Tag Archives: Oasis

Rocks In The Attic #577: The Village People – ‘Cruisin’’ (1978)

RITA#577On Saturday mornings in Manchester, we would hit the local record stores; usually Kingbee in Chorlton, followed by Sifters a little further afield in Fallowfield. Of the two, I always preferred the selection in Kingbee. Even though the shop looked like it was never blessed with direct daylight, the rock and pop section was pretty good, although pretty pricey at times.

It was always a bit harder to navigate around the shop in Kingbee though. It isn’t the largest record shop in the world, and with only four or five racks of rock and pop – usually a record store’s most popular section – you’d always be fighting to get back into the L to R section after another buyer ruined your alphabetised digging.

RITA#577aIf pickings were not rich enough in Kingbee, we’d jump in the car and go to Sifters, the record store made famous by Noel Gallagher’s lyrics in Shakermaker. Sifter’s was such a different experience to Kingbee. It was always a bit quieter and not populated with the usual serious record buying types you would see in Kingbee.

I filled a lot of gaps in my record collection in Sifters. It seemed to be the record store where popular rock records ended up. My copies of Hysteria and Brothers In Arms probably came from Sifters, and I think I picked up the whole of ZZ Top’s pre-Eliminator output there once I figured out how good their early material is. My copies of Thriller and Bad were from there, and while I already owned Frampton Comes Alive by the time I first set foot in Sifters, I reckon I would have been able to pick up a copy there every week if I needed to.

RITA#577bOne of the records I always saw in Sifters was a copy of the Village People’s third studio album, Cruisin’, from 1978. I have a soft spot for Y.M.C.A. – it’s such a banging tune that I don’t really care about anything else the song – or the band – symbolises. The album just refers to the band’s collective love of driving around, right? And the visual gag concerning the band’s attire in Wayne’s World 2 puts such a big smile on my face that I just have trouble taking them too seriously.

It was always on my agenda to pick up that copy of Cruisin’ in Sifters. I never got around to it for one reason or another. I must have picked it up a few times, but had to put it back once I’d figured my other records had easily surpassed my budget. I always regretted this after I left Manchester, but I was lucky to pick up a beat-up (or should that be ‘rough trade’?) second-hand copy here in New Zealand last year.

I wouldn’t want to suggest that the Village People were a one-hit wonder, but nearly every song on this record sounds like a reworking of Y.M.C.A. There’s a really tasty horn break in I’m A Cruiser which I’m having major trouble placing. Either it’s lifted from something else, or it’s been samped since (it’s at 02:50 here, if you can help me out).

Hit: Y.M.C.A.

Hidden Gem: Medley: The Women / I’m A Cruiser

Advertisements

Rocks In The Attic #550: White Zombie – ‘Astro-Creep 2000 – Songs Of Love, Destruction And Other Synthetic Delusions Of The Electric Head’ (1995)

rita550In 1995, I used to spend most of my time in the common room at college, listening to rock and metal, and reading magazines like Kerrang! and Metal Hammer. I’d attend lessons from time to time, but the highlight of my life at this point was sitting in the common room, my feet up, controlling the stereo, and sneering at anybody brave enough to try and put any Oasis on. Life goals!

We’d also shoot home movies during our free periods, soundtracked by the likes of White Zombie, and characterised by the usual kind of hi-jinks that sixteen year olds get up to. These Not So Vulgar Videos, as we titled them, are a great time capsule of my youth although I’m naturally ashamed at some of the content.

I don’t think I’d heard Astro Creep 2000 since going to University in 1996, and it being reissued on vinyl twenty years later. My musical tastes developed beyond metal rather quickly by the time I left college, and so I looked back on this album as a product of my naive adolescence.

Listening now, it’s interesting just how enjoyable the record is. I could do without some of Rob Zombie’s ‘Morris Dancing’ vocal rhythms – something that System Of A Down stole and made a career out of – but the songwriting, playing and production on this record is awesome. Of particular interest to me are the film dialogue samples employed throughout – from the likes of Dawn Of The Dead, The Omega Man, Shaft and The Haunting. No wonder I liked this sort of thing when I was sixteen.

Hit: More Human Than Human

Hidden Gem: Electric Head Pt. 1 (The Agony)

Rocks In The Attic #434: Placebo – ‘Placebo’ (1996)

RITA#434Twenty years on, Placebo suddenly sound very dated. Their brand of edgy, off-kilter rock was pioneered by the likes of Manic Street Preachers (on The Holy Bible), Radiohead and from lesser-knowns like Dark Star. At the time, Placebo seemed like the future. They were dangerous. They had a chap with a lady’s haircut wearing eyeliner. They were just three, making the noise of four or five.

But in the shadow of a band like Muse – a band who did this topsy-turvy future rock arguably better, and was more successful – Placebo sound a little redundant. They almost sound a little like a nostalgia act. Remember the ‘90s? We used to watch Friends and TFI Friday, laugh at the Spice Girls and drink lots of snakebite? Placebo was a core element of all that.

On one hand there was Britpop – Oasis and their imitators (Ocean Colour Scene, Embrace, Space, Cast, ad infinitum), and then on the other hand there was bands like Placebo; bands which promised that the bland indie bogeys just might not win the war. Looking around in the good year 2015, aside from a few successful indie revivalists (Kaiser Chiefs, Coldplay, Elbow) and crossover acts (Kasabian, Franz Ferdinand) I’m claiming a win for the heavier end of the wedge.

Hit: Nancy Boy

Hidden Gem: Come Home

Rocks In The Attic #394: Happy Mondays – ‘Pills ‘n’ Thrills And Bellyaches’ (1990)

RITA#394I think I might be allergic to music that comes from Manchester. I’ve never hid my dislike of Oasis, but I also never liked the wave of bands that came before them. Only now, half way around the world and twenty five years later can I finally start to appreciate bands like the Smiths, the Stone Roses and these fellas, the Happy Monday.

I don’t think it’s the music by these bands that turned me off them. Instead it was the type of people who liked these bands that alienated me. They’re all popular bands, and just like with any popular bands, there’ll be an element of non-music fans following them. Or sheep, you could say.

In the case of the ‘Madchester’ years, those non-music fans represented the distasteful element in Manchester. They still do. Lads in Ben Sherman shirts, roaming the city centre; or retards walking around in cagoules in the middle of summer. Are you going on a hiking trip? No? Just going to the football? Hmm.

I once passed Tony Wilson doing his shopping in the Sainsburys at the end of Mancunian Way, heading towards Salford. He was leaning over the trolley he was pushing slowly down the aisle, and I remember he was shopping from a list. I was too nervous to say hello, and I’ll never get the chance now, but what I would say to him – if I had the balls, which I know I don’t – was that I thought he was wrong about the Happy Mondays.

In 24 Hour Party People, Wilson refers to Shaun Ryder as a genius. I just can’t stomach that. I’ll accept that Ryder might have been the spokesman for that generation – the Ecstasy generation – in the UK, but the word ‘genius’ does not apply. ‘Lucky fool’ is more apt.

Hit: Step On

Hidden Gem: Dennis And Lois

Rocks In The Attic #297: The Doobie Brothers – ‘What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits’ (1974)

RITA#297I can remember a moment from when I was 10 or 11, and was spending a Saturday watching my Dad play cricket. I don’t like sport now and I didn’t like sport then, so getting dragged along to see my Dad play cricket in the middle of nowhere was always a chore.

I used to pass the time by reading comics until the boredom ended and we could catch the bus home. This time though, I was listening to music on my Walkman. We’d just been to America (recounted here) and so I was listening to my new favourite band, the Doobie Brothers.

I remember being sat outside the clubhouse, half-watching the game, and two guys sat near me asked who I was listening to. I told them it was the Doobie Brothers, and they cracked a joke. They said – and I can’t remember the names they used – something along the lines of “The Doobie Brothers? Who’s that? <Insert name> and <insert name>?”

I didn’t know either of the names they said, and so I can’t remember them now; but in hindsight, and to speculate on the joke a couple of decades later, they probably said the name of two high-profile sportsmen who were in trouble over drugs in some way or another.

Other than my Dad (who bought the tape of the Doobie Brothers that became the soundtrack to our American holiday), that was the first time I ever heard anybody else mention the band. Because I didn’t understand the joke, I simply thought they were taking the piss out of the band, and so one of my first memories of rock music will be forever linked with somebody making fun of what I was listening to.

Maybe that’s why I never felt the need to listen to the same bands as everybody else. I really didn’t care if people liked the bands I was listening to – I was listening, not them! – and so that left me open to listen to a lot of bands that other people often saw – sometimes with good reason – as a joke.

When all my peers were listening to Oasis in 1994 and 1995, I proudly held my head high and carried on listening to Aerosmith and the like. In the sixth form common room, I’d listen to everybody argue over what album was better – Definitely Maybe or (What’s The Story) Morning Glory?  I’d put my headphones back on and carry on thinking about a far more important question – which album was better – Highway To Hell or Back In Black?

What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits has to be my favourite album title by the Doobs. I really can’t work out why this particular incarnation of the band was playing with two drummers – as shown on the album cover – but the album is as solid as The Captain And Me and Stampede on either side of it; and it’s always good to hear the Memphis Horns outside of a Stax album.

The Doobie Brothers’ first #1 hit single Black Water appears on this album, and while the rest of the album doesn’t match the strength of that song, it’s not a weak album by any respect. The one thing that really annoys me is the fact that some idiot at Warner Bros. Records decided to list the songs on the back cover in alphabetical order – not their running order. Maybe they were smoking something in the office that day…

Hit: Black Water

Hidden Gem: Flying Cloud

Rocks In The Attic #294: Nirvana – ‘Nevermind’ (1991)

RITA#294Like a lot of people my age, this was the first exposure I had to grunge music. At first, the very idea of grunge just didn’t appeal to me – a genre made up of scruffy guys with bad hair and lumberjack shirts. Then my friends kept playing Smells Like Teen Spirit, and the intro burrowed into my head like an earworm.

I have trouble listening to this record now. I can’t hear anything resembling punk or new wave anymore; all I can hear is the perfect production by Butch Vig – the fantastic separation of voice and instruments, and the rampant double-tracking on the vocals.

There’s a great episode of Classic Albums where Vig isolates the vocals on In Bloom and you can hear just how strong those vocal melodies are on the chorus – Cobain’s lead vocal double-tracked, and then supported by Dave Grohl’s backing vocals, also double-tracked. Vig convinced Cobain that this was a good idea because it’s something that John Lennon would have done. That in itself sounds like a million miles away from punk rock.

Of the two albums, I prefer In Utero as a piece of work, and always have done. The songwriting isn’t overshadowed by the production on that album; and despite that album being the soundtrack to Cobain’s suicide, there doesn’t seem to be as much hype and baggage to put up with. I do enjoy the second side of Nevermind though, when you get away from all the overplayed singles that are littered on the first side. The album just seems to breathe a little easier on that side.

Still, Nevermind holds a lot of memories for me, and always will. That crazy photo of the baby underwater is a beautiful image – and proof that classic album covers didn’t die out in the digital age. Even the blurry photo of the band (on the back of the record sleeve, but on the inlay of the CD if I remember correctly) brings a smile to my face. In fact, the whole production design of the album is pretty awesome – the album title written in a font to make it look like it’s floating on top of water, and the back cover made to look like shimmering sunlight refracted through the water of a swimming pool. I spent many an hour of my teens just looking at the album art, and at that age you read far too much into every little thing. It just seemed important.

Throughout my adolescence (in the UK) I encountered plenty of people who were anti-American. These people will eschew anything from that side of the Atlantic, while singing the praises of anything recorded by the British, just simply because it’s British. I’ve never really understood this musical racism, and some of my closest friends have been blighted by it.

I was asked once why would I want to listen to an American chap singing about killing himself, when I could listen to an Englishman sing about living forever?

The answer is simple – there’s more joy and energy in one line of a Kurt Cobain’s song than in a lifetime of Oasis records. I’ll take invention and imagination over mediocrity any day.

Hit: Smells Like Teen Spirit

Hidden Gem: Lounge Act

Rocks In The Attic #265: Pearl Jam – ‘Ten’ (1991)

RITA#265From the early ‘90s and beyond, Pearl Jam were my mortal enemy.

I’ve always felt that your taste in music is just as defined by the bands you don’t listen to, than by the bands you do listen to, and there was no way in hell I was ever going to listen to Pearl Jam.

My reasons were many: their annoying music wasn’t my cup of tea, I had a big problem with their pretty-boy front-man Eddie Vedder and his stupid voice, and their uniform of shorts, boots and flannel shirts not only made the band look idiots, but made their fans looks like hordes of butch lesbians. There was another reason I disliked them…but I seem to have forgotten it over the years…or have I?

I initially disliked all grunge music – or let’s call it alternative rock from Seattle (because the word ‘grunge’ is pretty pointless, isn’t it?) – but repeated exposure to Smells Like Teen Spirit turned me into an reluctant Nirvana fan. Nirvana spoke to the Aerosmith / Sabbath / Zeppelin fan in me, and so I soon became a huge fan. But I just couldn’t be moved on Pearl Jam. In fact, the early rivalry between the two bands probably put me off Pearl Jam even more.

Over the years I’ve always felt the same. I think I’ve even been to festivals where Pearl Jam have been playing, and I’ve simply ignored them. Why would I bother, right? (Although, there was that time I saw Oasis play at Glastonbury simply to see how bad they were – and my distain for Pearl Jam is nothing compared to the love lost between me and Oasis. That’s a whole other story.)

I think the only thing they had done over the years that impressed me was their stance against Ticketmaster in the mid-‘90s. More bands should do things like that – but as far as I know, Ticketmaster still have a huge dominance of the ticket industry so I’m not sure what permanent good their boycott did. In New Zealand at least, ticket sales are pretty much a duopoly between Ticketmaster and Ticketek, and the two companies are just as bad as each other, charging non-sensical booking fees on top of what are already rapidly increasing ticket prices.

I also felt very sorry for Pearl Jam for what happened at the Roskilde festival in 2000. It always sucks big time when fans die at festivals (or any kind of shows for that matter), and it must really affect the band who are playing at the time. Nobody gets into music to die at a concert, and nobody gets into playing music to kill people, otherwise you’re somebody like Nicki Minaj – very slowly making your audience dumber and dumber until they start walking into oncoming traffic with vacant smiles on their faces.

RITA#265a

Fast forward twenty years and I eventually catch Cameron Crowe’s documentary, Pearl Jam Twenty, on TV. New Zealand television isn’t great so I always catch music documentaries whenever they’re on, even if I don’t like the band too much. I really enjoyed Twenty, despite my feelings for Pearl Jam. By the end of the film, my staunch attitude to them had started to thaw.

I saw the film a second time a couple of months ago, and enjoyed it just as much, if not more. Oh no, I was turning into a Pearl Jam fan…

I’ve only heard their first three albums so far (Ten is far too poppy, Vs. is excellent and Vitalogy sounds far too much like a band slowly going off the rails – Rolling Stone were right on the money in describing them in 2006 as having “spent much of the past decade deliberately tearing apart their own fame.”).

The band seems to have an issue with Ten sounding far too commercial, blaming the high levels of reverb used. Even though the remixed version of the album goes some way to address this (I have the double vinyl copy which has the original album and the 2009 Redux version), it still sounds way too poppy. I don’t think this is down to the production that much – it’s just that there’s a batch of popular songs on the album that are very well-written, with great, strong melodies.

In retrospect, I actually now think that I liked the wrong grunge band in the early ‘90s. Nirvana have a handful of great songs, and one great album (no, In Utero you fools!), but they’re essentially a punk band and as usual that means their guitarist hides behind a range of distortion pedals to compensate for a lack of ability. Pearl Jam’s Mike McCready is a demon on the guitar – a total Hendrix freak – and really I should have been listening to him, not Cobain, when I was learning to play.

And I still think Eddie Vedder is a bit of a douche. There’s a really cringewrothy moment in Twenty where he recounts singing his vocals (for the demo tape that got him into the band) just after a surf with the sand still on his feet. Ugh (although again, my feelings for him have thawed due to his support of the West Memphis Three). His constant whining throughout Twenty about being too famous is one of the least enjoyable aspects of the film. They seem to be doing everything they can these days to avoid sounding too commercial, but there’s still the odd song (like Daughter from Vs., or Better Man from Vitalogy) that makes me think if you don’t want to appeal to a pop audience, stop fucking writing songs that will appeal to them!

Ten does sound pretty dated now. I still don’t like the fact that the song titles are mostly single words – like they were paying by the word for the printing of the sleeve. Thankfully the horrible hue of pink / crimson / vomit on the cover has been replaced by a much less offensive beige for the Redux re-release, and I guess I can just ignore what the band are wearing on the cover.

It’s funny that when I first encountered the band, I was really annoyed with Mike McCready’s clothes – a duster coat and a hat just like Clint Eastwood’s Man With No Name. Now, I admire him for wearing that get-up while the rest of the band wore their butch lesbian-inspired uniform.

Some time after I watched Twenty for the second time, and finally admitted that yes, I was a Pearl Jam fan, I watched a couple of their early music videos. Eventually I stumbled on that last remaining reason why I had such a passion to dislike them back in the early ‘90s – the video to Even Flow! This opens on Vedder telling his lighting man to turn the stage lights off, shouting like a spoilt child. I still recoil when I think about it.

So, there you have it. I may be twenty years too late, but better late than never. And there’s still no way I’ll ever change my mind about fucking Green Day. That band really are the scourge of the universe.

Hit: Jeremy

Hidden Gem: Release