Advance Copy: Wilco, Sky Blue Sky

Been listening to Wilco's upcoming release Sky Blue Sky (which they streamed over their website). I don't want to commit to anything here yet, as I've only listened to it twice. On first listen, though, it follows along similar lines of 2004's A Ghost Is Born -- mostly mellow, meandering, much less hooky and poppy than earlier Wilco albums. Few songs do much rocking, though there's an occasional Neil Young-ish electric guitar lead that blasts through an otherwise quiet song (i.e. "You Are My Face"). Starts out well enough, with a few tuneful tracks picking up right where Ghost left off, then hits what I 've gotta say is a run of listless tunes that had me reaching for the skip button. Fortunately, it closes with a few catchy tracks that salvaged the album. Most notably among these is "Walken," probably the closest thing to the upbeat, inventive rock of the band's formidable middle-period (i.e. 1999's Summerteeth, 2002's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot). "Hate It Here" similarly picks up the pace a bit.

Will I buy it when it comes out? Of course. It's Wilco. And Jeff Tweedy remains one of our most gifted songwriters, even if he's left behind some of his more straightforward pop and rock 'n' roll inclinations.

One thing I have to admit -- I've never loved a Wilco album on first listen. More than pretty much any other band (though the Flaming Lips come close), I've found Wilco to be a band whose pleasures are slow in coming. I remember hearing Summerteeth when it was first released and thinking it was a flat-sounding bit of lightweight pop; it is now one of my favorite albums ever, and something I listen to all the time. Likewise, I initially found that Yankee Hotel didn't live up to the hype, but a few years (and a lot of listens) later, I've concluded the hype was well deserved. And I'm just now starting to appreciate Ghost, with a few of its tracks numbering among the band's best, though it's still a drop-off in quality from its predecessors. And while I'm at the point where I'm thinking Sky Blue continues Ghost's slide into moments of relative dullness, I'll pick it up and see how it grows on me.

My So-Called Rock & Roll Life (cont.)

p.s. For feedback on my Rock & Roll Audiobiography mix posted below, check out Art of the Mix.

My Rock & Roll Confession: An Audiobiography

I’ve been thinking about making a mix like this for some time, but hadn’t really had the guts to pull the trigger until now. So here it is: a chronological set of all the major musical touchstones from childhood to the present (or at least a decade ago), the tunes that shaped my rock & roll development and led me to where I am today. Truly mortifying in spots, sure, but it only works if you’re honest. So, without further ado, my rock & roll audiobiography – the setlist & the stories:

1) The Good, The Bad & The Ugly (Ennio Morricone) [1966]: I’m always jealous of people who grew up with a killer rock & roll record collection in the house. Me, I had to discover what was out there all by myself, with no help from my folks. My dad’s collection, such as it was, consisted primarily of movie soundtracks and instrumental pop – Henry Mancini, Herb Alpert, etc. And, sure, these days Ennio Morricone has all sorts of musical cred, but I was born in the midst of the British Invasion, and it’s kinda sad that while other kids were growing up listening to the Beatles, the Stones, the Kinks, and the Who, I had a bunch of Spaghetti Western themes playing at home. (No disrespect of my parents intended, as they’re great in all other respects – but probably two of the only people who were teenagers in the 50’s yet completely missed out on Elvis. Ugh!)

2) Hurting Each Other (The Carpenters) [1972]: The other thing that I had to grow up listening to – icky adult contemporary. Can I still hum the entire Carpenters catalog, some 30+ years later? You bet your ass. I appreciate there’s some kitsch value to this music nowadays (ditto Burt Bacharach), but subjecting a six-year-old to “Sing” is simply cruel and inhumane.

3) Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey (Paul & Linda McCartney) [1971]: During my formative years, Paul & Linda McCartney’s Ram was the only rock album (actually, 8-track tape) we had in the house. I’m pretty sure my parents got it by accident, maybe forgot to return the postcard to the music club in time and had this show up in the mailbox at the end of the month or something. To this day, it remains one of my favorite albums, not necessarily on the merits – though I do believe that, artistically, it’s seriously underrated – but because for several years it was the only thing in the house I really liked. Particularly this song, which I would demand they play repeatedly on road trips (though, being an 8-track tape, you had to wait for the “program” to complete to hit rewind – pain in the ass, for those of us who remember the damn things).

4) Crazy Horses (The Osmonds) [1972]: Terrible, terrible album. The neatly-scrubbed Mormon boys go Led Zeppelin, particularly on this title track, which was a faux-metal pro-environment song of sorts, I think. However, it was also the first album I bought (not counting children’s albums), based entirely on the fact that the Osmonds had a Saturday-morning cartoon at the time. (At the same time, my brother bought a Jackson 5 album for the same reason – and, yeah, he got the better deal.)

5) Convoy (C.W. McCall) [1975]: It sounds crazy, but I probably owe my lifelong love affair with rock & roll to “Convoy,” a cheesy country-ish novelty track playing off the 1975 CB radio craze. My dad was big into CB’s at the time (he had one installed in his Buick), and he’d somehow heard about the song, so we left the radio on the Top 40 station waiting for it to come on. Which was fine with me, because it meant, for the first time in my life, that there was real rock & roll playing in the house. Sure, mid-70’s Top 40 wasn’t exactly the height of rock’s artistry – we’re talking the era of Captain & Tennille, not Hendrix. But still, the cat was out of the bag, and I was hooked. Got an AM transistor radio for my birthday, and the rest was history.

6) Rock & Roll Love Letter (Bay City Rollers) [1976]: Ok, fine, once I started getting into Top 40, I didn’t exactly have the best taste. The Bay City Rollers were probably my favorite band at the time (edging out Abba, the Village People, and Barry Manilow). But, hey, when you’re 9 years old and there’s no other music in the house, you’ve gotta start somewhere.

7) Fox On The Run (Sweet) [1974]: Another fave from my pre-teen Top 40 days. I remember saving some money, and my dad took me to Sears, where they were having a sale on Sweet albums. Their then-current single “Action” was big at the time (and, let’s face it, the song still kicks ass), but I opted for their earlier Desolation Boulevard lp (based on the presence of both “Fox on the Run” and, of course, “Ballroom Blitz.” Turned out not only to be a killer record, but the first album I owned that my parents truly hated. And that, my friends, is when I learned the real power of rock & roll.

8) Meadows (Joe Walsh) [1973]: The first concert I ever saw – Joe Walsh, 1978, 12th birthday present. Poplar Creek arena, just outside Chicago (which I think is long gone). My mother knew I liked the song “Life’s Been Good” from the radio and bought the tickets – all four of ‘em. Meaning my parents stayed (but, thankfully, sat apart from me & my brother). Nearly 30 years and literally hundreds of concerts later, I still remember it as both the loudest show I’ve ever seen, and the show with the hugest pot consumption (and, let me tell you, I’ve seen a lot of Dead and Phish shows). Or maybe it just felt that way because I knew my parents were about ten rows back. Cool show, though. (And, say what you will about Walsh, but “Meadows” is a great song.)

9) Baba O’Riley (The Who) [1971]: By 8th grade, I was getting pretty sick of Top 40 radio. Fortunately, my junior high school had a listening room and a decent record collection, and I started spending free periods exploring bands I’d heard about but hadn’t really listened to much. The first time I played Who’s Next was probably the closest thing to a musical revelation I’ve ever had – holy shit, all this amazing music I’d never heard on the radio! (Time to toss the ol’ AM transistor and get a real stereo.) I spent the next few years soaking up 15 years of classic rock history. But for me, nothing else came close to the Who – not the Beatles, not the Stones. Maybe Floyd...

10) London Calling (The Clash) [1979]: I’d love to say that the first time I heard the Clash it changed my life. But it didn’t work that way. Since I was still working my way through ancient history when punk found its way into Midwestern suburbia, I wasn’t quite ready for it. So while I had a general fondness for bands like the Clash, the Jam, and the Ramones, they didn’t immediately cause me to move away from classic rock. It was more of a gradual thing – as I grew steadily more tired of mainstream rock during high school, punk and new wave started to feel fresher and fresher. And the London Calling album became the one album that I turned to more and more – and to this date remains my favorite album, the one I can still reach for whenever I need an instant pick-me-up.

11) Run Like Hell (Pink Floyd) [1979]: Yes, still in classic rock mode here. And Floyd was second only to the Who as my personal fave during the early teen years. I spent massive hunks of time during eight grade and freshman year secluded in my bedroom with a pair of headphones and my well-worn copy of The Wall. And Animals. And Meddle. And Dark Side of the Moon. Hey, when you’re still working your way through rock history, hearing what Floyd was creating in the studio can be pretty damn impressive.

12) Harlequin (Genesis) [1971]: Before kicking the classic rock jones, I served my obligatory time in the prog world. Kinda stumbled into it, actually. When Genesis’ Duke album came out in ’80, I had a friend named Cecille (yes, she was French and no, I don’t know whatever happened to her), and we’d go to her house after school and listen to her sister’s Genesis albums. While they were into the Collins stuff, it was the earlier, Peter Gabriel-era stuff that caught my attention. I remember biking into town one day and buying Nursery Cryme. (The same day I also bought the first Velvet Underground album and the Kinks’ Village Green Preservation Society – it was a 3-for-$15 sale at the local record store -- and, yeah, I had to bike the two miles back home with 3 slabs of vinyl stuffed into a backback.) And while those other two albums have since surpassed Genesis in my own estimation, Nursery Cryme was the one that totally wowed me. The music, the lyrics, the cover art, the whole package. Became something of a Gabriel-era fanatic. Worked my way through King Crimson next. Checked out other prog bands I read about. And by the time I’d worked my way to the bottom of the prog barrel towards the end of high school – Tull, ELP, etc. – I was definitely ready for something new. Which, fortunately, I started to discover around that time.

13) Mumbo Jumbo (Squeeze) [1981]: I first heard Squeeze junior year of high school, when I went to visit my cousin at college in Ann Arbor. Listened to East Side Story a lot that weekend, and was totally blown away. Here was cool, fun, CURRENT music that somehow never got played on the radio. Gave me hope that there was a whole underground of new music waiting to be discovered, and that college was going to be this hotbed of people with cool taste in music. (Alas, when I got to college myself, it turned out everyone was listening to the same mainstream music – Dire Straits, Springsteen, Prince – and you had to dig pretty deep to find the indie/alternative scene.)

14) Kiss Off (Violent Femmes) [1983]: Senior year of high school was kind of a struggle (musically). I had tired of classic rock and prog, and was spending a lot more time listening to the Clash, Jam, Talking Heads, Undertones, etc. But this was before “alternative” radio, and it was tough to find new non-mainstream music out in the ‘burbs. Plus, in the pre-Internet days, if you did hear or read about something interesting, you pretty much had to plop down $7.98 for a new lp and take a chance on it. Fortunately, I had a couple friends who turned me on to stuff you couldn’t hear on the radio. The Violent Femmes’ first album in particular was one of those shared discoveries that gave me hope for the rock & roll future.

15) Don’t Go Back To Rockville (R.E.M.) [1984]: If the Who were the band that turned me on to all the music that had come before, it was R.E.M. that turned me on to everything yet to come. If Squeeze was the promise that there was great new music outside the mainstream, R.E.M. was the fulfillment of that promise. Once I heard them freshman year of college, the floodgates opened. The Replacements, Sonic Youth, Husker Du, everything else that was going on with college radio – it all followed from R.E.M. Murmur and Reckoning, the 2 albums out at the time, remain timeless to me. I can’t listen to them without still feeling like I’m an 18-year-old kid stepping in to a whole new world of great music.

16) Take The Skinheads Bowling (Camper Van Beethoven) [1985]: Joined the college radio station freshman year, and all of a sudden there was a ton of great music waiting to be discovered. Hard to pick any one song to sum up the college radio years, but this is as good as any – the sort of thing that reminded me that there was fresh, fun music that (seemingly) nobody else knew about. (Sonic Youth’s “Catholic Block” is a close second, I suppose.)

17) Franklin’s Tower (Grateful Dead) [live 1975]: Bit of a diversion here. I’d always dismissed the Dead, and I realize that most indie rock types still do. But I can’t deny that there were those sunny afternoons in college when we’d kick back with some… er, refreshments… and play live Dead tapes out on the lawn. Saw my first Dead show at the New Jersey Meadowlands in ’87, with many more to follow all the way up through ‘94. No excuses – I can still use a fix of live Dead now and then, and it would be dishonest to slight this contribution to my rock & roll life.

18) Scotty’s Lament (The Connells) [1987]: Still a great reminder of the later college years. These jangle-popsters from North Carolina were a virtual house band for us, playing regular shows before heading into NYC. Nice guys, great music, and fond memories of a lot of late nights of live music.

19) Christine (House Of Love) [1988]: The law school years (’88-’91) coincided with a bit of a down period for rock, at least for me. Or maybe it was just the mixed downer of (a) being in law school and (b) being apart from my college girlfriend (now my wife of 16 years). Sure, there was plenty of great music, but nothing revelatory. While the bands from my college days continued to release decent music, about the only thing new that I spent much time with was the batch of UK shoegazers and Manchester acid-house neo-psyche bands cropping up at that time. And while bands like the Stone Roses made a more lasting impression (with much of the other music from the era sounding a bit dated these days), this song seems to best sum up the general vibe of what I was listening to during this period in my life.

20) In The Mouth A Desert (Pavement) [1992]: Pavement were the third (and likely final) band that I considered truly revelatory (after the Who and R.E.M.). After moving to San Francisco following law school, I saw the music scene seeming to improve. But seeing Pavement live (opening for Sonic Youth) was one of those rare holy shit! moments. I thought I had been keeping up with the scene, but here was one of the coolest bands I’d ever heard, and I’d never even heard of ‘em ‘til that night. Proving once and for all that there is always something new and cool around the corner if you’re lucky enough to find it. (Ran out to buy their album the morning after the show, and it’s still a fave, one of those things that never grows tiresome.)

21) Sugarcube (Yo La Tengo) [1997]: I’d heard their debut while I was still a college radio dj, and bought their albums during law school, but it was in the mid-90s that YLT really took off, moving from just another Velvets-inspired college radio band to a truly accomplished indie rock stalwart in their own right. I still see ‘em live any chance I get, and I’ve probably listened to their albums more than anybody else's over the past decade.

22) King Of Carrot Flowers, Pts. 2-3 (Neutral Milk Hotel) [1998]: Finally, can’t close the set without a nod to the whole Elephant 6 scene. Though indie bands like Pavement, YLT, Sebadoh, Luna & Guided by Voices played a big part of my musical life in the 90s, the neo-popsters of the Elephant 6 collective (Apples in Stereo, Neutral Milk Hotel, Olivia Tremor Control, etc.) were one of my favorite discoveries of the era, probably the last “movement” of any sort that’s really made a difference for me. NMH’s second album was probably the last album that floored me on first listen, and which I listened to easily every day for a solid month. There have been great albums in the decade since, but few that have done as good a job at confirming the transformative power of rock & roll.

Now Playing: Marshall Cresnshaw, The Definitive Pop Collection

Marshall Crenshaw is one of those artists I just kinda take for granted. Every time I hear one of his songs, on the radio or wherever (ok, fine, can't say I've listened to music radio in about five years, but you know what I mean), I tend to think, geez, what a great song, I really oughtta buy some of his stuff. But I never have. Fortunately, I finally caved a few weeks ago when I spotted this nifty li'l collection, which pretty much sums up his 15-ish year career on two discs. Naturally, Disc One is the stunner. You've got the 5 crucial Crenshaw tracks, each of which is the sort of perfect pop song that no artist should be able to pull off more than once, much less repeatedly -- "Someday, Someway," "Cynical Girl," "Mary Anne," "You're My Favorite Waste Of Time," and "Whenever You're On My Mind." I mean, seriously, can you not hear any one of these and immediately conclude it's the best song ever, at least for the 2:30 that it's playing on your radio? (Yeah, there I go again mentioning this "radio" thing, but in a better world, Crenshaw pretty much defines my vision of what pop radio should sound like.) And, of course, most of the first disc, though perhaps lesser known, is nearly as good. Perhaps one can complain that there's a bit of a retro-schtick going on here, with Crenshaw playing the (early) Elvis Costello crossed with Buddy Holly card (both visually and musically) a bit too plainly, but as long as the songs are great, who really cares?

The more impressive aspect of this collection, however, is the fact that Disc Two is almost as great as Disc One. Can't say I'm familiar with any of it, but you've got another half dozen tracks that are simply wonderful power pop nuggets -- ok, nothing as great as those 5 killer songs, but solid tunes nonetheless. Which means that, on the whole, you've got a lot more unforgettable jangly 3-chord pop tunes than you'll find on most collections. Sure, by the end of the 2-disc set, you're kinda heard the same song several times; after all, there's only so much you can do with three chords, a Byrds-y Rickenbacker jangle, and boy-meets-girl-and-falls-in-love-and-worries-about-losing-girl lyrics. But Crenshaw does the best one could hope to do with his formula.

My one complaint is that the second disc sounds kinda tinny and overprocessed. Not sure if the original albums were recorded that way, or the remastering used too much compression (a common problem on a lot of remasters), but the high-end (particularly the cymbals) is way too harsh, like a kitten in a blender. But you can always tweak the treble on your stereo, I suppose.

New Mix: The Joy of Segues, Volume 2

Been doing a bit of mixing lately to pass the time. (Wanna see 'em all? Go here. Or here.) Though I generally opt for single-artist mixes or oh-so-clever "theme" mixes, now and then I just go for the big ol' random thing, gathering up whatever's lying around -- new purchases, stuff I've been listening to lately, something that's been on my mind, whatever. This is one of those.

New Release: Apples In Stereo, New Magnetic Wonder

The Apples are back! (Sorry, that sounds like the sticker that some record exec would slap onto the cd wrapper.) But, yeah, it's true. After a brief detour into lesser work, uber-popsters Apples in Stereo return with New Magnetic Wonder, which picks up where they should have left off a few albums back. After charting a path of steady growth, where frontman Rob Schneider mined his idolatry of Brian Wilson and Paul McCartney (by way of XTC), both in terms of pop melodicism and studio sheen (albeit with a healthy dose of lo-fi indie aesthetics to keep the polish in check), he veered a bit off-course with 2002's Velocity of Sound, which sounded more like the Archies covering the Ramones, or vice versa. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing (and on tunes like "Please" and "She's Telling Lies," it was quite effective), but the shimmery, layered pop magic of the band at its best got lost in the buzz. [Schneider followed this to its logical conclusion with 2004's Ulysses side project, a lo-fi album recorded in mono -- not a bad piece of raging power-pop, but lacking the nuance that was his stock in trade.]

Fortunately, Magnetic is a return to form. Dense, lush indie pop, with the expected shades of Sgt. Pepper all over the place. In some ways, this is the closest Schneider has come to approximating the creative greatness of his friends in Olivia Tremor Control (whose Dusk At Cubist Castle he helped produce, and some of whom show up here). Yet studio flourishes aside, this remains a collection of solid stand-alone pop tunes, a half dozen of which rank high up in the Apples canon. (Hard to pick a favorite, though "7 Stars" in particular made an impression on me.)

The bad news is that Schneider and drummer Hilary Sidney have divorced, and rather than mining that for material like, say, Fleetwood Mac (or Abba???), it looks like she's out of the band. Fortunately, she still has her obligatory two contributions here; as on past albums, her girlie-sweet vocals and melodies help break up the more ambitious reach of Schneider's complex pop.

The only real negative to the album is Schneider's indulgence in interspersing tracks with experimental instrumental interludes (something that also weakened the otherwise solid Her Wallpaper Reverie EP from a few years back, and an annoyance that also plagued OTC's final album). Sure, it's not that hard to reach for the skip button, but the extra tracks are superfluous and interrupt the flow of what is otherwise one of the Apples' best outings to date.

How To Be A Music Collecting Tool

During my lengthy blogging hiatus, I splurged for some nifty software from collectorz.com that helps me both catalog my music and post my collection online (complete with album covers, tracklists, etc.). [A screenshot of the program in action is on the left.]

I imagine it's a good indicator that I've pushed this thing way too far when I need database software to even remember what I already own. But these days, much of my cd collection is packed up in boxes. At home, I've ripped most of my cd's onto a hard-drive based jukebox plugged into my stereo and do my listening that way; in transit, I've got most of what I'd want to hear at any given moment on my iPod. So once I've ripped my cd's, the main use I have for them is in my car (although even there I can plug in the 'pod). And rather than keep all the discs handy for vehicular use, I tend to throw together cdr mixes for the road. (I've got limited shelf space, so that tends to be reserved for my favorites (no way London Calling gets put in a box somewhere), new purchases, or stuff currently in heavy rotation in the car.

That's where the collection software comes in handy. If I'm in the mood to compile a mix, I can go through my database and decide what songs to use (though at that point I'll have to claw through the boxes stashed in my closet to grab the discs I need).

Anyway, it's kinda cool, and results in a decent-looking collection directory I can post online. Also, I've used the program to catalog my home-made mixes and post them online as well. Check 'em out!

Yes, I'm a big, fat dork.

Favorite (Belated) Discovery: Amy Rigby

I don't know how I managed to miss Amy Rigby when she first debuted as a solo artist a decade ago, but I've been spending the past few months making up for lost time. She'd kicked around in a couple NYC indie bands in the late '80's and early '90's, but took some time off for marriage & a kid. Her solo debut, 1996's wonderful Diary Of A Mod Housewife, captures her divorce-in-progress (from dB's drummer Will Rigby) with some of the most funny, touching, and memorable lyrics of love & loss this side of the Magnetic Fields' Stephin Merritt. It falls mostly in a jangly alt.country vein, though with lyrics like "don't look at me in that tone of voice," she blows most of what comes out of Nashville off the map. Country vibe aside, the album's all over the place, from 60's girl-group pop ("The Good Girls") to Mountain Goats-styled acoustic earnestness ("Knapsack") to a punkish two-chord vamp a la "Sister Ray"/"Roadrunner" ("That Tone Of Voice"). Highlight: "20 Questions," a "Subterranean Homesick Blues" knock-off in which the wronged woman berates her drunken, wayward man with, yes, 20 questions -- and you're on her side until the questions start devolving into "and by the way, when are you gonna get a real job?" and maybe you feel for the guy just a bit. Other highlight: The weepie relationship tell-all "Beer & Kisses," one of many Rigby songs that gets me teary-eyed. (Hey, I'm not afraid to admit it.)

Not surprisingly, none of her four subsequent albums had quite the start-to-finish perfection of Mod Housewife, though the follow-up (1998's Middlescence) comes close. Still, she has continued to come up with at least a handful of drop-dead wonderful songs each go-round; if some of the lesser album tracks occasionally slip into the standard folk-pop territory better left to the Sheryl Crows and Sarah McLachlan's of the world, they're more than compensated for by the stand-out tracks. Hell, "Dancing With Joey Ramone" (from 2005's Little Fugitive) alone buys her another decade of goodwill. Stand out tracks from her later albums include the unbelievably touching "Don't Ever Change" (from 2003's Til The Wheels Fall Off) -- another one that gets me crying. As an avowed cynic, I should scoff at a chorus that goes "Hey, I love, you, you're perfect, don't ever change" -- but it's rendered so perfectly I just can't, and the lyrics are enough to compensate for borrowing the riff from "Speeding Motorcycle." And then you've got the more upbeat and laugh-out-loud funny "Balls" and "Are We Ever Gonna Have Sex Again" (from 2000's Sugar Tree and Wheels, respectively).

[For a look at my personal compilation of Amy's best, check out Art of the Mix.]

Anyway, check her out. Also, be sure to stop by Amy's blog, where she documents life as an American expatriate living in France (with boyfriend Wreckless Eric, of Stiff Records fame).

The Best Of 2006 (continued)

Here's the other half of the mix...

Matthew Sweet & Susanna Hoffs, "And Your Bird Can Sing." From Under The Covers, Vol. 1. Already blogged this. Their tribute to the 60's remains one of my faves of the past year, still in heavy rotation at home.

Pernice Brothers, "Automaton." From Live A Little. Like it's immediate predecessor, I found the album just fine -- pleasant, densely produced pop -- but with fewer killer standout tracks than their earlier work. Nice song, though.

Robert Pollard, "I'm A Strong Lion." From From A Compound Eye. The painfully prolific ex-GbV frontman had two solo albums last year (not counting about 74 other side projects). I preferred the more polished other one (Normal Happiness), but this is a fun, concise little track.

Neko Case, "Hold On, Hold On." From Fox Confessor Brings The Flood. Haven't listened to this one very much. She still has one of the best voices in alt.country, but a lot of her songs leave me a bit underwhelmed. But it's a nice enough tune.

Tommy Keene, "Warren In The '60's." From Crashing The Ether. Probably best remembered from his string of catchy mid-80's college radio faves, Keene is still putting out solid power pop albums every few years. Ether has its moments, probably more than many recent efforts.

Chris Brown, "Right On Time." From Now That You're Fed. There's apparently some Top 40 urban contemporary singer with the same name. This is the other guy -- part of the Not Lame stable of under-the-radar power pop. Not an outstanding album, but a hopelessly infectious track you've gotta hear.

The Tyde, "County Line." From Three's Co. Third album from this post-Beachwood Sparks outfit. Sounds a lot like the first two -- lo-fi indie pop, jangly and slightly off-kilter, with few hints of the alt.country sound of their Sparks days. A bunch of decent enough tracks, nothing earth-shattering, but nothing bad, either.

Cat Power, "Living Proof." From The Greatest. I'm not the hugest Cat Power fan; nice background music, but nothing I listen to every day. Lotsa good press for her latest, which is a bit more polished and soulful than earlier efforts.

The Minus 5, "Twilight Distillery." From The Minus 5. Still plugging away with catchy, clever indie pop.

Loose Fur, "The Ruling Class." From Born Again in the USA. 2nd album from side project of Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy and Wilco/Sonic Youth experimental producer/instrumentalist Jim O'Rourke. To tell the truth, I haven't bought it yet, but a friend supplied this track, which is awesome, and worthy of the Wilco canon.

Belle & Sebastian, "Another Sunny Day." From The Life Pursuit. I've never been a huge fan; I have a lot of their music and play it now and then, but never really caught the bug. Still, I found their latest album surprisingly upbeat and catchy, with lots of great tracks. Could have gone with any number of them, but settled on this joyous little track to end the mix.

And if that's not all, be sure to check out all the leftover 2006 tracks on The Rest Of 2006.

The Best Of 2006 (Part I)

Rather than try to make up for seven months of lost time, cobbling together a bunch of reviews of cd's I've picked up in the interim, I figued I'd just post my annual year-end mix and walk through a few faves. Shop away, people.

The Flaming Lips, "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song." From At War With The Mystics. Already blogged this one before. Not as great an album as the handful before it, but 3 or 4 pretty great songs. This one is far and away the best. Yes, it's also the most annoying song of the year -- after a few dozen Yeah Yeah Yeah's and you want to rip Wayne Coyne's freaking head off. But, at the same time, it's also the catchiest damn song of the year, more or less. Not many bands could balance annoyance and pop so perfectly. Long live the Lips!

Yo La Tengo, "Mr. Tough." From I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass. Great title, sure, but also a great album. After two more downbeat albums, including the surprisingly weak Summer Sun, Ass is a return to greatness, with all the insane eclecticism of YLT's 90's heyday. Personally, I would have preferred including the album-opening guitar drone-fest of of "Pass The Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind," but it's like 15 minutes long, and I just didn't have the space. So I went with the next best thing, the delightfully cheesy falsetto loungefest of "Mr. Tough." Buy this album -- probably my fave of the year, or damn close.

Drive-By Truckers, "Aftermath USA." From A Blessing And A Curse. The album's ok, basic Southern bar-band Americana, great for driving around with the windows down but not something I'd otherwise reach for all that often. Great song, though, and funny as hell.

The Essex Green, "Don't Know Why (You Stay). From Cannibal Sea. I always viewed EG as sort of a second-tier Elephant 6 act, pleasant enough Zombie-inspired retro-pop but not all that compelling. But the album is actually quite outstanding, with lots of clever, compelling pop. This may be the catchiest track on the album, but there are a bunch of close seconds.

Josh Ritter, "Girl In The War." From Animal Years. Neo-folkie Ritter got a lot of great press last year. Hell, I think Stephen King (who has a column in Entertainment Weekly) picked this as album of the year. I'm not quite as enthralled, though it's a fine enough album for when you're in an acoustic mood. But this song is just amazing -- great lyrics, great vocals, great all-around ambience. The sort of thing I can play over and over and still want to hear again.

Golden Smog, "Corvette." From Another Fine Day. Probably tied with Yo La Tengo as my favorite album of the year. They may still be something of a "supergroup" side project (with members of Wilco, Jayhawks, Soul Asylum, Run Westy Run, and other middle-American acts), but this is a solid album packed with great (and diverse) tunes. Of everything on this mix, this was the hardest to pick, and I could have just as easily picked 4 or 5 others. Pop, Americana, and straight-out classic rock.

Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins, "Handle With Care." From Rabbit Fur Coat. More fine Americana. Ok, this one's kind of a ringer, a cover of a somewhat forgotten Traveling Wilburys track. Probably should have picked one of the fine country-tinged originals. But damn, it's a lot of fun (featuring some guest vox from Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes and others).

Band of Horses, "Weed Party." From Everything All The Time. Great album in a classic rock vein. They follow the lead of My Morning Jacket, wedding Neil Young-tinged vox with classic American guitar rock. Another album with a handful of great tracks where picking one for inclusion here was pretty much a toss-up.

Camera Obscura, "Let's Get Out Of This Country." From the album of the same name. Kinda twee, Belle & Sebastian-influenced Europop with female vocals. I don't love the album from start to finish, but a few charming tracks.

Mojave 3, "Ghost Ship Waiting." From Puzzles Like You. I'm new to this band, who have apparently had a few prior releases, which I understand to lean a bit more heavily on Americana. This one, though, is pure pop, jangly and light, with shades of Teenage Fanclub and Elf Power.

Built To Spill, "Goin' Against Your Mind." From You In Reverse. Already blogged this one. Unlike Yo La Tengo, this time I went with the epic album-opener. Sure, that meant having to cut a few other tracks off the mix, but the tune is just so great I couldn't refuse.

The Mountain Goats, "Half Dead." From Get Lonely. I've always been lukewarm on this band. John Darnielle's lo-fi earnestness has often been both amusing and moving in small doses, but I never really dove all the way in. This album benefits from the production polish, though, and this song in particular is a simple little knockout.

To be continued...

Back Online For Now...

Ok, I took about 7 months off from this thing. (So much for keeping it current.) But, hey, I read somewhere that the average blog has about, well, 1 reader, whom I assume to be the blogger him/herself. Which, I suppose, makes blogging the online equivalent of masturbation. Actually, I imagine that most masturbation takes place online anyway now, so perhaps that's redundant. But, anyway, I just kinda lost interest. Plus, like 98% of Americans, I was busy writing the Great American Novel -- or, to be more precise, the Great American First-Half-Of-A-Novel. Never finished the damn thing. Maybe later. Til, then I'll try to put some of my time here. Or so I'm saying today. Tomorrow, who knows.