Great songs, according to me (Part 34)

Hey, I'm back with another ten songs that I think are great! Study them well, for when I am named dictator of the world, there will be a test! Bone up on the previous songs: Parts 1-15, archived, Parts 16-30, archived, Part 31, Part 32, and Part 33. Now, onto the next ten!

331. Little Guitars (by Van Halen on the album Diver Down, 1982): I've mentioned this album before, because it's chock full of cover songs that for some reason get played on the radio and really good original songs (e.g. "The Full Bug") that nobody has ever heard of unless they own the album. This song, for instance, begins with a nice little Spanish guitar intro, and then David Lee and the boys launch into a somewhat sweet song about a sexy senorita. There's actually some nice longing in Roth's vocals as he sings, "I can see you don't know which way to turn but the sun still shines/Don't you know that you can dance with me anytime." Eddie, of course, is in fine form, finishing the song with a bouncy pluck-fest that's pure Van Halen, and it's just a breezy, brilliant tune. So why do radio stations always play their lame cover of "Dancing in the Streets"?

332. Little Suzi (by Tesla on the album Mechanical Resonance, 1986): Tesla isn't a very good band, but they have a few transcendent songs, and this, off their first album, is one of them. It's a simple song with that jangly guitar that metal bands sometimes use to "be more real," and it has your typical "girl looking for fame" lyrics, but for some reason, it works. There's an undercurrent of despair that makes the song, which ostensibly is uplifting, much sadder. On an album (which is probably Tesla's best, not that that's saying much) full of mediocre hair metal, this song stands out. Bizarre.

333. Living With The Big Lie (by Marillion on the album Brave, 1994): Hey, it's a Marillion song! Who would have guessed? This song, the first "real" song on Marillion's "comeback" album (there's a brief prologue song, and this is a comeback because their previous album was probably their worst), is a marvelous tune about a child getting beaten down by the world and learning to indeed live with the big lie. Steve Hogarth has never been the lyricist the band's first singer, Fish, is, but he does a fine job here, painting a picture of innocence and despair, followed by resignation. The song starts quiet as the child sees his home life fall apart, then bursts into a cacophony of screeching noise as the child grows up. The music is suited well to the lyrics, and as it fades, with Hogarth singing "I got used to it," we feel the bleakness in his voice. Sure, it's depressing, but it's still powerful.

334. Looking Through Patient Eyes (by P. M. Dawn on The Bliss Album ...?, 1993): A somewhat upbeat tune (for P. M. Dawn, that is) is next on the list, as Prince Be smoothly raps his way through a love song that, as the title suggests, calls for patience. As with many P. M. Dawn songs, there's a subtle spiritual element to it, and the lyrics are typically weird but still give us a reason to feel hopeful. It's right there in the opening couplet: "Whatever it is I do, I try to think about you, I have a love for you that nothing hides." How sweet. A great song on a wonderful album.

335. Loose! (by Prince on the album Come, 1994): This was Prince's "death of" album, where he burns off songs so that he can get out of his Warner Bros. contract and start recording under his weird sigil. Therefore, many people consider this a pretty poor Prince album, but there are a lot of good songs on this album, with "Loose!" a great example. It's just a raucous rocker, but Prince is so ebullient when he sings that it makes the song better than it should be. Plus, we get a funky and fun guitar solo, part of the thudding beat that drives the song along. It's a song you can't help but dance to. Even Prince's lesser albums are full of great songs!

336. London You're A Lady (by the Pogues on the album Peace And Love, 1989): October 4 was the 25th anniversary of the first Pogues' gig, at a pub in London. Interesting. Anyway, this song, which ends their fourth album, in a fairly typical Pogues ballad, with a rollicking Irish beat and Shane MacGowan's odd nostalgic/bitter lyrics: "Your heart of gold it pulses between your scarred-up thighs." As usual with Pogues songs, part of the allure of the song is in MacGowan's barely intelligible growl, and we really get the sense of a man trolling the dark places of a living city and refusing to get beaten down.

337. Lordy Lord (by Stress on the album Stress, 1991): I have mentioned this short-lived band and their one album before, and this is one of the few songs on it that I consider great (even though I enjoy the album). The psychedelic influences of the band are on full display, with some lush instrumentation, changes in tempo, and a yearning in the lead singer's voice (it might be Wayne Binitie, but I'm not sure) that's tough to fake. It's a cool song on a neat album, one I thought was out of print. However, you can find it on Amazon, if you're interested.

338. Lost Cause (by Beck on the album Sea Change, 2002): Sea Change, the wonderful change of pace by Beck, features a lot of moody, brooding songs, none better than this song, which takes its time moving, but is heartbreaking throughout. The person to whom Beck is singing is indeed a "lost cause," and he's tired of fighting for it. It's more than just a faded love song, though: Beck points out that it's part of where the person lives, part of the society, and that makes it harder to let go. It's a tragic song about misunderstanding love ("No one left to watch your back now ... That's what you thought love was for") and giving up because of it. Beck's beautiful low-key vocals help make the words more powerful, too. He's not sad, just resigned, and that makes the song even sadder.

339. Love (by The Cult on the album Love, 1985): The Cult is such an odd band, as they went from their first two albums (this was their second), which featured some weirdly ethereal music with lots of production, to a stripped-down heavy metal band with Electric in 1987. I like both incarnations, although the metal got old quickly, and wonder why they did it. This album was pretty popular, thanks to "She Sells Sanctuary," but this song is also a very strong track. it actually has a bit of the heavy thump we find on later Cult albums, even though it's a bit drenched in jangly guitars and keyboards. But Ian Astbury does a good job with the simple lyrics, and the chorus is a primal howl, and the song works much better than it probably should. But why the shift in tone?

340. Love Buzz (by Nirvana on the album "Bleach", 1989): I honestly can't remember the last Nirvana song I had on this list, even though I love the band. They just didn't release enough albums, I guess. But this short tune from their first album is great despite the paucity of lyrics - there are only five lines of words in the song, as Cobain repeats the one verse twice and repeats one line for the chorus. However, his slurring delivery, along with his nerdy je ne sais qua that he often has in songs, makes it an interesting song. Of course, the music on this album is somewhat rough, but the talent is certainly there. This is an interesting album not because it's all that good, but because of the potential there, and sometimes, as with this song, we can see why Nirvana exploded a couple of years later.

How about those songs, eh? Let me know if I'm just kooky or if I actually know what I'm talking about!

Great (and very good) albums by short-lived bands

I was listening to Apple by Mother Love Bone the other day, and was reminded once again what a great album it was and what a shame it is that Andrew Wood couldn't stay off the smack. Such is life, as the great philosopher once said.

It put me in mind of really good albums by bands that didn't last long, and the fact that this either deprives us of more musical genius or fixes the band in time as something that never degraded, whichever way you want to put it. Then I thought, "Hey, I have a blog - why don't I ramble on about this and ask for opinions?" So here are ten albums by bands that didn't last very long that I consider great or even just very good. My criteria is strict: these bands must have released one or two albums. Three albums simply implies a longer career. In the case of Boston, it took ten years for those three albums to come out. And remember, these are only albums I actually own. So with that in mind, here they are, in no particular order:

1. Mother Love Bone, Apple, 1990. This is truly a great album, released not long after Wood died. It really captures the early grunge sound, even though it's influenced by classic rock a great deal. Wood gives us surreal yet beautiful lyrics, and Stone Gossard's guitars are fantastic throughout. The band easily moves from powerful rockers like "This is Shangrila" and "Holy Roller" to power ballads like "Stardog Champion" and "Man of Golden Words" to bittersweet love songs like "Stargazer" and "Crown of Thorns." It's a brilliant album with only a few missteps (I could lose "Captain Hi-Top"). It's out of print, but you can find the compilation that includes their EP, Shine, which also is pretty danged good. Pearl Jam, to which Gossard and Jeff Ament went, wishes they were as good as Mother Love Bone.

2. Horse Flies, Gravity Dance, 1991. I'm counting the Horse Flies, because they've only released two studio albums, but they have done two movie soundtracks, so if you want to say I'm cheating, oh well. I have spoken often of my love for this album, and whenever I listen to it, it almost demands that I stop driving (which is where I usually listen to music) and pull over and just sit there. It begins with the strangely tragic "Life is a Rubber Rope" and moves on to the horribly funny "Roadkill" (which is indeed about eating things you find on the side of the road) and the weird "Needles on the Beach" (again, self-explanatory). The two highlights are "Two Candles," which is a beautifully haunting paean to lost love, and "Your Eyes are Elevators," which ends the album on a wonderfully bizarre bluegrass note. The Horse Flies are a weird band with a strange melange of styles, but for the most part, they make it work.

3. Think Tree, Like the Idea, 1992. This weird Boston-based band released a couple of albums in the early Nineties, but they were far too weird to ever have any kind of mainstream success. They combined a kind of mystical Zen thing with raunchy and irreverent lyrics and twangy electronic music that, they were proud to mention, was done without the help of a computer. With songs like the wonderfully corny "Monday A.M. First Thing" and "Porcupine Coat" to the serious but still weird "Everything is Equal" and "Eye for Eye," they covered a lot of ground on this album. It's still one of my favorites, and I'm very glad I happened across it in a record store in Auckland, New Zealand, of all places.

4. Temple of the Dog, Temple of the Dog, 1990. This is the only "supergroup" on this list, as this was a band that was never meant to release more than one album. It was put together after the death of Andrew Wood (see above) and takes its name from a lyric in a Mother Love Bone song ("Mr. Golden Words," if you're interested). They released one album, but man, it's a good one. The two tributes to Wood, "Say Hello 2 Heaven" and "Reach Down," are actually the two weakest tracks on the album (although they're still good), and the album really gets going with "Hunger Strike," which features Eddie Vedder before Pearl Jam took off. This is a superb album that happened to come together at a perfect time, and I'm certainly glad Chris Cornell and the members of Pearl Jam never tried to recapture it.

5. Liquid Jesus, Pour in the Sky, 1991. I'm trying to figure out if Liquid Jesus ever released a third album, as this would disqualify them. But I can't, so I'm going to count this, their second album, as their last one. The only people I've ever known who have heard of Liquid Jesus (two of them) hated them, so maybe I would be in the minority, but I think they were excellent, and this, their only studio album (like Jane's Addiction, after whom they were clearly modeling their career, their first album is live), is very good. "Finding My Way" kicks off the album, but it really gets good with "W.H.Y.B.," a song from their first album. They also give us a powerful upbeat love song in "Better or Worse" (featuring Bruce Hornsby on piano, which is slightly odd) and some very good rock tunes like "No Secret" and "The Colorful Ones." They mixed a lot of different sounds and styles, using a mellotron on at least one song ("Feelings Flower"), which gave them a neat sound but probably hurt their chances of being commercially successful. Maybe you heard them on the Pump Up the Volume soundtrack!

6. Amanda Ghost, Ghost Stories, 2000. I wouldn't call this a great album, but it is very good. Ghost has an odd, bluesy voice, and she sings some great songs on this, her only album (so far; apparently she's working on one). She could easily sing in a dark bar, leading pathetic patrons onward to something beyond their sad lives. The album starts off very well, with "Filthy Mind," "Idol," and "Glory Girl" the three best songs on it, but the quality doesn't dip too far for the rest of the disc. There's a great deal of sadness in her voice, but a great deal of hope as well. It's a wonderful combination.

7. Scissor Sisters, Scissor Sisters, 2004. This is cheating, as the Sisters are just beginning their career and probably have plenty of albums left in them (even if they don't, they surely have a third album in them!), but technically, right now they have only released two. Both are good, but their debut album is a bit better. "Laura" kicks off the album with foot-stomping goodness, and their cover of "Comfortably Numb" is excellent. Other excellent songs abound: "Lovers in the Backseat," "Tits on the Radio," and "Filthy/Gorgeous" are all interesting with great beats. The album loses a bit of steam at the end, but that's okay. The best song on the album is "Take Your Mama," and that alone would make this a worthwhile disc. Luckily, there's plenty of other great tunes on it.

8. Ruby, Salt Peter, 1995. This is an odd album, but for the most part, it works. Ruby has a gruff and angry voice, and the music, which is that mid-1990s electronica stuff, has a hypnotic power. Ruby's vicious lyrics come through nicely on such songs as "Flippin' Tha Bird," "Paraffin," and "Swallow Baby," and she also slides into ethereal-ness (ethereality?) on the album's final track, the seven-minute "Carondelet." This isn't a great album, but it's quite good. Ruby did release another album, but that's it. I wonder what she does with herself.

9. Stress, Stress, 1991. I have mentioned this band occasionally, but I can't find anything about them on-line. I believe this is the only album they ever released, but I can't be sure. Anyway, this is a pretty darned good album, with a weird psychedelic Beatles thing going on, with a blend of Eastern mysticism with flower-power hope and just enough rocking to give it an edge. "Indian Summers Dream" is an excellent song, as is "Lordy Lord," which is sweetly nostalgic. I imagine this is long out of print, but it would be a nice purchase from a dark used record store.

10. King Swamp, King Swamp, 1989. Does anyone remember King Swamp? I saw their video for "Is This Love" and really enjoyed it, so I bought this. It turns out to be a good album full of strong rock songs with a good bluesy edge, and even some hard dance beats (like in "Year Zero," a song about working the fields). There's not really a clunker in the group, although some are better than others. "Original Man," "Widders Dump," and "Motherlode" are highlights, and the album ends wonderfully with "Sacrament," a powerful ballad with a haunting chorus. It's too bad they weren't more popular, and after a second album, they broke up and disappeared.

Those are just ten albums I own that I think are pretty darned good by bands that didn't last too long. I have some others, but they aren't as good. I always enjoy owning albums by bands that didn't last, especially if I like them, because I feel like I'm pulling a fast one on all the losers who didn't get in on them. Of course, it's probably that I'm the loser for not liking better bands, but I can live in my delusions, can't I?

Anyone have any good albums by short-lived bands they'd like to champion? That's why we have blogs, after all!

Great songs, according to me (Part 29)

Yes, I'm back for another go-around with songs I think are great. There will be at least one that my awesome cadre of readers (now up to 9 of them!) will mock me incessantly over. I don't care - I will forge on!

First, as usual, the backlist: Parts 1-15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, and Part 28.

Now, let's get the next ten!

281. In My Life Today (by Lenny Kravitz on the album Circus, 1995): This is the last Lenny Kravitz album I bought, because it's not that good and I figured if he's going to keep making the same music, I can listen to the old ones, right? However, "In My Life Today" is a great Kravitz song, because it's the kind of sentimental tune that he does very well. Lenny is just singing to God, and he does it with such passion and power that we're swept away by it. His old-fashioned freak-out toward the end never gets old, even though it's a Kravitz staple. It's a song that makes you want to sing along at the top of your voice, and there's nothing wrong with that.

282. In My Time of Dying (by Led Zeppelin on the album Physical Graffiti, 1975): I'm sure, if Zep ripped this song off, that Roger will be nice enough to come by and tell me about it. But I don't care. This is an epic song off Zep's best album, and it proves that Bonham is the best rock and roll drummer ever - yes, better than Keith Moon and Neil Peart. Suck on that, Who and Rush fans! Plant's wailing is in fine form, but it's Bonham's amazing drums that keeps the song going through 11 eleven minutes or so - he slows and speeds the tempo at will and matches Jimmy's slide guitar wonderfully. This is the quickest 11-minute song you'll ever hear, and it's due exclusively to Bonham. Just a wonderful musical experience.

283. Incubus (by Marillion on the album Fugazi, 1984): Of Marillion's early albums (pre-1989), this is the weakest, because Fish got really weird with the lyrics and the sprawling music didn't help him. However, there are some gems on it, and "Incubus" is one of them. It still features the lyrical madness that Fish is so good at, but it's much less metaphorical than most of songs on the album and therefore more accessible. Fish gives it his all in the singing, as well, which helps sell the song. His weirdly delicate verse toward the end ("weirdly" because Fish is a giant man with a big set of pipes, and it's tough to imagine him being delicate), which ends with "You who wiped me from your memory like a greasepaint mask, just like a greasepaint mask" is wonderful and heart-breaking at the same time. It's a towering revenge song, which makes it all the more gut-wrenching.

284. Independence Day (by Elliot Smith on the album XO, 1998): It's difficult to pin down "great" Elliot Smith songs since they all sound alike, but a few stand out, and "Independence Day" is one of them. The wistful yet quirky music, a shade more upbeat than usual, helps, as the lyrics are more hopeful than Smith's usual stuff. It's hard to view his lyrics these days without thinking about his death (suicide? murder?) and if they portend things, and maybe that's why this song is better than others, because it is does point to a brighter future. A great song from a great songwriter.

285. Indian Summers Dream (by Stress on the album Stress, 1991): There have been more than one band named Stress, and this one broke up long ago and this album (their only one, as far as I can discover) is probably out of print, so I can find them nowhere in cyberspace. Oh well. This trio played that kind of 1960s-influenced rock so many bands played in the late 1980s and early 1990s, with some psychedelic influences and a definite nod to the Beatles. This whole album is pretty good, actually, and this song is definitely a highlight. It has nice melodies and some groovy sitar in it, and makes the whole thing an enjoyable listening experience. I'd say more about it, but Stress is long gone from the music scene, so it's kind of pointless. Anyone out there ever hear of them? I picked the cassette up in Australia, but I'm pretty sure they were British. Someone must have seen them on 120 Minutes at some point!

286. Indifference (by Pearl Jam on the album Vs., 1993): Ten is my favorite Pearl Jam album, but this is probably their best, and this final song is a big reason why. It's very moody and quiet, but Eddie mumbles with such conviction and then gives that howl when he sings "I'll swallow poison, until I grow immune," which caps the song. It's a powerful statement about getting through the tough times and surviving, which is what we need to do in this world occasionally.

287. Inertia Creeps (by Massive Attack on the album Mezzanine, 1998): This is the only Massive Attack album I own, and even though I like it, I don't really have a desire to buy another one. The songs are good, but nothing spectacular. "Inertia Creeps," however, is brilliant, with its sense of prowling menace and impenetrable lyrics. It has a nice electronic crunch to it, more than the other songs on the album, and it adds a nice touch of paranoia to your listening experience. Fine stuff.

288. Infecto Groovalistic (by Infectious Grooves on the album The Plague That Makes Your Booty Move ... It's the Infectious Grooves, 1991): The Suicidal Tendencies side project that is the Infectious Grooves made some brilliant music, especially on this first album, and this song is one of the great ones. As usual with the songs by the Grooves, we get some slap-funky bass, but Mike Muir reins in his usual venomous screaming to give us a bit more melody, even though the lyrics remain as embittered as ever. Trujillo's bass remains the backbone of the song, and keeps everything funky, which keeps everything pulsing nicely. A nice song to end the album.

289. Inside Information (by Foreigner on the album Inside Information, 1987): Mock all you want, but I like Foreigner, damn it! I recognize that most of their songs are pretty darned cheesy, and after 4 they really fell off the page musically ("I Want to Know What Love is"?????), but this album is pleasant enough, punctuated by a few gems, including the title track. Yes, it sounds like a lot of mid- to late-1980s cheeseball pop, but Mick Jones gives it a bit more bite than post-"Urgent" Foreigner usually had, with a bit of a nasty guitar slicing through the keyboards, while Lou Gramm, who often sounds bored on the album, actually puts some effort into it. The lyrics are goofy, but Gramm plays them to the hilt, and it helps put the song into more rarefied air. A classic? Maybe, maybe not. But a great slice of music. Too bad Foreigner didn't have more of them.

290. Instant Club Hit (You'll Dance to Anything) (by The Dead Milkmen on the album Bucky Fellini, 1987): The Dead Milkmen, who hailed from suburban Philadelphia (near where I grew up, actually), had a brief fling with fame with "Punk Rock Girl," but this album, which came out the preceding year, is probably their best (although Big Lizard in my Backyard has some great songs). This song, which is their snide retort to dance music, has some of the funniest lyrics you'll ever hear ("Don't try to tell me that you're an intellectual, 'cause you're just another boring bisexual"), a fantastic feedback guitar solo in the middle that totally crushes the boppy beat of the dance music, and finally, a list of Eighties bands the men feel are unworthy of your love even though you'll dance to anything by them: the Communards, the Smiths, Public Image Limited ... ending with a snarl about giving your money to "stupid Europeans" instead of giving it to a "decent American artist" like, say, the Dead Milkmen. Funny, funny stuff.

Well, that's another ten songs in the book. Next time I'll actually be up to 300 songs! Holy crap! Please, feel free to mock my affection for Foreigner. I can take it!