Albums of 2014

Perhaps I was spoiled by 2013's selections, which included The National's most excellent "Trouble Will Find Me," David Bowie's "The Next Day", and Arcade Fire's "Reflektor."  There was enough fine music in 2013 to put together a full CD of favorite songs and have plenty of room left over.

Not so, in 2014.  Even pop music experienced a dearth and a regression, both in musical tastes as well as social attitudes.  Eminem is rapping about rape, while the latest one hit wonders are talking about "booties" and skinny-shaming.  Ugh.  Have we come so far that I'm embarrassed to look back on the year with a shudder?

Still, there are some standouts, most under the radar.

5. Jack White, "Lazaretto."  I have some mixed feelings about this album.  It's great to hear someone who actually plays real instruments and plays them well.  Still, it's a step behind his previous album, "Blunderbuss."  When Jack White is singing about privilege it's hard to tell whether he's being serious or sarcastic.  I give him the benefit of the doubt, at least he's singing the blues.

4. TV On the Radio, "Seeds."  One step forward, one step back.  The songs are quite good, but there are very few chances being taken musically anymore.  This is probably their most accessible album, which most people will enjoy.  For me, I miss the blaring horns, squawks, fuzz bass, and craziness that made their first two albums stand out so much.  Not a masterpiece, but good music nonetheless.

3. The Black Keys, "Turn Blue."  Most people will remember certain songs of the Black Keys rather than much else about the Black Keys themselves.  This album is musically rich--but, of course, entirely devoid of pop sensibility.  In the first track alone, I hear echoes of David Gilmour, Carlos Santana, and Jimmy Page.  If you are into rock guitar albums, this is a must-listen for 2014.  If that isn't your bag, or if you have ADHD, you are probably going to be immensely bored.  Personally I liked it from the start, and I'm not much of a Black Keys anything.

2. Mariachi El Bronx, "Mariachi El Bronx (III)."  Apparently this is the year for optical illusion album covers!  Of the above, this is my personal favorite.  Mariachi music played by an L.A. punk band named after the Bronx might seem like a one trick pony, but this album is by far their best work to date, proving that it might not be such a one trick pony after all.  The discarded bonus track "Loteria" is my own favorite, and, for whatever reason, didn't make the cut.  Well worth seeking out, even without the superb track.

1. "Weird Al" Yankovic, "Mandatory Fun."  I suppose it's only inevitable that, in a year where there are so many crappy, generic pop songs, "Weird Al" puts out his best album in decades.  I know he isn't for everyone, but I've thought about it long and hard: this is the album of the year.  Sure, there are some cheap shots, but he never lets a gag go on too long ("Foil" ends a verse or two short, just enough for you to get it and move on).  Meanwhile, he shows us how musically dedicated he is by giving us "Mission Statement" and "First World Problems," wonderful homages to CSNY and the Pixies.  The weak point of the album is "Sports Song," which the likes of Tom Lehrer and George Carlin have already worked to better effect--but Al would probably be the first to admit it when he's standing on the shoulders of giants.

Pono Music: What It Is, and Why We Should All Be Excited

At this year's Dreamforce, Neil Young was on hand to talk about his latest venture, Pono Music.  The idea is very simple: since the invention of digital sound, we've had to make compromises all along the way, from the master (whether recorded in digital or analog) to the listening device.  But now that memory and storage are relatively inexpensive, there's little to no reason to be listening to MP3s anymore.

Neil Young's venture aims at achieving the following goals:

• Pulling the sound straight from the master recording, into a lossless format (FLAC) and making it available.  Some recording artists already offer FLAC downloads, and Apple also has a lossless format (ALAC) that is not widely used.  Pono has set up deals with all of the record companies as a distribution channel--the library is currently at 600,000 tracks and is steadily growing.  The cost of a FLAC is slightly higher than a CD, but is on par with vinyl (I saw retail around $21, but I think it varies widely).
• Offering a digital player that is capable of handling all of that data and streaming it into good, quality sound.  The preorder price for one is $400, they're only available in yellow, and won't be out until early 2015.  Such sadness, but I know what I want for Yule this year.
• Putting together a community for audiophiles.  So far, this is where they've been the most successful, having started as a kickstarter campaign, raising way more than their initial investment.  Now Pono uses Salesforce to support its online community, so...now part of my day job is to keep Neil Young's audiophile community going (among other things).

Until I have one of those devices in my hands, I'm still listening to vinyl.  I will probably be digitizing a lot of it, and possibly converting some CDs to lossless (just what I need, another hobby!).  Hopefully Pono will transform music back to how it was originally envisioned.

Meaning of Life

I honestly believe in the best music you can find the meaning of life.  Maybe that's a bit of a stretch?  But I think it's there.

Take, for example, Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, an artifact of my birth year, a great year for music.  I've probably listened to this album hundreds of times and still get something new from it even still.  This album has birth, death, capitalism, war, and impenetrable soul, not to mention the nature of sanity and the human condition.  Recently I got to listen to it with Megan, and we both felt the full intensity.  This is undoubtedly Pink Floyd's best, and, at least to me, the best album of all time, period.  I can remember listening to this in high school, in college, and just about every phase of my life thereafter.

Next we listened to this little gem, while Kelly was getting a massage and needed something relaxing:

Grant Green's Idle Moments is probably the definition of laid back, but not in a boring way.  In a word, it is perfect.  Joe Henderson's smooth sax is not so in a "Kenny G" sense, but in a way that you can hear the intensity of his ideas and his breathing--he's stating the theme, meditating, chewing it, and spitting it out.  This is also probably one of the best guitar jazz albums of all time (possibly Wes Montgomery's Incredible Jazz Guitar as a one-better).  It is a long favorite of Kelly's, Amy's, and mine.

Dave Brubeck's Time Out is undoubtedly the first jazz vinyl I ever listened to.  I happen to own the exact copy that I first heard, thanks to my dad.  Kelly requested to hear it tonight, so I was happy to oblige.  This album was a lot of things, long before my time.  For me it opened my ears to different time signatures, and, of all things, that white people could play good music.

Perhaps by subconscious contrast, or just because I was in the mood, I put on James Brown's Live at the Apollo.  Listening to it this time made me realize that the best instrument James Brown ever played was the audience.  This is a short album and almost feels rushed, but the band is the definition of TIGHT.  I can't think of anything tighter except perhaps Basie or Ellington, and they had to work harder.

Finally, I put on the Clash's Combat Rock, what Amy used to call "their sellout album."  But this is really the only Clash album for which I knew multiple songs, and the only one I really grew up with.  Nowhere near as listenable perhaps as London Calling, but there are some truly amazing tracks on it, including "Straight to Hell" and "Rock the Casbah."  It also has their most repetitive and well-known song, "Should I Stay or Should I Go."  After all these years, I still like this album.  And perhaps the best part is that it is cheap and easy to come by.  I think this one cost less than $10, and you can probably find it for $5.  One of the best bang for your buck albums.

We Are the Vinyl Kinks Appreciation Society...

Tonight's treat is The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society.

This is truly one of the greatest albums, and sadly, currently difficult to find in the U.S.  The Kinks were at their most innovative, best musical form, and lyrically best.  While the rest of the world was pondering how awful Vietnam was, the Kinks in 1968 were singing songs about strawberry jam, fading friendships, and overweight felines.  They are probably one of the most understated groups in rock and roll history--perhaps victims of their own success with singles such as "You Really Got Me" and "Lola."  Not that these were bad songs, mind you, just that they were hardly representative of the depth and breadth of the group--no mean feat considering that "You Really Got Me" practically shaped every song to come thereafter.  The Village Green Preservation Society has a certain symmetry to it, songs that could easily get confused ("Picture Book" vs. "People Take Pictures of Each Other"; "The Village Green Preservation Society" vs. "Village Green"), except that these variations are so profoundly different in structure and attitude.  The vinyl listen (mono) is notable in that the bass pops so clearly in each song, and the woodwinds and strings don't crowd the vocals.

One last note about the Kinks.  I especially love how they play happy songs in minor keys and sad songs in major keys--they don't just play with your heartstrings, they manipulate them.  That merry-sounding song you've been jangling and dancing to turns out to be about everything crumbling apart once you listen to the lyrics ("Come Dancing", "Death of a Clown", etc.).

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic Ocean, The Velvet Underground and Nico reveals what was going on in the streets of New York in 1967--drugs, kinky sex, and a profound disregard for any rules about melody, pitch, or time.  Music was a "scene," something that was going on while you were getting your rocks off.  Poor Lou Reed--given shock treatment as a youth to "cure" him of bisexuality, then turned to heroin.  It's kind of remarkable that anything he did ever went heard and recognized.  There's a cliche that this album didn't sell many copies, but everyone who bought one formed a band.  Perhaps there is some truth to that, but more importantly, this album is a testament to some truly dark and real stuff.  "Heroin" says about as much as Naked Lunch.  Lou's death hit me kind of hard last year, and it's weird.  Maybe he and I were more kindred spirits than I would have thought.  Or maybe he just had that effect on everyone.

Also: it's worth mentioning that without Rachel, I probably wouldn't have considered getting or listening to this album.  Thank you!

First Picks of the Evening

Tonight Kelly and I are listening to the greatest record on the planet.  By that I mean a 6 eye mono (scratches and all) of the original Kind of Blue.  That's right, I own a collectible from 1959.

There are very few albums I feel worth listening to in a variety of formats.  In this case, I can see why the original mono is still noteworthy--you can hear the intake of breath of Cannonball and Trane as they get ready for the melody.  Paul Chambers' bass really fills the entire room.  Many a PhD. has been written about this record.  To me, this record is the "bread and butter" of jazz music.  In order to understand or appreciate jazz, this album lays out the foundation.  Kelly remembers more than half the tunes, even if she can't remember the names, not just because she's heard the record but because I've played them on the sax at home, or whistled them here and there.  I tell myself, even if I could sound half as good as those guys, I will have accomplished something in life.

The next record I reached for tonight is this gem from 1964.

It's easy to overlook Crescent because it often gets overshadowed by A Love Supreme from the following year.  I once overheard someone mention this as their favorite John Coltrane album, and I can see why.  It doesn't have the "ship lost in a storm" feeling of A Love Supreme's frantic desperation.  Instead, what we have here is John Coltrane at his melodic best just before he hit that one hard.  Mind you, the title track has its build up and break down, but there is something subdued and hauntingly beautiful.  Kelly and I recently saw Pharoah Sanders play at Yoshi's, and he opened with "Crescent," something I've heard him play so many times.  I can see why he returns to his Coltrane roots so often, before breaking out just a notch or two on his own.

The John Coltrane Quartet is pretty much my vision of the perfect band.  There really isn't any better way to put it than that.  Apparently even Henry Rollins agrees with me.