Disruption of the Purchasing Process

So back in 2011, this band called Anne released a shoegazy post-punkish album called Dream Punx. It was a cool album with short, enjoyable songs, beautiful artwork, and a title that possesses this really beautiful quality of imaginative inspiration. Totally divorced from the actual music, I read those two words - especially with the 'x' in 'Punx' - and see heavily tattooed unicorns smokin' cigarettes and playin' that game where you toss quarters on to an edifice to try to get it to stay as close to the building as possible or all the vampires from The Lost Boys wearing pastel-drenched pleather jackets and riding around on clouds instead of motorcycles. It's fucking magical. The last song - the best song on the album - is called "Punk Bike"and, like, what else kind of bike would a dream punk ride if not one made of clouds and stardust?

Feel that dreampunk magik

The next year, Anne released a two-song 7" Power Exchange (b/w "Rings"). Both songs are/were better than anything on the full-length. "Power Exchange" dances around like light beams reflecting off a glitter geyser with all the 80s morbidity of The Smiths or Depeche Mode. "Rings" is pure post-punk goth glory. You want to listen to it on headphones while wearing all black on the sunniest day of winter that's warm enough that you could wear shorts but cold enough to demand a hoodie. I fucking loved this record and listened to it to death on my way to or while walking around campus. On repeat over and over and over and over.

Dance with your head down

Three years later, and I, for the most part, totally - and uninentionally, of course - forgot about Anne. I might've been aware that they released a 7" called Jerusalem in 2013, but I don't remember if I ever listened to it - and still haven't, though I'm sure that will change after this post. In my head, Anne was over - a bright, splashy, and fleeting moment in my music-listening history. Then, as I'm writing this post about Turnover, I'm on Run For Cover's website, looking into buying the Turnover album I wavered on so much (I bought it - I love it), and see that Anne released an LP in 2014 called Pulling Chain on RFC. So I threw it (re: clicked it) into my cart, along with that Turnover tape, a Red Death live tape, and three pieces of Creative Adult wax. I didn't bother listening to it first. All I could think about was the name Dream Punx and the two songs from the Power Exchange 7".

The album's called Pulling Chain and it is so sexy. And I mean sexy in the way that it has all the attributes of fuckin'. It's the soundtrack to posh underground fuck parties that happen in luscious club spaces with fur walls and huge, plush sectional couches for optimum perpendicular fuckin'. It's Euro dance music smeared with goth fuck juice and ecstasy sparkles. Even the vinyl is this heavenly sky blue/white marble colour that seems to suggest St. Peter's got the gate open and he wants people partyin' and fuckin' in God's house.

This is the sound of two crystal balls fucking

I don't, like, actively seek out Euro club music. I'm not even sure if I had been presented with this album without "Anne" or "Run For Cover Records" attached to it that I'd even care. I clearly like this album, but how much of that is influenced by everything those two things mean to me? Does this mean that I should seek out more sexy Euro club bangers? Or am I just a victim of personal biases and branding? Should I even worry about it? I'm tryin' to rub all on my naked ass body right now, but all I can think about is my consumption habits and what informs/skewers them. That's not sexy. That's the exact opposite of sexy. That's finding your way to the posh fuck party and stopping at the door to worry about the authenticity of your path there. I definitely value that concern - the constant questioning of one's own (in)authenticity -, but I also value pleasure. Pulling Chain is a reconciliation of those two values, of recognizing the frivolity and felicity of our consumption. It's also sexy as fuck.

It happens all the time, though, if you listen to underground music/music from subcultures. We've, fortunately, stopped accusing bands of selling out, because we're also sellouts and because bands change. But often, and maybe even more often now, bands seem to transform their sound into something that abuts a genre that is so far from their original iteration that you, as the listener, have to rectify your possibly hypocritical enjoyment of it. It makes you acutely aware of the silly lines you draw. It also makes you aware of how readily you erase those lines and push them forward. Even further, it makes you cognizant of the fact that that is totally okay (at least when it pertains to what you listen to). It's a manufactured broadening of horizons, but that's the exact reason we seek out these forms of media anyways, right? We're already out here on the margins, so let's dance all over the lines we've drawn. You don't get into underground music to foreclose your tastes and preferences, though that is often the case. You rejected mainstream music for the express purpose of pushing outwards and finding new sonic experience. You just get self-conscious when the underground starts pushing back the other way, towards large-scale awareness and mass modes of entertainment. It is, however, a moment - a space - in which you share common ground with people you have previously avoided, and that's not a bad thing. And then when you show them this record and they like it? Boom! You're right back in your tower, smirking down on the garish and graceless masses as they dance to the sounds of you having known it all along.

These are the Things $1 Bins are Made of

I also like buying cheap vinyl. It's so rare that I'll actually find anything I'm actually looking for used in any record shop these days, that I often won't even look. That's why I just quickly flip through the punk/metal section, see the same Stryker, Ratt, Molly Hatchet, and Tesla albums that every record store in America is required by law to sell at all times, and just move on to convincing myself that it's okay to spend $25 on a new or re-released album.

I do, however, love sifting through dollar bins for vinyl. Usually shops keep classical records and overflow stuff in there. Always lots of Al Martino and Babs. If people were less dumb, they'd sooner or later have to relegate Fleetwood Mac in there, but people still think they didn't make five zillion copies of Rumours. Primarily, I'm in it for the classical music. I like my classical music on three formats: $1 vinyl, $0.50 cassettes, $5 double best-of collections from Wal Mart. That's it. Classical music just sounds better on a cheap format. Chopin would be way into it.

Let's see what I came up with last time:

Andre Kostelanetz and His Orchestra - The Romantic Music of Tchaikovsky

This is fine. It's got stuff from Swan Lake and Nutcracker Suite. It's an okay thing to own. It's an okay thing to not own. I will say this, though. No matter what, vinyl releases of classical music always have great biographies on the back of the jacket. Informative shit goin' on back there.

Sir John Barbirolli & The Halle Orchestra - Jean Sibelius: Symphony No. 1 in E Minor

I'm like 100% certain half of this symphony is on another Sibelius record I own, but I don't care. I really like the Finnish so and so. Ya know what's cool? After I bought my first Sibelius record, I then found another Sibelius record in my parents' collection. Must've been Mom's. Isn't that something. She also had George Winston's Winter. That's poetry.

Song of Norway: Grieg's Greatest Hits

Cliburn and Ormandy are on this, but it's really just the same songs from some other Grieg album I bought for a dollar. The cover art is A+, though. It's mostly why I bought it. I'm not even sure if I like Grieg. Can someone talk to me about him? I need some guidance. 

Serge Koussevitzky & Boston Symphony Orchestra - Mozart: Linz Symphony, 36 in C

This also includes Symphony 39 in E-Flat. I also realize that I have no idea how to indicate artist/album title for classical records. This method seems wrong. But, like, it also seems the most rational. These are good symphonies, by the way. One day, I'll be able to tell the difference between them. 

Mozart's Greatest Hits

In the 70s, Columbia put out all of these Greatest Hits records for famous composers with people like Ormondy and Szella and Gould conducting the big time orchestras. They all have very distinct cover art. They've got this big, bold font and great trippy, colourful line portraits of the composer. These are absolute must-haves when you come across them (even for more than a dollar). I'll listen to this a lot going forward.

The Norman Luboff Choir - Songs of the Sea

I first picked this album up because the cover art of far-away photo of a seashore with a couple frolicking in the foam. I thought, "Oh fuck yes - more soundscapes of waves crashing on the beach. Perfect." Turns out, it's this delightful little collection of sea shanties. It's not nearly as salty as one might hope, and it even has more of a choral quality on many of the songs, but it's definitely a fun novelty album I don't mind owning in the slightest. It's also got some guy named Thurl Ravenscroft singing on it.

The Human League - Dare

What if I had found this in the dollar bin? Cot damn. I actually found it for $5 in very nice condition. This album is one of those weird albums that has a song that has been a commercial success for 30 years ("Don't You Want Me"), while also have nine other genre-defining songs that are just as iconic. It really is a special album. Side A has five of the most fun 80s down-pop songs ever recorded. Come dance with me in my room.

Does It Look Like I'm Paying Attention?

I love buying used CDs. Love it. So I think I'll keep semi-updating this site when I buy a new haul. I've pulled in a decent collection the last couple times I've gone out looking for something. Let's see what I got?

Enya - Enya
I already own this album as The Celts on cassette, but I needed it for my car. Plus, look at that artwork. Put it on a shirt for me ASAP. This is Enya at her most Gaelic. Some really good Irish folkish new age stuff on here. "Boadicea" is a personal favourite.

Enya - Watermark
I might already own this CD somewhere, but I couldn't remember and it was $5 so whatever. Most famous for having "Orinoco Flow" on it. This is All Music's selection for Enya's best album. That's wrong. The right answer is A Day Without Rain.

Enya - Amarantine
Confession: I had to order this on Amazon. I'm sorry. Nobody had a copy of it. It's Enya's last great album. (And Winter Came is kinda bad.) It's really good. It was like $3 and I was already ordering shoes. I'm such a monster. But this album will sooth my monster tendencies.

Various Artists - Sanctuary: 20 Years of Windham Hill
Disc 1, titled "Acoustic," is vastly superior to its compatriot "Electric." Is there anything more suitable a car ride through the city than corporate hippies blastin' pan flutes over a synthesizer and some light wind-chiming? Some top-notch cheese on this album.

George Winston - Forest
One of Winston's most famous solo piano albums. Did you know that Tamarack pine needles turn yellow before dropping from the tree in Fall? Now ya do. Thanks, George! This is good/very good new age piano diddlin'.

George Winston - All the Seasons of
Really, this collection should be called Some of the Songs from the Seasons Albums and Other Albums Not Related to the Seasons, but I guess Big New Age didn't think that would sell. This is a solid representation of Winston's output in the 70s, 80s, 90s. I'd really like to find Autumn soon.

Emeralds - Does it Look Like I'm Here?
Everyone's (Geoff's) favourite Emeralds album. I gave up on other Emeralds albums after Just to Feel Anything disappointed me. Maybe I'll go back and give that one a shot. This album is great. The title track is rowdy. Solar Bridge is still the best Emeralds album, though. Facts.

Depeche Mode - 101
You know how hard it is to find a used copy of 101 with both fucking discs? It's hard enough that I just finally did last week. Fucking finally

Morrissey - Maladjusted
I had never even heard of this album till I watched Sean trade in a bunch of shit at Arrow's Aim for the LP version that was marked at like $50. Like a year later, Sean sold all of his Morrissey and Smiths vinyl because he knew he'd never finish the collection. I think Sean and I have different music collection principles. I fucking love the album art, by the way.

Morrissey - Kill Uncle
I actually couldn't remember which pre-You Are the Quarry Morrissey albums I own on CD when I was at the CD store, but I was sure I didn't own Kill Uncle. I was right. I know I don't own one of the big three (maybe two of the big three???), but I can never remember when I'm at a record store. It's a bummer because all of those albums are always cheap in the used bin. Next time, I might just say, "Who cares - viva Moz!" and give the duplicates to Steven or something.

Self-Obsessive Consumption Disorder

Patrick Kindlon, the charismatic frontman of Self Defense Family (and Drug Church and Loss Leader), tapes a 30-minute podcast nude staring into a mirror called Self-Obsessed wherein he kinda just talks about himself and the way he thinks about and understands the world. It'd be narcissistic if it wasn't exactly what he advertises it as: him doing what I just said he does. I usually have a hard time sticking with podcasts, but this is one I enjoy.

I think, in a lot of ways, Kindlon embodies parts of my personality that I wish were more amplified. Or, rather, I think he is parts of my personality that are amplified but don't have the type of audience I want or that he has. He talks about culture and subcultures in a way that I find engaging and also pretty sympathetic to my own view of those things. Also, maybe I wish I was in a prolific punk band and said witty and insightful things to large crowds of people who enjoyed my music. 

And prolific they are. This year alone, Self Defense Family has released a full-length, a single from that LP, a collaboration 7" with Touche Amore, and a split 7" with Creative Adult. Loss Leader released a 7" this year, too. In 2014 they released five 7"s. In 2013 they released even more music than that. They produce music at an insane clip, and I've purchased nearly all of it. I'm missing three of their twenty records listed on Discogs, and I'll probably remedy that sooner rather than later.

So how do you qualify it all? As reductively as possible, of course! Decrying lists (and listicles) as faux-intellectualism has itself become faux-criticism. I like lists. I think if you like looking at stat sheets, you'll never have a hard time with lists. Do lists and listicles sometimes leave something to be desired? Sure, but plenty of articles do. Lists aren't inherently positive or negative. They're just a (possibly overused) format for organizing thoughts about numerous (un)related things. 

I will say this about lists: they are inherently hierarchical, and hierarchical thinking is at the bottom [ha!] of a lot of bad Western philosophy and theory, so I get that. But they really are convenient for writing and talking about media.

With all that said, let's rank these fuckers!

Third place:

Yeah. The LP is in 3rd place. Heaven is Earth is a potent mix of deliberation and exhaustion. It's both the body lying in the middle of the park and the steady hand holding the camera that frames the image. It's the play of light in a black and white photo that enlivens the fixed composition. There are no bad songs on it. There are good songs on it. There are maybe even one or two great songs on it. It does everything you want a Self Defense Family album to do: it loops lyrics and riffs, it drifts about aimlessly for longer than you think a punk band would be comfortable drifting, and it speeds up after you've all but convinced yourself it'll never speed up. The lyrics are right in Kindlon's wheelhouse and Duggan's guitar work is sparse but fully developed. After all of that, though, it lacks something. I haven't obsessed over it like I did Try Me or any of the EPs they've released in the last few years. I've enjoyed it - but not obsessively. I'm not even sure what it's missing. Maybe I'll figure that out. Maybe.

Second place:

As if there weren't enough bodies in the Self Defense Family family before, the band collaborated with Touche Amore to produce a two-song EP that really does capture each band's essential sound in a way that demands space for itself and allows space for its partner. "Circa 95" is frantic and fast-paced and plays like Touche Amore borrowed Kindlon's lyric book and SDF borrowed Clayton Stevens' tablature. "Low Beams," my favourite of the two songs," quickly devolves into feedback-sparked post-punk emotional disarray that then picks back up into a back-and-forth sing-along release that is all sweat and spit and catharsis. 

First place: 

Is it kinda bullshit that the EP I'm putting in first place only features one Self Defense Family song as the B side to the Creative Adult A side? Probably. But "Somerton" is the best Self Defense Family song of the year, and Creative Adult's "Americans" is just another ridiculously incredible song from another band that can't seem to release anything but gold over the last couple years. "Somerton" is a lethargic dirge that predicts and outperforms the direction of Heaven is Earth. Kindlon's vocals fade in and out over minor chords slowly picked and strummed with a slight build-up of light noise. (It actually makes a ton of sense for "Somerton" to play alongside "Talia" and "Taxying" from the single, so I'm glad iTunes has it queued up like that [I left off the single from this list on purpose].) It's lackadaisical and downtrodden and seems pretty happy to be blue. Not for nothing, Creative Adult's "Americans" is a sparse piece of anti-nationalistic aggression that'll get you fucking stoked on being furious. 

I feel kinda destined to continue to obsess over this band by myself. I'm (not actually) tired of talking about how much I'm obsessed with this band with my friends who should like them just as much as I do but don't feel as compelled to do so. I hope they release a bunch more music soon. I'll wax poetic to my naked mirror self about it all. 

Here's a song that's not even from this year:

Do Something Civilized

It's been twenty years since CIV released Set Your Goals, an album whose name would become far more recognized ten years later as the name of a pop-punk/hardcore band that was pretty fun but overall totally forgettable. And maybe, for a lot of people, CIV's Set Your Goals and CIV itself was totally forgettable. There certainly weren't many folks singing along to "Do Something" when Anchors Away covered it all those years ago in Jacksonville and Brunswick.

I'll always remember CIV, though. I don't remember the last time I actually listened to Set Your Goals, but I'll always remember CIV. (I'm listening to that album now as I write this.)

See, there was a time when the only 7" I owned was CIV's All Twisted single. It was (apparently) the second of three singles released from Set Your Goals, and, subsequently, was the only CIV 7" I ever bought. (I own Set Your Goals and Thirteen Day Getaway, though, so, ya know, street cred.) 

The sleeve is all glossy. It's got Civ all twisted and warped on the front cover, and the whole band in suits and sunglasses on the back in this unbelievably cheesy 90s manner. The insert is a black and white photo of the band playing live with lyrics on the back of it. The A side is "All Twisted" and the B side is "Do Something." It plays at 45rpm.

The only thing remotely hardcore about the aesthetic is the font of CIV. It's the classic college bold. It's a font that any fan of hardcore would recognize instantly as that funny typographical bridge between punk rock and good grades. If I still had my CIV shirt today - a green shirt with red/yellow lettering -, most people would probably assume it actually did stand for something... Collegiate Institute of Valparaiso. 

I don't know what compelled me to order the CIV special package from RevHQ. It came with the 7", the aforementioned-but-long-gone shirt, a big ass sticker that I later affixed to my 97 Accord, and maybe a patch for $10. I had never even listened to CIV before. I was a big Gorilla Biscuits fan at the time, and I guess someone (on the internet) told me I needed to hear Civ's post-GB band. But why not order one of the dozens and dozens of legendary records from Revelation? And why the shirt, too? Was I really that ready to be into a band I had never listened to? Apparently I was. I was pot committed before I had even heard Bane's "Ante Up."

Impulsively buying music, however, has kind of always been my thing. I was doing it before I had a record player and have done it ever since. On a label I like? That's a check. Members of other bands I like? Check. Some relationship to a type of music I like? Check. Is the aesthetic sayin' somethin' to me? Check Is it cheap? Check. It's low-risk consumption that has broken both ways over the years. Have I purchased some real garbage because of the above formula? Abso-lutely. Some gems? For sure. 

It's hard nowadays to buy music impulsively: albums can be expensive, and it's easy to stream shit. Too, a lot of record stores have scrubbed themselves of robust used sections full of bands you've maybe heard of but can't remember but damn that name sounds familiar and this album art kinda looks like something you've seen around before and maybe this is who I think it is and I'm going to roll the dice because it's only $3 anyways so let's see what happens! For lots of people, though, and this is a good thing, the commoditization of vinyl has actually reinvigorated that risky business. I see it happening at Criminal Records all the time. People buying records on recommendation/word of mouth because they found the vinyl. That's cool. I mean, it's not cool because those people aren't cool, but it's cool. Also, there's nothing wrong with those people. I do that, too. I just intrinsically trust my mechanisms of word of mouth/recommendations more than theirs. That's my hangup, not theirs. Sorry - I hadn't been a dick yet in this post. Anyways.

I hope I always have enough money to take risks on 7"s and tapes and used CDs and LPs. I hope I always have a place to go to find them and a place to bring them home to and a device to play them through. I hope everyone else has these opportunities, too. Because who knows what would've happened had I not heard "Do Something" on the B side of a 7" I bought on a whim all those years ago? 

It's still one of the hardest fuckin' songs I've ever heard.

Peripheral Treatment

"Your father doesn't like me 'cause I'm not into sports" is the best emo line of the year. It's a/the fundamental linguistic construction of the emo kid's relationship to his (prospective) significant other, to that person's father, and to mainstream consumption. It's almost the "For Sale: Baby Shoes. Never Worn" of emo. It's emo in a nutshell. It's beautiful. But I, up until this post, could never remember in which song it appeared on the album.

Turnover's Peripheral Vision was released in May by Run For Cover. I had never heard or heard of them before. I think I saw the album listed on the "This Week" list of new released on RevHQ. I put the band's discography on Spotify (I have still yet to listen to their earlier albums), and said, "Play music, magical device that magically streams music into my (also pretty magical) ears!"

As the album unfolded, I thought, "Yeah. Yeah, for sure. This is something I'm into." The first track, "Cutting My Fingers Off," is twinkly emo goodness and the third track, "Humming," is that, too. The problem, though, is that I don't know how to describe the second song, because I don't remember what it sounds like. At all. Did I even hear a second song? It says I'm on the third track, but I'm not exactly sure when that first really cool thing ended and the third thing began (and also ended).

And that's kinda this album. The good songs are really good (maybe even great). The other songs are, if you really, like, sit there and listen, are also good, but they're also just... there (to the extent that the tracklist tells me that they're there, not that I actually remember their presence). Since May, I've probably gotten on and off (let's be honest - conducted and then abandoned) the Turnover Train about four times. Right now, I want to believe that the album is finally sticking. I've always enjoyed the album on the whole (I even sent it to Matthew via Spotify's share feature, so you know it's serious), but it never sticks for as long as I think it will.

Of course, none of this would really be that big of a problem if I owned a physical copy of the album. (I thought about buying the LP at the RFC tent at Wrecking Ball but then thought, "Nah.") If I owned the album, it'd be there. I'd have it - on some format. If I bought the CD, I'd have it in my car, where I'd almost never listen to it, because I've taken to listening to almost strictly classical music or Enya. If I had the vinyl or the cassette, I'd play it in my room while I sat on the floor and played 2048 or Zig Zag on my phone.

But how many times would I play it? If the album has strong spots and admitted weak spots, I'm certainly not going to take the energy to pick up the needle and place it in another groove or, god forbid, hit fast forward/rewind on my hanging-on-for-dear-life tape deck. So what do I do? Do I buy an album that I mostly really like, knowing that, if anything, I'll almost always listen to it more often digitally or possibly even stop listening to it (again)? What do you do with albums that you haven't purchased yet but about which you already have a well-formed and conflicted opinion?

You buy the cassette, because it's the cheapest option, and it gives you an opportunity to maybe order another cassette or two from a really, really dope label. And who doesn't like amassing a ridiculous collection of music on a clunky outdated format. Should that sentence read "on one of the clunky outdated formats"? Naaaaaaaaaaaah. Buy music. You always opt to buy the music.

I'd Rather Be Phishing

I used to really dig Best Coast's "Sun Was High (So Was I)."

I say "used to" because of two things: I literally (literally) just figured out that Beach House and Best Coast are two different bands, and when I played "Sun Was High (So Was I)," I turned it off after a minute, thinking, "What exactly did I like so much about this song?" I obviously couldn't've liked the song that much if I was unwilling to keep straight what band actually released that song and what band was another band that I ended up just conflating with the first band because they're names are both two-word names that begin with "Be-" and have oceanic implications. Or, rather, they imply the ocean. "Oceanic implications" sounds like someone writing a review of a Cult of Neurisis band in the mid 00's.

(Do you think people wear their Isis shirts these days thinking, "I don't care. The band was here first. You're just too lame to know who this band is. You're also an Islamaphobe, so who the fuck are you to judge me?" Or do you think people just don't wear the shirt even though they want to do the first thing?)

At some point, describing your taste in music (or any media, really) becomes incredibly referential. It can be a way to contextualize a band's sound to someone who hasn't listened to that band yet, a way to make yourself sound knowledgable about something that the person you're talking to might not care at all about, or a way to hierarchize similarly styled bands for seemingly no reason.

The last thing. That shitty last thing. That's what I wanted to do in this post. I wanted to write, "Why don't people who like Beach House just listen to Camera Shy instead? I mean, yeah, that song 'Sun Was I (So Was I)' was cool, but Camera Shy is doing the woman-fronted saccharine dreamo-pop thing way better."

And then, well, you (probably) saw what happened in the the first few sentences. But now that I've listened to 3 songs of the new Beach House album (why are the songs so long?) and one half of the first song on the new Best Coast album (that shit is straight arena pop, huh?), I think my point remains: Camera Shy is better and you should renounce your allegiance to Beach Coast and get with the shimmery summery program.

Or, at least, you should listen to the new Camera Shy album after you've finished with the latest Best House albums. The songs are short(/ier), catchy(er), sweet(er), sad(der), bright(er), whiny(/ier), cute(r), lovely(/ier), (more) heartwarming. They float and drift in a waning summer early evening like a fucking dandelion blown towards your smiling face by a pair of lips you want to kiss (better than those other two albums).

See how annoying all of those parenthetical additions are to that sentence? See how distracting they are? Why do we do this? Just to look/sound cool(er than someone else)? That's almost certainly why I do it. But don't let that stop you from listening to Camera Shy (members of Whirr and Nothing!). The self-titled album is a breathy delight that can be enjoyed while walking around on a sunny morning on your way to take the train half a mile to a coffee shop you could've walked the extra half-mile to or while you're lying in bed at night with the lights out enjoying the little bit of cool air slipping in the window to briefly relieve you from the fact that your apartment's AC doesn't work in your room.

And it might make you feel more things than albums by some other bands. But that's not important, right?