Maestropolis, Disc Three

Huh. Reading back over the last few posts, my tone is more defensive than I meant it to be. No apologies for listening to Interpol should ever be necessary. With that said:

Disc Three:

01. The Streets “Turn the Page”
What probably caught my ear was the references to that Russell Crowe movie where he wears a leather skirt. What kept my attention was the throat-lump-inducing (for fantasy fans, anyway) last lines: “stand by me, my apprentice . . . be brave. Clench fists.” And the disses. I mean, “rhubarb-and-custard verses?” Where is this guy from, anyway? From the Atlantic LP Original Pirate Material, 2002.

02. Mark Knopfler “Marbletown”
A standard blues song, wherein a British dude — as usual — is more convincing in his evocations of timeless Americana than most Americans since Johnny Cash died. It made me think of O Brother, Where Art Thou? and, which is better, the movie it stole its name from. The song could use a Veronica Lake, actually. From the Warner Bros. LP The Ragpicker’s Dream, 2002.

03. Blur “Don’t Bomb When You Are The Bomb”
And that’s the entirety of the lyrics; it probably won’t show up on any future greatest-hits comp, although it was Blur’s first release after their hits package, which was my introduction to the band. More electronic and African than ever before, this track would probably fit better under the Gorillaz umbrella today. From the white-label single Don’t Bomb When You Are the Bomb, 2002.

04. Radio 4 “Dance to the Underground”
Forget “House of Jealous Lovers” — this was my introduction to the nascent dance-punk scene. (See also: Liars, LCD Soundsystem, and Franz Ferdinand.) No, they didn’t do anything Gang of Four and PiL hadn’t done first, but when Blink-182 was carrying the punk banner, this was a shock of cold, head-bobbing — hell, ass-shaking — water. From the Gern Blandsten single Dance to the Underground, 2001.

05. Los Lobos “Done Gone Blue”
I have no idea why this song, over any other Los Lobos song, made the cut. Not that it’s bad, or even undistinguished; but except for the Strummery gibbering just before the sax solo, there’s nothing — oh, wait. Now that it’s down in words, that sounds pretty cool. I guess it’s the reason. From the Mammoth LP Good Morning Aztlán, 2002.

06. Björk “Pagan Poetry”
That transition, from straight-up Chicano rawk to the tinkling stabs of some kind of electronic harpsichord, is one of the reasons I like doing this sort of thing. And Björk, for once, sounds like a human being, especially when she recites “I lahve heem, I lahve heem, I lah-ahve heem” over and over. Getting-in-the-mood music for ice mummies. From the Elektra LP Vespertine, 2001.

07. Jonathan Rundman “Find Your Way to Prague”
He’s a Minnesota singer-songwriter/roots-rocker. The song is from a 52-track concept album about the Lutheran liturgical year. It’s a disco song. It was cobbled together from tape loops he had, because he didn’t want to disturb the neighbors with real drums. How Minnesotan. How can you not love it? From the Salt Lady LP Sound Theology, 2000.

08. The Polyphonic Spree “Soldier Girl”
The NME strikes again. “Light & Day” is probably better, but what the hell. Come on, chant along with the suspiciously happy robed choir: “I found my soldier girl, she’s so far away, she makes my head spin around.” There seem to be a lot of minimalist lyrics on this disc. From the Fierce Panda EP Soldier Girl, 2002.

09. Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds “Oh My Lord”
Never mind; this is where all the words from the other songs went. Another of his patent wonderfully macabre psychological thrillers, in which the words “the plot, the plot” seem mysteriously to signal the point when the Bad Seeds kick it up a notch. Also, it’s long, and that’s good, because there are a lot of short songs on this disc. From the Reprise LP No More Shall We Part, 2001.

10. Apples in Stereo “Baroque”
Standard fuzz-rock, sure, maybe a little more treble than normal, but hey. That is, until the chorus, when they suddenly go all “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” on our asses. More indie rock songs should have classically-derived vocal interludes, and I don’t mean booking an out-of-work opera singer because you were too cheap to spring for the theramin. From the SpinART LP Velocity of Sound, 2002.

11. Aaron Sprinkle “I Know There’s an Answer/Hang on to Your Ego”
Sacrilege, right, I know. Not just covering the Beach Boys, covering Pet Sounds! And the alternate lyrics! Who does this guy think he is? Only, unaccountably, it’s good. Aaron Sprinkle is one of the unheralded pop geniuses of the age. Used to be in the Christian indie band poor old lu. Now mostly produces and releases his stuff to the tiny subset of Christians who are also indie-pop freaks. From the various-artists Silent Planet LP Making God Smile, 2002.

12. Ladytron “Seventeen”
It’s all about the attitude. It has to be, because it’s a terrible song, as a song. More minimalist lyrics, set this time to music that wants to be minimalist, only the band’s inner shoegazer won’t let it. This inner shoegazer, by the way, will pop up to thrilling effect three discs from now. Be prepared. From the Emperor Norton LP Light & Magic, 2002.

13. Badly Drawn Boy “You Were Right”
If you’re of a certain age (i.e., just starting to be interested in sex when you heard about Madonna’s book Sex), the line “I’m turning Madonna down” in this song is more charged than it necessarily should be. Awkward self-revelations aside, the song is gorgeous sympho-pop that also works in a list of Important Musicians who died in Damon Gough’s lifetime, yet it isn’t a bummer. Weird. From the Artist Direct BMG LP Have You Fed the Fish?, 2002.

14. Phish “Mexican Cousin”
This was supposed to be their farewell record. Two years later, they were back. But I still like this song, a pleasantly rough approximation of a Ronnie Lane song in the Faces days. (Don’t hear it? You don’t listen to enough Faces, mate.) And for once, they almost seem to be singing about something, rather than just stringing words together. Always a plus. From the Elektra LP Round Room, 2002.

15. Puffy AmiYumi “Atarashii Hibi”
For that first second, you’re not sure whether “Pump it Up” is playing, but then the two Asian chicks start singing and, no, that’s definitely not Elvis Costello. If all J-pop was like this, no other nation would have a prayer. Thank God it’s mostly breathy twaddle over breathier synths. Which makes Puffy’s glammed-up pop/rock all that much more special. In Japanese. From the Bar/None LP An Illustrated History, 2002.

16. Hot Hot Heat “Talk to Me, Dance With Me”
I guess I was really into dance-punk that year. Not that the dance-punk scenesters would look twice at Hot Hot Heat. Not only are they latecomers and therefore (always) bandwagon-jumpers, but they’re Canadian! That is so not punk. The guy still yelps like early Robert Smith, and if you can’t quite dance to it, there’s enough cowbell to make up for it. From the Sub Pop LP Make Up the Breakdown, 2002.

17. Yo La Tengo “You Can Have It All”
I hated this song for a while. Oddly enough, that was after I’d compiled this disc. It had been a last-minute desperate need-to-fill-out-the-disc addition, and I thought it killed the mood. Then I realized a) who was I kidding, there was no mood to this thing, and b) it’s a beautiful little pop ditty. Ba bum ba ba ba ba bum, ba bum ba ba ba ba bum . . . . From the Matador LP And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out, 2000.

18. Zwan “Honestly”
Remember Zwan? Billy Corgan was so glad to be working in a band again? They got out one record and then split acrimoniously? Maybe he should have mixed the girl bass player higher; her voice is nice. It would have been a relief from the Wall-to-Wall Billy. Seriously, though, I was surprisingly into these guys for a couple of months, before it became apparent that it was just the Pumpkins, Mark II. Which wasn’t, actually, all that bad a thing. From the Reprise single Honestly, 2002.

19. The Beta Band “Won”
Sounding like a poorly-thought-out union between Crosby, Stills & Nash (the harmonies), a children’s version of Radiohead (the production), and ten thousand giggly pot-smoking college bands in the nineties (the lyrics), this song could only have been produced by the Beta Band. I assume. I’ve never enjoyed anything else I heard from them, even the song in High Fidelity. From the Astralwerks LP Hot Shots II, 2001.