PUT UP YOUR DUKES

Put Up Your Dukes: Queens Of The Stone Age

February 5, 2010

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: Queens Of The Stone Age. Put up your dukes!

From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch As you know, I’ve been following Josh Homme’s career from the early Kyuss days through the various incarnations of the Desert Sessions and Queens Of The Stone Age. I’ve interviewed him three times and have written of him in glowing terms. With that said, it’s become increasingly difficult to be a fan these days. In fact, I’m starting to think I’m no longer up to the task. To these ears, Homme is in a very deep rut with his epileptic robot shtick, which reached its nadir with the perfectly awful Era Vulgaris. Still, given the players and a promising first single, my hopes were very, very high for Them Crooked Vultures, Homme’s supergroup with Dave Grohl and John Paul Jones. Having just given the full album a listen, however, I’ve concluded that Homme could have Alex Chilton and Paul McCartney on his writing team and still be incapable of producing a memorable hook. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan You had high hopes for Them Crooked Vultures? Really? Since the demise of Led Zeppelin 30 years ago, John Paul Jones has, um ... hold on ... let me Wiki it ... done some solo stuff and collaborated with Jars Of Clay and the singer from Toad The Wet Sprocket. Dave Grohl? He doesn't have a lot of credit left at the creative bank right now. (He made some early withdrawals and invested really wisely; so don't worry about him, he's set for life.) So if you're disappointed by Them Crooked Vultures, there's plenty of blame to go around. I don't think that everything Homme touches is gold (read my QOTSA Over/Under piece), but his Queens output is about as solid as any rock band's over the last decade. You'll have to tell me what's "perfectly awful" about the punchier Era Vulgaris. As for the Vultures release, can we agree that being disappointed in that album is like being mad at the low quality of, say, Desert Sessions Vol. 4? It's the man's nature to goof off, experiment and have fun with recordings. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Admittedly, Jonesy hasn't been on the front pages for, um, a few decades, but that doesn't diminish his legacy. With regard to Grohl, well, you're way off base there. Yes, it's easy to take shots at the increasingly everyman Foo Fighters (although you'll still find them on my playlist), but you conveniently omitted the fact that Grohl is one of the best drummers in the business, a point on which there is consensus from fans, critics and musicians alike. Have you already forgotten that a Homme/Grohl collaboration resulted in the last exceptional QOTSA record, 2002's Songs For The Deaf? On that basis alone, why would expectations be sky high for Them Crooked Vultures? Other than this golden moment, Homme's creative well has been bone dry ever since. Yes, that includes (especially) Era Vulgaris. Have you even listened to the likes of "I'm Designer" from that record? Good god, that song makes me want to jam knitting needles into my ears. Similarly, if industrial machinery could masturbate, it would probably sound a lot like Era's aptly named lead-off single, "Sick, Sick, Sick." I realize I'm somewhat contradicting myself here, slagging Homme's musical output of the last few years, while at the same time arguing that I had high expectations for his most recent project. But I guess I had hoped that some of that old Homme brilliance would return. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Let's agree to disagree on "Sick, Sick, Sick," which I think is a pretty solid radio single with some fairly motorin' (if not motorik) garage-rock guitars. And I'm not sure I'd characterize Songs For The Deaf as a "collaboration" between Grohl and Homme. Grohl played the drums. That's like saying Blonde On Blonde was a collaboration between Bob Dylan and Kenneth A. Buttrey. (Sorry, drummers.) I'm tempted to paint you as a long-suffering Kyuss fan, with a cassette copy of Blues For The Red Sun tucked under your pillow. But that's too easy. I think you're just being impatient and misdiagnosing Homme with whatever disease Rivers Cuomo has—the one that turns a once-inspired songwriter into a rancid puddle of melted cheese. As with Dylan or Frank Black or Eric Bachmann or John Reis, you gotta hang in there and trust that Homme is going to be productive over the course of a career that outlasts dumb trends or self-inflicted indulgences. So the real questions are: When do you relinquish membership to the fan club? What formerly awesome musicians have you given up on? And do you really think Homme is at that point? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Although it doesn’t advance the principal debate, I do have to take a moment to address the ridiculous implication that drummers can’t have a formative impact on classic recordings. Are you placing Grohl, John Bonham, Stewart Copeland, Neil Peart and Jimmy Chamberlain—just to name a few—in the same league as a session player? Really? Anyway, back to the matter at hand, I guess I never give up all hope on favorite songwriters who have lost their mojo. That I still hold a glimmer for Paul Westerberg should be ample evidence of that (although it is worth noting that Westerberg wasn't that much younger than Homme is now when he broke up the ‘Mats and started his solo career, which doesn’t bode well for Josh). So, yes, while I do listen to Blues For The Red Sun more than Lullabies To Paralyze or Era Vulgaris these days, I also reserve hope that Homme has some gas left in the tank. By the way, I can’t help notice that you haven’t exactly launched a vociferous defense here. So far you’ve offered an outright slam (“You had high hopes for Them Crooked Vultures? Really?”), faint praise (“pretty solid radio single,” “fairly motorin’”) and a crack about the Desert Sessions. Search your feelings, Luke. You really agree with me, don’t you? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan You misspelled Jimmy Chamberlin's last name. But that's OK—he's still just as important to the Smashing Pumpkins as Billy Corrigan. Listen, I have enough enemies. I don't need to add the world's population of drummers to the list. Grohl was an excellent addition to the Queens lineup, but his presence alone didn't make or break the songs. The band's current drummer, Joey Castillo, is ... whatever compliment drummers like to hear. An animal. A rabid caveman. That Hindu god with all the arms. But back to our main topic: I don't feel too conflicted about Era Vulgaris. What, you don't like Bulby and Patchy the Pirate? I enjoy the supercharged "3's And 7's" (as heard on Guitar Hero and Rock Band, and featuring a hook that's memorable to just about everyone but you) as well as the fake R&B thing that is "Make It Wit Chu" (which is so much better than the fake R&B thing that My Morning Jacket does). I suspect you don't like Homme's recent efforts at concise rock and prefer his sprawling, droning stuff. Is that it? Era Vulgaris isn't my favorite Queens record, but it's hardly time to pull the plug on Homme. I get the feeling that if you were Clint Eastwood in Million Dollar Baby, that movie would've been about an hour shorter. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Thanks for the spell check. Guess that’s why you’re the editor with all the attendant fancy cars, drugs and high-priced call girls, while I’m just a lowly freelancer, toiling away in anonymity. The trappings of your Jay-Z lifestyle are obviously becoming a distraction, however, given your confusing comments about Homme’s “recent” efforts at concise rock. Have you not heard QOTSA’s 1998 debut? The three-minute “If Only” is not only concise, but one of the best things Homme has written. I’ll take that over any of the handful of bloated seven minute tracks on Lullabies To Paralyze any day of the week. Yes, he subsequently reined in song length on Era Vulgaris, but unfortunately, that brevity only translated to sucking for shorter periods of time. Look, I’ll make you a deal here: Admit that Homme’s recent output has been largely lackluster and I won’t unplug the respirator for another couple of years. Who knows, maybe we’ll see a miracle recovery. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Fine. I already admitted Era Vulgaris wasn't the best album, and I can't stand up for Them Crooked Vultures. Speaking of vultures, that's exactly what you were at the beginning of this debate. You wanted to swoop down and pick apart the remains of Josh Homme. I don't mean it to sound quite that moralistic—that's what critics do. But the man isn't dead. He's just gathering strength. He's on a swamp planet with Yoda. He's in Siberia punching frozen meat. He's carb-loading at Denny's. You can't keep this guy down. Let's meet back here around the release date of the next Queens album and see how the patient is doing.

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Put Up Your Dukes: Dinosaur Jr

November 24, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: Dinosaur Jr. Put up your dukes! From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Dinosaur Jr came to town last month. I didn't go see them. In fact, I've never seen Dinosaur Jr (or its frontman, J Mascis, live)—which, for a music journalist who's been covering a certain alt-rock niche for more than a decade, is like lying beneath a urinating racehorse and not getting wet. You just end up seeing certain long-in-the-tooth artists by default. (I've seen Bob Mould three times by accident, for example.) In the interest of starting an argument with you, I'm going to throw Dinosaur into the tar pit. Yes, I've heard their albums. I'm bothered that their best-known song is a cover of the Cure's "Just Like Heaven." I'm turned off by the fugly green-and-purple "team colors" that were made into a Nike sneaker and the eighth-grade art-class album covers. Mascis might be a guitar god (more on that later), but he must've sold his personality to acquire such skills. He has all the charisma of Stephen Malkmus but with the appearance of an aging lesbian. Hit me back, Freak Scene. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Maybe I missed the point of these debates entirely, but I thought we were supposed to be discussing music. I’m now left to argue … what? That J Mascis is in fact a handsome devil? With impeccable instincts for art and fashion? And a sparkling conversationalist to boot? I’ll tell you a little story. You may or may not recall that I interviewed Mascis for MAGNET many years ago. His reputation having preceded him, I went into the interview well-prepared, with pages of single-spaced questions and discussion topics. Nevertheless, the whole “conversation” lasted approximately 10 minutes and was characterized by a series of yeses, nos and grunts. Suffice to say I’d rather have a Tabasco enema than interview that fucker again. And yes, he does look like he drives a beat-up Volvo, wears Birkenstocks and listens to the Indigo Girls. All of that becomes irrelevant, however, when he plugs in a guitar. I defy you to identify any Mascis contemporaries who are as genius with a six-string. One other note: “Start Choppin’” is Dinosaur Jr’s best-known song, having reached number four on the alternative charts back in ’93. Still, there would be nothing wrong with being recognized for converting the worst song from the Cure’s Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me into something listenable. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I remember "Start Choppin'." Actually, I only remember the guitar riff from it. Is that bad? You'll have to agree that J "fuzzy warbler" Mascis is not a technically gifted singer (and yet he's no Kim Gordon, either), and it doesn't make much sense to try to figure out what he's been singing about all these years. So we're left with his proficiency on the guitar. Maybe he's in the pantheon of guitar gods somewhere between Doug Martsch and Joe Satriani, or maybe he's three spots up from Kevin Shields and seven steps to the left of Bernard Butler. Pitchfork is working round the clock on those rankings right now. In the meantime, I'm left to wonder whether Dinosaur Jr is revered just 'cause they're old and still kicking (hey Mission Of Burma—I'm coming for you next) or because they put their early stuff out on SST. Smells like grandfathered indie cred to me. This was a band that couldn't make it big even during the Nirvana boom cycle. You had to be stupid or Mudhoney not to hit paydirt during the alt-rock '90s. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch No, Mascis is not a technically gifted singer, but neither is Tom Waits nor—since you mentioned Mudhoney—Mark Arm. Last I checked, silky vocal pipes weren't a prerequisite for artistic credibility. Perhaps this is more to your liking? In terms of guitar prowess, are Doug Martsch and Bernard Butler really the best you could do? Really? What about John Frusciante, Dave Navarro, Mike McCready, Josh Homme and Tom Morello? Disregard that. I'm not here to make your case for you (although you clearly need help). You seem to be arguing that any regard for Dinosaur Jr is a nostalgia trip. (Does anybody really give a shit that they used to be on SST? I don't.). Yet in the same breath, you acknowledge that Dino Jr. is "still kicking." They are indeed still kicking. With apologies to the Rush fans out there, name a better rock 'n' roll trio now or 20 years ago than Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph. As a final point, you're like Fox News: When the facts don't support your case, just make them up. Couldn't "make it big?" Dinosaur Jr had four major-label releases in the '90s, charted here and in the U.K. and played Lollapalooza. How is that not commercial success? By the way, I hesitate to even ask that question, as it gives credence to the silly popularity = quality aspect of your argument. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Thanks for the Mel Tormé YouTube clip—that's exactly what I meant. Was he on SST? I think Mel might've been in an early lineup of the Subhumans. I think we already established, in our Pixies argument, that a band can still breathe and tour and yet largely represent a nostalgia trip for its fans. Can I name a better rock trio than Dinosaur Jr? Didn't I just mention Nirvana? How about Daryl Hall, John Oates and an old shoe? I've clearly stated that I dislike Dinosaur Jr's crummy visual aesthetic, Mascis' plant-like personality, the inferior vocals and lyrics and the dubious assertion that Mascis is a guitar hero. You've been arguing around the edges. What progression has the band made in its 25-year career? What's the thing that I'm missing? Give me a YouTube clip of Dinosaur Jr doing something awesome and I'll give it fair consideration. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Dude, at least get your facts straight. Tormé was in Crass, not the Subhumans. Anyway, at the risk of repeating myself, the fact that a band can induce nostalgia and still produce viable music in the current day are not mutually exclusive states of being. This year's Farm and 2007's Beyond are stellar rock 'n' roll records by any measure. As for any lingering doubts regarding Mascis' godhead status on guitar, please cue up Farm's "I Don't Wanna Go There" at the 4:15 mark and prepare to have your face melted by the four-minute solo. Sonics aside, you seem to be hung up on the visuals, so I'll direct you to the band's classic Spike Jonze-directed video for "Feel The Pain," wherein Mascis and Co. play a round of golf in NYC. Equally bitchin' is the new clip for "Over It," Mascis skateboard double's ridiculous grey wig notwithstanding. It's great visual entertainment (see if you can spot the Mike Watt cameo) and the song's wah-wah guitar hook is insanely catchy. So there you have it. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan The video for "Feel The Pain" is really funny. I mean that it's funny not only because of the golfing but also because it features all the band members. Both of them. Mascis and bassist Mike Johnson, the only other guy who could stand to be in Dinosaur Jr at the time. I can't be quite as critical with regard to the "Over It" video—that is top shelf. I'm embedding it below. How'd you know that was Mike Watt? If you'd sent me the link to this video at the beginning of this whole charade, it might've been the shortest Put Up Your Dukes in history. However, then I wouldn't have gotten you to make the ridiculous claim that "Just Like Heaven" is the worst song on Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me. Are you insane? Or do you think the seven minutes of sonic waterboarding that is "The Snakepit" is a stone cold gas? Don't answer that—we could be here for days. [youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgTJtdn6VjM[/youtube]

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Put Up Your Dukes: Frank Black Vs. The Pixies

July 1, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: "Bone Machine" vs. Bluefinger, "Nimrod's Son" vs. Teenager Of The Year, Black Francis vs. Frank Black. Put up your dukes! From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I have to say, the Pixies reunion never sat well with me. The band certainly deserves all its posthumous acclaim and enduring popularity, but there’s something untoward about the summer-festival cash grabs. Plus, there’s the new boxed set, Minotaur, which should’ve been titled Gouge Away. I think the price tag reaches $450 if you get the edition with all the bells and whistles. Even if I wasn’t being the vintner at the Sour Grapes Winery where the Pixies making bank is concerned, I have a debate-worthy point to make: Frank Black’s body of solo work now surpasses the relatively brief spurt of creativity he experienced with the Pixies. From his output with the Catholics to Grand Duchy and back to Black Francis again, he’s become more diverse, a better songwriter and a better vocalist. What’s up with these fools clamoring to hear “Where Is My Mind?” for the umpteenth time? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch First of all, “summer-festival cash grab” is a bit harsh. These guys aren’t the Eagles charging $150 per ticket so Don Henley can buy a third Ferrari. Did you see LoudQUIETLoud, the documentary about the Pixies reunion? Christ, until this tour, David Lovering was a real life Gob, doing magic tricks to eke out a living. And who the hell knows what Joey Santiago was doing to feed himself. Anyway, back to the matter at hand, you claim that Frank Black is still doing solo work? I stopped paying attention after his ’93 self-titled release, which included his only memorable post-Pixies tune, “Los Angeles” (remember that bitchin’ hovercraft?). I’m being facetious, of course. I’m aware of Mr. Black’s substantial solo catalog. I had to stop listening, however, due to extensive forehead bruising; I only get about two songs into the likes of Honeycomb and fall face down onto my desk in a state of catatonic boredom. Here’s a suggestion: Play the aforementioned record’s “Selkie Bride,” followed by Surfer Rosa’s “Bone Machine.” Compare. That should end this debate immediately. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I’m glad you brought up LoudQUIETLoud. That was the documentary about four people who do not like to be in a room together, right? It bummed me out in the same way that End Of The Century did, learning that the Ramones—for me, the quintessential band unit, from the uniforms to the faux-brotherhood—mostly hated each other. Creative tension is one thing, but passive-aggressive dysfunction is painful to watch. I don’t have a comeback for your Honeycomb jab. Well, I sort of do—it’s called Bossanova and it’s almost 25 percent of the Pixies’ output. Honeycomb and Frank Black’s rootsy phase, circa 2002-2006, wasn’t my favorite, either, but there’s plenty of other discs on the shelf. I’ll save the gory details for an Over/Under piece, but Frank Black has made three great albums: Teenager Of The Year, Dog In The Sand and Petits Four (by Grand Duchy, his duo with wife Violet Clark). They’re all very different from each other—the first is a sprawling punk masterpiece, the second is surreal and Stonesy, and the third is synth-enabled pop—and they’re spread out over more than a decade. Sometimes it takes a while to get where you’re going. What kind of range did the Pixies have? Oh, we already mentioned it: loud, quiet, loud. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch I agree, the documentary was painful viewing. I hear Metallica’s therapist is available; maybe they should give him a call. Teenager Of The Year is a better than average rock n’ roll album. Punk? Not so much. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t remember what Dog In The Sand sounded like until I just pulled it off my shelf a few minutes ago. I suspect I listened to it a few times in 2000 when the CD came out and it has been collecting dust ever since. It’s certainly not a bad record, but there’s just not much here to keep a listener coming back (plus, I could rattle off 20 bands that have done a better job aping the Stones). I think part of the problem is that Charles Frank Black Francis Thompson actually tries to sing on his solo material. While he’s electrifying when screeching, moaning and shouting obscenities in Spanish, as a traditional singer, he’s positively narcotic (and not in a good way). Grand Douchey (did I spell that right?) suffers from the same affliction. Black’s and his wife’s tone-deaf crooning make for painful—and painfully boring—listening. Back to the Pixies, I’m not going to go on and on about how Bossanova was an underrated entry in their canon (mostly because I wasn’t crazy about it myself). Such a defense is unnecessary, however, as the strength of Come On Pilgrim, Surfer Rosa and Doolittle render any other catalog nitpicking irrelevant. These were seminal releases, influencing countless bands. How many imitators has solo Frank Black spawned? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan “Grand Douchey.” You are on fire today! Yeah, Violet Clark doesn’t have the virtuoso pipes of, say, Kim Deal. And just so I have it straight: You think it’s bad that Frank Black sings well and you also deduct points because his wife sings poorly? Maybe you should get that bruise on your forehead checked out. Speaking of mental lapses, I meant to write “pop/punk” in reference to Teenager Of The Year. I think it was writer Dennis Cooper who extolled it as the greatest album of all time in one of his essays, but I could be mistaken. It’s not on the Internet, but you’ll just have to trust me that some people out there really like it. I’m sorry Frank Black’s solo material hasn’t spawned imitators the way the Pixies did: Bush, Veruca Salt, please don’t make me think of more. You might want to sit down for this next thing I’m going to point out, but ... Frank Black is Black Francis! He sings the same way! Not all the time, but he still screeches, shouts and sings in Spanish. Until you give me a specific advantage the Pixies have over the solo stuff (an acceptable answer might be: “Joey Santiago’s surf-rock guitar”), I think you’re just hung up on the Pixies brand name or are too lazy to keep up with the apparently unfashionable Frank Black. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch I see that reading for comprehension isn’t your strong suit. Where did I say that Frank Black sings well? I said that I liked him better in the Pixies when he sang like a howler monkey with its tail caught in a blender. Although not a good singer in the traditional sense, Black Francis was never boring. (OK, so maybe he was a little bit boring on Bossanova.) And he doesn’t sing the same now; that’s my point. I defy you to name one song Frank Black has done in the past decade where his vocals resemble those of the Pixies era. As to the advantages you seek, yes, there’s Joey Santiago’s surf guitar. Kim Deal’s valley-girl vocals. David Lovering’s Herculean drumming (see “Something Against You” for reference). Memorable songs. Should I go on? And I told you, I’m trying to keep up with Frank Black, but he keeps putting me to sleep. So, to quote Black Francis, “You fuckin’ die!” Oh, P.S., with regard to Pixies imitators, you may have heard of a little band called Nirvana? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Nirvana. Well played. Treat yourself to a sliced-up eyeball. Don’t you find the Pixies’ lyrics self-consciously “weird,” like the journal entries of a high-school goth who just discovered surrealism and all kinds of French stuff? You don’t have to answer that. I know you’ll counter with the fact that Frank Black once sang about UFOs or something. I’d like to point out that “Black Suit” from Grand Duchy’s album features some Black Francis screaming. I guess that didn’t wake you up from your suspended-animation Pixies coma. I may not have been able to help you here today, but maybe some readers out there will unchain themselves from the "Bone Machine" and check out what’s been happening the past two decades. Oh, and thanks for telling me to “fuckin’ die.” I didn’t think I’d get that kind of vitriol until my friends and family showed up in the comments section.

Posted in PUT UP YOUR DUKES | 15 Comments

Put Up Your Dukes: Pearl Jam’s “Ten”

April 30, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: Ten, Pearl Jam's 1991 grunge touchstone. Put up your dukes! From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Can 10 million Americans be wrong? That's not a serious question. This debate would already be over if that were my opening argument. But 10 million is the number of copies of Pearl Jam's Ten that have been sold since its release in 1991 (they just reissued it in a deluxe edition, by the way), not to mention the canonization of the album by, well, everyone. After going back and listening to Ten, we should really reconsider this. It's essentially a cartoonish blues-rock ponytail cheesefest masquerading as then-popular grunge. Listen to those Edgar Winter hot-lick guitar fills! What about Eddie Vedder's grandpappy routine, the "c'mere son, sit on my lap and I'll tell you 'bout your daddy" lyrics? Even Pearl Jam themselves outgrew this charade. For various reasons, Ten had to be made and became very popular. But why can't we all admit it was a passing mistake and move on? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch While some of Pearl Jam’s members invented grunge (see Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament in Green River ), I agree that Pearl Jam never should have been lumped into that genre. As you imply, Ten was much more informed by blues and classic rock than punk and metal. I guess our point of departure is that you believe that this is a bad thing. In a similar vein, I’ve always been puzzled by the indie crowd’s disdain for the guitar solo (J Mascis' output excepted) or, as you call it, “hot-lick guitar fills!” They’re a rock 'n’ roll band, for chrissakes. Finally, I’m wondering if you heard Ten when it came out, or years later. I suspect that latecomer perceptions could be unfairly influenced by the horrible imitators (e.g., Candlebox, Daughtry, Nickelback) that followed. Granted, Ten isn’t some grand artistic statement, but for those of us who can appreciate the likes of Hendrix and Crazy Horse, it’s one hell of a rock 'n’ roll album. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Somewhere between playing devil’s advocate and engaging in revisionist history, I have to come clean about Ten: I bought the cassette in high school. Nearly wore it out. Learned how to (badly) play “Black” on the guitar, probably to impress some girl. Seen the “Jeremy” video maybe 60 times. I thought that by going back and listening to this album again after many years would engender some fond feelings for it. Songs like “Alive” and “Even Flow” have never left our car radios, but maybe I’d rediscover something great on those side-two songs I’d forgotten existed, like “Oceans” or “Deep.” Turns out they weren’t hits for a reason. Sure, it’s a matter of taste (I do like the Led Zeppelin thing going on in “Garden,” for whatever that’s worth.) But I want to say this: If we can’t blame Pearl Jam for Candlebox, Nickelback and Daughtry, then who is to blame? Eddie Vedder stood up to Ticketmaster but couldn’t bother to stand up and say, “Hey. Hey, you guys. Please stop because you’re making a mockery out of me”? Don’t you think art should work that way? The guys who made Airplane! could tell the guys who made Not Another Teen Movie to knock it off, and we’d all benefit. When you let the genie out of the bottle, it’s your responsibility to put the fucker back in. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch I’m starting to see the problem for you here. Pearl Jam conjures too many adolescent memories of not getting laid. All those hours spent honing your chops on your Japanese knock-off Stratocaster and rewarded with nothing but hand cream and late-night Cinemax. Having been married for a year when Ten came out, I have no such negative associations. I just remember that a straight-up rock band like Pearl Jam was a breath of fresh air after the hair-metal '80s. As to your suggestion that the band is responsible for policing what came after Ten, how exactly would that be accomplished? Although I would fully endorse Vedder putting a hired hit on Scott Stapp and Chad Kroeger, I’m not sure that would be entirely legal. Barring that, what’s left? Bitching in the media? Yeah, that’s a productive exercise. Or maybe you stop making videos, stop doing press and put out a few difficult albums. You essentially go underground, distancing yourself from the pretenders. Would that be an effective approach? Is any of this sounding familiar? Anyway, back to the matter at hand, I think you better go back and listen to side two a little more closely, particularly the furious opening of “Porch” or the emotional slow-burn of “Release.” From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan “Porch” is a good song; I liked it more when it was on side one and titled “Once.” The two songs open quite differently, but once they get going, it’s kind of the same riff, tempo and vocal style. Maybe in another key or something—I didn’t learn to play those on my guitar (which was acoustic with an annoyingly high bridge), so I can’t really say. “Release” is OK, too, but it’s just a one-bar arpeggio that gets louder for four minutes. It’s kind of a cooler version of “Hunger Strike” by Temple Of The Dog (which came out before Ten), but still ... I just made a valid comparison to Temple Of The Dog. You can’t win now. Here’s a question: Isn’t “State Of Love And Trust” (featured on the Singles soundtrack) superior to anything on Ten? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Yeah, there's nothing lamer than a "one-bar arpeggio." I wonder if there are any openings at Guitar World? I think you've missed your calling. Anyway, yes, I could be convinced that "State Of Love And Trust" is superior to anything on Ten. Here's a pretty great unplugged version of that song before the band, like the rest of us, got old, fat and cut their hair. Speaking of Temple Of The Dog, was there ever a better showcase for Chris Cornell's vocals? I wonder if he ever goes back and listens to that record? I suspect not. Otherwise, he wouldn't have released his solo records, each more shitty than the previous, culminating with that Timbaland abomination. Why can't the guy just do a rock, blues, or—hell's bells, man—even a gospel album? It's an interesting study of contrasts between Cornell and Pearl Jam, two acts spawned from the same Seattle breeding grounds at exactly the same time. Pearl Jam achieved mainstream success early and was mostly reviled by the critics and indie cognoscenti. Later, they went (relatively) underground, shed some of their listeners, but ultimately obtained some modicum of critical respect and a smaller, more loyal fan base. Cornell, meanwhile, with Soundgarden, was considered a legit part of the nascent grunge scene, and despite being an iffy lyricist, was respected for his glass-shattering vocals. Now, in an apparent bid for mainstream success, he has shed any remaining loyalists, become a laughingstock in critical circles and—here's the rub—is still an abject commercial failure. That said, I'm probably more apt to revisit Soundgarden's Screaming Life EP than Ten these days, but I suspect that's a function of residual fatigue from Ten's ubiquity on TV and radio back in the day. I wonder if that early-'90s overdose is also contributing to your revisionist take? Kind of like when you get spectacularly drunk in college on a particular liquor, throw up loudly and abundantly as a result, and then can't stand to even look at said liquor for decades afterward. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I’m not going to be drawn into your Chris Cornell hate pit. Nice try, though. That guy is clearly out of ideas. Are my Soundgarden and Nirvana and Skin Yard (just kidding—I don’t own any Skin Yard!) CDs analogous to that bottle of Razzmatazz in the back of my liquor cabinet? You could be correct there. But I don’t think that level of residual fatigue happens with iconic (or just really great) rock 'n' roll albums. Appetite For Destruction, Back In Black, Led Zeppelin II—I personally don’t think these are the best rock albums ever, but I do think they’ve endured and seem unstuck from a particular era. There are teenagers right now who are smoking pot in the basement and listening to those albums. I don’t think Ten got handed down to younger siblings the way a lot of people inherited some Sabbath or Tom Petty or R.E.M. That kind of takes the “classic” out of its “classic rock” aspirations, don’t you think? Hold on: I just got an email press release saying that the TV show Cold Case will feature 16 Pearl Jam songs, many of them from Ten, in its next two episodes. "We're thrilled to have Pearl Jam's music in not only one, but two, of our episodes,” says writer/executive producer Greg Plageman. “It's also a great fit with the team's murder investigation of a trail-blazing female cadet." Well, there you have it: Ten will live in our hearts as the soundtrack to the season finale of Cold Case. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch C'mon, you rattle off a list of early-'90s Seattle bands with no mention of Gruntruck or Cat Butt? Anyway, I don't have a little brother, so I'm not sure if that hand-me-down analogy fits or not. I do have a six-year-old daughter, but she's partial to Neko Case (which is sort of ironic when you think about it, as Case's hatred of children is well documented). I can tell you that a friend of mine has made Pearl Jam fans out of his two grade-school-age boys, but I suppose that's too small a sampling to extrapolate to an entire population of young listeners. And I'm pretty sure they're not smoking pot in their basement (yet). So yeah, Skin Yard. That Jack Endino was something, wasn't he? He really produced the heck out of that ... oh, forget it. I'm obviously stalling here in the hopes that I won't have to address the fact that Pearl Jam will now be the soundtrack to "a trail-blazing female cadet" on network television. (This on the heels of me spouting off about Pearl Jam's underground bona fides.) I've suddenly lost the will to carry on with this debate. If you don't mind, I'll just slink off quietly now. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Wait! Come back! I had so many aces up my sleeve: "Imperfect Ten." "This Ten only goes to four." "The judge from Correctistan gives Ten a six." "The judge proficient in Number Theory gives Ten a score of the complex form a + bi, which isn't even on the real number line!" I think I just lost all (meaning both) of our readers, too.

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Put Up Your Dukes: Anthony Bourdain

April 1, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: Anthony Bourdain. Put up your dukes! From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Let's talk about Anthony Bourdain. I know you like his food/travel show No Reservations. Well, I got reservations (cue Wilco song). About so many things. I'll commence tearing down Bourdain's TV show and his carefully constructed persona shortly, but first I have to get this out in the open: When it comes to celebrity chefs, I'm with WFMU's Tom Scharpling, who simply said, "Cook my food." While it certainly requires skill and creativity to be a chef, I don't need the spectacle of celebrity to enhance my dining experience. With music and film, give me spectacle. When it comes to the person who makes the meal that I'm going to shit out a few hours later ... cook my food. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch I'm not clear on what your beef is here (no pun intended). If you're saying that celebrity status isn't required to prepare a fine meal, then we are in agreement right off the bat. By the same token, despite your implication, I don't think the "spectacle of celebrity" is necessary to make good music. Maybe your complaint is with the rash of cooking shows on air these days and the celebrity status bestowed upon the chefs that host them. Or maybe you're an unrepentant cretin who is just as content with a Big Mac as an expertly prepared steak, since you'll just be "shitting it out a few hours later" anyway. Should I keep guessing, or would you like to clarify your point? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Hey, I was just giving you a baseline for my distaste (sweet pun!) for celebrity chefs. And yet, on the food chain (oh my sweet freaking Jesus) of these people, Bourdain is several notches below even Bobby Flay and Rachael Ray for me. I would trust either of them to make me a meal in spite of their abrasive personalities. Bourdain? He's a former coke addict, he prides himself on eating gross/exotic food, and he's an egocentric, self-appointed artiste. It's like having David Crosby fix the brakes on your car or asking Pete Doherty to do your taxes. Can't Bourdain dial down the "culinary rebel" shtick a little? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Sigh. I’m getting flashbacks to our Hunter S. Thompson installment of Dukes. Suffice to say, I admire your ability to make these bold statements based on the most superficial of impressions. I’ll explain why you should trust Bourdain over Ray to prepare a meal, and why your Crosby and Doherty analogies are so far off as to make me embarrassed for you. Ray is a television personality. She has no training as a chef and has never worked in a restaurant kitchen. She says “yummo” a lot. The primary criteria for her recipes is speed of preparation for the busy suburb an soccer mom. Bourdain has a degree from the Culinary Institute of America. He has nearly three decades of experience as a chef and has run kitchens in some of the finest dining establishments in New York. As with Thompson, your issues with Bourdain seem to be that he’s profane and used to take drugs. Perhaps this is better suited to your delicate sensibilities? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I’m pretty sure that Hunter S. Thompson would take one look at Bourdain’s degree from the CIA and assume he’s some sort of government operative trying to tap his phone. But you’re right—I’ve been circling around any real criticism of Bourdain product. I read Kitchen Confidential, his tell-all about the restaurant biz. I’ve worked in a few restaurants, and it was a fine portrayal. I ate a very nice meal at Les Halles, the restaurant where Bourdain is some sort of honorary executive chef; I’m not sure that he is ever actually in the kitchen there, which is OK, too. He’s more of a TV personality now. Which brings us to No Reservations, the program he hosts for the Travel Channel. It’s not like other culinary travel shows—it’s deep, man. The show always begins with an awful soundbite of a Blues Hammer-esque vocalist intoning “Noooo Reservationssss” in some hepcat style. I saw the “Venice" episode recently. Bourdain does his best (meaning worst) Lou Reed impression, walking around deserted back alleys of Venice, spouting some nonsense poetry about the soul of the city and its inhabitants. Later, he dines with some native Venetians and everyone pats each other on the back, talking about “heroic” cooking and the “real” food of Venice. You see, my problem is not that Bourdain is rebellious or that he’s cool enough to be invited to drink wine in hole-in-the-wall cafes. He’s an elitist, constantly mocking the tourists and pretending he’s not one of them. Give me Rick Steves over this guy any day. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch That "awful soundbite" opening the show is the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. As a card carrying Morrissey fan, I know you'd prefer to hear the Smiths' "Meat Is Murder," but the tone and content of that song wouldn't be appropriate for a travel and cooking show hosted by an abrasive and unabashedly carnivorous New Yorker. But I digress. Yes, I admit that Bourdain's poetic musings can sometimes be a bit over the top, and the guy is clearly impressed with himself. As you know from reading Kitchen Confidential, however, a healthy self-regard and a steel set of balls are practically prerequisites for survival in the culinary industry. And give chefs their due; they are artists in their own right. I find Bourdain a welcome change from the usual dumbed down, nicey-nice fare in both the travel and cooking show genres. He's foul-mouthed, politically incorrect, likes to drink, and yes, he makes fun of the fanny-packed cruise ship crowd, an elitist take I wholeheartedly endorse. Plus, c'mon, how many cooking or travel shows do you know that would host the likes of Chuck Palahniuk, Marky Ramone or Queens Of The Stone Age? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Nice ad hominem argument there with the Morrissey/Smiths jab. Hasn’t been my cup of tea since I was a teenager, however. I like Jon Spencer a lot, and knowing that he’s responsible for that lead-in soundbite makes me sad. You’re trying to impress me with the likes of Marky Ramone? Was Bez from Happy Mondays not available? I’ll give chefs their due respect, but you have to admit we’re in an era of overcelebrating these people. Bourdain is just one more enabler within the framework of our national obsession with food. The Food Network, Top Chef, Gordon Ramsay’s various series and whatever other network cooking shows leave just enough programming time for weight-loss reality shows like The Biggest Loser. Makes sense to me. You know what I do enjoy about No Reservations? The camera work. Really beautiful location shots of the different cities and their architecture, plus panoramic natural views. It’s great TV until Bourdain buzzkills it with some junior-high poetry about steamed mussels or the perfect crepe. That’s about all the praise I can muster. I feel like a theatre critic complimenting the scenery because the acting is just so awful. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Man, talk about grasping at straws. When one argument gets shot down, you jump to another. Bourdain is a celebrity, and I don't like celebrity chefs. No, wait, he's a no-talent, junkie hack. Uh, no, that's not it, he's a poetry-spewing elitist. What I really mean is, he's responsible for America's obesity problem. What's next? Bourdain's reckless derivative trading brought down AIG? Yes, there are too many damn cooking shows on the air right now, and most of them are garbage. If you had watched more than one episode of No Reservations, however, you would have seen that Bourdain isn't peddling peanut butter pies to middle America. Yes, the guy can be an arrogant prick, but he's focusing on the right things when it comes to travel and food. His mantra is to get off the beaten path and seek the expertly (and often humbly) prepared local fare. He shouldn't be faulted for overreaching at times in terms of portraying these experiences in hyperbolic terms. By the way, given your ascetic views on food, drink, drugs, etc., have you ever considered a career as a monk? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Yeah, regarding my multi-tiered assault on Bourdain, it’s called “moving the goalpost.” I do it all the time to win arguments. Usually nobody notices. Even so, all the things I mentioned constitute, for me, a reason not to get excited about Anthony Bourdain. He’s clearly your antihero in a celebrity-chef universe that deserves to go supernova. Regarding my fledgling career as a monk, if it means abstaining from viewing Bourdain on TV, sign me up. Just put me in whatever abbey brews Chimay or Orval. See you (and probably Bourdain) at rehab.

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Put Up Your Dukes: The Gaslight Anthem

March 18, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: the Gaslight Anthem. Put up your dukes! From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch I couldn't help but notice that the Gaslight Anthem's The 59 Sound topped many critics' and readers' lists in 2008, but I ask you: Has there been a more egregious example of clichéd bombast (or is that bombastic cliché?) in recent memory? With its overly earnest delivery and hackneyed '50s imagery, this steaming pile could be the soundtrack to a really bad high-school production of West Side Story. Other than those with a penchant for ducktail haircuts, leather jackets and Springsteen's worst musical and lyrical tendencies, to whom, exactly, is this record appealing? "Blue Jeans & White T-Shirts" (download): [audio:BlueJeansAndWhiteTShirts.mp3] From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I can assure you the Gaslight Anthem is no more bombastic or clichéd than My Morning Jacket or My Chemical Romance. And, really, let’s not play the “they don’t sound original enough!” card. This isn’t jazz. What’s most interesting about your opening argument is your mention of West Side Story: I think some of the best rock records in recent years have sounded like Broadway musicals: Against Me!’s New Wave, the Hold Steady’s Separation Sunday, Green Day’s American Idiot. To be clear, I’m not talking about concept albums: These records have distinct stage-friendly moments of (to use your word) bombast. I don’t know if The ‘59 Sound is quite at the same level of theatricality—the songs do have a working-class Jersey backdrop, and frontman Brian Fallon is earnest in a good way—but what’s not to like? You probably don’t like ABBA, either. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Good lord, a MAGNET editor is name checking My Chemical Romance. Is this a sign of the apocalypse? Or have you just regressed to 13 years old? In any event, I won't go too far down the path with that originality argument, what with rock 'n' roll being 60 years old, give or take a decade. To pick up on your American Idiot example, however, how many punk-rock operas can you name? And when you listen to Green Day, what band do you think of? Probably, you think of Green Day. The Gaslight Anthem, meanwhile, has abandoned any kind of unique identity in favor of aping the E Street Band. Look, I'm not going to argue this point too vociferously, as I like a lot of artists that could be accused of being derivative (the Black Lips and Jay Reatard come to mind). If I'm being completely honest here, I simply don't like Bruce Springsteen. He's a middling guitar player and sings like he's trying to pass a kidney stone. The fact that I don't dig the Boss makes it very difficult to enjoy the Gaslight Anthem. As a side note, while we're slaughtering sacred cows here, I've given Against Me! and the Hold Steady many chances in an attempt to "get it" but finally came to the conclusion that they're vastly overrated. As for ABBA, shit, I don't know what to do with that one. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I think we’re making progress here. This is like regression therapy for you; you’re finally coming to terms with your Boss issues. This must’ve been festering like a sore since the ‘80s. I know you’re a Steelers fan—was the Super Bowl bittersweet? It would seem I’m faced with the task of trying to make you like something that’s derivative of something else you don’t like. (Newsflash: If you’re not an ABBA fan, you might not like Mamma Mia!) But in all seriousness, if you take away the Gaslight Anthem’s denim jackets and Jersey driver’s licenses, how much does The ‘59 Sound really sound like Born To Run? Not much. I hear some mid-period Replacements. I hear a group of guys who grew up on ’90s hardcore and, in particular, more melodic stuff like Lifetime and Knapsack. The tempo alone is faster than anything the E Street Band is capable of. So you’re going to have to dig deeper than Springsteen to find this album’s flaws. I’ll even give you a four-word head start: “Dicky Barrett guest vocal.” From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch The only thing bittersweet about the Super Bowl is that I skipped the halftime show and missed Springsteen's failed knee slide. I agree that you're fighting an uphill battle here. Trust me, if I could play Gaslight and hear echoes of the Replacements or Knapsack—bands I love—we wouldn't be having this debate. I just don't hear anything sonically or lyrically to make the connection. Here's a test. Read each of these lyrical snippets and have a mirror at the ready: "But it's past a quarter to three/And it's past the midnight hour/Mustang Sally's left the building/And we're so much worse without her" "Jesus rides beside me/He never buys any smokes/Hurry up, hurry up/Ain't you had enough of this stuff?/Ashtray floors, dirty clothes and filthy jokes" Which lines caused an involuntary rolling of your eyes? Yeah, that's Gaslight. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan I’ll play your game, gamemaster. I just emailed these lyrics to our interns, assuming they won’t recognize a Replacements lyric when they see one. (No offense, interns; I don t know many 20-year-olds who are wild about Westerberg.) They’ll have four options: a) the first lyric is clearly better; b) the second lyric is clearly better; c) both kind of suck; and d) both are pretty good. I’ll let you know the results in my next email; the interns are on spring break and are probably getting tattoos (just kidding, parents!) instead of checking email. What I hope to prove is that it isn’t as clear-cut as you think it is. The Replacements were a cool band in your youth, and the Gaslight Anthem is a cool band in someone else’s. Given the music marketed to teens and the bands playing the all-ages circuit, isn’t the Gaslight Anthem a huge improvement over some overly pierced, eyeliner-wearing steampunk band? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch As the Amplified columnist, I probably shouldn't admit this, but I have no idea what "steampunk" means. Do band members in this genre shoot vaporized water from their assholes? If you're asking me if the Gaslight Anthem is better than your typical Alternative Press cover band, well, yes, I would definitely agree with that. (Talk about damning with faint praise.) In any event, since the implication here is that I don't understand "the kids" and their music, I'll anxiously await the results of your informal poll, and agree to abide by the results. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan The results are in. Four interns responded (the fifth intern is following the Phish tour with some friends she met at Burning Man), and it’s a tie. One preferred Gaslight’s lyrics, one preferred the Mats, and two were nonplussed altogether. Exact quote: “Neither. I had to avert my eyes.” Tough crowd. But you’re right—I shouldn’t have lowered the bar or made it an age-appropriate question. I have some CDs right in front of me (Obits, the Thermals, Mannequin Men) that blow the doors off The ‘59 Sound. But those bands are fully formed. Come back and kick me in the nuts in four years, but the Gaslight Anthem has a lot of potential. I think that’s why they got attention. Or maybe nobody wants to see 50-year-old Mike Ness in his wifebeater T-shirt anymore, trotting out Social Distortion for some blue-collar punk glory. Let’s hasten that retirement. I’m not talking to you about steampunk, by the way. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Godamned junior interns and their inconclusive poll results. Get off my lawn, you punks! Sorry, I had a senior moment there, as I'm closer to Mike Ness' age (he's 46, by the way) than to your mailroom lackeys' generation. Obviously my (our) over-the-top protestations are often for effect here, and if I'm being honest, I can get behind the fact that the Gaslight Anthem plays rock 'n' roll with punk underpinnings. And yes, they are preferable to mall punk. On the other hand, they pale in comparison to the Thermals, to use your example. I guess for now, I'll take your wait-and-see approach with regard to Gaslight's potential, and I'll see you in four years. In the meantime, I'll be saving up for a nice pair of steel-toed boots.

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Put Up Your Dukes: Bon Iver

February 11, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: Bon Iver. Put up your dukes! From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Hey, remember when you were a teenager and you'd be in the car with one of your parents and you'd have to find something on the radio that was tolerable for the both of you? You'd end up listening to the bland middle ground of John Mellencamp or the Steve Miller Band or, at best, Out Of Time-era R.E.M. Depending on our reader's (yes, I do mean singular—I think one person reads this column) age, that safe-sounding music might have been the Wallflowers or Iron & Wine or Bon Iver. I've gotten more excited watching Sunrise Earth than I have listening to For Emma, Forever Ago. "Skinny Love" from For Emma, Forever Ago (download here): [audio:SkinnyLove.mp3] From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Sorry, I can't relate to the analogy. If the music doesn't praise Jeebus, my parents probably don't listen to it, a fact that definitely precludes a musical meeting of the minds (unless I could somehow get them to listen to John Davis' Arigato!). But I see where you're going here; in essence, anything other than John Zorn and Wolf Parade is "bland" and "safe," right? C'mon, this isn't Jack Johnson we're talking about here; with its murky production and raw emotion, For Emma isn't exactly sunny beach fare. Perhaps your parents are cooler than mine, but I can't imagine they could get behind sentiments like "So many foreign worlds, so relatively fucked" ("Creature Fear"). So what exactly makes Bon Iver so bland? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Hold on, my Zoot Horn Rollo vinyl is skipping. Oh ... no, it’s not. Your request for specific criticism of Bon Iver’s music feels an awful lot like work to me, but here are a few things I find bothersome given the immense amount of praise that For Emma has garnered among music critics who really should know better. For an album that’s been touted as some log-cabin version of raw American folk, For Emma is surpassed in that respect by almost everything Will Oldham’s done (with humor, I might add) in the last decade or so. Justin Vernon (a.k.a. Bon Iver) is not a good singer; talk about an affected falsetto—it’s like Flight Of The Conchords without somebody doing the robot. He’s not a particularly proficient guitarist, either. Is he too sad to find something inventive to do with his instrument? Nick Drake managed just fine on his records. And yeah, we should hold Bon Iver to that high of a standard if it was anointed one of the top five (or whatever) albums of last year. I’m not arguing that Vernon has to be Yngwie Malmsteen or a genuine sharecropper, but he should be doing at least one thing really well. It’s emo-folk pablum and mediocrity across the board. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch My apologies for making you work; heaven forbid you back up your statements with some substance. But man, what a hard-ass. In the wake of losing his girlfriend and his band, Vernon rips out his heart and puts it on a plate only to have you shit all over it. Since when is virtuosity a prerequisite for quality? For Emma is honest stuff, not some contrived "emo-folk" as you call it. If you have any doubt, you need to watch this performance. I know you'd prefer cranking Ornette Coleman while screening Un Chien Andalou, but if you'd step down from your ivory tower for a moment, you'll see that simplicity doesn't always equal mediocrity. OK, so "Skinny Love" isn't "Hiphopopotamus Vs. Rhymenoceros" or "Business Time," but it's still damn good. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan He “lost” his girlfriend and band? Is his band physically lost, like looking for the turnpike entrance? Did the girlfriend die? They broke up! He’s like Lili Taylor in Say Anything: For Joe, Forever Ago. And while I’m at it, Vernon got the band name from a catchphrase on the TV show Northern Exposure? Had he been watching Mork & Mindy, would he be going under the name Shazbot? Because that would be funny, like the lyrics to “Hiphopopotamus Vs. Rhymenoceros”: "They call me the Hiphopopotamus Flows that glow like phosphorous Poppin' off the top of this esophagus Rockin' this metropolis I'm not a large water-dwelling mammal Where did you get that preposterous hypothesis? Did Steve tell you that, perchance? Steve." That was fun to cut and paste from 360lyricsdepot.com or wherever. Why are there so many song-lyrics sites? Do they make any money? A discussion for another day, but my point is that Bon Iver is one note, and that note is sad. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Speaking of Northern Exposure, did you know Janine Turner was now crazier than a shithouse rat? If her endorsement of Sarah Palin wasn't enough, go here for definitive evidence. Anyway, I see what you just did there. When your first argument didn't hold water (Bon Iver is bland and safe), you switched arguments (Bon Iver is too sad). Didn't you just say "Nick Drake managed just fine on his records?" Nick Drake? The same Nick Drake that overdosed on antidepressants? Let's face it, the guy wasn't exactly Katrina And The Waves. He and Vernon work the same downcast territory, with equal effectiveness. But enough of this rancor. It's time for business. It's business time. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Wow, so Janine Turner is a raging Jesus freak, huh? I like that her Christian yoga video (“60 minutes of Yoga with bible scriptures recited by Janine”) is called Christoga. I’m going to start selling Christian yogurt called Christogurt. Anyway, we’ve brought it full circle back to your distaste for evangelical Christianity, from Janine Turner to your parents’ music and the damaged childhood that’s resulted in your enthusiasm for Bon Iver. Now it all makes sense.

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Put Up Your Dukes: Antony And The Johnsons

February 4, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: Antony And The Johnsons. Put up your dukes! From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch After reading all the critical hosannas about Antony And The Johnsons (including your 2005 MAGNET cover story), I decided to check out the new one, The Crying Light. Admittedly, I’m late to the party, having missed out on Antony’s acclaimed debut, I Am A Bird Now. However, having now given Mr. Hegarty my full attention, I have one question for you, which I’ll pose as eloquently and succinctly as possible: Dude, WTF? I’m all for the gender-bending thing in pop music; hell, I’ll listen to Jeff Buckley do Edith Piaf all day long. But this guy? Blech. Please explain the appeal, as I simply don’t get it. "Her Eyes Are Underneath The Ground" from The Crying Light: [audio:HerEyes.mp3] From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan “Dude, WTF?” and “I don’t get it” are extremely poor argument starters, but I guess I’m locked into defending ... something about Antony Hegarty. My original take on Antony circa I Am A Bird Now was heavily contextualized: In the dog days of the Bush administration and the war on terror, Antony was the ultimate outsider—a transgendered, NYC-based performance artist—and yet his songs were full of hope and empathy and comfort. It was pretty uplifting. You kind of had to be there. Re: The Crying Light, it’s pretty obviously an album with a message about environmentalism. Maybe I’ll talk more about that later; I’ll wait and see if you try to paint me as some tree-hugging liberal. Are you sure you listened to the first track on the Antony disc (“Her Eyes Are Underneath The Ground”)? Perhaps you were expecting Anthony Kiedis? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Sorry, after our last debate, I thought you preferred to deal in sweeping generalizations. I'll be more specific: I find Hegarty's affected warble both annoying and creepy. I'm not a violent person, but I found myself wanting to bitch slap him for pronouncing dancing as "dahncing" in "Epilepsy Is Dancing" and kiss as "kees" in "Kiss My Name." I've read that he fancies himself a teenage girl trapped in a man's body, but his weird, overly cultured enunciations suggest that he's a 70-year-old high-society woman trapped in a man's body. I can get behind the outsider status and environmentalism (who do you think I am, Dick Cheney?), but that voice doesn't conjure for me hope, empathy and comfort so much as fear and loathing. And for the record, no, I wasn't expecting Anthony Kiedis. Although I would pay good money to hear Hegarty sing "Special Secret Song Inside" (a.k.a. "Party On Your Pussy") from The Uplift Mofo Party Plan. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Re: “dahncing,” Antony is originally from England. They talk funny over there. But listen, pal, if you think I’m going to sit back and let you accuse a Manhattan-based avant garde performance artist—a guy who runs in social circles with Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson—of “affected” behavior or suggest he might be putting on airs, well ... I sort of forgot what I was going to threaten you with. This is boring. I’m bored now. Hey, let’s change the subject and let me throw this out there: If the Red Hot Chili Peppers had broken up after Blood Sugar Sex Magik, its members never to be heard from again, they would be held in the same regard, rock history-wise, as Nirvana. True or false? Kiedis = Cobain??? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Hegarty moved to the U.S. as a child more than 25 years ago, so I highly doubt the accent is due to his country of origin. More likely it's a product of pretentiousness, prissiness or a combination of both. As to your other question, let me first compliment you on your mastery of the segue; that transition was as smooth as a camel in a boulder field. I assume you're poking fun at the Chili Peppers (and Nirvana?) here, but your sarcasm was so poorly executed that I'm left with having no fucking idea what you're talking about. Still, being the sporting type, I'll treat it as a serious inquiry and attempt to respond. Short answer re: Kiedis = Cobain: "No. Are you bonkers?" That said, I'm not going to bash Kiedis and Co. Frusciante is a hell of a guitarist, as was Hillel Slovak (R.I.P.) before him. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Are you still talking about Antony? I’m trying to shift the conversation toward something even more LGBT-oriented: guys who play music with their shirts off! Now that was sarcasm. (I think.) I’m not fooling with you on this. Nevermind and Blood Sugar Sex Magik were both released on Sept. 24, 1991. One of these records is a total drag to listen to; the other is a goofy, imaginative, energetic, creative effort that draws from all corners of a record collection. Don’t sit there and try to pick apart how stupid “Sir Psycho Sexy” is; Cobain’s no John Updike (R.I.P.—I just wanted to have the deaths of Hillel Slovak and John Updike mentioned in proximity for the first time ever), either. Better album artwork, better production, better recording saga, better videos, better ingredients, better pizza. Can I go home now? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Shirts off? And no mention of socks on cocks? Anyway, you’ve put in me in a quandary here, as I have equally fond memories of both bands. Around 1986, I saw the Chili Peppers in a venue probably not much larger than your apartment and it blew my head off. Keep in mind that this was when punk funk was cutting edge, not a punch line. With Nirvana, I recall taping the debut of the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video on the VHS (yes, I’m old) from MTV’s 120 Minutes (back when MTV played music videos; like I said, I’m old) and playing it approximately 3,000 times. With that said, of all the RHCP output, Blood Sugar Sex Magik would be near the bottom of the list for me, and if I never hear “Give It Away” again in my lifetime, it’ll be too soon. Yeah, that record was a lovable goof, but c’mon, Nevermind? That album brought “alternative” kicking and screaming into the mainstream (admittedly, probably not a good thing) and killed ’80s hair metal dead. Its place in music history cannot be understated. But we digress. Yeah, you can go home. To soothe your jangled nerves after this heated debate, I recommend you fix yourself some Chamomile tea, light some votive candles, spread some rose petals on your futon and cue up some Antony And The Johnsons.

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Put Up Your Dukes: Hunter S. Thompson

January 21, 2009

Two of MAGNET’s Matts—editor Matthew Fritch and writer Matt Ryan—go to the mat to see whose opinion is more correct. Today’s topic: gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson. Put up your dukes! From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan For this inaugural edition of Put Up Your Dukes, I come to you with an honest question. It’s prompted by our coverage of The Gonzo Tapes boxed set in the most recent issue. I listened to some of it (nobody can listen to five discs of that maniac rambling). I decided to watch the 2008 documentary Gonzo: The Life And Work Of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. What, exactly, is the appeal of this guy? Is it his confused self-image that mistakes “asshole” for “rebel”? His cliched macho obsession with guns and motorcycles? The fact that he treated his body like a garbage can? Please, god, don’t tell me it’s his writing. "In Search Of The American Dream" from The Gonzo Tapes: [audio:InSearchOfTheAmericanDream.mp3] From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Let me get this straight: You’re troubled by Thompson’s affinity for dope, guns and motorcycles? If he drank fruit smoothies and played with dolls, would he have been more to your liking? What is Thompson’s appeal? To borrow a quote from Hunter himself, “Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men’s reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of the rat race is not yet final.” Question his methods if you must, but the guy lived on his own terms, without regard for the expectations of “normal” society. For those of us with a “straight” job and a mortgage, that kind of fuck-all lifestyle is an inspiration. Still, for all his antics, Thompson was a talented writer, especially on the political front. I can’t imagine how you’d argue otherwise. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Oh, I get it: He’s the original maverick! I’ll have to search the memory banks for a modern-day analogue. Let’s see, who else in recent public view was a self-important, gun-toting maverick? I’m drawing blanks—all that Jamba Juice must’ve gone to my head. Sarcasm aside, I’ll concede that Thompson was operating in a different sociopolitical climate: the late ‘60s and ‘70s. How appropriate that the latter is called the Me Decade. If the main tenet of “gonzo” journalism is the writer putting himself at the center of the story, I’d argue that Thompson’s entire life was an exercise in selfishness and me-first acts of drug consumption, cowardice and suicide. Inspiring stuff. Speaking of mortgages, I’m considering refinancing. But maybe I’ll go out in the backyard and shoot an AK-47 at some tin cans instead. Scare the “normals” in the neighborhood. From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch So now you're comparing Thompson, an educated, atheistic, anti-establishment lefty, to Sarah Palin, a right wing, pea-brained Jesus freak? I can only assume such a half-assed analogy is the result of you being rattled after dropping your copy of the collected works of Oscar Wilde into a bubble bath last night. I fail to see how a man who imbedded himself in the Hell's Angels for journalistic purposes, who was known to be fiercely loyal to his friends, and who once ran for public office, can be labeled a coward and me-first. Oh yeah, the drug thing again. Next you'll be complaining about the evils of sex. Remind me, you still work for a rock n' roll magazine, right? As in sex, drugs, and ... OK, so I'm still waiting to hear any specific critiques of Thompson's writing, rather than broad-stroke remarks about the man's public persona. You have actually read Hunter S. Thompson, right? From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Apologies for the delay in my response. I had to make a deposit at the bank—those giant bags of MAGNET money get heavy. (Speaking of which, check out our low, low price on subscriptions!) If I were Thompson, I wouldn’t have simply gone to the bank. It would have been more like this: “I crabwalked to the greed factory, my eyelids pasted to the inside of the dunghole where they have barbed wire and pencil-pushing attack dogs selling off pieces of the American dream.” No way am I parsing that man’s writing. I already have to edit music writers all day, and that’s punishment enough. Listen, I’m not trying to be the Fun Police: First-person journalism can be great if the writer puts his heart into it. Lester Bangs was a degenerate, egotistical addict whose obvious love of music saved every stupid thing he wrote—and he wrote many stupid things. What did Thompson love, aside from himself and his own politics? From: Matt Ryan To: Matthew Fritch Crown Royal for breakfast? Do yourself a favor and read (or re-read) "The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved." If you don't find it at least mildly entertaining, you should perhaps consider a career in diamond manufacturing via insertion of coal into your posterior. As this pissing match draws to a close, I will make one concession: In your last post, you proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that journalists should not attempt to emulate Thompson's style. And, as a side note, let me say for the record that I find Lester Bangs' output virtually unreadable. From: Matthew Fritch To: Matt Ryan Lester Bangs Output is the name of my new aggro/noise/death-disco project. OK, so we’ve learned the following: a) I’m apparently the daintiest dandy since Little Lord Fauntleroy. b) You wrestle bears. c) Like Ivan The Terrible and Arsenio Hall, Hunter S. Thompson was an important voice in his time. Whether his particular style and ideology should be emulated today is another matter. Fair enough?

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