My Little Corner Of The World – Volume 48

by Vinh on March 16th, 2010

The Only Ones – The Only Ones (1978)
The Only Ones were a London group led by Peter Perrett who at times touched greatness but eventually succumbed to the self-destructive nature of their leader. Their self-titled debut is a wonderful display of pop and punk whose sounds will be very familiar to anyone who has ever listened to The Libertines. The most famous song from The Only Ones, ‘Another Girl, Another Planet’, could almost be seen as some kind of blueprint for Libertines tracks such as ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ or ‘Don’t Look Back Into The Sun’ with Perrett’s infectious slurred vocal delivery leading the way. As well as providing some kind of London punk/pop protocol, there are also some touches of Bowie-like brilliance on the sax-heavy ‘The Whole Of The Law’ and also ‘Breaking Down’ which could easily be a lost song from Diamond Dogs. The Only Ones certainly lived by the “it’s better to burn out than to fade away” philosophy of rock ‘n’ roll as they would only go on to record two more albums. Perrett’s weakness for the crack pipe and other vices would lead to the band’s eventual demise but they did leave behind 3 stellar albums, the best of which is arguably their debut. Libertines fans looking to fill the void or biding their time for the destined Doherty/Barat reunion, whichever way you look at it, could without doubt find some solace by looking back into rock’s lesser-known history instead of being let down by yet another wannabe act. – Matthew James

The Decemberists – Picaresque (2005)
‘The Mariner’s Revenge Song’ may very well be the greatest of The Decemberists’ darkly theatrical narratives. This nearly nine-minute revenge tale spans a lifetime and carries the audience along for the entire journey. Nowhere else in rock n’ roll has a sea shanty sounded so good. Earlier on Picaresque, The Decemberists offer up one of the most contagious singalongs in their entire catalogue. ‘The Chorus Of 16 Military Wives’ will stay in your head all day, and chances are that will be ok. The album’s cover depicts a scene on stage which fits perfectly, since these songs sound like scenes making up a tremendously theatrical album. – Jeremy Schaefer

Ol’ Dirty Bastard – Return To The 36 Chambers (1995)
Even as one of the most incomprehensibly endearing characters in 90s hip hop, the legacy of Wu-Tang Clan’s ODB rarely deals with his actual skill as an MC. While he certainly didn’t possess the storytelling ability of fellow Clan members Raekwon or Ghostface Killah or the sheer lyrical dexterity of GZA or Inspectah Deck, he compensated for it in personality and unpredictability. In reality, he was a great rapper with a variety of flows and that more than made up for whatever he was lacking with the pen. On this, his solo debut, he displayed a knack for hooks (‘Shimmy Shimmy Ya’) and the “rawness” that he was so proud of and really defined him. But what makes this album so important was how it established ODB as a veritable MC to be reckoned with on his own, showing he was just as comfortable with RZA’s impeccable production as the rest of the Wu. The fact that the guest appearances are (comparatively) few and that he is the dominant voice throughout speak to his talent and charisma, traits that in the years since his passing, the Wu-Tang Clan, and the hip hop world, deeply miss. – Paul Bulow

Super Furry Animals – Rings Around The World (2003)
Though Rings Around the World was their major label debut, Super Furry Animals had been around for 8 years before its release, recording a number of EPs in their native Welsh and four critically successful English-language discs, including 1996’s excellent Fuzzy Logic. It was a major hit in the UK — reaching number 3 on the charts — but found only critical success stateside. The album’s lush psychedelic pop is layered with thick vocal harmonies, electronic bleeps, and super dense arrangements. The songs have narrative, progressive structures, often moving seamlessly between melodically and rhythmically distinct sections, connected by bizarre lyrical tangents and a deep pop sensibility. The album’s themes range from futuristic musings about radioactivity (‘Rings Around The World’) to the connections between celebrity culture and human nature (‘Shoot Doris Day’) to your standard breakup fare (the excellent and highly peripatetic ‘Receptacle For The Respectable’). The album features two notable celebrity appearances as well: Paul McCartney provides percussion by chewing celery and carrot on ‘Receptacle For The Respectable’, (which he recorded over the phone, as a sort of follow-up to his celery-chewing debut on The Beach Boys’ 1967 tune ‘Vegetables’), and fellow Welshman John Cale contributes some piano on ‘Presidential Suite’. – Laura Mojonnier

Lightning Bolt – Wonderful Rainbow (2003)
While doing a bit of research for this bit on Lightning Bolt’s third sordid venture into the depths of noise rock, I noticed Wikipedia described Wonderful Rainbow as “their most accessible album”, a sentiment I find ridiculous to say the least. Standing at the eye of a hurricane of animalistic, heavily reverberated, umm, “vocals” (if you’d be daft enough to call them that), a torrential bass attack that utilizes no less than eight effects pedals and two banjo strings, and turgid drumming that resembles a set of machine guns more than it resembles a set of Zildjians, the phrases “Wonderful Rainbow” and “accessible” are about as far apart from each other as you can imagine two ideas being. Nevertheless, Lightning Bolt produced their best album to date in Wonderful Rainbow, the perfect blend of melody and mania that the duo have been grinding away in some bus terminal bathroom trying to recreate ever since. From the exuberantly swift ‘Dracula Mountain’ to the crunching, pulverizing assault of ‘Crown Of Storms’ to the extended calm build up into the most ferocious, disjointed point on the album in ‘Longstockings’, and finally, to my highlight of the album, the effervescent, morphing, breakneck ‘On Fire’, Lightning Bolt push their two instruments to the brink of their abilities, building songs to the heights of the heavens (or the depths of hell, if you prefer) that never collapse or falter despite their immensity and bombast. Accessible? Maybe not. But ostentatious? Definitely. – Brian Riewer

Pink Mountaintops – Outside Love (2009)
We could all benefit from the occasional pinch of perspective. With wired society eliminating the respite between the realms of work and home life, tunnel vision reigns supreme as we mire in dubiety, harping on insignificant trifle for hour upon endless hour. This insistent barrage of strains blurs the lenses through which we perceive the world, so we lean forward to catch a clearer glimpse, in turn neglecting any helping hands in the vicinity. Additional weight piles on with every iteration and while accepting these aches as mere bumps in the road is admirable to be certain, they can eventually merge to become towering, fully realized hurdles when stacked alongside a flock of poor souls on all-fours. We require intestinal fortitude to overcome this adversity. Well, first and foremost, we require time to replenish our strength. Distance. “Everyone I love deserves a holiday in the sun almost every day, until the lions are off of their backs.” Stephen McBean’s holiday from his primary band Black Mountain is Pink Mountaintops — note the contrast in hue — a project presenting precisely the brand of hazy pop rhapsody to lift us to our feet. The rousing ballad ‘Vampire’ depicts our plight, commencing in minimal fashion as the lone ranger is buttressed by ethereal acoustic arrangements, allowing our protagonist to marinate in his own headspace before progressing toward resolution. After claiming that he’s “done turning blue” and peering into the horizon for a nod of approval, he’s met with a colossal chorus of voices exclaiming “creatures in flight, let’s be creatures in the night”. Let’s prevail. It’s perhaps the album’s pinnacle, an arresting, hair-raising declaration of solidarity by fellow members of the human family. Outside Love consistently brims with such enormity, be it through the roaring noise-pop of ‘Execution’ or the gentle undulations of a paper ship facing stormy seas on the shimmery title track. This is exultant, it’s rapturous, it catapults us into rarefied air to broadcast the panoramic view we need every now and then in order to let go, to “let outside love guide your way”. – Vinh Cao