Showing posts with label top ten. Show all posts
Showing posts with label top ten. Show all posts

Friday, January 6, 2017

Top Ten Best Britpop Albums

(Is this a listicle? Well, I was writing listicles before content aggregators were, so sue me.)

Last night I started watching the new Oasis documentary and I was floored by how old everything looked. It was kinda depressing, since Britpop was my favorite music in college. I had been jamming to Suede my senior year of high school, and then picked up Definitely Maybe, Parklife, and Elastica's debut album in my first year of college (1994-1995). American "alternative" music was looking pretty bleak after the death of Kurt Cobain, and the likes of Bush and Silverchair were rushing to cash in. The Britpop bands were fun, catchy, and more sophisticated. It was a short-lived period, roughly 1994 to 1997, which also coincided with my college years. Anyway, here are ten albums that I think managed to stand the test of time.

10. Elastica, Elastica

Elastica were a one album wonder, but it's a great album. Lead singer Justine Frischmann brought a punky brashness and the band also sprinkled in elements of early New Wave. Sex was front and center in a frank and real way. Songs like "Stutter" talked about a boyfriend's impotence, "Vaseline" about well, you know. Like rock in general, Britpop was a male dominated field, but some woman fronted bands like Elastica, Echobelly, and Sleeper made their mark.

9. Oasis, Definitely Maybe

Oasis were the biggest band in Britain in this era on the strength of their catchy songs and don't-give-a-toss attitude. While the songs were catchy, the lyrics could be godawful. According to the new Oasis documentary, Noel Gallagher wrote the lyrics to "Supersonic" in the time it took for his bandmates to eat some Chinese takeout. I don't doubt it. The song has a great power to it, despite being slightly turgid with just dumbass lyrics. Liam Gallagher's punky John Lennon voice helps pull these songs off. Some of them, like "Cigarettes and Alcohol," make Oasis sound like the greatest bar band in the world. (That's a compliment.)

8. Suede, Suede

This 1993 record along with Blur's Modern Life Is Rubbish are the real kick off of Britpop. I saw the video for "Metal Mickey" on 120 Minutes and ran out to buy it immediately and it quickly became my soundtrack to that summer. Unlike the other groups, Suede were highly influenced by glam and engaged in gender bending and flirted with gay imagery (especially on "Drowners.") Lead singer Brett Anderson brought the androgyny and guitarist Bernard Butler just shredded in a creative way that seemed to have disappeared from the heavy riffing on alternative music. This record also has some range. "She's Not Dead" is the greatest Smiths song the Smiths never wrote. "See You In The Next Life" is a haunting ballad. It's a shame Butler left the band after this, they never recovered.

7. Pulp, His N Hers

Jarvis Cocker had been kicking around the Sheffield music scene for years before his band Pulp finally hit the big time in the mid-90s. They were not a typical Britpop band, in that their songs were not usually based on guitar riffs, and because the lyrics were perhaps the most important component. The music was reminiscent of 80s New Wave, but in an updated way that sounded fresh. Like Elastica, Pulp talked pretty frankly about sex and relationships in a way that was totally foreign to what American bands were doing at the time. The smart ones, like Pavement, tended to avoid love altogether and shroud everything in irony. There is perhaps no song about young love and sex more frighteningly real and awkward than "Babies," and that's only the tip of the iceberg on this album.

6. Blur, Parklife

This in many ways is the curtain-raising album to the whole Britpop thing. Instead of imitating the grunge blasting out of Seattle, Blur made a conscious decision to Anglicize their approach a la The Kinks. That was obvious from the packaging of the album, which featured racing dogs on the cover and the back, which was stylized like a racing form. I mean they had a song called "Bank Holiday," fer cryin' out loud! I was most struck by how they had rehabilitated the 80s in their music, from the synth touches on "London Loves" to the New Wave style of "Girls and Boys." The title song, with Quadrophenia star Phil Daniels providing Cockney narration, may well be the most British thing ever created.

5. Blur, Blur

1997's self-titled album, however, was a statement by Blur that they were not going to be confined by the strictures of Britpop. This album was clearly inspired by what was happening in the indie scene in America, especially the great blast of noise that was "Song 2." This was quite a surprise after the uber-Englishness of their previous outing. Along with Radiohead, by 1997 Blur had figured out that the old Britpop fields would no longer yield such a great musical crop, and began looking to reach out. Oasis, on the other hand, would fall flat on their collective arse with Be Here Now, a wet fart of a record.

4. Radiohead, The Bends

In this century Radiohead would become the bards of our fractured, uncertain world. Radiohead had first hit in 1993 with "Creep," which nailed the sweet spot of 90s grungy teen angst. The Bends was much more mature, Johnny Greenwood's guitar especially dynamic on songs like "My Iron Lung." "Fake Plastic Trees" foresaw the more adventurous musical direction was about to take as well as a focus on the daily uneasiness of modern existence.

3. Oasis, What's The Story Morning Glory

Yes, Oasis were a bunch of caveman blokes making straight-ahead meat and potatoes rock, but damn if they didn't make a perfect example of how good that music could be. Noel Gallagher may have lifted some rifts and melodies, but he had exquisite taste in which ones to choose. And despite all the bash and boom this album produced "Wonderwall," one of the best ballads of the 90s, and "Champagne Supernova," one of the great all time late night inebriated sing along tunes. The lyrics are perhaps even stupider than on the previous album, but the songs are so good you barely notice.

2. The Verve, Urban Hymns

The owl of Minerva flies at dusk. This is perhaps the last great Britpop record, coming in the autumn of 1997. The Verve had always been good, but much spacier and less poppy in their approach. On this album their cool sound finally gelled with some really strong songs from Richard Ashcroft, who looked like he was forged in a Britpop rockstar lab by a mad scientist. This album also happens to be the soundtrack to my life in the autumn of 1997, a very tumultuous time when I experienced love for the first time, a lot of drama within my circle of friends, and saw a couple of people very close to me go into some mental health troubles. ("The Drugs Don't Work" will always bring me to tears for this reason.) "Bittersweet Symphony" will last for ages.

1. Pulp, Different Class

Back in 1995 all the talk in the British music press was over Blur versus Oasis, and in the midst of it, Pulp beat 'em both. This is Jarvis Cocker's masterpiece. There are few love songs as genuinely affecting as "Something Changed." "Sorted Out For E's and Whizz" is a hilariously real description of a rave gone wrong. "Disco 2000" embodies the intersection of unrequited love, memory, and regret in ways that still makes my soul clench whenever I hear it. Most importantly, "Common People" summarized the working class attitude to affluent hipster poseurs perfectly, apparently predicting how common they would become in the next two decades. If this music doesn't move you then you have no heart.


The best British album from this period, Radiohead's OK Computer, is not on this list, since that album went well beyond the world of Britpop into something far less traditional and far stranger. A lot of folks who liked The Bends were flummoxed by it, but it soon became clear that Radiohead were operating on a totally different plane of existence. Straight-ahead melodic rock was nice, but this was an album that broke new ground and summed up the feelings of pre-millennial anxiety, a taste of the far less sunny decades to come.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Top Ten Rock Music Reinventions

It's been a long time since I've hit y'all with a top ten list, and I thought I'd go with the top ten rock music reinventions. Some acts, like AC/DC, are famously consistent, sticking with an established formula for decades. (In their case it's mid-tempo blues riffing, no-fills drums, women and "rocking" as the main lyrical subjects, and a screaming lead singer.) Others have managed to undergo stunning reinventions. Today I'd like to consider the ten reinventions I consider the most effective and/or influential.

1. Dylan Goes Electric. Yeah, I know, pretty obvious. But who can deny how important it was for his lyrical sophistication, which leaped from folk song topicality to a poetic voice along the lines of Whitman? (It's a long way from "The Times They Are a Changin'" to "Visions of Johanna.") His songs were becoming less political and more personal on Another Side of Bob Dylan, but adopting the "thin wild mercury sound" seemed to do even more to open up his muse. Without going electric Dylan would have remained King of the Folkies, by revolutionizing his sound he became the most crucial single figure in American rock music.

2. The Bee Gees Go Disco. I'll admit it, I love the Bee Gees, who have suffered so much undeserved ire over the past 30 years due to the overexposure in the late 70s afforded by their disco-propelled rocket ride to the top of the charts. On their early records the brothers Gibb crafted beautifully baroque pop songs steeped with winsome vocals and weeping strings. Then, for some blessed reason, they decided to get super funky in the mid-70s and sing in a distinctive falsetto style. Their first R&B infused songs like "Nights on Broadway" and "Jive Talkin'" were great, but then they shot into the pop music stratosphere with the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. "You Should Be Dancing" and "Night Fever" are two classic slices of propulsive disco, and "Staying Alive" stands as THE definitive pop hit of its era.

3. Wilco Goes Indie. Assembled from the wreckage of Uncle Tupelo, Jeff Tweedy's Wilco put out two great alt-country albums before entering more avant-garde waters with Summerteeth. Things only got better with Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, perhaps the best album of the last decade.  For the past decade, they have been the definitive independent rock band, and one of my favorites.  While Jay Bennett got kicked out of the band and is sadly no longer with us, he should at least get credit for helping this transition along.

4. The Hawks Become The Band. Alternatively, The Band hit their stride by delving into country and roots music after years of rocking hard as The Hawks. The former's blazing version of "Who Do You Love?" with Ronnie Hawkins may be definitive, but it can't hold a candle to "The Weight."  In the process, The Band practically invented the Americana genre of music and provided a needed, rootier antidote to the excesses of psychedelia.  

5. Bowie Hooks Up With Eno. David Bowie has been rightly famous over the years for his ability to switch personaes. He started as a mod, became a folkie, went glam, tried out Philly soul, and then morphed into The Thin White Duke. His most interesting and enduring music came only after spending some time in Berlin and teaming up with maestro producer Brian Eno for Low and Heroes, albums that sound fresh and innovative even today. Too bad he switched out of this phase for Let's Dance and sold out to the Top 40. Despite attempts to be avant-garde again (Tin Machine, anyone?) he's never managed to totally get the magic back.

6. John Lydon Goes Post-Punk. When he was Johnny Rotten, Lydon embodied the gob spitting ranting of the first wave of punk more than anyone else could possibly hope to. Yet somehow this blowtorch-voiced prophet of doom became an anxious-sounding wailer backed by PiL's unsettling wall of Jah Wobble bass and Keith Levene sculptured feedback. The more I listen to Metal Box the more brilliant it sounds.

7. The Byrds Go Country. Line-up changes can precipitate unexpected musical alterations, and the Byrds are hardly an exception. Adding the god of country rock, Gram Parsons, to their line-up turned these purveyors of electrified folk into a Nashville act by way of the California counterculture. I don't care if their cover of the Louvin Brothers' "The Christian Life" is playing it straight or not, I just know that I love it more than all their prior work combined (and that's saying a lot.)

8. Marc Bolan's T-rextasy. Marc Bolan's early music with Tyrannsaurus Rex is the kind of saucer-eyed Tolkein steeped stuff that gives folk music a bad name. Somehow he managed to break out of the land of unicorns to form T. Rex and blast out the best and most enduring glam rock ever recorded. Rock on!

9. Jimi Hendrix Jettisons the Experience. Although Jimi didn't completely reinvent himself when he formed Band of Gypsies, he certainly got a lot funkier and less wedded to the traditional pop song format. This comes off best with Machine Gun, a song that expresses the horror of war more viscerally and believably than any other I know.

10. Fleetwood Mac Adds Buckingham and Nicks. As much as I try to deny it, I have a growing spot in my heart for Fleetwood Mac. Sure, they were a soft rock band, but they rocked mellow in better and more interesting ways than anyone else. What makes it all the stranger is that they did it after starting off as a heavy blues band led by the blockbuster guitar playing of Peter Green. Drop him, add California kids Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks, stir in a mountain of cocaine and a dollop of studio magic, and you get gems like "Gold Dust Woman."