The Smiths, The Very Best of The Smiths (2001)

I'm a touch grumpy because I wrote a really long entry for this album and somehow in all of my technological competence (read: none) managed to delete it all. Luckily for the grumpy technophobe among us all, this delightful little compilation contains all kinds of curmudgeonly lyrics to boost the spirit.

Like any self-respecting child of the 80s, I've listened to the various tracks on this album hundreds of times. (I confess I was a latecomer to The Smiths, indeed well into my university years before I garnered a true appreciation of their genius.) I'm always amazed, though, at the ability of a certain song to transport you to a certain place and time, despite having listened to it squillions of times, in squillions of places. The opener to this compilation, 'Panic' will forever sound to me like a tiny dark bar with a 'no stag parties' sign on the door, just off the old town square of Prague. [As an unnecessary aside, I note that these days M1 'secret lounge' now features bikini clad babes, horrific electronica music, and images of some kind of purple veleur booths on its website. I guess the stag party market has, indeed, spoken. But back when M1 bar actually was a secret, it was a favourite destination for 20 crown beers, excellent music, and being hit on by underage Russians.] I'm hoping to be back in Prague for a short visit in a few weeks, which I was obviously already excited about, but listening to this album this morning kind of cemented it for me - I can't wait to get back.

I can't quite put my finger on what it is I love about The Smiths. Perhaps it's just that I love Morrissey. The man is a genius. (And, if I'm honest, kind of a babe.) Which is not to suggest I don't also think Johnny Marr is a genius. Cos he is, and I love his work too. But there's something about Morrissey's incredible talent, blazing intelligence, and defiant arrogance that kind of draws me in. Yes, there's more than a little to psycho-analyse there.

This release was just another controversial step in the band's history, but there's little denying it's a collection of excellent songs. What I love about The Smiths is strangely reminiscent of my last post - it's these often dark, terribly clever lyrics, overlaid with a jangly pop vibe. More often than not, it seems I'm attracted to wickedly intelligent, and often cyncial lyricists, and The Smiths are no exception. Morrissey captures the post-punk era with scathing social and political commentary, and Johnny Marr balances him out with his brilliant, jaunty indie-pop riffs. They are a tragic, beautiful combination.

Admittedly I own this release alongside most of Morrissey's solo back catalogue, and alongside many of The Smiths' studio albums. But this is a fantastic standalone listen and I thumb my nose at those who claim it is 'Smiths lite'. (I realise fans of The Smiths are probably some of the most irritable fans of all, so I would risk rage and vitriol with this post.... but that would rely on anyone actually reading it.) The Smiths have influenced pretty much everyone who's awesome, they're difficult and tricky and messed up, but all the best people are, and besides, they made great music. And this compilation (I originally typo-ed 'complication', which seems somehow apt) is a very good overview of that great music.

Besides, it puts a stupid cheesey smile on my face as I walk to work, cos I love it. So there.

Wilco, Summerteeth (1999)

Monday morning you sure look fine... apart from the fact that I don't really want to get out of bed, and even if I did want to, I can barely walk (I blame an afternoon of overzealous kickboxing.) But in these circumstances, what better remedy than liberal doses of banjo, harmonica and loose saloon-style piano...?

I love Wilco. I feel like I should have dedicated more (slash any) space on these pages to Wilco. But in looking for a pick-me-up, Summerteeth was kind of an odd choice. It's one of Wilco's more sombre albums, but also in my humble opinion one of their better ones. I couldn't help but think, this morning, that right up till about track 9, I could have been listening to part of a Greatest Hits compilation - 'Can't Stand It', She's a Jar', 'Shot in the Arm', 'Via Chicago', 'ELT', 'Nothing'severgonnastandinmyway(again)' etc etc - it's an album packed with excellent singles.

Excellent, but dark. I recall Jeff Tweedy making some coolly ironic remark when someone in the audience requested 'She's a Jar' during their set in Wellington last year - to the effect of "it's a song about domestic violence, who requests that?!" - but, although it wasn't me, I'm with the requester - I think it's one of Wilco's best songs - it's morose but delicately treated and beautifully written. I've seen 'Via Chicago' described as a "muder ballad" ("I dreamed about killing you again last night/ And that's all right with me") which seems kind of apt but again, it's a very good song. It's a little bit disturbing how attractive I find some of these very dark lyrics, but I think Wilco's made it easy for me to be so twisted, because they delightfully and ironically overlay some very grim sentiments with some rather upbeat psychedelic alt rock. And contrast the downbeat songs with somre more hopeful, redemptive tracks like ELT and Nothing'sever..etc.

I'm a treacherous whench for saying it, but this morning both 'Shot in the Arm' and 'Via Chicago' fell just a tiny bit flat for me. This shouldn't detract from my deep and abiding love for Wilco - rather, it's testament to it. They are one of the rare bands I've seen who are so good live that sometimes their recorded work pales in comparison. I think this is the sign of a truly outstanding band - their live set improvises and jams; treats the audience to a unique experience rather than formulaicly adhering to their recorded sound. Treachery aside, there's no denying that this album is full of depth and texture, experiemental in moving just a little away from their more traditional Americana country-rock style, but still layered with a symphony of bells and whistles and banjoes and wild steel guitars and organs. It's delicious.

Faithless, No Roots (2004)

I was markedly more upbeat than usual when working to work this morning. I could credit this with any number of sensible causes - not least, sleeping almost entirely through the night for the first time in pretty much ever - but I prefer to credit it to the cheesey mid-2000s electronica I was listening to.

Nakedly (and arguably naively) political, No Roots is Faithless' fourth studio album and - unbelievably - their first (and, if I'm not mistaken, only) chart topping album. Unbelievable because their other albums were so damn good, but I guess you can't pick the taste of the charts. For what it's worth my general view is pretty much the exact opposite - the more Faithless grew in popularity, the less I liked their style. In fact, my favourite Faithless tracks are demos from the B-Sides of their first album. In my view their albums regress with time, so my top pick remains 'Reverence' (1995) followed by 'Sunday, 8pm' (1998), then 'Outrospective' (2001) with this as my least favourite. I stopped buying Faithless albums after this one.

So why is this is my least favourite of all their albums? Mostly because I unashamedly love Faithless for their quirky ballads and diverse style, not for their trip-hop dance anthems and sleek production. The band excels in eclecticism, and this album is self-consciously not eleclectic. The songs are short, sensibly grouped in two distinct halves, unified in genre, and written entirely in the key of C. It's deliberate and it's measured and it's polished and it all makes sense. Personally I just think Faithless' genius lies in their ability to make sense out of the scattered and non-sensical, rather than out of the deliberate and the sensible. This album also relies heavily on the smooth house / R&B sounds of the mid 2000s, sounds which I didn't like at the time and which I'm no more enamoured of now.

So, scathing commentary aside, why do I go back there? Well, there's something oddly comforting about the bands of my youth. Whether or not I agree with the sentiments, there'll always be something about Maxi's philosophical rants that stick. I love that he ties in throwbacks to 'Reverence', almost as though he's aware that the opening track of their first album was some kind of philosophical mission statement, and that he hasn't forgotten who they are and what they set out to do. There are some (albeit rare) remaining moments of rawness in the album, reminiscent of their live act, and which I cling to as evidence that they haven't become chart slaves. I was struck, this morning, by Dido's lovely voice - I had forgotten how spectacular she can sound. And finally, although it's not my thing anymore, sometimes some cheesey dance music really is a pick me up. It even kind of made me laugh at myself.

I've alluded before to Faithless as a former lover, and I stand by that. We're not getting back together, especially after they cheated on me with this strange polished deliberate style. But I remember why I loved them: cos, in the heady days of our youth (before they settled down and became marriage material) they were just. so. much. fun.

The Eagles, The Very Best of the Eagles (2003)

"Nice music choice this morning," my flatmate said to me on Friday evening.
Really?? I wasn't sure it'd really be his thing...
"Sure, it reminds me of the music my Dad listens to."

....and so I was relegated to the ranks of middle aged men everywhere.

I proudly stand by my week-ending choice, and I stand by my love of the Eagles. There's just enough sliding melancholy for a jet lagged girl suffering from post-trip blues, balanced with just the right mix of optimism. I particularly like this song because I, too, feel like a bit of an unsettled dreamer at the moment. And I'm attracted to the subversive nature of it: this is Randy Meisner giving a big middle finger to pressure. And sometimes pressure does need a big middle finger given to it.



The Eagles are a classic and - Dad-ish choice or not - classics are usually classics for a reason.

The Decemberists, The King is Dead (2011)

I broke with tradition this morning, and as we landed off NZ38 from London back into my undisputed favourite country in the world, I listened to The Decemberists.

This is a restrained, measured folk album. I love The Decemberists' earlier work but I'm not sure I was convinced by 2009's 'The Hazards of Love' - to me it tried to do a bit much and lost touch with what this wonderful band does best. So I'm pleased to see this album return to The Decemberists I know and love. 'Rox in the Box' in particular reclaims this spirit, a jaunty, shanty-esque track - but the album is not all jigs and giggles, and features some beautifully stripped back ballads, like the wistful 'January Hymn' and its counterpart 'June Hymn'.

This album marks a return to basics, but is by no means a regression in style. To me it displays a new, mature treatment of an already successful style. Colin Meloy has a superb, distinctive voice which is once again allowed to shine on this album. The album features a number of interesting collaborations which illustrate the folksy direction they're taking. The influence of REM's Peter Buck is clear in this album, and it is also immediately obvious that Gillian Welch's touch extends deeply into the album as well (she does, after all, sing backing vocals on almost all of the tracks). It features some beautifully wistful slide guitar (witness track 3, 'Rise to Me',) the first single, ''Down By the Water' takes on an Americana, almost country twang, and 'All Arise' also has something of a saloon feel to it. I couldn't help but get the feeling when listening to 'This is Why We Fight' that The Smiths' influence was sneaking in as well... so I wasn't surprised to read that the album name may well just be in homage to The Smiths' "The Queen is Dead".

In many respects this album takes everything I have always loved about The Decemberists and added elements from the folksy, country sounds that I can't get enough of at the moment. It was love at first listen. I rarely have time to listen to music when I'm travelling, except if I find time for a run - Ttis was the first album I've listened to from start-to-finish in 13 days, and it was a total treat and food for the travel-weary soul.