Fugazi -- Steady Diet of Nothing

For a while in high school I had a girlfriend who went to a Catholic school in the bigger town near my hometown. I don't recall entirely the circumstances of our meeting except that a friend-in-common introduced us, surely, because it was suspected we had similar musical tastes. She worked in a bookstore and drove an oddball car, things which further endeared her to me.

Sometime during the Summer between my junior and senior years (her sophomore and junior years), we planned a trip to Omaha to hang around the Old Market during the day and see Omaha bands Acorns and Pioneer Disaster play that evening.

I knew, through Thrasher magazine probably, that Fugazi had a new album out that Summer. I also knew, through the Northeast Nebraska weird kids' grapevine (nice essays on coming of age in that scene, like I did, here) that there were three good record stores in the Old Market where I'd find it. In ascending order of perceived cool factor these were Dirt Cheap, Drastic Plastic, and the Antiquarium. There were more record stores in the area than that--Pickles, probably most notably--incredible as it seems today. We went to the three coolest, in the above order, to kill time before the show.

Each store seemed to have carved out enough of a difference from its competitors that, while there was necessarily some overlap, they existed peacefully, employees even recommending one of the other stores in response to an unfilled request. Dirt Cheap with its 70s head shop vibe carried lots and lots of used records, very few new. Classic rock (loosely construed) in the main, but a sizeable stock of more recent issues as well: 10,000 Maniacs, Midnight Oil, stuff that fell under the old umbrella of 'college rock'. Drastic Plastic toed nearer a metal/industrial line, genres not of particular interest to me though they had plenty of other stuff I was interested in. The man behind the counter was Ritual Device frontman Tim Moss, the in-house music here was the loudest. It was also the place to get your punk t-shirts and patches. Eventually we got to the then-edge of the Old Market where stood The Antiquarium.

For late adolescents of a certain social caste and of that time and place, the feeling upon entering The Antiquarium for the first time of having finally Arrived Home cannot be overdramatized. Part bookstore, part art gallery, part record store, all freakshow hangout, the institution and its denizens were the fully-formed, cosmopolitan realization of the stores we had back in Norfolk. Those were, though beloved (mostly due to their being the only game in town), the imitators, the shadows. This was the real thing. It really was fucking fantastic; top notch at a national level, in retrospect.

Dazed, we made our way through all the floors. We admired at the art together, parting somewhere in the books: me looking for all the VW stuff, Salinger, and Vonnegut I could find, she perusing the Art History section. I don't remember if she accompanied me to check out the records in the basement, where with Dave Sink's help I found the album I was looking for right away, among thousands of others.

Thoroughly dazed, we crossed Harney Street for a late dinner at the Garden Cafe, then ambled through thrift stores and boutiques, past the smells of the world's cuisines and Omaha's homeless to the tavern hosting the show. Now, why would two teenagers from the sticks think they could get into a big city bar at 10:30 pm? It hadn't even crossed our minds that our ages would be an issue; we even dutifully presented our non-fake IDs when prompted by the obviously incredulous bouncer. Having been taken down a notch, we headed for home.

My car lazily ran out of gas right around Westroads Mall. A middle-aged couple helped us out, the man pulling me to the side at one point to impart some friendly words of wisdom vis-a-vis male-female relationships. It seemed that he thought running out of gas was some kind of trick on my part.

LS wasn't entirely into Fugazi so we didn't listen to the album--which I'd bought on cassette--during the drive. Instead it was REM's Out of Time (its cover, interestingly, having similar palette, was then just a few months old). I surely listened to the Fugazi later that night, after my mom freaked about our unexplained late arrival--an offense I'm not sure I've ever entirely forgiven her for, as her flip-out scared the very game girlfriend away,

Best Song
"Latin Roots"

Released
July 2(?) 1991

Acquired or First Heard
It was probably late July, early August.

Next Closest
Gang of Four, I'm told. Aside from MacKaye's signature bark, Fugazi sounds absolutely nothing like Minor Threat, by the way. I don't know why people assume that.

Brush with Greatness (note: may include name-dropping)
I've seen Fugazi five times but never rubbed elbows with them.

Pavement -- Wowee Zowee

The roommate's out of town. The radiators are clanging like they often do in old buildings. The rug is more comfortable than the couch. The stereo's on. The album is delightfully uneven, matching the delightful awkwardness of the mood. The evening turns to night. It's mid-October and humid. Twenty years pass in the blink of an eye.

Best Song
For some reasons, "Half a Canyon". For others, "flux=rad".

Released

April 11, 1995.

Acquired or First Heard

First heard Sunday, May 7, 1995, in the living room of a former member of Lincoln darlings Hour Slave, somewhere four or five blocks East of Macalaster College, St. Paul Minnesota. Acquired soon thereafter.

Next Closest

The Fall, they tell me.

Brush with Greatness (note: may include name-dropping)

I've seen Pavement twice: once supporting Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain and once supporting Brighten the Corners. Prior to the '97 show at the Ranch Bowl my wife and a couple friends bowled in the lane next to the one most of Pavement were bowling.

dedicated to M.N.

Johnny Cash Willie Nelson -- VH1 Storytellers

In July 2001 a long-time buddy and I roadtripped from Lincoln Nebraska to Montgomery New York and back in his 1960 VW truck. Cabin space being at a premium, we each randomly grabbed a couple CDs each and listened to them over and over. This was one of them.

I knew they were well-respected across the board, but as someone with an allergy to country music I'd never expected to like them. I most definitely liked them, to my own surprise.  It sounds incredibly lame now, but in retrospect I'd say this was when my musical tastes matured. A genre which I'd've previously found suspect--country, in this case--was allowed in. Not that I ever really thought I had, but after this I truly no longer cared what anybody thought about what I liked.

The buddy I roadtripped with had a curious habit: after listening to an album all the way through a few times, he'd skip an album's first track from then on. He had some vague reason for this which I've forgotten, not that it made sense then.

Best Song
"Don't Take Your Guns to Town" (Cash), "Funny How Time Slips Away" (Nelson), though for some of Willie's fantastic pick work, "Night Life".

Released
9 June 1998

Acquired or First Heard
Late July 2001.

Next Closest
When country music is good, it's really good. See also: Loretta Lynn, Waylon Jennings, Emmylou Harris.

Brush with Greatness (note: may include name-dropping)
none

fIREHOSE -- "ragin', full-on"

This was the first album I ever owned where I really felt like I was in on a secret. Though I'd had inklings before, this was the first album after which I firmly realized top 40 and the only alternative to top 40 I really knew--metal--could be left entirely behind, without regret. This was a world where I could flourish. 

Best Song
10 October 1990, the very first time of three I saw fIREHOSE, my younger brother and I (15 and 16, respectively) sat down at the last empty table way in the back of the Ranch Bowl (Omaha) before the show. A few minutes later some guy sat down next to us and began writing down song titles with a big black marker on a sheet of paper. My brother leaned over to me and whispered, "That's Mike Watt." I whispered back, "No way." But of course it was. I asked him if they were "gonna play 'Relating Dudes to Jazz'" and he said, "Ya like that one, huh?" "Yeah." He wrote it down. During the show he broke the E string ("the big one," he said) about ten bars into the song.

'Chemical Wire' is a close second.

Released
1986. When in 1986? SST has never been a label for keeping detailed records.

Acquired/First Heard
Purchased on cassette at either Plato's Tunes or Skinni's (both Norfolk Nebraska), Summer 1989.

Next Closest
Dave Sink once told me he'd play a Minutemen/fIREHOSE mixtape over the store stereo at the Antiquarium and that after a while he couldn't tell the difference. I wouldn't go even close to that far but you should be listening to Minutemen anyway.

Brush with Greatness (note: may include name-dropping)
It's up there under 'Best Song'. I've chatted up Mike Watt many, many times since. George a couple times.

Hum -- You'd Prefer an Astronaut

Let the waves of America's best example of shoegaze wash over you.

Though not personal lyrically or musically, this album stands out as one of a few that was really mine in the sense that none of my music-loving friends ever mentioned it, beyond perhaps a passing mention of the single 'Stars'. And I've never pressed it upon anyone else, apparently preferring to keep the excellence beyond its hit single a secret. It's one of my favorite driving albums and works especially well at night.

Best Song

"I'd Like Your Hair Long"

Released
April 11 1995

Acquired or First Heard
I liked 'Stars' but didn't think much of it until a few years later on a rare Sunday evening off I heard some little-listened-to radio show on 101.9 The Edge, where Hum was being interviewed in promotion of their next effort, Downward is Heavenward (which may in fact be a better album). That was enough for me to go out and buy both albums early in 1998. Many, many years later I listened to Electra 2000 and found it to be similarly awesome. Maybe in thirty more years I'll listen to their debut.

Next Closest
The Drop Nineteens are another American shoegaze band but I never got into them. Do I dare to admit I never really even got into My Bloody Valentine? Sacrilege. Hum shared a drummer, a hometown, and to some degree a sound with Poster Children.

Brush with Greatness (note: may include name-dropping)
none

The Hold Steady -- Separation Sunday

There are concept albums (and I promise this blog isn't only about them) but The Hold Steady is a concept band. More lyrically dense than any band should be allowed to be, most of the songs on this and all their albums revolve around a cast of characters from the Twin Cities who are surely too well-realized to be entirely made up.

Craig Finn's vocals have been described as the guy next to you at the bar who just won't shut up and I think that's accurate, provided the bar is loud enough the guy is raising his voice to just below a shout. He's talking (hollering) much more than he's singing, lending an exuberance perfectly in line with the music. Some will be put off by the vocals.
I became aware of them because as a Constantines fan I watched their tour dates and saw they'd be nearby soon, sharing a bill with some band, "The Hold Steady". The name was interesting enough that I listened to some tracks and was suitably impressed. I liked the sound's overall clarity, I liked the not-an-afterthought-or-tacked-on piano, I liked the anthemic aspect, and yes, I liked the vocals. There is a palpable sense of fun here, like a night out in your 20s with a good crew, hangover be damned.

Best Song
"Stevie Nix". One of my top ten favorite riffs of all time.

Released
May 3 2005.

Acquired/First Heard
Another post-kids album that I've never owned. I first heard it in mid-2005.

Next Closest
Bruce Springsteen for the hooks and big sound, Circus Lupus for the vocal style, though with entirely different subject matter.

Brush with Greatness (note: may include name-dropping):
During their whole set at the aforementioned show, I was thinking guitarist Tad Kubler looked like someone from a different Minneapolis band (I didn't know anyone in The Hold Steady's names). After the encore as I was collecting the set list, he was unplugging his pedals so I asked him, "Hey, this is a dumb question, but are you Thor from Cows?" He laughed. "Ha! No, but that's funny that you ask that. Cows were a great band. Thanks." In retrospect I have no idea why I thought they were the same guy as they look nothing alike.

Fucked Up -- David Comes to Life

I was an earlyish reader of Pitchfork, having discovered it in 1997 or so. It'd be nice to be able to say I stopped reading it regularly after it became too hip for its own good but that wasn't the case; mostly it was because--and this is what I think all Great Music Lovers like me fear--at some point it really seemed as though music, in any genre, had passed me by. Things very rarely connected with me in the way they had in my teens and twenties. (For instance, in 1997 I could've given you a list of the ten best albums of that year. In 2007, I couldn't even have named ten albums that came out in 2007.) It wasn't that Pitchfork's hipster attitude had become too much for me--it's that it (and more importantly, hipsterism generally) had lost me.

Yet I still checked in with Pitchfork occasionally if for no other reason than to see what the kids were up to these days. One day in late 2011 there was a link to a band named 'Fucked Up' performing the entirety of their latest album, which had apparently landed with some acclaim. Given the band's name I was interested enough to give it a click.

I don't want to say it changed my life but I'll say this: if I had been 17 instead of 37 when I clicked that link, there's a good chance it would've.

My previous experience with hardcore was as a Beltway Insider. That is to say, I wasn't a purist so much as I was a nationalist. That's probably what saved Fucked Up for me as I don't know--but am certain--they're hated by people more heavily invested in hardcore, hardcore being one of the most supremely conservative musical genres.

This is a concept album but to tell the truth I have paid little attention to the concept, or, indeed, to a large extent, the lyrics. On cursory examination the whole project comes across as almost too sincere...watch, if you can, the nearly overpoweringly twee video for "Queen of Hearts":
Yet to my ear it works, not unlike Aeroplane. What makes it work could be that it's different and new, more than anything else, and maybe new was what I needed in 2011. Hardcore literally hasn't changed in thirty years and then some (Canadian, no less) indie outfit with their indie outfits (h/t JN) comes along and plunks a giant, sweaty, hairy, screaming dude in front, and it works. It works.

Best Song
I'll go with "Running on Nothing".

Released
June 6, 2011.

Acquired
Never acquired. The poverty induced by both student loans and children coming due means that since 2008 or so I listen to most new music on Spotify or the like. It was maybe six months after release that I heard it in its entirety.

Next Closest
You should listen to Minor Threat's Complete Discography and you should listen to The Bad Brains' first album and then you should come talk to me about how ridiculous it is to call this album 'hardcore' and then I'll say "you're probably right" and then we'll talk about something else.

Brush with Greatness (note: may include name-dropping):
None.