THE 2006 TOURNAMENT OF TUNES
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THE ELVIS REGIONAL
The Clean –
Crazy [mp3]
vs.
Sebadoh –
Got It [RealAudio]
I quite like the instrumentation on “Crazy.” Warmly strummed rhythm guitars with a lead guitar ambling here and there, steady and totally unobtrusive drumming, bass staying in the background with its chords perfectly echoing the rhythm guitars, unfussy production. Think Velvet Underground without decadence or avant-garde posturing. (Aside: I love the VU.) But I just can’t get past Hamish Kilgour’s vocals, which are tuneless and sound as if he’s just groggily emerging from a deep sleep.
“Got It” kicks off with a solitary guitar working its way down the scale before the full band kicks in, first with a siren-like wail and then the buzzing of overamped, slightly dissonant guitars before Jason Loewenstein’s slacker vocal matter-of-factly states “I don’t quite get it, but I know you’ve got it…I don’t care if nothing else goes my way, all day.” I’m not quite sure what the “it” is—in finest indie fashion, the lyrics stay obtuse—but I like the general idea that, with something pleasant already having happened to the singer that day, he’d be fine with everything else going wrong for the rest of the day. Something about appreciating the little moments of life.
Loewenstein is almost universally thought of as the lesser of Sebadoh’s songwriters, second to the great Lou Barlow, but he does quite well on this one. And sings his lyrics with more than a three-note range. “Got It” moves on.
Winner: Sebadoh – Got It
The Pogues
- London You're a Lady [Wav]
vs.
Built to
Spill - Untrustable Part 2 [WM]
“London
You’re A Lady” is a great example of the Pogues’ wondrous versatility, a lovely
ballad which showed that a bunch of feckless punks had a thoughtful side, that
a cracked-tooth frontman who used to be in a band called the Nipple Erectors
was capable of penning sensitive lyrical poetry. The band would occasionally
toss ballads into the mix, undoubtedly enjoying a breather from their otherwise
breakneck tempos. This song is the band’s nostalgic but clear-eyed ode to its
hometown: the pace is majestic, accordion and guitars and that inescapable tin
whistle reverberate wistfully as the insistent drums push things along, and
toward the end a string section (non-schmaltzy) eases in, drawing the
proceedings to a satisfying close.
“Untrustable Part 2” is yet another of Doug Martsch’s little symphonies: long, deliberately paced, sonically dense, and divided into several distinct passages. The music simmers throughout, never quite reaching a peak and not approaching anything resembling a crescendo until near the end. Remarkably, although the song clocks in at nearly nine minutes and Martsch is deservedly considered a guitar god, he discreetly resists any temptation to solo. His guitar part primarily delivers the melody line, with a few flourishes here and there; even at the end, when the crescendo finally kicks in, the guitars stay on melody and rhythm. The lyrics are delivered in Martsch’s typically boyish voice but are considerably weightier than the usual Built to Spill fare.
This is a very difficult call. Both songs are rather wonderful examples of what the respective bands are all about. The Pogues will always have a place in my heart and soul, but I’m breaking the tie in favor of the long, deliciously lulling instrumental outro of “Untrustable.”
Winner: Built to Spill – Untrustable Part 2
Tommy
Stinson – Someday [myspace]
vs.
Ted Leo -
Loyal to My Sorrowful Country
[mp3]
I never thought
Tommy Stinson was capable of such mature, thoughtful work. After all, he was
the Replacements’ bratty little brother, literally and figuratively—his older
brother Bob was the band’s guitarist, and Tommy joined the band when he was
only 13. And his professional dalliance with Axl Rose wasn’t exactly
encouraging, either. I know everyone is supposed to grow up and get old
eventually, but somehow I thought Tommy might escape the laws of nature. But
while Tommy did grow up, on his solo debut Village Gorilla Head he’s
anything but old. “Someday” is a particularly fine tune based in a steady
acoustic strum with tasteful electric guitar leads, mournful cellos (!) in the
chorus and world-weary yet hopeful lyrics. Though he wistfully sings
“Someday…something of use will come,” it’s clear that someday has already
arrived for him. Fine work, Tommy.
Ted Leo is
a thoroughly winning mix of the Jam’s punk energy, Graham Parker’s sneering
vocal delivery, and Billy Bragg’s political sensibilities. In fact, this entire
EP (Tell Balgeary, Balgury is Dead) feels like a Bragg tribute, with
most of it consisting of just Leo singing and banging out chords on his
electric guitar like Bragg did in his early career. Yet despite the Bragg
spirit of the EP, “Loyal to My Sorrowful Country” instead invokes Woody Guthrie
with its “I’ve been from coast to coast” sweep which clearly echoes “This Land
Is Your Land.” The song is a defiant call to arms in which Leo vows to not
settle for the blind patriotism the right wing elite would prefer, instead
taking action to bring social justice to all. When Leo sings “Though my name of
bygone years is in the land, in the land, I’ll uproot it with my tears and I’ll
change it if I can” the effect is intensely moving and inspiring.
Were these
two to square off in real life, I doubt that a clean fight would ensue. I can
imagine quite a bit of eye-gouging, knees to groin and probably biting going
on. Ted’s probably got a foot in height on Tommy, though, so he’d probably win
a physical altercation. As he clearly wins this musical altercation. Ted’s
battle call surges onward.
Winner: Ted Leo - Loyal to My Sorrowful Country
Joe Ely -
Where Is My Love? (Live) [RealAudio]
vs.
Archers of
Loaf - Greatest of All Time [RealAudio]
Joe Ely is one
of Texas’ greatest songwriters, but curiously, this song (from 1990’s Live
at Liberty Lunch) isn’t his. Or he didn’t write it, anyway. Ely is such a
powerful performer that it’s safe to say that when he performs a song, he makes
it his. This one is no exception. Told from the viewpoint of a fugitive
who’s drunk and lonely and wondering where his true love is, the song is slow
and sad and perfect for crying in one’s beer. David Grissom fires off a
tastefully restrained guitar solo, and Ely even sings the distraught chorus in
Spanish, invoking the barren borderlands and a man too far from home.
A wobbly,
meandering solo guitar line, veering in and out of tune, leads off “Greatest of
All Time” before Eric Bachmann’s gloriously ravaged voice croaks out his tribute
to the vagaries of fame and glory. He tells of a wretched singer (“of the
world’s worst rock and roll band”) who is savagely mocked by a veritable jury
of rockers; however, in the second verse the singer is killed in a plane crash
flying back home to America, which has the jury suddenly proclaiming him and
his band to be the greatest ever. This amazing song post-dates Kurt Cobain’s
meteoric rise and subsequent suicide, and it’s impossible to hear this without
thinking of Cobain and the hagiography which rose around him after his death.
Though the parallels aren’t exact—Cobain wasn’t exactly reviled during his
lifetime—it’s still interesting context to consider.
I like a
little mystery in my art, often preferring the unsaid to the baldly stated.
Ely’s song is fine, but it pretty much spells everything out. Archers of Loaf,
in contrast, are loaded with the ambiguity I love. “Greatest of All Time” takes
it.
Winner: Archers of Loaf - Greatest of All Time
Pavement –
Frontwards [RealAudio]
vs.
Morphine –
Whisper [RealAudio]
“Frontwards” is a typically fine Pavement tune from early in the band’s career. It first appeared on the Watery Domestic EP (released between their twin titan albums, Slanted and Enchanted and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain) but, given the shelf life of EPs, might have all but disappeared off the face of the earth. Fortunately, it was appended to the 2002 reissue of Slanted, where it mercifully remains available. The song is midtempo with a dense bassline, a buzzing lead guitar and Stephen Malkmus’ infectiously cryptic lyrics (“stolen rooms full of alloys and chrome” is a line that would have done a young Michael Stipe proud”). Definitely a good one.
Morphine’s “Whisper” really stands out from the rest of the album Yes, in terms of both quality and style. Much of that album—my least favorite Morphine effort—consisted of radio-hungry rockers, weird experimental pieces and not-quite-there trifles. “Whisper”, in sharp contrast, is slow, sultry, soulful, moody, intoxicating. Mark Sandman’s slide bass rumbles throughout, its chords augmented by matching piano figures, Dana Colley’s baritone saxophone whispers and moans up above, while Billy Conway’s swinging drum rhythms give the song its groove. And of course, Sandman’s deep baritone vocals entice the latest female object of his desire. This is music to seduce and be seduced to, and is amongst the very best that this great band created.
“Frontwards” is good but not quite essential Pavement, while “Whisper” is the very essence of Morphine. “Whisper” quietly but convincingly moves on.
Winner: Morphine – Whisper
Elliott Smith - Some Song
[mp3]
vs.
Liz Phair -
Stuck on an Island [RealAudio]
For Elliott Smith, “Some Song” is pretty lo-fi. The song lacks his typical intricate guitar picking and the more ambitious production values of his later work. Instead, the guitar work is a very basic strumming of chords with no other instrumental backing. This stark accompaniment very effectively puts across Smith’s typically dark subject matter. On other songs of his it’s easy to be distracted by his pretty melodies or marvelous guitar work, but on “Some Song” there’s nothing standing in the way of his blunt lyrics. A chorus of “Help me kill my time, ‘cause I’ll never be fine” obviously isn’t going to cheer anybody up, but it’s a strong representation of what Smith apparently felt most of the days of his sad life. A very moving, if quite depressing, song.
Yo, Liz, this is Randy Jackson. Man, let me tell you, you’re really looking hot up there. I mean, those jeans look like they’re painted on, and with not much paint, know what I’m saying? And I just loved Exile in Guyville—lots of ambition, creativity and all that. But, dog, this song just doesn’t quite do it for me. Yeah, the melody’s pretty good and you sing well enough, but come on, does anybody really want to hear about a spoiled rich teenager with enough money to do coke who gets mixed up with the wrong guy? And then smashes up her dad’s car late at night and tries so hard to hide it from him? Man, I really don’t like the whole “poor little rich girl” thing. Sorry, I’m not buying it.
Agreed, Randy. Emotional honesty wins out. “Some Song” moves ahead to the next round.
Winner: Elliott Smith - Some Song
Scruffy the
Cat - You Dirty Rat
vs.
The Long
Ryders - Wreck of the 809 [WM]
It’s now
nearly twenty years since I discovered Scruffy the Cat, after visiting my best
friend from college and seeing one of the band’s posters on his roommate’s bedroom
wall. I had never heard of them, but I figured that any band with the guts to
call themselves “Scruffy the Cat” couldn’t be all bad. Then I got back home,
bought a used LP of their second album (Moons of Jupiter), loved it,
bought a new CD of their first album (Tiny Days), loved it even more,
and finally hunted down their two vinyl-only EPs. One of these, the wonderfully
titled Boom Boom Boom Bingo, was a decidedly mixed bag, with three live
cuts and one fair studio track. But oh oh oh that other studio track, “You
Dirty Rat.” Never has breakup song sounded so exuberant, never has a Jimmy
Cagney tough-guy line been uttered by such a sweet, forlorn guy as Charlie
Chesterman.
The Long
Ryders’ “Wreck of the 809” is an intriguing story-song (from the terrific Native
Sons) told through the eyes of a young boy whose daddy is involved in a
wreck of the eponymous train. The story is compelling, and heartbreaking, and
the music is top-notch, with twin lead guitars that muscularly pair up while a
mournful harmonica wails relentlessly. I’d love to hear more of the story, but
after all this is rock and roll, not literature, and there’s only so much room
for narrative when there’s some serious rocking out to do. I’ll just have to
resign myself to knowing that the kid didn’t get the happy ending he deserved.
Two songs,
one ending with a kid facing a fatherless life versus another with a
brokenhearted guy who’s so nice he’ll undoubtedly find someone new. The silver
lining easily wins out, and Scruffy the Cat purrs ahead.
Winner: Scruffy the Cat - You Dirty Rat
R.E.M. -
So. Central Rain [RealAudio]
vs.
Pinetop
Seven – Paramour [mp3]
Sparkling
guitars (Rickenbacker, to my untrained ears) chime in the intro to the seminal
“So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry)” but curiously fade to the background as Michael
Stipe’s voice comes forward. In fact, all of the instrumentation—guitars, bass,
low-pitched drums, plinking piano chords—plays in remarkable lockstep,
splitting the sonic space roughly equally with the vocals. Stipe is slightly
less cryptic than usual—the words he’s singing are quite clear, even if their
meaning remains pretty vague. (But as always, the vagueness is part of the
charm—a line like “these rivers of suggestion, they’re driving me away” has a
certain beauty even in the absence of listener comprehension.) The drums slowly
rise to the foreground during the song’s second half, and Stipe’s vocals
mysteriously trail off into echoes. A terrific song from one of R.E.M.’s
less-appreciated records.
“Paramour”
chugs along spiritedly, with crisp acoustic guitars, saxophone flourishes,
steady and subdued drumming, some weird ambient sounds, and Swell-like guitar
figures all perfectly framing Darren Richard’s confident vocals and literate
lyrics. It’s hard to believe a band like this came from Chicago—if you don’t know
anything about them, their sound could easily peg them as Tucson denizens.
Quite good.
Pinetop
Seven, you’ve given me plenty of listening pleasure over the past year, but
you’ve got to do a lot better than “quite good” to unseat the mighty Athens
juggernaut. “So. Central Rain” surges onward.
Winner: R.E.M. - So. Central Rain
THE JOHNNY CASH REGIONAL
Guided by
Voices - Everywhere With Helicopter
[mp3]
vs.
The Jesus
Lizard - Fly on the Wall [QuickTime]
A listener with a much greater grasp of rock history than my own could probably listen to the riffs of any song on any Guided by Voices album and say, “Okay, Small Faces…and that’s the Kinks…oh, and that’s Sell Out-era Who,” along with any number of other British Invasion or post-punk bands, nodding knowingly throughout. GbV’s Robert Pollard clearly has an encyclopedic knowledge of rock and a veritable filing cabinet full of riffs. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing—with rock and roll having now aged past the half-century mark, it’s doubtful that any guitarist, no matter how talented, could come up with anything truly unprecedented. (Hell, even Stevie Ray Vaughan shamelessly ripped off Hendrix.) I have no idea of this particular song’s provenance, but it’s a thoroughly enjoyable effort, a sugar-and-caffeine rush and a rare slam dance opportunity for geeky indie rock kids.
The allure of The Jesus Lizard goes beyond words, beyond intellect. There’s just something so primal, so elemental, so (sorry) reptilian about the hammering bass, thudding drums, icy guitars and David Yow’s rantings that simply bypasses the cerebal cortex, going straight to the gut. The lyrics in the verses are pretty hard to make out, but the chorus is unmistakable—a repeated mantra of “I can never get any rest.” Oh, I don’t doubt it, David. These are the nightmarish musings of a slightly unbalanced insomniac.
Pollard’s one of the greats, but he’s not quite up to the task here. The Jesus Lizard scurries into the next round.
Winner: The Jesus Lizard - Fly on the Wall
The
Verlaines - Black Wings [WM]
vs.
Joel R.L.
Phelps - God Bless the Little Pigs
[mp3]
“Black
Wings” stands out from the rest of its album, Way Out Where. Not in
terms of lyrical subject matter—it’s dark and fairly despondent, like the rest
of the album—but in terms of its instrumental backing. Most Verlaines tunes, no
matter how dark, are downright sprightly—uptempo with boisterous vocals and
chipper guitars. But “Black Wings”, at least the first half of it anyway, is
uncharacteristically subdued. From the opening echoey guitar strum to Graeme
Downes’ restrained vocal to the lush production, this is a deeply introspective
and moving song. The tempo does pick up midway through, however, becoming like
much of the rest of the album. But right near the end the tempo and volume
slack off again, and it’s that same guitar strum from the intro disappearing
into nothingness. “You’ve given up on open skies.” Wow, a quiet wow.
Even more
so does “God Bless the Little Pigs” stand out from the rest of its album, Warm
Springs Night. The rest of the album is slow, ponderous, deliberate: the
perfect framing for Joel Phelps’ emotive vocals. But then right in the middle
of the album, just after “Ave Patricia” quietly fades away, the listener is
jarred awake by a furious single-note guitar riff, booming bass and snappy
drums, all playing at a (comparatively) breakneck tempo. The raised volume does
obscure Phelps’ lyrical details, but never his emotions, as he caterwauls his
vocal over the instrumental din. This terrific song reveals Phelps impressive
versatility—though he traffics primarily in moody, introspective tunes, he’s
also fully capable of cathartically rocking out every now and then.
“Black
Wings” is rather wonderful, but “God Bless the Little Pigs” sets my blood
aboil. “Pigs” it is.
Winner: Joel R.L. Phelps - God Bless the Little Pigs
Yo La Tengo
- Tom Courtenay [RealAudio]
vs.
The Pixies
- Debaser [RealAudio]
“Tom
Courtenay” is a great example of the kind of tight, midtempo, effortless pop
that Yo La Tengo tosses off on a regular basis. The instruments all move in
perfect unison—even the feedback-y guitar that politely rages in the
background—and Ira Kaplan’s appealing tenor lead vocals and the bah-bah-bah
backing vocals give the song an irresistible lushness. The band’s undeniable
talent is what makes this song seem effortless, and maybe even too easy.
Meanwhile,
“Debaser” is nothing short of brilliant. From all the basic elements I cited
for the band’s first round victory, I’ll once again point to Black Francis’
barely-in-control vocals and so-surreal-you-question-his-sanity lyrics. The
melody is irresistible and the energy impossible to ignore. This is one of
those songs that words can’t do justice to, that instead you just have to hear.
Two dozen
Yo La Tengo songs are on my iPod, so it’s hardly surprising that they appeared
in the tournament, and with quite a good song. Yet the Pixies also appeared,
despite having just one song on my iPod. And it’s damned near one of their very
best. Sorry, Yo La Tengo, but the Pixies will continue to gloriously debase
this august assembly, with “Debaser” moving ahead.
Winner: The Pixies - Debaser
Victor Krummenacher - Rocket Fuel
vs.
Mission of Burma - Fame and
Fortune [RealAudio]
Sadly, “Rocket Fuel” isn’t Victor Krummenacher at his best. He really excels with midtempo country rock tunes (“Bittersweet”, “Bust in a Boomtown”) and, even more so, with sweetly introspective ballads (“Maybe a True Love”, “Radio Tower”). By contrast, “Rocket Fuel” is a much heavier rocker with which Krummenacher lets off some steam. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t quite work—it’s too long, and his guitar soloing at the end is less than compelling. Though the song’s appearance right before the excellent “Maybe a True Love” makes the latter sound that much more essential, it’s “Rocket Fuel” alone that’s in competition here, and it doesn’t pass muster.
“Fame and Fortune” is essential Mission of Burma—not their very best, but pretty close. One thing I love about this song is the interlude that starts about a third of the way through, when the guitar is silenced and the drums de-crescendo to a steady thudding, leaving at the forefront just Clint Conley’s rolling bass figure. Roger Miller then sings the repeating, mantra-like “the beginning/at the ending” followed by Conley chiming in with “one goes up/one goes down” in the background as a fascinating counterpoint. This subdued lull perfectly sets up the full band crashing back in with the next verse. Mission of Burma was all about tension-and-release dynamics, which this song illustrates perfectly.
Though I hate to dismiss the esteemed Mr. Krummenacher from this tournament, that’s exactly what I must do. Not that losing out to the great Mission of Burma is any disgrace, not by any means.
Winner: Mission of Burma - Fame and Fortune
THE CARL PERKINS REGIONAL
The Feelies - What She Said [WM]
vs.
Saturnine - Peace and Rest [mp3]
I’m a strong proponent of brevity and conciseness. My feeling is that if you’re going to take a long time to say something, you had damned well better have something very interesting to say. The idea applies to music as well—if you’re going to push a song beyond the five-minute mark there had better be plenty of fascinating stuff in it to listen to. Not a problem, obviously, with Television’s epic-length “Marquee Moon” or at least half of the latter-day Built to Spill songbook. Nor do I take exception to the great Feelies stretching things out—in fact, two of my favorite Feelies songs (“Slipping Into Something” and “Find A Way”) both run more than six minutes. But each of those songs have fascinating guitar interplay, shifting dynamics, or effective quiet interludes. “What She Said,” in contrast, is 5:39 of turgid tempos, uninspired lyrics, unenthusiastic vocals and unimaginative guitar work. At the song’s start the guitars—a fat lead and a slide rhythm—sound intriguing, but Glenn Mercer and Bill Million never take their playing much further than that. In other words, five-plus minutes of not much to say.
On the
other hand, Saturnine’s “Peace and Rest” is an exemplar of economy. The band
says what they need to say—with chiming Byrdsian guitars, a solid rhythm
section, strong vocal harmonies and wistful lyrics—and just leave it at that,
taking almost three minutes less than the Feelies to do so.
The Feelies
got through the first round not with a great song, but on reputation and weak
competition. Had either of the two other songs mentioned above, or three or four
others, been selected, the Feelies could have gone far in this tournament.
That’s how much I love the band. But I don’t love them so blindly that I’ll
give them a pass on this song. Saturnine, the obscure little engine that could,
advances.
Winner: Saturnine - Peace and Rest
The Replacements - The Ledge [RealAudio]
vs.
Camper Van Beethoven - Sweethearts [RealAudio]
“The Ledge” is Paul Westerberg in typically vulnerable form, a first-person narrative of a lonely, confused kid who’s contemplating suicide and has to literally be talked down from a ledge. But he’s not suicidal as much as he’s desperate for attention and recognition (“I’m the boy they can’t ignore/for the first time in my life I’m sure”). He ultimately gives in at the end, allowing the police to rescue him. Or, I should say, “rescue.” For he’s being rescued to live a continued lonely live, as he appends the above lines to “I’m the boy—for the last time in my life.” He’ll never be the center of attention again. Sad.
To a pleasant country rock backing—steadily-strummed acoustic rhythm guitar, a tasty electric lead guitar, pedal steel, even a bit of whimsical whistling—CVB frontman David Lowery drawls out a series of images from Ronald Reagan’s fantasy world: sitting in the five & dime (the lost innocence of a Midwest boyhood), living in escapist B-movies, going on a secret mission and leaving his girl at the dance hall, flying a bomber over China, and memories of Mom. Lowery effectively casts Dutch’s relentless optimism as simplistic delusion:
‘Cause in the mind of Ronald Reagan
Wheels they turn and gears they grind
Buildings collapse in slow motion and planes collide
Everything is fine
Everything is fine
Unfortunately, this political mindset (“We’re makin’ progress!”) still hasn’t gone out of style, which is why we need “Sweethearts” more than ever, even more so than another sad tale of a lost teenager. Adios, Replacements. You will be missed.
Winner: Camper Van Beethoven - Sweethearts
Mudhoney - No One Has [RealAudio]
vs.
Portastatic - Noisy Night [mp3]
Mudhoney
represents everything that’s right about rock and roll. Primal, grooving,
distorto guitars, an impeccably tight but limelight-shy rhythm section,
completely unfussy studio production, and impervious to change for change’s
sake. And a frontman, Mark Arm, who cops his sneering attitude from the
greatest of his forebears—Jagger, Iggy Pop and Johnny Rotten immediately come
to mind—in embodying everything his band stands for. Which is plenty.
The gentle
acoustic strum of “Noisy Night” is impossible not to like, as is Portastatic
dude Mac McCaughan, one of the genuinely good guys in rock. This pleasantly
upbeat tune is proof that anyone can mature and age gracefully without selling
out—when you hear the shimmering strings of this song, it’s easy to forget that
he was once responsible for the high-octane crowd-pleaser “Slack Motherf*cker”
with his main band, Superchunk. The ‘Chunk seems to be in deep hiatus these
days, as Mac contents himself with the occasional Portastatic record and
running one of the great indie labels, Merge Records. And if he’s okay with
that, then it’s fine with me, too.
As much as
I enjoyed “Noisy Night,” it’s hard to imagine a world in which such a sweetly
polite tune could emerge unscathed from a cage match with Mudhoney. (“Slack
Motherf*cker,” maybe.) It ain’t this world, I can tell you that. “No One Has”
moves on.
Winner: Mudhoney - No One Has
Bad Religion - 21st Century
Digital Boy [WM]
vs.
Sarah Dougher - Hold the Bar [mp3]
As good as the band’s music is, it’s impossible to talk about Bad Religion without bringing up the lyrics. Frontman Greg Graffin, he of the masters in geology and doctorate in biology, is one of the most intensely intellectual songwriters in rock and roll. His lyrics are complex, overtly political, sharply observant, caustic and yet entirely sing-along-able, even if they do often require a dictionary. The satirical “21st Century Digital Boy” goes relatively easy on the polemics, even as it skewers modern domestic life: “I'm a 21st century digital boy/I don't know how to live but I've got a lot of toys/My daddy's a lazy middle class intellectual/My mommy's on valium, so ineffectual/Ain't life a mystery?” So goes the chorus, defying you to chant along, and you’re powerless to resist.
After the
grunge explosion of the early 1990s brought national exposure to the Pacific
Northwest, the first female songwriter I came across from the region was Lois
Maffeo, one of its indie rock pioneers. Later I discovered Sarah Dougher,
another stellar songwriter from the area. Although Dougher owes an obvious debt
to Maffeo, she actually takes her music well beyond that of Maffeo, with lusher
production, warmer-sounding guitars, richer and deeper vocals. I can’t quite
make out where she’s going with the lyrics here on “Hold the Bar” (Maffeo
wasn’t always lyrically direct either) but she seems to be singing about an
ill-fated relationship that was never meant to be, from which the partners have
moved on. The effect is calming, reflective, level-headed, and quite rewarding
indeed.
Bad
Religion is Julie’s all-time favorite band, but given that she also loves Sarah
Dougher, I’m in no way playing to the home crowd in opting for “21st Century
Digital Boy.” With all apologies to Ms. Dougher, it’s simply a killer tune from
a great band that deserves to move ahead.
Winner: Bad Religion - 21st Century Digital Boy