talk Tonight (I know I already did that one, but here it again.)"

• Even though his brother Liam was the main singer in Oasis, Noel’s voice is just as good (Better in many cases). Take the time to compare the two on the track “Wonderwall.” Liam on vocals. Noel on vocals.

• His lyrics are the very opposite of pretentious. He writes about the little nothings that mean something to him or that mean nothing to anyone (and that rhyme, of course). He’s one of the greatest lyricists in music and I think that can be summed up in his line “Damn my education, I can’t find the words to say all the things caught in my mind.” Video: "Don’t Go Away" acoustic.

• Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, with one album, is on par with the entire Oasis catalogue. You can’t say that about many artists who branch off from their original forms. But Noel just proved that he was the heart and soul of Oasis. (I did like Beady Eye, though, so don’t get the pitchforks just yet). Videos: "Everybody’s on the Run" and, my favourites "Simple Game of Genius"

• His singing voice always has emotion and softness regardless of his northern charm. He has one of the most beautiful voices ever recorded. Listen to him do "Slide Away." My God it’s lovely. Oh! And "Sad Song" Oh oh oh and this cover he did of "This Guy’s in Love with You!"

• Speaking of covers, he does amazing covers. I might like his version of "To Be Someone" better than The Jam's. He also did a great version of The Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony" live at one point. And I really dig how he did my favourite Beatles song "Tomorrow Never Knows" with Johnny Marr.

• He’s hilarious and clever. His commentary on the Oasis DVD of videos is worth buying the whole set for. But here are the highlights. Also, there are plenty of videos of "Noel Gallagher’s funniest moments."

• And unapologetic.

• He grew up to have a lot of style.

• He supports Epiphone.

• The liner notes of his projects often say “All songs by Noel Gallagher.” He can play anything you hand him. Including the bass, which he played on "Go Let it Out." What a sexy bassline, played by a guitar player/songwriter.

• Despite what people say about him, I think he’s incredibly modest because look at all of the things that are amazing about him.

• And he’s still doing it! He’s just released a single from an upcoming album and it’s amazing. He has yet to disappoint me. Check out "In the Heat of the Moment" and I dare you not to be amazed.

 

So, good on ya Noel Gallagher, you’re one of the most fabulous musicians alive.

What we don’t see, well it can’t be real. What we don’t touch we cannot feel.

10 Rock Bassists Who Know What They're Doing

At some awful point in music, the bass guitar went from being the crucial backbone of music to the instrument you play when you want to be in a band but are talentless.

There will always be a specially reserved table for bassists in the restaurant of the things I hold dear because I wanted to be a bassist. Before I ever bought myself a guitar, I saved up and got a cheap, cherry red bass. 

Sadly, the popular bands all my friends were listening to had bassists who relied completely on "AAAAGGGGAAAAGGGG," so I decided I was going to be like Victor Wooten or Bootsy Collins. I'm never disappointed with funk and jazz bassists because they respect the instrument. (Check out Victor Wooten playing Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" with nothing but his bass. I love this man.)

But, you know, I love rock music; and I learned through the years that not all is lost--and not all was lost. So this list is about rock and roll bassists (only those in a permanent band, so no Jaco Pastorius either) who knew/know what they are doing. 

In no particular order, here are ten great rock bassists that I could think of off the top of my head:

1. Paul McCartney: No surprise here. Not only a great songwriter, but an epic bassist. "Come Together," "Day Tripper," "Oh! Darling..." Oh man, need I say more? I do. "Silly Love Songs," "Band on the Run," and pretty much everything from McCartney through Press to Play. (Video: "Hey Bulldog" Isolated Bass. I don't have words to define my love for Paul McCartney.) Extra points for being left-handed.

2. Peter Hook: I don't think I can make a list of awesome things without mentioning Joy Division in some nature. Hooky's style is unmistakable: He plays the bass high, a relatively unknown practice--revolutionised by him really. Also, let me just leave you with this argument: "She's Lost Control." Great bass playing doesn't have to be complicated. The bass carries that song. But, we already knew that, listen to the bass in "Disorder." (Video: "Disorder")

3. Andy Rourke: The Smiths had a great bunch of lads, they really did. I was surprised by the skill that Andy Rourke showed in the band because, honestly, when you're playing an instrument behind Johnny Marr's guitar, you wouldn't think there'd be a need to do anything flashy. But Andy augmented everything the band did and that bit of sparkle really makes The Smiths. (Video: "This Charming Man")

4. Alex James: Here's one that doesn't get a lot of credit for his bass playing. It might be because he's up behind Graham Coxon, but, though not always, Blur relies on basslines. Listen to this version of "Boys and Girls" live and you'll feel the funk that he adds. If only the bass were turned up. (Video: "Boys and Girls" live)

5. Paul Simonon: His bass playing is, simply put, sexy as hell. In The Clash, he added that funk to my oh-so beloved punk and when he did The Good, The Bad, and The Queen with Damon Albarn and Tony Allen, his bass playing rattled my car door and I love when that happens. It means something when music can survive as lovely without guitar influence. He gets two--fuck it--three! videos because of that. (Videos: "Rock the Casbah" isolated bass; "The Magnificent Seven"(so sexy); "Paul's Tune")

6. Bruce Foxton: The Jam didn't need many people or machines to create great music. I think they're more punk than people give them credit for. I love that, even though Paul Weller was a great guitar player in the early days of the band, the songs are incredibly bass-heavy. This should happen more in the world of music. (Video: "That's Entertainment") Extra points for being another Rickenbacker player.

7. Cubbie Fink: He's pretty much the only thing I have left to give me faith in bass playing. Foster the People are an incredible 3-member band with the same kind of 'perfect storm' situation in so many bands on this list, each member plays his instrument to the fullest of form. Cubbie carries the band's songs in a lot of cases. Especially in their biggest hit which I'm sure you already know. Let me tell you, when I heard that for the first time, all I could think was "fuckin hell, someone learned  how to play bass...it's been years!" (Video: "Pumped up Kicks;" "Best Friend;" and "Don't Stop (Color on the Walls)" live. He's unbelievably cool.) Extra points for playing bass like a sophisticated gentleman.

8. John Paul Jones: The soul this man carried in his bass was a powerful mate for Robert Plant's voice and, with the drumming innovation and otherwordly guitar playing, Led Zeppelin is a musical force to be reckoned with. This is the kind of bass music you get drunk off of. (Video: "Ramble On") Extra points for needing no further explanation.

9. John Entwistle: Though Paul McCartney may be the driving force behind every decision I make in my life (I am unashamed), I will admit that when I saw John's solo when The Who did "My Generation" on The Smothers Brothers was the day I went out and got my bass. I believe I was thirteen or fourteen. Changed my life forever. (Video: "John Entwistle's 30-second Solo From "My Generation"; and "Eminence Front" isolated bass track. Skip about 2 minutes ahead if you want to get the full force of awesome.)

10. Patricia Morrison: There have been some things said (by Andrew Eldritch if I'm not mistaken) about Patricia Morrison's real contribution to The Sister's of Mercy. I don't know really because I wasn't there. Anyway, she was the bassist during my favourite Sisters album, Floodland and I think the great thing about the band--and music of this genre--is that the songs sometimes rely completely on the bass and it's dark and brooding and industrial and perfect. (Video: "Lucretia, My Reflection;")

And to all those I've forgotten: I'll be sure to rack myself with guilt over your absence later.

A Perfect Album - Babyshambles / Sequel to the Prequel

I am a believer that music is to be appreciated in the format and order which it is presented. Therefore, I'm much more likely to buy an entire album than I am to buy a single. I hear something I like and, like music-demanding royalty, I wish to be impressed with an entire collection of similarly pleasing sounds. So, when I get a new album, I listen from start to finish without skipping tracks. It's a good practice, anyway, because there is a reason to the order of songs on an album and I think it is rather unappreciated.

But it's not easy to create a perfect set of 10-14 songs that is really going to keep the audience interested all the way through with equal enthusiasm. Some of my favourite albums have tracks that I often (though not always) skip just because "eh, I'm not in the mood for that one." So, I become quickly overjoyed when I find what I regard as a "perfect album:" an album with absolutely no shit songs on it. Sequel to the Prequel by Babyshambles is one such album.

While listening to said album, something amazing happens: when it's time to turn off the music, you're left thinking "oh, yeah, I'll change it after this song" until you've listened to the whole thing in its entirety 18 times. My best friend and I recently took a road trip and I'd say we spent at least 6 consecutive driving hours listening to this album. Not to mention listening to it while we did our hair in the morning and while we cooked our meals...and singing it when there was a lull in conversation. It's one of those albums that you just can't get enough of. I live for things like this.

But why? Make way for my track-by-track generalisation of the musical emotion:

There are 12 tracks on Sequel to the Prequel. It begins with a fiercely accented punk song ("Fireman") to get your blood going. This opener is less than two minutes long and pretty much holds your attention hostage. Try to successfully do another task while listening to it. I dare you.

After your attention has been caught, you are lulled in to a gorgeous harmonisation against a beautiful guitar riff ("Nothing Comes to Nothing") before being sent in to something that has a hook that will make you hum along even though you don't know the words yet ("New Pair"). By this point, you're in a serious listening mode. You want, more than anything, to already know all the words. So then you're gifted a treat with track 4 ("Farmer's Daughter"). The lyrics are simple enough to catch on to and the chorus takes so much dedication to sing that you may as well just start challenging your friends to who can best keep the notes steady. This song is epic.

Things start to pick up in a folk-jazz way at the next point ("Fall From Grace") and your ears are tickled with a riff you already know from your past as the band used the hook from Bob Dylan's "I Want You" as the bones of this song. And they used it well.

And in case the memory of Bob Dylan put you in a relative nostalgic slump, "Maybelline" will bring you right back to the current day and you will undoubtedly be singing it in your sleep. I could listen to Peter Doherty say that name all day long. He uses his voice as a complicated instrument whereas a lot of other singers seem to use theirs as a vessel for reading poetry to a beat.

After that quick chance to suck in a heavy breath, we dive deep in to the jazzy sounds for the title track ("Sequel to the Prequel"). At this point, you're dancing like it's 1946; but next ("Dr. No") you're slowing down and you're chilling in the Caribbean.

"There's sharks in the water and the water's deep..."

The climax comes with the track "Penguins," which is a gorgeous track that encompasses three separate moods in to one song. I'd say the lines including and directly following "I really don't like your boyfriend's face; so I'm going to try and take his place" may be the most satisfying moments on the whole album. The climax of that song is the climax for the whole album.

We fall to conclusion for that track, but then dip in to some refreshing clean and upbeat acoustics with fiddle accompaniments ("Picture Me in a Hospital") which brings together all of the musical aspects of the preceding songs in great summary.

The last two tracks are genius because you get a heavier song to re-energise you ("Seven Shades") and then the finish is a deep, dark, heavy track ("Minefield") that mixes both distortion and clean electric; and we end on a whisper. You've just been on an audible roller-coaster. Fucking brilliant. 

All of that, however, is just a summary of the sound. That is an interpretation by someone who doesn't speak the language of the lyrics. Once you add in the English language, everything changes. Peter Doherty writes lyrics that make me feel. I use the word "feel" as a general statement, too, because it's hard to pinpoint the feeling exactly.

Empathetic luminous tragedy?

Gorgeous optimistic sadness?

Hopeful hopelessness?

Longing?

That's the best I have.

The entire album is a story, I feel, and each song is a separate honest confession. Like a true public poet, though, it's all written in such a way that anyone with any sense of tragedy can relate; so long as they believe that there is a light somewhere. That's the key to the music: that there is a light. "There's still a song for me" ("Picture Me in a Hospital") as it were.

Another really important feature of the lyrics is that they appear to be more spur-of-the-moment than one would expect. As I drove through the hills listening, my passenger read the lyrics printed in the CD booklet and brought to my attention that the singing doesn't always match the writing. Sometimes the feeling of the song was written as a "can't," but expressed as a "won't;" and, as she expressed in awe, there is a big difference between those two proclamations. I adore this spontaneous personalisation and the reality that is in the music of Babyshambles. J'adore la passion!

As for a video, there hasn't been much television about it (and you know how I love a good live performance), so the best I have is the official album sampler. It has a minute of each song so after the first thirty seconds, you should probably be sold.

What's it like on the moral high ground? Judging by your face, well, I'm glad I never asked.

Song of the Moment - Tubeway Army / Are ‘Friends’ Electric?

I don’t know why so many people don’t find Gary Numan to be one of the most amazing and important musicians in all of music history. Other young people can usually get on board with a lot of the music that I deem as epically brilliant. Joy Division? “Sure, Bernard Sumner used killer distortion.” The Cure? “Of course, who doesn’t at least know ‘Friday I’m in Love?’” The Jam? “Oh yeah that’s bloody good cockney fighting music, that is.” But the enthusiasm often dies when Gary Numan is introduced to the equation. (And don’t even get me started on Kraftwerk.)

"Oh my God, ew, this sounds so ’80s! That’s so old!" Is what I have heard before in reference to this music. Apparently everything else can stand the ‘test of time,’ but not music from the 1980s.

Unbelievably, this song is from 1979. But that’s neither here nor there. Why is this sound disgusting to the youth of today? Why do synthesisers make kids giggle? I would very much like to know. Is it because everyone wants to laugh at the soundtrack of a Flock of Seagulls haircut? Is this VH1s fault? Someone please tell me.

I deeply enjoy music that creates the satisfaction of a high—synthetic or otherwise—all the while eliminating the need to put one’s life in danger. You don’t get a hangover or withdrawal from music. Pretty fab stuff, eh?

This song—and a lot of Gary’s other music—probably sounds the way cocaine probably feels. You have the rush, the high, and the comedown, all to the warm drone of a continuous beat. But, as a really glowing bonus, you don’t have to go skiing to have a taste. Lucky for that, because it’s not only the high and the rush put in this music; but also that paranoia and isolation and horrifying sci-fi hallucination. Personally, I wouldn’t want to believe in a Gary Numan song. Without a conscious stream of logic, I’ll bet this would be terrifying.

If you haven’t heard this song (or haven’t in a while), watch first to experience the performance, but then give it a whirl with your eyes closed.

 

There’s  a knock on the door; and just for a second I thought I remembered you.

I Finally Met Pete Doherty (Musically. Not Personally.)

I've been avoiding this man for a very long time. Not in the same way I was avoiding The Sisters of Mercy--because I would get distracted and fall off track looking them up--but because I've had multiple comparisons to him throughout my life. All the things I find romantic, acquaintances and strangers link back to him. One internet anonymous even once told me that the model in one of my photographs looked like a lady Pete Doherty. The model was me. I don't see the similarities, but there you have it. He is always coming up in regards to my life.

Non-existent physical similarities is not what I'm talking about, though. It seems that often, after reading my writing, people will ask me if I'm a fan of Pete Doherty. To which I respond:

"The heroin addict?"
"Well he's a musician, you know. He was in The Libertines."
"Right. No, I've never heard The Libertines."
"Well I bet you'd like it."
"Why?"
"Because it's dark and sad but really catchy."

(People did the same thing about "Requiem for a Dream" which, when I finally did see, I fell in love with. I don't know what to think about everyone coming to me immediately when something about heroin happens.)

So I was kind of afraid to learn about him because I didn't want all of the things I do to be discounted or vastly affected by him. You see, I wrote an entire novel about a heroin addict (maybe that's why I get called to action at the mention of the our girl Brandy) and the last thing I need is for people to say "oh that's just Pete Doherty that you've written." So I didn't give him the chance to affect me. Plus, I was afraid everyone would be right and I would fall in love with him; because if he really is a messed up soul then he is exactly the kind of thing that I would fall for. I just don't have time for that. Therefore, I ignored him for years.

But, you see, apparently The Libertines are getting back together. I know this because the NME won't shut up about it. And all of my cookie-implanting, tracker-enforcing, social-media-type websites that I visit are just convinced that this would be an interesting fact for me.

Facebook: "I'd like to suggest some pages for you to like. I see that you really dig good English music. Well, how about The Libertines? No? Babyshambles? Pete Doherty? Come on, you know you want to. Look, he has sad eyes and is stringy. Just the way you like them." I'd never heard him make a sound, but I could tell you which bands he's involved in.

Tumblr: "You follow my page because you like my taste in music. Here's a picture of Damon Albarn. You liked that? Check this out! It's Pete Doherty and/or Carl Barât. Check out those super duper sad droopy eyes. OMG isn't it just sooo exciting that they're getting back together?! Hyde Park concert!!! We're all going! Come with us!"

Google: "You seem to have typed 'Peter Murphy tickets...' that's odd. Are you sure you didn't mean 'Peter Doherty tickets?' I think you did. Check out this Wikipedia snippet. He's from Haxham. Fancy that. Hey, isn't it you who has the fetish for the northernmost parts of England? Yeah, it's you. You did a search just the other night for 'Yorkshire' looking for pictures for a desktop background."

But what really got me was when I downloaded the YouTube app on my ipod. This app didn't know me yet, because it was linked to a new Google account. I looked up a grand total of three videos.

YouTube: "I see that you've looked up 'Noel Gallagher Simple Game of Genius;' 'Joy Division Transmission;' and 'Reading Festival Blur.' I recommend this interview Pete Doherty did on The Jonathan Ross Show next. I bet you'll super dig it."

I gave in. It was like he was haunting me. It was either start to hate him on principle or give it a go. So I went with the interview instead of music because, maybe, just maybe, if I saw him talk and thus appeased the gods of YouTube, they'd let me go back to my Post-Punk/Britpop happiness.

And, yeah, he started talking in this very quiet, slow, space-cadet kind of way and I felt immediately attached to him. He was dressed up all nice in a suit and being polite, but he was also all sweaty and stringy (as was promised by all the various places of haunting.) and his eyes wandered like he was in his own little world. Fucked up on drugs, mayhaps. Fucked up on life, mayhaps.

So, anyway, after the interview, he did a song. Just him and an acoustic guitar, sitting up there, playing some lovely picking and singing a really tragic little song. I think it was called "Beg, Steal, or Borrow."

And aloud, to the screen, I said "Goddamn it, no." With a sigh, I scrolled down looking for some music to listen to. For the next hour and a half I just listened to his music. Songs about remembering what happiness is, and wanting it, and calling it by name, but still being drenched in a downpour. That's what I got out of it, anyway. That and heroin in a condom. Seriously, though "Sheepskin Tearaway" blew my mind with it's beauty. All of this praise, however, was all for solo stuff. I still hadn't gotten to The Libertines.

Now here comes the weird part that no one saw coming:

I don't really like The Libertines.

I don't hate them. But I don't think they're fantastic. I think Pete Doherty has a great voice--and so does Carl Barât! I feel I have to specify that. And I think the lyrics are great. A lot of them are little poems, which I very much admire. I also appreciate the earworm use of things like "shoop shoop shoop da-lang-a-lang."

However, I don't like the instrumental music. In my opinion, the drums are boring and the bass is nearly drowned. It's all placed on that clean electric guitar and, while that is unattractive to me, it fits right in to the era in which it was conceived. It reminds me of all the music that was popular when I was in high school (Which is when this band was popular.).

I wouldn't necessarily avoid them, though, because I can get behind the punk feel that often comes up. Like in the song "Time for Heroes." That's a good song. And "Don't Look Back into the Sun" has a great riff, I'll give it that. The music is sometimes only saved by the control and command taken by the vocals, though. I'm going to call this phenomenon "reverse Interpol syndrome." Because Interpol (another band I'm supposed to like) has great music, but what I think is a less-than-satisfactory voice. Don't beat me to death over this dark secret I hold.

All that being said, I went out and immediately got Grace/Wastelands and have listened to it pretty constantly over the last day and a half. This is strange for me to do, so I must like it. I've listened to it in it's entirety more times than I've listened to Peter Murphy's Lion. And as for Babyshambles, they are pretty much what I'd wished The Libertines had been. I know the least about them, though. I don't know a lot about any of these these bands, really (give me a break, it's been two days), but it's kind of looking like I just don't like Carl Barât. Which I know is the unpopular opinion because everyone is so exuberantly beside themselves that they're getting back together.

To conclude this long explanation of my haunting and eventual acceptance of this musician, I summarise to this:

Yes, I do like Pete Doherty.

Fans of The Libertines, however, are more than welcome to give me a lengthy response about why I should like this band. Maybe there's a song out there that they've done that would just floor me. I may never know it if you don't tell me about it!

I leave you to listen to "For Lovers" which is Pete Doherty on Wolfman's debut track. I love it. If I was creating a soundtrack for the feeling of nostalgia, this would be on it.

 

I've paid the penalty. You're the jailer rattling the key. But the key is mine; I keep a spare one every time.

Song of the Moment - The Sisters of Mercy / This Corrosion

I spent a lot of time not giving The Sisters of Mercy a chance. I kept hearing about them, but then would get distracted by some other band or just stick with what I already knew. But when I finally did, I started here with "This Corrosion." I think I started there because I saw an interview with Patricia Morrison and they played it. Regardless, I fell in love with the sound.

I cannot stress just how much I love male vocalists with deep baritone voices. It is a weakness. Jim Morrison, Ian Curtis, Peter Murphy, and now Andrew Eldritch. But, unlike with the other examples I used, during this period of the band's history, The Sisters of Mercy were also using the high female backing vocals. It's a nice contrast, I think.

Not to mention I think the music video is really sexy.

 

Hey now, hey now now, sing this corrosion to me.

Ten Unique and Powerful Male Voices in Music

This was a stupid idea because I will never be confident with at least 5 of these choices at any given time, but here we go. As of this moment, this is my list of bests:

1. Ian Curtis: I love the depth he achieved. And his voice was so haunting. But we all know by now that I love everything about the music Ian Curtis was involved with. (Video: She's Lost Control)

2a. Noel Gallagher: He can sing absolutely anything. (Video: This Guy's in Love with You Noel Gallagher).

2b. Liam Gallagher: No one sounds like him! He is unique and proudly Mancunian. (Video: Oasis - Supersonic)


3. Peter Murphy: Such incredible vocal range and always with an air of sexuality. Even when it's sarcastic. (Video: Bauhaus - Rosegarden Funeral of Sores)

4. Paul Weller: So much soul in such an unexpected package. (Video: Sunflower)

5. Damon Albarn: I love when singers are unashamed of their accents. Everything he sings sounds like Essex. (Video: Song 2 Alternate Version. Trust me, this is awesome.)

6. David Bowie: He may very well have created range in rock music. (Video: Win)

7. Paul McCartney: Another recognisable voice with credit to all that we know as hard rock in "Helter Skelter." (Video: Wings - Wildlife live the Hague)

8. Robert Smith: He has such a sweet voice. When put to the depth of some of his lyrics, it's surreal. And his voice is just as good live as it is recorded. Something to be admired. (Video: The Cure - Pictures of You)

9. Stephan Jenkins: I don't know how to describe his voice without using the word "San Francisco." It's sexy and '90s. (Video: Third Eye Blind - I Want You)

10. Jim Morrison: The original baritone. Without any punk or any metal, Jim Morrison had the most powerful voice in rock music. (Video: The Doors - The Crystal Ship)

Honourable Mentions: Jeff Buckley, Bob Dylan, Jakob Dylan, Thom York, Richard Ashcroft, Joe Strummer, John Lennon, Ian McCollough, Robert Plant, Dean Martin, Tony Perkins, M. Shadows, Marilyn Manson, Trent Reznor... and so many more that I'll probably be editing this list for the rest of my life.

Record Store Day

Like any presumptuous 20-something fan of the classic tunes, I have an opinion on Record Store Day that I can't just let be. My opinion is mixed, as is expected by my pretence of calling myself "presumptuous."

Feeling #1:

It's fantastic that a group was formed to help out the little independent records stores because every time I turn around, another one is going out of business. So it's nice to give them a "Black Friday" so to speak for them to get a wealth of income in one day. It's also cool that such big names have gotten involved in it to lure in potential customers with new, special, one-of-a-kind, re-issued, Record Store Day merchandise. It appeals to the collector in all of us.

Feeling #2:

The bigger feeling is the negative feeling. Firstly, not everyone can get to a record store. Either because they will be working that day or because they live in a place that doesn't have a record store three minutes away from them. I understand that the whole point is to encourage people to go out in to the world and stay away from the internet and give money to the local businesses, but some people just can't. This sucky situation for those people is increased exponentially by how much they want a special release. Sometimes people in small towns are hardcore David Bowie fans but they can't drive five hours and wait in line from 3am-8am to try and beat someone to death with a pocketbook over the 1 Bowie picture disc the store got in their inventory. I guess the silver lining of that would be to expand one's social circle to find people to help you out and get it for you. But, then that becomes a lot like the thing that angers me the most about Record Store Day:

eBay. Right now, eBay is exploding with listings of Record Store Day items. I think there was a Joy Division listing every thirty seconds for the first day. Each one selling for about $50 if you take an average. This record, in the shops, cost between $12 and $18 on the actual day, for perspective. So this means that thousands of people went around to their local record store and bought as many copies as policy allowed of each album, brought them home, and listed them immediately on eBay to make themselves a 150% profit. While that is a successful way to make money, it really just sucks. Because the guy who went in and bought up every copy of "An Ideal for Living" a store had wasn't actually a Joy Division fan to begin with. And the Joy Division fans who showed up to the bad news of them being sold out didn't get their records. They had to go and buy them for 3 times as much from the first guy. Because of that, the meaning of the whole thing is lost. Sure, the record companies and stores are making money, but the collectors are losing out horribly.

But what does it matter, right? The whole thing is a gimmick anyway. Made to suck people in to spending money on things that aren't really vinyl, they're newfangled re-issued heavyweight vinyl. I understand that argument. But speaking as both a Joy Division and David Bowie fan, I can offer a new argument to that. The Bowie picture discs are a lot of fun. They're just a neat collectable thing. I'd be interested in them even if I just wanted to put them on the wall (something I hate, but these look fanatastic). If they were Record Store Day only releases that would be one thing. But some are released just for the fuck of it. "Life on Mars?" "Sorrow" and "Rebel Rebel" have all been mass released. In order to complete a collection already started, one must beat someone to death with a pocketbook or be the lucky person to get the 1 copy the store has. It's a provoking strategy. The Joy Division release makes me even more angry because one either finds an original copy and pays thousands of dollars for it or buys a bootleg copy of "An Ideal for Living." This was the first official release of this since Anonymous did it in the '70s. Even though it is Rhino and not Anonymous, it was something legitimate and therefore of good quality I assume. I don't know, I bought myself a bootleg. But for completists, it would have been a nice thing to have officially.

But, yes, I agree, a lot of the other releases are just sugar-coated nothing. Unless you're in to vinyl revival, I suppose.

So there's my very confusing and long mixed feelings about Record Store Day which could have simply been summed up by saying "It's good on paper."

And before you ask, yes, I did go the long road to the record store on the day looking for Peter Murphy, Joy Division, and David Bowie. I found the bootleg "An Ideal for Living" and I got myself the official Oasis release "Supersonic" because it was all I could find and I refuse to travel such a long distance and come back with nothing. Plus, we should all know my feelings on Noel Gallagher. I know, I know, I know, Oasis music isn't meant to be listened to on vinyl. It's a CD/Casette era thing. But I couldn't help myself. I have a problem.

Why David Bowie is a Badass: A Beginner's Guide

In honour of my current roll with David Bowie, here's a list of reasons why I find Ziggy's alter-ego deliciously divine:

• I can only imagine how completely otherworldly (alien, if you'd rather) he must have seemed in the 1970s. That his musical ability outshines his pioneering androgyny is the first and most important part of why David Bowie is a badass. He's damn good.

• Back to the androgyny, though. It's fantastic. He's a gorgeous piece of art, really. Blurring the lines between all the opposites I can think of. Male/Female, Human/Nonhuman, Good/Evil...et cetera.

• It's great when someone has something strikingly unique about them. Just like I love Paul Weller's unexpected soul and Peter Murphy's stammer, I adore David Bowie's eyes. In case you haven't noticed, one of them doesn't constrict. He had "spaceman" built in to his appearance through accident at a young age and he has embraced it. Sexy. 

• He's left handed (and those eyes are blue).

• Whether or not you're a David Bowie fan doesn't matter, you know pretty much every song he's ever released. (See next point for some examples)

• He reminds me of Bob Dylan a lot in that some of his songs are more known for the other people who did them. For example: "All the Young Dudes" seems like a Mott the Hoople song. Partly because it is. But Bowie wrote it and has his own version. And who hasn't done a version of "Heroes?" The Wallflowers did my favourite version. (Noel Gallagher's is beautiful as well. Just saying.) Not to mention "Ziggy Stardust" as done by Bauhaus. Imitation proves excellence to a degree, don't you agree?

• He came at a great time for being the type he was. The 1969 Moon Landing coincides with "Space Oddity" and he continued the space theme for, well, forever.

• There are a million different versions of this man. Ziggy Stardust was only one of his make-up jobs. There was also Aladdin Sane, the Thin White Duke, and, possibly, somewhere in there, David Jones. He's been recreating fashion and style for decades. *Insert the infamous lightning bolt here.*

• He's also been making music for decades. This man has 26 studio albums. And, if he weren't one of the most recognisable voices on the planet, it'd be hard to tell that the man who wrote Aladdin Sane is the same man who did Earthling. 

• Acting. David Bowie acts. Of course I very much enjoyed watching him play Thomas in The Man Who Fell to Earth--and good God damn if everybody doesn't know about Jareth the Goblin King--but he's also played roles like Nikola Tesla in The Prestige and Pontius Pilate in The Last Temptation of Christ. No, I am not fucking with you.

• I restate my respect for anyone who has been in a relationship with the same person for longer than a decade. Iman and David have been married since 1992. Not sure how long they've been together, but there you have it.

• This is one of the greatest albums ever written. If only for influential prowess alone. I have a different preference, but, hey, who hasn't listed this as a reason they became a musician? It's a complete story:

• He uses complicated guitar chords in his songs. It's not all Em C G D (Though all of those are in "Space Oddity" now that I think about it) like a lot of musicians of the time used. These are things I had to actually look up to play.

• He's inspired some of my very favourite musicians. He's also inspired some of my least favourite musicians, so this point is slightly off, but the whole reason I actually got in to Bowie past the greatest-hits juncture was because he was constantly referenced in the music and writings of some of the bests. Examples include Joy Division, The Cure, and Bauhaus to go with the themes of this blog thusfar. But also virtually everyone else.

• He's just cool. I mean, this man can go out for a bagel and look cool doing it. Even when he was lanky and awkward and going cockney during interviews, he was cool. This doesn't mean cocaine is cool, but Mr. Jones sure is.

• ...even though sometimes you might question his coolness and wonder if it is in fact "incredible dorkiness."
• 

• And, lastly, he's still doing it. He just had an album out in 2013. I haven't listened to it yet out of fear and thus cannot give you an opinion yet, but it does exist. 

So, fantastic job, David Bowie, you've been glorious since before I even knew what "glorious" meant. 

Keep your electric eye on me, Babe. Put your ray gun to my head. Press your space face close to mine, Luv. Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah. 

Throbbing Gristle or "The Weirdest Moment of My Life"

I have to express somewhere what happened to me when I discovered this thing called Throbbing Gristle. Since it appears on the surface to be music, I think this is a good platform to give it a go. 

What is Throbbing Gristle? 

Well, colloquially in 1970s northern English prostitution culture, this means erect penis. However, it was also used to name the group of very serious artists lead by Genesis P-Orridge (Now Genesis Breyer P-Orridge). Cosey Fanni Tutti, Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, and Chris Carter were the other members involved. That I said "very serious artists" is, in a way, cheeky because they were such psychedelic Dada artists that seriousness is kind of a paradox, but I must say that they were. Super serious.

It started with performance art like taking twenty four hours to cross a room and stripping sex down to it's most deranged forms and performing that spectacle. Then it evolved in to audible performance art. But, instead of having a band--as it was decided instruments are lifeless soulless pieces of nothing--this group created something that has since been dubbed "industrial" music. It's the mechanical sound of industry and scum.

So, strapped with instruments, amplifiers, and jars of bloody excrement for Genesis to consume before shows so s/he could vomit it on to the audience at will, they started making noise. To the layman, they were a band.

I've heard of industrial music. Isn't Nine Inch Nails industrial?

Sort of. Drum machines and electronic noise are the backbone of this turn from technical-skill rock music as far as I can tell; and Trent Reznor is good at taking out the rock and roll instruments. But Throbbing Gristle is so much more than just electronic noise. They encapsulated the actual literal sound of terror. And it's because of that that I can't let them pass by unmentioned.

How I discovered the sound of horror.

I mentioned that I read Peter Hook's autobiography Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division. I also mentioned that post-punk music is my obsession right now. Well all over my sources of information, Throbbing Gristle is mentioned. Hooky must have talked about them a hundred times in his book and Love and Rockets mentioned something about them and they keep popping up on my sidebar suggestions on YouTube; so I decided to just give them a listen and find out what was so very special about them.

The first "song" I came across was called "Slug Bait."

I was expecting something dark and creepy but this is on another level. The most obvious evidence are the lyrics. The words tell the story of climbing in to a pregnant woman's window; making her husband eat his own testicles; cutting her baby out of her stomach; biting it's head off; and then killing it (redundant point as the head has already been removed, but I digress) while the woman bleeds out. All to the phrase "Slug bait. Can't wait."

But, on top of the words--even if you couldn't hear what s/he was saying--there is a sound that is best explained by saying it's exactly what that situation would sound like. The calm ambiance of night interrupted by shrill insanity and robotic evil will of madness muffling the screams. I study serial murder as a strange hobby. I've read the books, seen the crime scene photos and, like a detective, have viewed it rather scientifically. But this brought me right back to Earth. It scared me. 

I could not stop listening. I kept going, listening to gems like "Hamburger Lady" and "Discipline" and feeling every bit more and more unnerved and sick. It was awful.

God damn if that's not powerful stuff! I mean, I was disgusted, frightened, and facing futile mortality there listening to this. I was incredibly uncomfortable. I was affected! I want to roll my eyes because this all makes me think of what would have happened if Andy Warhol were a serial killer (and Andy Warhol is a concept I despise) but I have to agree and call it art no matter how much it pains me to do so. Because what is art if it does not inspire some kind of emotion in the audience? They really did take me away from myself while I was listening and that is a rare thing to find anymore. What people called "shock rock" in the nineties is really laughable when you put the monstrosity that is Throbbing Gristle in to perspective. Marilyn Manson burning a flag and ripping up a Bible is naught but teenage angst (sorry Brian, you know I love you.). I never understood what was so shocking about such things and I always figured it was because I was at the right age to be desensitized. But then I found the grandparent of all depravity. It overjoys me to know that emotions are so strong. There's something to be said about the art of taking people to their limits. Psychological art.

By the way, I take much solace in the thought that me calling it art probably negates the artistry in their eyes. 

Anyway, listen of you're brave. Watch Genesis do their hour-and-a-half-long interview about how it all happened sometime. It's great.

Cabaret Voltaire is next on my list of things to discover. I hear they are similar. Sounds like a jolly good time.

 

Slug bait...ca-ca-ca-cahhhn't waaait...

Song of the Moment - Siouxsie and the Banshees / Israel

This is my absolute favourite Banshees song...of the moment.

I'm not really very big on songs with 9pm news meanings (that's just me being honest) but, regardless of the 9pm news feel I may have gotten at first glance, this is not one of those songs. Firstly, the lyrics are more of a general portrait than they are a current event. A beautifully sad portrait. That's important, I think. But, more importantly, when it comes to music, this song is one of the best examples I've ever seen of the bass and lead guitar being in a faithful and committed relationship. I love a song that starts with a few measures of bass and then teases for another 20 seconds before the riffs kick in.

Siouxsie's voice is, as always, haunting and gorgeous. But I love the way she seems to echo out of a cave in this one. The cave where the bass and the lead have made a home together, of course.

And, as usual, it wouldn't be song of the moment unless the drums made my shoulders bounce. Every instrument works here. Even the voices. The use of male and female voices together in that kind of haunting religious hum really brings the darkness of this song together.

Love it.

I'll put in live footage as well, but this song isn't really my favourite live. So the studio version comes first. But, in case you're wondering or somehow don't know already, yes, that is Robert Smith of The Cure on guitar in the live version.



Even though we're all alone, we are never on our own when we're singing.