Favourite Songs for the Holidays

1. Fairy Tale of New York - The Pogues

If Christmas is a time for family and loved ones, for many of

my generation, raised in an age of Hallmark cards and

sentimentality expressed through consumerism, The

Pogues "Fairy Tale of New York" is the perfect Christmas

song. I don't think I'd ever heard any couple go at each

other the way these two do. I think that's part of the allure

for most people, the whole "You cheap lousy faggot" thing,

but things are a whole lot more complicated that it simply

being a case of these two people hating each other. The

music expresses a nostalgic tenderness - these two hate

each other, in part, because they don't know how to let go

of each other. It's a twisted kind of amour fou.

2. Silent Night - Space Needle

(Sorry couldn't be found) Granted Space Needle, from Seattle, didn't record much, just two albums of 1990s prog rock, but somewhere along the line they recorded an all feedback version of "Silent Night" that was capable of driving people away in droves. It was awesome. I played it on the radio every winter. If you can find it, it's on A Christmas Present to You From Zero Hour Records.

3. Santa Claus is Coming To Town - Bruce Springsteen

While there's a view other versions around,

most of them from the last year or two, this

black and white footage from 1978 more

closely mirrors my own experience with

Springsteen. I think I was five or six at the

time, and Springsteen was in his must-

save-rock-n-roll phase. When the band

changes tempo halfway through, I was

hooked on rock forever. I probably wanted

to learn to play the saxophone in Jr. High

because of this song.

4. Oh Holy Night - Enrico Caruso

There are times though when something more traditional

is called for, and that's typically when I'll admit that my

soft spot is for a more straight-ahead rendition of Oh Holy

Night. Opera legend Enrico Caruso probably set the

standard with this early record. Caruso was the first major

selling vocalist, and perhaps the first pop superstar. He

held many of the best-selling records until Elvis Presley.

5. Little Drummer Boy - Bing Crosby, David Bowie

My wife and I are a secret mission to bring our

daughter over to our side of the cultural fence.

It began with Star Wars and Gene Kelly, and it

continues here. She knows both of these gents

by name as well as their related bodies of work.

BONUS.

Happy New Year's.

1. The Ice of Boston - The Dismemberment Plan

Bowie or Bust, Pt. 5

Bowie or Bust, Pt. 5

Several weeks back, Spectrum Culture has us sit down and listen to the albums of David Bowie. Not knowing which albums they'd ask me to comment on, I made some notes as we went along.

Click here for the official Spectrum David Bowie Playlist.

The Buddha of Suburbia, 1993

Did this really come out at the same time as Black Tie, White Noise? I was rather surprised, considering how dated it sounds. The Buddha of Suburbia on the other hand, sounds oddly fresh, it sounds like an album full of ambient electronica, but Bowie is trying to catch the nascent trip hop vibe. Instead, he’s reaching back and re-interpreting the sounds of the Berlin trilogy. The instrumental pieces that were meant to act as a soundtrack to a BBC adaption of the Hanif Kureishi novel of the same name, are distant cousins to songs like “Moss Garden.”

Outside, 1995

Again, this is one of those albums where, in retrospect, Bowie is playing around with some musical ideas. There’s a big guitar sound that flirts with industrial music. It’s about outer space and it rocks far more than anything Bowie had put out in over a decade. That said, it really doesn’t stand out when placed next to other albums like Aladdin Sane.

Earthling, 1997

Superficially, it would be easy to suggest that this album was conceived to celebrate Bowie’s fiftieth birthday publically. It featured a lot of dance-oriented singles, as Bowie actively encouraged DJs to remix the songs. It buzzes along with a heavy drum ‘n’ bass vibe, but it’s mostly remembered for the stunning video single “I’m Afraid of Americans.” The song is out of sync with a lot of the album, but acts a perfect summation of everything Bowie had tried to accomplish on Outside, complete with a collaboration with Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, bringing a degree of authenticity to those pseudo-industrial sounds of the last album.

Hours, 1999

Bowie has a reputation of being an insincere musical magpie, thieving elements of the day for whatever happens to be his latest album. To some extent Hours falls into this category, but then so could Earthling and Outside. Bowie might be a magpie, stuffing Hours with some pretty standard guitar/drum arrangements, but insincere is too cruel a charge, especially given the deeply personal and emotional charge that “Thursday’s Child” carries. The album as whole also carries a lot of lyrical weight, so maybe it might be fair to suggest that if the music suffers a little on this one, it was because Bowie had a lot of things to get off his chest.

Heathen, 2002

Maybe Bowie just doesn’t know what to do in gentle times. His best albums came out during the turbulent 1969-1973 era, and I guess it’s not much of surprise that the post-9/11 environment saw him release something energizing and haunting in songs like “Slow Bur.n” Plus, much appreciation for a cover of the Pixies’ “Cactus.”

Reality, 2003

For a the brooding menace that found it’s way into Bowie’s work since 1993, Reality has much more of a pop sensibility to it, and not just through the presence of Jonathan Richman’s “Pablo Picasso.” It catches Bowie reflecting on the process of growing old in songs like “Bring Me The Disco King,” and “New Killer Star.” At the same time, he’s still pushing the odd musical envelope as there’s a moment in “Looking For Water” that crafty listeners can determine was the musical bonding point between Bowie and The Arcade Fire, cementing their 2005 collaboration.

Bowie or Bust, Pt.4

Wherein I continue listening the complete solo works of David Bowie, in chronological order, and encounter a profound questioning of purpose with his 1980s albums.

This task was given to me as part of the Spectrum David Bowie Playlist.

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps), 1980

I think few major artists with an extensive catalogue could have been more pleased with an album they released in 1980. Scary Monsters is unique in that in somehow manages to summarize Bowie’s past succinctly in tracks like “Ashes to Ashes”, where he re-imagines Major Tom as a post-fame strung –out junkie, but also sounds as if he’s been paying close attention to the emerging punk and new wave scenes. However, unlike other albums that sound like Bowie’s trying to ride a wave or cash in on a trend, Scary Monsters somehow pulls off the appearance of being of the same gritty musical world as these subgenres without resorting to aping its style. I was unprepared for the cover art, which features David Bowie dressed up as some kind of harlequin. It made me think of Stephen King’s It, while also reminding me of a line from one of Jimi Hendrix’s last interviews, where he claims he’s on the verge of a new musical direction, vowing “I don’t want to be a clown anymore.” Is Bowie thinking the same?

Let’s Dance, 1983

I think I had heard Iggy Pop’s version of “China Girl” maybe once or twice before this, some years ago, but I had never heard the Bowie version, though wife routinely described it as horrible. She even went so far as to claim that Bowie himself tried to distance himself from the track on The Rose O’Donnell show, and elsewhere admitted that he recorded his version to help Iggy Pop out financially. I was expecting the worst, and actually thought it not bad. Same for “Let’s Dance,” leading me to suspect that this is a David Bowie album that a lot of people are embarrassed to own (when everyone knows that ought to be Young Americans), probably because it’s a dance album released just a few months too late.

Tonight, 1984 and Never Let Me Down, 1987

It is unfair to pair these two albums together, as if individually they have little to recommend them, but well, sometimes the truth hurts.

I have this theory about the 1980s, formed in large part by these albums and old reruns of Dynasty, that America was very entranced by artifice in the 1980s. Everything mainstream looked fake – deliberately fake. As in, how big can we make these shoulder pads? How high can we tease this hair? How many extra pop hooks and studio over dubs can we add to this song? More so than Tonight, but Never Let Me Down is almost excessive in its production value. The only studio trick that’s missing is perhaps a guest rapper.

Black Tie, White Noise, 1993

If Bowie’s output in the 1980s were characterized by being over-the-top, Black Tie, White Noise at least exercises some restraint. The worst criticism, and the most telling one, is that it bares absolutely no resemblance to anything else going on musically in 1993. “Pallas Athena” recalls moments from Low and Heroes, but most of the album just gets sucked into the background.

Bowie or Bust, Pt.3

Bowie or Bust, Pt. 3

Several weeks back, Spectrum Culture has us sit down and listen to the albums of David Bowie. Not knowing which albums they'd ask me to comment on, I made some notes as we went along.

Click here for the official Spectrum David Bowie Playlist.

Station to Station, 1976

There’s the pop hooks of “Golden Years” and then there’s the lonesome experimental edge of “Station to Station” itself. I found it hard to believe there were only six songs, but they certainly presented a lot to think about, setting the stage for the three albums that would emerge out of his collaboration with Brian Eno. As I said before with Man Who Sold The World, it often sounds like Bowie is practicing ideas before putting them all together, and that really seems to be the case here. However, the result as unexpected as it is, is also quite endearing.

Low, 1977

Low was a complete surprise, but I found songs like “Always Crashing In The Same Car,” “Breaking Glass,” and “Warszawa” captivating. I was equally surprised that somehow Low had stayed off my radar. Back in my parking lot late night DJ days, “Always Crashing…” would have been a staple.

Heroes, 1977

As good as the title track single was, for me the key to the album was the sequence of songs beginning with side two (from V-2 Schneider on). They are perhaps my favourite string of five Bowie songs, and I’m not surprised that the album caught the attention of people like Philip Glass and King Crimson. Much of what would later for the basis for electronic, ambient music has its roots here.

Lodger, 1979

Oddly, I don’t have much to say about this one. A lot of Lodger is already present on Heroes and Low, but with a dash of early world music, as on “Yassassin.” For those of you counting , the gap between Heroes and Lodger represent the first recording break for Bowie since the interim between his debut and Space Oddity, a nine year stretch that saw him release ELEVEN albums, ranging from folk, bluesy rock, glam, soul, experimental, world, and electronic music. Suck on that Nickelback.

Bowie or Bust, Pt.2

Bowie or Bust, Pt. 2 - 1973-1975

Several weeks back, Spectrum Culture has us sit down and listen to the albums of David Bowie. Not knowing which albums they'd ask me to comment on, I made some notes as we went along.

Click here for the official Spectrum David Bowie Playlist.

Aladdin Sane, 1973

Up until this point I hadn’t really felt that I was missing out on anything from David Bowie. I have a best of compilation that covered the early years and was perfectly happy leaving things at that. I knew that a lot of people seemed to really like Aladdin Sane, as it turned up on quite a few Best of the Century lists back in 1999/2000, but I thought that this was basically on the strength of “The Jean Genie” and “Let’s Spend The Night Together.” How wrong I was! From start to finish, I think this was my favourite “newly discovered” Bowie album, a fitting rock counterpart to the folk of Hunky Dory.

Pin Ups, 1973

Um, an entire album of covers? Aladdin Sane’s “Let’s Spend The Night Together” suggested that this was coming, but to Bowie’s credit it actually took me a few songs in to realize that’s what this album was about, as I wasn’t terribly familiar with early Pink Floyd songs like “See Emily Play” or bands like The Things. It’s interesting to hear cover albums removed from the era of their release because different generations of listeners each find something unique in a particular song (or set of songs). What it was that Bowie fans heard that encouraged them to take this album to #1 though is beyond.

Diamond Dogs, 1974

To me, this album is famous, though it wasn’t until Spectrum asked that I listened to the whole thing from start to finish. The result? Well, remember when I said that Bowie has a tendency to over think what he’s writing about? That’s in evidence throughout Diamond Dogs. While songs like the title track and “Rebel, Rebel” move quickly despite their length; others like “We Are The Dead” sound like essays put to music and a lot of effort is put into describing a post-apocalyptic society. The whole thing was written as a stage show, and some of the songs are very much composed with that in mind.

Young Americans, 1975

If you’re counting, David Bowie had released an album a year since 1969. How did he do it, you might wonder. The answer, revealed during the tour for Diamond Dogs, was large amounts of cocaine. At some point, you might expect the wheels to fall off the bus, and to me, that is what Young Americans sounds like, a big screeching car crash of an album. Bowie on the otherhand, describes it’s sound as “Plastic Soul” something he developed during the second half of the American Diamond Dogs tour. When I mentioned the other day that Bowie’s observational skills could sometimes be cynical and mean (from his debut album), it was in part Young Americans I was thinking of – it’s like Bowie has collected the worst parts of the 1970s and fed it back to people. The sad part? The title track was his first #1 song in the U.S.

Bowie or Bust, Pt.1

Several weeks back, Spectrum Culture has us sit down and listen to the albums of David Bowie. Not knowing which albums they'd ask me to comment on, I made some notes as we went along.

Click here for the official Spectrum David Bowie Playlist.

David Bowie, 1967

The self-titled debut is all over-produced folk music. Bowie’s voice is alternates between high and nasally, and the lecherous, teeth-sucking persona in “Love You Till Tuesday.” It’s mostly forgettable and somewhat surprising that Bowie ultimately found another record deal afterwards. The most interesting feature of David Bowie is that Bowie demonstrates his keen observational skills on “Uncle Albert” and “Love You Till Tuesday,” however, unlike on later albums where he is capable of convincing a younger generation that he’s their co-conspirator, here he comes off as disdainful, sarcastic, and mean.

Space Oddity, 1969

There is little on Space Oddity that listeners did not first experience on David Bowie, except that it all comes together here perfectly. It’s a pattern that would often repeat itself with Bowie, as if his audiences needed to sit through a practice album before the finished product. Yes, “Space Oddity” was hastily put together, but it seems to prove that sometimes Bowie overthinks what he’s doing. Space Oddity appears much more honest and direct with the caliber of songwriting head and shoulders above his debut.

The Man Who Sold The World, 1970

Before engaging in this process, I was only familiar with the title track, courtesy of Nirvana’s Unplugged. It only took one listen though to realize why this was so. After the thoroughly satisfying folk experience of Space Oddity, someone appears to have given Bowie an electric guitar and a huge bag of blow. “The Man Who Sold The World”, may come off as following in the anti-advertising footsteps of the Rolling Stones’ 1956 hit, “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”, but the rest of the album is steeped in post-hippie Vietnam Weathemen themes like “Running Gun Blues” and “All the Madmen”, wallowing in heavy distortion and feedback as if for their own sake (I‘m thinking of you, “Black Country Rock”) . Even though it’s a phrase better used to describe Diamond Dogs-era Bowie, my initial thoughts here were “massive cocaine blowout.”

Hunky Dory, 1971

Going into this, Hunky Dory was my favourite Bowie album. Superficially, it’s aimed at the Flower Generation, but Bowie manages to capture them right at a moment of transition, before all their dreams come crashing down. The signifiers of the 1960s are here with “Song for Bob Dylan” and “Andy Warhol”, while the Velvet Underground were the stylistic inspiration for “Queen Bitch”, but it’s “Changes” and “Bewlay Brothers” that capture the prevailing mood

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, 1972

This is the classic Bowie I’m familiar with. The notice on the back of the album reads “To Be Played At Maximum Volume.” The hits are “Starman,” “Ziggy Stardust,” “Suffragette City,” and to a lesser extent “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide.” Listening to it this time however, it hit me that the opener “Five Years” serves as a fitting closer to the 1960s as a whole, rampant as it is with a sense of the finality of things and of dreams broken.

Superman v. Batman - you know who wins

We've all said this before, but it's elegantly expressed here.

Most Played Music of 2009

Alright, in a few weeks my "Best of" lists and contributions will be appearing in different places, so in order to save that surprise for later, I thought I'd share the music that I listened too most often throughout 2009. These aren't necessarily favourites - sometimes I get stuck when writing a review and listen to something over and over.

Most Played Songs of 2009

1. A.C. Newman, "There Are Maybe Ten or Twelve Things"

2. Dido, "Quiet Times"

3. Asobi Seksu, "Gliss"

4. Beirut, "El Zocolo"

5. Asobi Seksu, "Familiar Light"

6. The Dudes, "Girl Police"

7. Ben Kweller, "Things I Like To Do"

8. Japandroids, "Wet Hair"

9. M. Ward, "Epistemology"

10. Orenda Fink, "Why Is The Night Sad"

Most Played Albums

1. Asobi Seksu, Hush

2. Beirut, March of the Zapotec

3. The Dudes, Blood Guts Bruises Cuts

4. Ben Kweller, Changing Horses

5. Japandroids, Post-Nothing

6. M. Ward, Hold Time

7. Orenda Fink, Ask The Night

8. Doom, Born Like This

9. Hayden, In Field & Town

10. The Big Pink, A Brief History of Love

Ghosts of Year-End Lists Past

While preparing my year end list of albums, songs, and whatnots, I came across this contribution to !earshot in 2001.

!Earshot asked campus/community radio contributors across the country these questions. Scroll down for a sampling of their responses:

1. Three fave albums of 2001?
2. Most overlooked artist/album?
3. Local band that rocked your socks?
4. Best radio moment?

Name: Sean Marchetto

Station: CJSW — Calgary
Show: Radio Free Nowhere

1. Radiohead — “Amnesiac” (EMI), Cursive — “Burst And Bloom EP” (Saddle Creek), Senor Coconut — “Le Gran Baile” (Emperor Norton)
2. Beta Band — “Hot Shots” (Astralwerks)
3. Dan Vacon, both in The Dudes and solo.
4. Flipping though Have Not Been The Same, the new book on Canadian rock n’ roll and finding Dave Bidini telling the story of my phone-in encounter with Stompin’ Tom.

So, how'd I do? Well, Radiohead has three albums that critics are in stumbling over to put on any number of Best of the Decade lists. Cursive followed up Burst and Bloom with The Ugly Organ and Happy Hollows. Are the Beta Band still overlooked and underappreciated? Given that Hot Chip is riding their groove, perhaps more now than ever.

As for Dan Vacon and the Dudes? In 2001 they were still playing on the front porch of Rock Central opposite my old parking lot. Last week they rocked the Grey Cup party, so I guess you could say things are on the rise.

Really the only odd selection is Uwe Schmidt's Senor Coconut, which was a brief moment of levity in an otherwise pretty heavy year. Schmidt's discography though, is something to behold.

To see what other people said, click here.