American Music Club Everclear

American Music Club Everclear

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Put simply, Everclear is American Music Club's masterpiece. Benefiting immensely from improved production values, the album crystallizes the band's often erratic vision into a unified, endlessly complex whole. While the arrangements are typically diffuse -- "Crabwalk" is shambling rockabilly, "Royal Cafe" is sweet country-pop, and "Rise" is anthemic alt-rock -- there is a consistency of tone and a sense of place that runs through these songs that is absent from the band's other records. Similarly, Mark Eitzel's compositions achieve an uncommon emotional balance, never once slipping into pathos or melodrama; the atmospheric "Miracle on 8th Street" and "The Confidential Agent" offer cinéma vérité evocations of relationships at the breaking point, while the brute force of alcoholic laments like "Sick of Food" or the funereal "Why Won't You Stay" is staggering -- never before or since has this loser been quite so beautiful           

Pavement Crooked Rain Crooked Rain - L.A.'s Desert Origins

Pavement Crooked Rain Crooked Rain - L.A.'s Desert Origins

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It may be a bit reductive to call Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain the Reckoning to Slanted & Enchanted's Murmur -- not to mention easy, considering that Pavement recorded a song-long tribute to R.E.M.'s second album during the Crooked Rain sessions -- but there's a certain truth in that statement all the same. Slanted & Enchanted is an enigmatic masterpiece, retaining its mystique after countless spins, but Crooked Rain strips away the hiss and fog of S&E, removing some of Pavement's mystery yet retaining their fractured sound and spirit. It's filled with loose ends and ragged transitions, but compared to the fuzzy, dense Slanted, Crooked Rain is direct and immediately engaging -- it puts the band's casual melodicism, sprawling squalls of feedback, disheveled country-rock, and Stephen Malkmus' deft wordplay in sharp relief. It's the sound of a band discovering its own voice as a band, which is only appropriate because up until Crooked Rain, Pavement was more of a recording project between Malkmus and Scott Kannberg than a full-fledged rock & roll group. During the supporting tour for Slanted, Malkmus and Kannberg recruited bassist Mark Ibold and percussionist Bob Nastanovich, and original drummer Gary Young was replaced by Steve West early into the recording for this album, and the new blood gives the band a different feel, even if the aesthetic hasn't changed much. The full band gives the music a richer, warmer vibe that's as apparent on the rampaging, noise-ravaged "Unfair" as it is on the breezy, sun-kissed country-rock of "Range Life" or its weary, late-night counterpart, "Heaven Is a Truck." Pavement may still be messy, but it's a meaningful, musical messiness from the performance to the production: listen to how "Silence Kit" begins by falling into place with its layers of fuzz guitars, wah wahs, cowbells, thumping bass, and drum fills, how what initially seems random gives way into a lush Californian pop song. That's Crooked Rain a nutshell -- what initially seems chaotic has purpose, leading listeners into the bittersweet heart and impish humor at the core of the album. Many bands attempted to replicate the sound or the vibe of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, but they never came close to the quicksilver shifts in music and emotion that give this album such lasting appeal. Here, Pavement follow the heartbroken ballad "Stop Breathin'" with the wry, hooky alt-rock hit "Cut Your Hair" without missing a beat. They throw out a jazzy Dave Brubeck tribute in "5-4=Unity" as easily as they mimic the Fall and mock the Happy Mondays on "Hit the Plane Down." By drawing on so many different influences, Pavement discovered its own distinctive voice as a band on Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, creating a vibrant, dynamic, emotionally resonant album that stands as a touchstone of underground rock in the '90s and one of the great albums of its decade.

Lemon Jelly '64-'95

Lemon Jelly '64-'95

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The old Spacemen 3 cliché seems to apply here: Lemon Jelly appear to be taking drugs to make music to take drugs to. But this is an organized kind of drugginess, as each song is subtitled with a particular year between 1964 and 1995, designating the year from which each song's samples were generated. If that's not heady enough for a concept album, a look at the samples list is even more mind-bending: among them are U.S. soul-pop singer Monica, heavy rockers Masters of Reality, a Maori vocalist, and retro oddball du jour William Shatner. With the concept description thankfully out of the way, how does Fred Deakin and Nick Franglen's third long-player stack up? Oh, it's absolutely splendid! It's like a mad, beautiful mix of Lemon Jelly's past albums, the crunchy rock of the Chemical Brothers, the experimental sonic glee of the Go! Team, the dancefloor-fueling beats of Basement Jaxx, and the spaciness of the Orb at the peak of their powers. Most of the tracks are built around one vocal sample, usually the song's title repeated over and over. Though this formula might sound boring on paper, these lush, rich, organic, etc. (take your pick of a hyperbolic adjective) sound collages simply explode off the disc, making one dash for the dancefloor and perhaps shed a tear at the emotion that drips from the melodies. The atypical Shatner closer is a dirge-ish psychedelic masterpiece that feels like a Dark Side of the Moon B-side. Whether or not '64-'95 gets the acclaim it deserves and takes off commercially, the album sees Lemon Jelly laying down the law in genius fashion. It sits mightily among the best work from the peers mentioned above and others like Air, Zero 7, and Daft Punk. It's breathtaking and essential listening for all fans of electronic music.

Deep Forest Deep Forest

Deep Forest Deep Forest

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A close (and superior) musical cousin of equally popular 90's ambient dance act Enigma, Deep Forest pairs French dance producers Michel Sanchez and Eric Mouquet. While Enigma never did manage to make a consistently great album in its 90's heyday, Deep Forest managed this feat twice during that period. Commercial radio was all over the first album and this overexposure killed any credibility in the eyes of many dance music fans. But, as with Delerium's two classic excursions in slick beats and global exotica, the pop-friendly melodies and exotic ambience are built on rock-solid musical foundations and both albums have aged quite gracefully. The duo's debut album Deep Forest was a massive hit, emerging during the first wave of chillout dance music in the early 90's and the mainstream's first, brief flirtation with it. Sanchez had travelled the world collecting ethnic records and came up with the simple but effective idea of sampling some tribal singing and blending it with electronic beats. The hit single “Sweet Lullaby” is masterful, with its shy pygmy vocals carried on a slow, hypnotic drum loop and a gorgeous progression of floating synth chords. It's genuinely touching and quite unforgettable. Elsewhere, tracks like “Deep Forest” and “Hunting” up the tempo with funkier, faster beats and some of the processed vocal samples take on an almost comic quality.

Various Cool As Ice (The Be Music Productions)

Various Cool As Ice (The Be Music Productions)

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One of the forgotten chapters in the story of New Order involves the group members' outside production work during the early '80s. In different combinations -- often including all-important input from A Certain Ratio drummer Donald Johnson -- Gillian Gilbert, Peter Hook, Stephen Morris, and Bernard Sumner produced a slew of releases under the name Be Music, most of which were released through Factory. This compilation is built around the more club-oriented productions, many of which have held up remarkably well throughout the years, despite the fact that they've been heard by a crowd far too small in number. Needless to say, none of these songs swelled to success on the level of "Blue Monday," "True Faith," or even "Confusion," but a few have since become underground dance classics -- secret weapons of keen DJs. The tracks with the highest profiles are from Section 25; "Looking from a Hilltop," included here in its eight-minute "Megamix" version, will forever carry a vicious foreboding zing -- an exhilarating cross between (actual) latter-day electro and early industrial dance. A pair of 52nd Street songs -- "Cool as Ice" and "Can't Afford to Let You Go" -- are just as infectious and vital as any of the early Jam & Lewis productions (such as Captain Rapp's "Bad Times"), and they deserved to make the crossover from the clubs to the U.S. airwaves. Paul Haig, Marcel King, Quando Quango, Thick Pigeon, and a small cast of relative unknowns also make appearances. The liner notes carry LTM's standard bounty of information, making the release all the more appealing to New Order/Factory fanatics who are late to the party.

Various Auteur Labels Factory Benelux 1980-1985

Various Auteur Labels Factory Benelux 1980-1985

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In ways Auteur Labels: Factory Benelux might have been the most necessary of LTM's single-disc compilations focusing on certain labels they had long reissued efforts by -- while New Hormones and Crepuscule were clearly distinct labels, Factory Benelux by its very name seemed to be neither fish nor fowl, allied to the original Factory and releasing many efforts by that label's roster but also releasing a slew of singles and some albums that never appeared on the parent company. Frank Brinkhuis' liner notes do an admirable job in clarifying what exactly was what on that front, putting to bed some rumors (though not always delving into full details) and otherwise spelling out the label's curious decade of existence. The inclusion of Crispy Ambulance's "The Presence" at its full 13 minutes, while inspired, does mean that there are comparatively fewer songs to feature on this disc than on others in the series, while strong but not always standout choices of songs by Durutti Column, Section 25, and Stockholm Monsters are pleasant but not revelatory. However, by including some of the more dance-oriented releases by the label, with Quando Quango, Life, and Nyam Nyam all taking bows from their mid-'80s heyday, it helps to give the compilation -- and by default, the label -- more of an identity.

The Wake Assembly

The Wake Assembly

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Part of the elaborate series of reissues LTM did for the Wake in 2002, and perfectly in keeping with the loving way that label handles its resuscitations of long out-of-print items, Assembly pulls together a slew of cuts that couldn't otherwise fit on the other discs in the series. Split into three distinct parts, it's clearly for the hardest of hardcore fans of the band rather than general listeners, though in its own way it could easily be a reasonable introduction for a newcomer, thanks to the years-spanning nature of the compilation. The first four cuts come from a mighty fine 1984 BBC session, kicking off with then-recent single "Talk About the Past," here in a fine, sprightly take still tinged with melancholia, though Vini Reilly's piano part is unsurprisingly absent. "Make You Understand" is a notable treat, thanks to the blend of synth and melodica. The next eight songs come from a Scottish date supporting New Order when Gillespie was still part of the band -- it's clear the future Primal Scream mainman still thought that the ultimate bass player ever was Peter Hook. If a bit thin soundwise, the performance is still brisk and entertaining, with standouts including a frenetic rip on "Recovery" and the sharp "The Drill," which concludes the set. Both sides of the two singles the band released on Sarah during the late '80s and early '90s round out the collection; the downright twinkly semi-psych "Crush the Flowers" and the bitter yet winsome "Lousy Pop Group" are both winners. As a bonus, "Brit Mix," originally an extra CD-only cut on Tidal Wave of Hype, closes everything out. James Nice's appreciative band bio, snippets from 1983-era fanzine interviews, and full recording details on the tracks round out another typically detailed LTM presentation 

 

The Field Mice For Keeps + Singles

The Field Mice For Keeps + Singles

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What turned out to be the only full studio album the Field Mice released was also nothing less than a quietly triumphant masterpiece. Building on the strength of its string of great singles while keeping its own particular character and mood, For Keeps -- a sly and sharp title, given how many of the band's songs reflected both love's creation and dissolution -- found the five piece full of gently impassioned creativity. It could be the subtle funk wah-wah guitars on the opening "Five Moments" or the blissout psych droning of "Tilting at Windmills," but writing the Field Mice off as simple twee pop types would be a hard task for anyone after a listen to this album. In the end, the group stood apart from all the early '90s scenes swirling around it to make its own mark. Davies' softly cool vocals, winsome without being cloying, brought both greater variety and range of emotion to the songs. Wratten's still in fine voice, and together their duets work perfectly, almost defining the form that many other bands clearly inspired by them would take. On his own Wratten experiments with his voice, adding flanging to the just-epic-enough guitar build of "This Is Not Here" and elsewhere piling on the echo and other tricks for fine variety. The subtle musical nods all over the map fit the band's impressive range of influences, while avoiding drowning in them. There's the hint of late-'50s/early-'60s tearjerker drama in "Star of David," for instance, heightened by the sharp growl of the guitars against the slow, building punch of the drums. In the end it's the Field Mice, but it's a much more accomplished and intriguing Field Mice than the band's detractors (and possibly many of its followers) would ever give it real credit for.