Best Albums of 2015: Number Four

If we were keeping score beyond just who comes in at number 1, this next one would probably win. You see, technically, there are two entries on my list from the leader of this band, though she does not admit it, but check my number 7. But before that album came out, back in April, on a perfectly dreary, rainy day, I reviewed this album for FDRMX (now ppcorn, don't ask). It is Alabama Shakes' Sound and Color and although it's honestly not an album I've listened to too many times since April, it is really just undeniably great.

Honestly, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I really think I nailed it already with my review from April, so go read that here to see why this album is is on my list. A small tease from that review:

"There’s an episode of Louis C.K.’s show, Louie, where after a beautiful, short lived relationship, Louie is depressed and talks to his neighbor, an older, eccentric doctor played by Charles Grodin about how he knew he’d be depressed but he didn’t think it would be this bad. The doctor tells him he’s an idiot because he doesn’t see how lucky he is. He explains that the misery is the best part of love. The pain of missing someone, the ache of that loss that seems to be tearing you apart from the inside with every memory: that’s the goal. The alternative is not caring, not feeling, not knowing love at all, and that is true misery. This idea is present in the beauty of this album and it is why it should be heard in the rain, or in the dark, alone, and silently, absorbing every moment Brittany Howard is laying bare for us with her gut wrenchingly honest vocals."

Bottom line, though, you really should play this in one sitting, uninterrupted. Maybe with a drink and the lights down low. But by the end, you'll feel like you really experienced something special. And for those of you going through a break up, romantic or not, literal or figurative, this is going to be an album you'll want to hear as reassurance that you are not alone.

Best Albums of 2015: Number Seven

I won't beat around the bush here, because my number 7 album is not about bush beating. It's Thunderbitch, which I wrote a little bit about not too long ago, and is about as straightforward as it gets. This is the type of album you can play and wind up losing complete track what happened during the 32 minutes that Brittany Howard and company trashed your head like some hotel room afterparty.

And yet. . .

There are moments of angst and vulnerability that peak through from behind the debauchery. From the opening track, "Leather Jacket" I get the sense of a kid dreaming of being this rebel street tough and hanging all her hopes on the idea of putting on this jacket. But there's also some flashes of the price of that choice, which get hinted at several times through out the album, no matter how "totally fucking awesome" she looks in the leather jacket that's disintegrating off her bones.

It's in that context that the druggy, Stonesesque "Very Best Friend" goes beyond just being about this girl tracking down her very best friend with all the pills she wants to take. Because once you think you've figured out she's just talking about her pusher, there's a bit about how "Momma called me and told me not to hang out with that boy no more, he ain't no good to talk to. But momma he was there for me, where were you? And now it's kinda all your fault." And then there's an apparent overdose or something as she laments the future she could have had. Somehow, all this comes across without putting any kind of damper on the party at all. It's this complete sense of self abandonment that we tend to romanticize in Rock n Roll that gives it the sense of danger and, really, its basic appeal. It's that line between sex and death that the leather jacket bikers walk and it's in full display on this album. How could it not be in my top 10?

2015 Week 42: Hoodlums at the End of the World

They don't seem that dangerous.

I find more darkness and danger in less obvious musical places than you'd expect. At some point, if we make a big generalization, we can say rock splits into two different paths of darkness with one path going theatrical - metal, goth - and the other going more gritty - punk, bluesy Stones type shit. (Just go with it for a second, I know it's a huge oversimplification.) Historically, I think we tend to associate things getting really dark in the more theatrical genres with bands like Black Sabbath, Slayer, Sisters of Mercy, etc. Sure, we associate punk with nihilism, but especially with the more pop balanced punk going back to The Ramones, it's rooted in the feel good, early rock n roll vibe. But the thing is, that early rock n roll vibe does have a certain darkness to it that I think gets glossed over a bit in hindsight. It was always rebellious, but the nihilism in punk was always there in a way that it's hard to express. The only thing I can think of to illustrate the point is (wait for it) Eddie and The Cruisers. Yeah, the movie. Bare with me.

Eddie (Michael Pare) in the movie was basically Jim Morrison, and while Jim was way more theatrical and The Doors were working far from the early rock sound that The Cruisers were playing, I think it still rings true. Rock n Roll was born after World War II. Sure, we won, but when the death toll of the Holocaust and the implications of Hiroshima and Nagasaki sunk in, was there ever a more ripe breeding ground for nihilism? Much has been written about this by the beat poets and beyond. But my suggestion is that Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis and all the other founding fathers of rock were also addressing these realities whether they knew it or not and it comes through in the music. But at the risk of getting into a long academic thing about this, let's just use this as a setting for what this is really about: Thunderbitch.

Crazy fucking shit going on at this show, I bet.

Thunderbitch is the side project of Alabama Shakes' Brittany Howard along with members of Fly Golden Eagle and Clear Plastic Masks. It is, quite simply, unadulterated rock n roll. It's fast, nasty, greasy, a little obnoxious at times and while it's tons of fun, there's ultimately a certain danger and darkness in the heavy reverb and distortion that makes it come across as somewhat apocalyptic. It's grand without trying to be theatrical. It's that second path I talked about taken to it's furthest extreme while remaining rooted in the heart of the music. The album opens with a song about leather jacket and ends with one about a motorcycle and even though those are very simple things, what they symbolize is not giving a fuck. About anything. It's like this band is playing at a dive bar to celebrate the day the sun explodes, but without calling attention to the cosmic shit, because fuck that, just light another joint and let it rip.

So I liked the album so much that it inspired a Spotify playlist where I just built around it with some songs I thought of as I was listening to it that might better explain what I'm talking about. In addition to the full Thunderbitch album, there's some punk, some rockabilly and some bluesy Stones type shit (yes, that's a genre!). Remember to play this in the order it's presented for best results but if you say "fuck you" and shuffle it, you might be getting the point even better than I intended. It's teenage delinquent music for hoodlums at the end of the world.