Medialoper

We're Not Who You Think We Are

Jim Connelly

Velvet Underground – The Bootleg Series Vol. 1: The Quine Tapes

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(Polydor)

In case there was still any doubt, here’s more proof that the Velvet Underground were quite possibly the greatest band ever to come from the good old U.S. of A. — and maybe anywhere. Recorded by future über-guitarist Robert Quine (Richard Hell and the Voidoids; Lou Reed) over the course of the group’s month-long stay on the West Coast in 1969 (one recording is from a St. Louis gig), the performances on these three discs, at the San Francisco Family Dog at the Beach dance-concert venue and The Matrix club, capture the Velvets stretching out, playing with songs, lyrics, grooves and riffs, and, most of all, each other.

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New Order – Get Ready

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(Reprise)

Get Ready starts off with a bit of misdirection: the opening moments of “Crystal” are filled with piano notes played over a synth-flourish and a wailing woman’s voice. Then, just when you might be wondering whether New Order have finally fallen into the digital abyss, Bernard Sumner kicks in with some of his crunchiest guitar ever, serving notice that Get Ready is actually their most straight-out rock album in 20 years. True, only “60 Miles an Hour” sounds like a candidate for New Order’s pantheon of hallowed singles; still, Get Ready might be the group’s most consistent album from top to bottom.

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Pete Yorn – musicforthemorningafter

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There’s been a lot of hype around Pete Yorn. His songs have been on movie & TV soundtracks; he’s shown up on the late-night talk shows; he was even in one of those silly Rolling Stone fashion spreads. But that’s OK, because his debut album, musicforthemorningafter, is one crazy patchwork quilt of melody and mystery. In a pop world that was even remotely sensible, he really would be the next big thing. But of course, right now, the pop world isn’t remotely sensible, and because Yorn doesn’t fit any of the current predetermined niches for large-scale commercial success, it probably won’t happen. And because he’s on an evil major label, the knee-jerk anti-hype crowd will automatically dismiss him as well. Too bad for everybody, because I’ll swear right now on a stack of Elliot Smiths and Badly Drawn Boys that this is the most promising singer/songwriter debut since Liz Phair found herself exiled from Guyville.

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The Beastie Boys – Hello Nasty

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(Capitol)

Written for the 1998 Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll

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It’s a neat trick, of course, to trade upon your bad-boy past while at the same time disavowing it, and, of course, the Beasties aren’t the first smart assholes to do it. But unlike a lot of former bad boys, they haven’t musically mellowed any either. And they continue the “everything goes” musicality that has marked their entire career. Sure, they’re mature enough now to admit that they don’t have all of the answers, like on the unprecedented “I Don’t Know,” but that’s a plus, especially considering how much they thought they knew back in the day.

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Hole – Celebrity Skin

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(DGC)

I know why people hate Courtney Love. Crazy, contradictory and caustic, she’s so fake she’s beyond real. And, of course, coming from a subculture where realness equals sincerity equals artistic integrity, her fakeness and ambition give all of the people who worshiped her poor dead husband (or even her earliest music) an easy target. Yet, her goal to make a record that would cut across this most fragmented pop scene ever is strangely noble. And naïve. And no less informed by artistic integrity than, say, Modest Mouse or Silver Jews. Of course she failed — even the impact of Nevermind was probably overstated by those of us who were impacted the most, and things have just unraveled further since — leaving us with a record that has far more flaws than her brand-new body. More highlights, too.

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Bob Dylan – The “Royal Albert Hall” Concert

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(Sony Classics)

Written for the 1998 Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll

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Like, who cares if the acoustic set sucks? Even if it was exquisitely perfect, it would still just be a set-up, a lead-in to the greatest, wildest, most fucked-up visionary set of rock and roll music ever recorded by anybody. For me, that means it kills the Clash, stomps the Replacements and makes the Who and Nirvana smell like sensitive little singer-songwriter bands. And don’t even get me started on the Rolling Stones or Sex Pistols or Led Zeppelin or Bruce Springsteen. Feh! Pretenders and poseurs all. That’s why it’s easy to vote for this — impossible not to, really — even though it’s been in my life as a boot for just about ever.

And of course, it’s nearly impossible to add to the volumes that have been written about the electric set, with the guitars crashing into each other like drunken electrons while Garth Hudson’s organ makes the sound of Christmas lights. Or Mickey Jones playing his crashing and rolling drums like he can’t decide to put the brakes on or just speed into the spinout. Or that crazy fucker, Dylan, almost gleeful in the hate he is generating, as if he knows that he’s gonna get in trouble for this one so he might as well take it as far as it could possibly go. So he did.

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R.E.M. – Up

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(Warner Bros.)

The only thing that would might have made this record more perfect was if it had been produced by Brians Eno or Wilson, instead of just stea–, er, repurposing — a lot of their ideas. Not that it would have happened, of course — their idea of a big-name producer was Don Gehman, who guided John Mellencamp to artistic respectability by adding big drums and seemingly meaningful words to the sound of R.E.M’s early records.

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Billy Bragg & Wilco – Mermaid Ave.

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(Elektra)

It isn’t so amazing that Woody’s fucksongs are more fun and interesting than his political screeds — who’s (including Billy Bragg’s) aren’t? Nor is it so amazing that Wilco could make like the lost Basement Tape. What is amazing is that, in a project so weighted with potential historical significance, that they played down the politics and the Basement Tapes aspect when all most of us know about him was that he was a lefty folkie who was a major influence on Bob Dylan. What’s left, then, is a guy who wanted to fuck a celebrity; make his daughter happy and oh yeah, had a plan for making the world a better place. Pretty much like the rest of us, when you think about it. And when it was all over, head out here to California, and dream forever while listening to the state song he wrote for us.

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Written for the 1998 Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll

Bob Dylan – Time Out Of Mind

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(Sony)

Mind out of time is more like it. I don’t understand all of the mid-60’s comparisons this record is getting. The overall tone of those records was a pure and utter joy — he knew what he had, and he figured he’d have it forever. What he’s finally finally replaced it with is something totally different: the overall tone of this record is world-weary resignation. He knew what he had, and he knows that it’s gone forever. Weird: common wisdom says that it took a near-death experience for Dylan to lose his mid-60’s muse; could it be that another near-death experience kicked off his late 90’s muse?

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Written for the 1997 Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll

The Replacements – All For Nothing / Nothing For All

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(Sire)

Sigh. Of course the Sire best-of shines. How could it not? It may not be 16 reasons to live, but it’s at least 11. Any record that opens with “Left of the Dial,” and careens through “Here Comes A Regular,” “Alex Chilton,” “Talent Show” before salvaging the secret gem “Nobody” by definition cannot suck. Yup, it’s incomplete, it ain’t my choices, and yup, the split between four songs from two of the greatest albums of all time and two of the, um, not, is arbitrary, and misrepresentative, to say the least. And so what? If it’s designed to spur sales of all of their Sire back catalog, that’s a bad thing?

Meanwhile, for those of us who were there, who’ve been swapping stories for years on the Skyway mailing list and on AOL and Prodigy and alt.music.replacements, comes Nothing for All — the usual b-side and outtake mishmash. And, naturally it’s full of throwaways, dumb covers, band members’ songs, and noisy shit. As were, you might remember, all of their great mid-80’s records.

Bookended by perfectly imperfect versions of “Can’t Hardly Wait” and “I Don’t Know,” they surround the shit with great songs like “Birthday Gal” “Portland” and the two-minute blast of everything that ever made them great, “Wake Up.” And because the shit isn’t really all that shitty; and the covers mostly educate, and the band members’ songs prefigure their solo careers, it ends up working. Improbably, it all coheres into what I consider a great new Replacements album. Not all-time world-beating like Let It Be, et. al., but considering the times, one of the best records of the year.

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Written for the 1997 Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll