Here's an honorable mention from the Top 20 Songs of 2021, a feature that will be published toward the end of the week. I'm folding honorable mentions into our Song of the Day column yesterday and today. If you wanna see previous Songs of the Day/Week/Whatever, click HERE. If you wanna see which 20 songs were better than this one in 2021, then you're gonna have to wait buddy boy.
"Queen of Suffolk County"
Dropkick Murphys
from Turn Up That Dial
2021
Here we have a case of an artist needing to stay in their lane. No one is coming to Dropkick Murphys to get anything but dumb drunk Irish punk energy. I know I'm pretty harsh on the whole "Fake Irish in Northeast Philadelphia" thing, but credit where it's due—Irish music and punk rock music (and yeah, copious amounts of Guinness® stout) are a fantastic combination.
So excuse me if I'm going to stick with Dropkick Murphy songs like "Queen of Suffolk County," which is content to stay in that lane, painting a vivid, devilishly fun portrait of the neighborhood tough girl, over a great fiddle riff, culminating in an elevated classic punk finish. This is what Dropkick Murphys do well. They will never be a GREAT band, and they don't have to be. They have their niche, and they are flourishing there.
So you should also excuse me if I see other songs on this album that make me want to give 'em the old NEasty middle finger and say fuck off, because Turn Up That Dial is occasionally not about staying in your lane. Some of it slips into that "can't we all just get along" bullshit that I fucking hate (remember Sophistafunk?).
Here's "Chosen Few" (which is apparently a remake of an older D.M. song): "For a democracy to work we gotta see it from both sides / Stop pointing fingers, shut your mouth and compromise." I'm not interested in seeing anything from the side of white supremacists, et al. I have no obligation to do so. Yes, I'm sure there are plenty of Fake Irish Northeast Philadelphia racist fucks who absolutely love Dropkick Murphys, and yes, I understand that there might be a delicate balancing act on Dropkick's part, from a bleak capitalistic POV, that they don't want to isolate any of their fans, but come on. Don't give this bullshit. Don't fucking equivocate with me. If y'all are racists, just tell me so I can bail. If you are progressive, then just tell those Nazis to fuck off. If you don't give a shit about politics, then fine, but don't try to tell me how to think if that's the case.
Anyways, this is only a fraction of the Dropkick Murphys' whole deal, and if at least 80% of their songs continue to be fun, harmless distractions like "Queen of Suffolk County," then I'll continue to come back.
Here's an honorable mention from the Top 20 Songs of 2021, a feature that will be published toward the end of the week. I'm folding honorable mentions into our Song of the Day column today and tomorrow. If you wanna see previous Songs of the Day/Week/Whatever, click HERE. If you wanna see which 20 songs were better than this one in 2021, then you're gonna have to wait baby.
"Jimi & Stan"
Strand of Oaks
from In Heaven
2021
I wasn't able to connect with In Heaven as much as I have with some of Strand of Oaks' previous albums. It could just be that I haven't given it enough time—these rock songs have some height to 'em, some fucking grandeur, maybe it's a grower—and that would be fair. There's only so much time in a year. But I still like it a lot so far, and it's given me kind of a weird thing to chew on in the meantime. What I'm proposing now is that maybe I haven't been able to connect with In Heaven because of the motivation behind the creation of this album, and how what matters to Tim Showalter might seem a little weird to me? Or, like, a little silly to me, whereas, no, Showalter is taking this shit very seriously.
I'm talking about the fact that this album is pretty much about the death of Tim Showalter's cat.
That's not to downplay Showalter's grief. Or maybe it is, I dunno. I've never liked cats. I've never felt a connection with a pet at all, to be honest. Not to a serial killer level where I was assaulting cats when I was young, but, like, for instance, when my childhood dog Mollie died, it was more like "Damn, that sucks," and then my life went on.
Fuck, this is sounding so callous. I'm sorry. Let's validate Tim Showalter's pain: I acknowledge the fact that for most people, the loss of a pet is devastating. Here's how devastating it was for Tim Showalter when his cat died: the dude straight-up stopped drinking. He is sober currently. His reasoning was that he didn't want to experience the grief over the loss of his cat while intoxicated. Now that's approaching a subject matter I can begin to understand. I know what it feels like to turn to alcohol in moments of pain, and how hard it is to face something sober, and— but okay, that's not why we're here. We're here about the cat.
The cat is this song's titular "Stan," by the way. ""Jimi," of course, is Jimi Hendrix. In "Jimi & Stan," Strand of Oaks paints of a picture of what it might be like if Jimi the guitarist and Stan the cat became friends in the afterlife.
I like this song because, on paper, it sounds preposterous, but when you take a step back, you start to understand what a power coping technique it must've been for Showalter. It's not outrageous to use dreams as coping mechanisms to manage stress and grief and whatnot. This amounts to a more complex version of the "he's in a better place" statement humans have made to themselves for millennia.
And it really helps the listener that this deeply personal vision about a cat in heaven is actually couched within a mid-tempo rock banger. When Showalter croons "Now I don't have my buddyyyyy!"—yes, he's talking about his cat, but man, the pain comes through, and that pain might not be as powerful if this wasn't a towering rock 'n' roll ballad.
I think if you're initial reaction to In Heaven's theme was "Wait, it's about his cat?", then that's pretty understandable. That's what I thought. And it's easy to hold this album at arm's length because of that! But it's certainly hard to completely dismiss. I understand the need for comfort, and some day—not today, not any day in 2021, but some day—I'll need the comfort that Strand of Oaks is providing here.
Record Club has a decent-sized presence among the Grammy noms this year. Eligibility period was September 1, 2020 till September 30, 2021. Let's see what made the cut.
RC albums nominated
Olivia Rodrigo's SOUR — Album of the Year, Best Pop Vocal Album; song "drivers license" up for Record of the Year, Song of the Year, Best Pop Solo Performance; song "good 4 u" up for Best Music Video; plus Rodrigo is up for Best New Artist
Hiatus Kaiyote's Mood Valiant — Best Progressive R&B Album
Will this week's pick find it's way into the 2023 Grammy nominations? Who the fuck cares!!!! Fuck the Grammys!!! Check out the archives and playlist if you didn't get enough RC flashbacks above, and then check out the new album pick below.
WEEK 148 — November 28-December 4, 2021
What we're listening to this week (Pam's pick):
ALBUM: Valentine
ARTIST: Snail Mail
RELEASED: November 5, 2021
WHAT GENRE IS THIS: Indie rock
WHY PAM PICKED IT: "The title track sounds like something Kat Stratford of 10 Things I Hate About You would have listened to. I haven't gotten into the rest of the album though, but Snail Mail has been all over my IG feed. I'd like to see if Valentine is worth the hype."
TRACKLIST:
Valentine
Ben Franklin
Headlock
Light Blue
Forever (sailing)
Madonna
c. et al.
Glory
Automate
Mia
LENGTH: 31:34
WHERE TO LISTEN FOR FREE: YouTube (there is a Bandcamp, but it only has three songs playable)
READING SOME SHIT: Goddamn, Linsdey Jordan went hard for this album, with recent interviews on Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, NPR, NME, Stereogum, all the usual haunts, fucking GQ... I mean, I might not read any of these, but I just might!
PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB: Snail Mail is currently signed to Matador Records, who previously released music from Cat Power and Kurt Vile. I also tried to see if Snail Mail had ever opened for any other Record Club artists live, and found this concert from December 2018 featuring Snail Mail, Kurt Vile, and the Feelies, all at the Met (I guess I remember seeing ads for this one), and then a week before that, Snail Mail headlined in D.C., and Empath opened.
Happy listening, fam! Have a great World AIDS Day!
There's this idea that Tom Petty is (was—R.I.P.) a "singles artist." True, his singles are uniformly excellent. I mean, this is an artist who put out a Greatest Hits compilation, tacked on a brand new song to the end of it, and then saw that song become one of his greatest hits ("Mary Jane's Last Dance"). Kinda wild when you think about it.
The only problem is, the higher you rate his singles, the larger the gap between his singles and his deep cuts becomes, and that makes me a little uncomfortable. As I've said repeatedly during this year of blind spots, I respect singles, but I gotta know if the songs in between are worth my time too. I want to know and love the album, not the song. So does Tom Petty have what it takes?
I guess Wildflowers is a bizarre album to choose if we're going down this path. For one, it's officially billed as a Tom Petty solo album, as opposed to an album with the Heartbreakers. The count is three solos to thirteen band efforts, so I don't know if this is the best representation of Tom Petty music. Or maybe it is? I sincerely have no clue. It's a blind spot. I assumed that the Heartbreakers were kind of like the E Street Band in that they are a competent unit but tend to follow the vision of their frontman with no exception. But maybe I'm wrong!
The other thing is that this album came out in 1994, which was actually after the aforementioned greatest hits compilation, and so it features yet another "big hit" single. Petty's last big hit, as far as I can tell—"You Don't Know How It Feels." But it's weird to think that this was a mid-'90s thing. The song was a hit in my lifetime! I tend to picture all these old classic rock dinosaurs as peaking sometime in the early-to-mid-'70s. But if you are the type of person who considers "You Don't Know How It Feels" to be one of Petty's very best, then that's not true.
So okay, forgetting about all that, how are the fourteen "deep cuts" on the album? All those songs that probably would not make the cut in 2021, were an authority to put together yet another greatest hits playlist?
The answer—which, again, is probably the same answer we've been arriving at a lot this year—is that they are at the very least competent, and at best approaching something like Petty at his peak, but never quite getting there. I think "You Wreck Me" is bar band bliss with a big stomping beat. I think that the title track is very pretty and surprisingly catchy. I think "Honey Bee" is gnarly and weird in all the right ways. I think "A Higher Place" is jangle pop, and jangle pop is awesome. I think "Hard on Me" is that type of slow guitar burner that Petty is extremely adept at. But do I think any of these songs could have been a breakout single, either in the 1990s or today? No, I do not think so.
But that's the burden of being a "singles artist," I suppose. You make like a dozen history-conquering hits, and the rest of your discography starts to pale in comparison. It's unavoidable! And still an enviable position to be in! Tom Petty is the king!
Young people have discovered trip hop. Young people have discovered UK garage. Young people have discovered UK grime. Young people have discovered "Born Slippy." Young people have discovered Massive Attack. The '90s will never die and neither will you.
A sub-20-minute mixtape that has UK house energy charm, what better for Thanksgiving week? The mix-tapey-ness comes through, feeling more like stretches at various styles rather than a cohesive project. Songs like "I must apologize" or "Last valentines" don't quite hit the mark, and rather remind one of better songs with similar beats and progressions. She really can overuse that "yeah-eah-eah" sample. On the flip "Pain," "Break it off," "Just for me" are also short riffs on popular motifs but are really catchy and fun. Here her vocal timbre and British accent bring something fresh to the garage-shop. An easy listen from a TikTok hit; curious to see where PinkPantheress goes from here and if we'll see a longer record.
When I was fifteen, my friend loved the store Express. I would saunter sadly into their vast, white store casting my eyes down like a plus-sized puppy. I knew none of their clothes came in my size, but I would play the good, fun, accommodating friend who loved shopping. I would sift through clothes on racks, pretending I was looking with intent to purchase, hoping no store clerk would look at me and say "Oh, honey, there's nothing in here for you." I would head to the accessories section and waste time in there for a bit while my friend tried on tank tops and hip-hugging, low-rise jeans. I would sigh through my anxiety holding glassy statement earrings when I saw the price tag. Who could afford these on a freshman-in-high-school budget? There was always a moment my friend would ask me if I was "going to try anything on" and I'd feign disinterest, even though I was interested. The store was disinterested in me. I wanted to try things on, I wanted to be fashionable, but the clothes in Express were as judgy as the glares I assumed I was getting from its employees. Sometimes, I would create a narrative in my head that, if someone asked, I would say I was picking up something for my very thin cousin. Yep. That would keep me safe if they needed to know why the chubby girl was in their store.
All of this to say that to hell with it by PinkPantheress is the album that would have been playing in that Express store in 2001. This music, this energy, would've hastened my heart rate and embarrassment as I sifted through tiny people's clothes, dodging looks, and feeling like I was filling up too much space in a spacious store.
"Now let's all go around and say what we are thankful for."
"I'm thankful for the fact that PinkPantheress transforms what would've otherwise been pretty pedestrian pop/R&B songs into something a lot cooler and more exciting simply by adding those drum-and-bass-style rhythms underneath. I'm thankful for it, even though I'm not quite sure I have a firm grip as to what 'drum and bass rhythms' even means, except that they are complicated patterns repeated multiple times at what seems like quadruple speed. Is that it? Regardless, you know what I'm talking about. I'm thankful for it."
"I'm thankful for the fact that listening to a 'TikTok star' this week for Record Club was not as Boring Dystopia as it could have been. The idea of teenagers becoming pop forces freaks me out no matter the context, but it especially freaks me out when that context is some social media platform that I usually assume is filled with scantily-clad fifteen-year-olds staring dead-eyed into the camera and doing some popular choreographed dance. I do not profess to know what 'going viral on TikTok' truly means, but I expected a lot worse than PinkPantheress."
"I'm thankful for the fact that the song 'Last valentines' features a Linkin Park sample. I'm less thankful for the sample itself—which I would have never in a million years noticed if I wasn't told, even this soon after covering Hybrid Theory on this blog—and more thankful for the fact that genre doesn't exist for kids these days, and the fact that I'm hearing a goddamn Linkin Park sample on a pop album created by a nineteen-year-old should prove it."
"I'm thankful—and this is going to sound backhanded, even though I swear I'd never be like that at the dinner table during Thanksgiving—for the fact that we are in and out in less than 20 minutes. I think that PinkPantheress has a shtick—she's carving a pretty unique niche for herself—and she performs it well, but I don't necessarily think that this shtick would have staying power for me personally much past this short runtime. Like, I was thinking about how some of these songs seem to fade out prematurely, and originally I was considering this a negative. But then I realized that, even if something like 'Passion' feels like it is literally fading out mid-song, maybe that's for the best. Maybe a (10 Minute Version) (Taylor's Version) (From the Vault) of 'Passion' would be absolutely terrible. Nope, in its current form, I get to enjoy this album for what it is—a small curio blend of a few genres that I am woefully ignorant about, presented as pop, from a Gen-Z internet person—and then bail when I need something else."
"I'm thankful for—"
"Jesus fucking christ, can we just eat already? Ugh, to hell with it, I'm digging in!"
Like last year, I find myself in a self-imposed situation in which I am for some fucking reason forcing myself to write a blog post every day, while also feeling no obligation to write something GOOD every single day, especially today, one of the five big holidays of the year, and especially this time of year during this particular year, when I'm also writing a bunch of shit that actually matter (social work nonsense) in the long run.
And so! Instead of just embedding a video like Thanksgiving 2020, I'm going to go in the opposite direction, and pretend that I'm going all out for this post (but then also put in just as little work into as possible). Go ahead and skip ahead to the album reviews tomorrow.
I will now write at least one sentence for every single PoYB category tag (as seen at the top of the page in tiny little boxes), if at all possible.
Music — Songs called "Thanksgiving" are hit or miss. "Thanksgiving" by Cordae is delightful. "Thanksgiving" by Pinegrove is one minute long and barely a song.
Reviews — That new Courtney Barnett album is a lot more chill than her previous output, which is really saying something, but after a while, it yielded some really nice fruit, at the very least much more than the previous album (I guess that's why this new one is called Things Take Time, Take Time, because it took time (took time)?). GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5
Irregular — [the very nature of this blog post makes it "Irregular," and if that's confusing, then please ask me to talk meta about my shitty blog sometime, I'll talk your motherfucking ear off]
Lists — Thanksgiving foods, ranked:
11. Cranberry sauce
10. Yams / sweet potatoes
9. Green beans
8. Corn
7. Mashed potatoes (homemade)
6. Turkey
5. Gravy
4. Croissant
3. Mashed potatoes (instant)
2. Dessert
1. Stuffing
Nostalgia — I was on a cruise with my family, and the ship was docked somewhere, and I told my parents during lunch that I had to take a shit, but instead I ran to the liquor store next door, convinced the dude to sell me at age seventeen, poured the vodka in a water bottle, and snuck that shit back onto the ship.
Drinking — I guess that covers "Drinking" too, but let's still go with something else: I just found out that Guinness has almost the same amount of calories as Miller Lite.
Emo — I will never be good enough at writing to be able to escape my humdrum job and write full time. I've accepted this, and you should too.
Movies — The Holiday was pretty good. I'm not convinced that Jack Black fit as a romantic lead. I'm also not convinced that that was what the movie was trying to do with Jack Black's character anyway.
Philly — Hey, what happened with that Adam Sandler movie that was filming in Philly? Do we have a release date? What are the chances that Sandler's character is going to be mentally challenged and/or in a fat suit?
Television — I didn't have enough material to make this point a full blog post about The Great British Baking Show, but here's the main point anyway: ***SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS*** I am glad Jürgen was kicked off, and I think his elimination was well past due.
Miscellaneous — I never have to clean my Klean Kanteen water bottle because, like the plumbing in your walls, it's always in use.
Food — Thanksgiving foods, ranked, this time from best to worst:
1. Stuffing
2. Dessert
3. Mashed potatoes (instant)
4. Croissant
5. Gravy
6. Turkey
7. Mashed potatoes (homemade)
8. Corn
9. Green beans
10. Yams / sweet potatoes
11. Cranberry sauce
Family — For some reason, my daughter wanted a Baby Yoda stuffed animal for her birthday. None of us have ever watched The Mandalorian, and we certainly have never played anything Star Wars related for the kids in their entire lives.
Hometown — I was thinking about Gordon the other day. Remember him? The guy who, urban legend has it, got fired from his overnight shift at Wawa for clipping his toenails behind the sandwich counter? I've personally kept that urban legend going for so long that even I'm questioning whether that could have possibly been truth.
Internet — Puke on Your Birthday got invited to participate in Uproxx's annual Critics Poll for the second year, so if anything, that's motivation to have your PoYB Top Music of the Year lists out next week, despite my school workload. (I don't think that my #1 song pick is also going to be the consensus pick again this year, though.)
Transcribed —
Joe: Did you pick the album for next week yet?
Pam: ...
Sports — Looks like Od*bel H*rrera is not coming back to the Phillies next year, so I should hopefully be able to watch the Phillies 2022 season in full. But I will say this: for the rest of my life, starting now, if any of the Philadelphia sports teams employs a known domestic abuser, I will refuse to watch that year.
Top Five — Top Five Planets
5. Jupiter
4. Mars
3. Pluto (justice for Pluto)
2. Venus
1. Uranus (there's wall art of all the planets in cartoon form at our pediatrician's office, and they are each doing something cute, like the Earth cartoon is pulling a moon cartoon on a leash, Saturn is wearing the rings like a hula hoop, Jupiter is sucking up asteroids with a vacuum cleaner, etc. Uranus is just laughing.)
Politics — How fucked up is it that Thanksgiving is a day to commemorate the beginning of a mass genocide of Native Americans, and Native Americans still populate our country, and they are forced to watch as every other American comes together to share a meal and watch a parade and completely ignore the fact that settlers got to America and tried to kill every Native American they could? Will Thanksgiving as a holiday ever face a reckoning similar to C*lumbus Day, or are our turkey traditions too far entrenched?
College — I drank a lot in undergrad. I haven't been perfect in grad school, but I'm making large strides. Doesn't hurt that I am significantly older than most of my classmates.
From the Vault — "Happiness! Oh what a relief to have finally met you! To bask in your warm light! To be nourished by your unending existence! Your being is shade on a hot summer day, a warm fireplace in the dead of winter, a full-course meal on Thanksgiving day. You greatness pulses through my vains [sic], it flows through the luscious rivers of great Mother Earth, it crashes against the ever-expanding boundaries of the universe. For but an moment I felt your glory, but I will feel it forever, every day of my life, every moment in sickness and in health. I doth not brag; I am neither proud nor boastful, I am neither humble nor overzealous nor smug, nor coy, nor haughty. I am but merely content. I sit in this chair, and I smile, and I am content." —Shelter from the Storm, 3/14/08
Degrassi — Jimmy Brooks was faking his injury.
Gaming — Can't wait to get finished with this blog post so I can start writing the next essay play solitaire.
Should I Watch This? — Succession. Should I watch this? Sure.
Charlie Watts Sucks Ass — I know what I'm giving thanks for today.
(Sidenote: I am now being informed that I cannot have more than 20 tags on any given blog post. But how will all the rest of the Charlie Watts haters find this post after Thanksgiving if it's not tagged up as such?!)
A Complete Ranking of All 40 Items on the Erstwhile McNally's Menu
40. Steak Sandwich — Either you ordered a cheesesteak without the goddamn cheese, or Iggy had been drinking since he opened up shop at 7 AM and forgot to add the cheese. Either way—fuck you!!!!!
39. Homemade Soup — Look, we used to go to McNally's at least once a week. I loved it there. This was my bar. There was a time when I could walk into McNally's on Rhawn and I knew every single person in the place. And in all my years there, I never saw anyone order the soup.
38. Pick-n-Peel Shrimp — You've been there in the AM hours, I mean like the first AM hours of the day, like 11 AM, you've been there then, you've smelled the bleach... and you still wanna order seafood?
37. Homemade Chili — It's been years, but I can still smell the bathroom. I can still close my eyes and picture myself in there, that weird mix of ammonia and piss and crushed ice and spilled beer and heavy NEast boy cologne. I've pissed in there, and I've thrown up in there, and I've survived, but I still don't envy anyone who ever had to take a shit in there. So, no to the chili.
36. Chicken Fingers — There used to be two guys who worked at Moonstruck across the street who would come over after their shift to drink cheap beers and run the shuffleboard table. One guy looked like Dave Chappelle. The other guy looked like John C. Reilly. It always felt super weird. Like, this bar is filled with mostly young 20-somethings, and now for the final 90 minutes of the night we have to kowtow to these fucking adults and pretend like they are friends and let them take the shuffleboard table? I wonder what every happened to these guys. Probably annoying some kids at another shit bar in the Northeast.
35. Onion Rings — This definitely wasn't one of those bars where it was like, "Oh, there's the owner, Mr. McNally" or some shit like that. Among my friend group at least, there was always the question of: "Wait, so who owns this bar?" There was a married couple who was always there bartending, and I guess the rumor/half-truth was that they owned the bar? Or maybe this is one of those things that has been confirmed for me multiple times at McNally's, but, ya know, I was at McNally's, and so I don't really remember...
34. Mozzarella Sticks — Anyways, I saw this couple a few years later as they were walking out of court with their divorce lawyer, so perhaps it can be said that McNally's is not a matchmaker in any sense of the word.
33. Loaded Potato Skins — Who owns McNally's now? In the great Northeast Philadelphia Telephone Game, I have been informed that two guys—one of whom is a sibling of one of my sister's friends—bought it from the interim (post-my-era) owner slightly pre-pandemic, and then recently sold it? Or put it up for sale? I don't know anything besides the fact that it hasn't been open since around February 2020 and that the light has been on in the kitchen for this entire time.
32. "Hot" Smackers — Gotta realize how dumb the Northeast is when they use
quotation marks in place of italics. Well, are the smackers hot or not?
And what the fuck is a smacker?!
31. Chicken Steak Sandwich — Yo, fuck the McNally's DJ.
30. Specialty Fries — The special ingredient? Yup, you guessed it: cum.
29. Chili Cheese Burger — There was happy hour, and then there were also beer specials during
sports games, which was convenient, since there is rarely a night when
all four Philadelphia sports teams have the night off (sidenote: I don't
think the Union was part of this deal, but I could be wrong). $2 Miller
and Bud pints? I mean, even less than a decade later, that already
seems pretty cheap. It wasn't $5/cup, but it provided a nice little
transition from drinking in the woods to drinking at a bar.
28. Shrimp in a Basket — I suppose shots were usually done most nights as well. I remember when we first started going to McNally's, Kev was the only one with a full-time job, so he was the one buying shots for everyone. That lasted a couple weeks. We'd usually order Washington Apples or Sweet Tea shots, I think. Don't ask me the ingredients to either of those.
27. Buffalo Shrimp — McNally's was the first bar I ever legally drank at during the PM hours, on December 1st, 2009. I specify "PM hours" because at 12 AM the night prior, we walked into the Rockledge Pub for a couple drinks. But McNally's is the bar I consider my first "real" bar experience. I got pretty drunk and accidentally knocked over my bar stool when I got up to use the restroom. Apparently I was cut off? I don't even remember. I know at the time that this seemed like a pretty low level to sink to—knocking over my bar stool and getting cut off!—but who was I to know what lower depths I could truly plumb during my years at McNally's.
26. Nachos — For real, fuck the McNally's DJ. Awful music, including the most-played song, the worst song of all time, and the unofficial McNally's theme song: "Wobble" by V.I.C.
25. Tavern Pizza with Pepperoni — why buy pizza when Steve T. is gonna get off his shift at Vince's and bring all his leftover pizza to the bar at like 11 PM?
24. Onion Ring Burger — I had a theory growing up that, whenever I drank
and also ate anything with onions, I was guaranteed to throw up. So I
never had the onion ring burger, solely due to this biological myth.
Heard it was good, though.
23. Chicken Salad Wrap — I actually don't remember if I ever threw up at McNally's, despite my claim above. My mind is going back to a few hazy memories, but I don't think it ever happened inside McNally's. I think I knew it was coming and would usually walk out back. Though, like I said, I don't have any clear memories of such a thing happening, I'm just assuming based on how often I threw up in general. Maybe the aforementioned night of my 21st? Is that why I knocked down the bar stool?
22. Bacon BBQ Cheese Burger — Tough to not mention the Pike Hike as it relates to McNally's. I've already written about the erstwhile Northeast Philly tradition, and true to my word in 2017, I have not organized a Pike Hike since. But when it did occur annually, the final bar every year was McNally's. It made sense geographically and ideologically. The ongoing joke was "I had a good Pike Hike, but I don't even remember being at McNally's."
21. Cheeseburger — I remember bits and pieces of Pike Hike conclusions, but the moment that sticks out was when we were all having a GREAT time drinking and dancing, and I got caught up in the moment and tore my shirt off. The DJ—yes, the very same—stops the music and says "I'm not turning the music back on until your put your shirt on." Total fucking buzzkill. One more time, for the seats in the back: FUCK THE MCNALLY'S DJ!!!
20. Grilled Chicken & Bacon Sandwich — I don't know if I thought about this at all at the time (at least not right away), but McNally's definitely had some racist policies enacted when I first started going there. There were rules against hats, do-rags, boots, which were basically making assumptions that McNally's would have a reason to not allow a black person to enter. Bars in the Northeast are unfortunately still pretty segregated to this day. This isn't the only aspect of the Northeast I'm reckoning with as I grow older, but it's definitely one of the more prominent ones.
19. Hot Sausage Sandwich — McNally's was known for closing unreasonably early. Legally, they had to close at 2 AM of course, but so for McNally's, that meant last call at like 1:10 AM, and lights on at 1:25 AM, which seemed ridiculous to us (especially to those of us who could regularly make it till 1:10, and clearly still wanted to keep drinking).
18. Chicken Caesar Wrap — Though, as much as we would talk about it, we NEVER bought six-packs-to-go at last call to "continue the night" or whatever. We drank a lot and had a ton of stamina (relative to now, at least), but never that much.
17. Maynard Burger — As previously mentioned, McNally's had a shuffleboard table. We'd play every once in a while. I wasn't good, but I wasn't bad either. McNally's also had one of those virtual deer hunter games, as well as a bubble hockey game, and one of those touchscreen games at the end of the bar, none of which I ever played in all my years frequenting the joint. I feel like the deer hunter video game especially ended up being a coat rack most Friday nights.
16. Cheesesteak — Confirmed: McNally's cheesesteaks were never, not fucking once, named the Best Cheesesteak according to Philadelphia Magazine. For shame.
15. Chicken Cheesesteak — Pam did not like McNally's, I know that for sure. I still made her go with me more times than not, and to her credit, she never complained that much. (We did have an ongoing joke via text, after a typo in which I referred to the bar as "McAnally's," that we'd only call the bar McAnally's going forward.)
14. Buffalo Chicken Wrap — I've never had anal at McNally's, by the way.
13. Munchie Sampler — I remember that Thanksgiving Eve was so important to us that I literally begged my supervisor at my new job in 2013 to let me out early, and then had a coworker drive me directly to the bar, where I was quick to catch up. Craziest night of the year, usually (until two nights later, anyway).
12. Chicken Salad Club — Was I ever at McNally's sober? It was probably just that final Pike Hike, where I didn't drink at any of the bars, and each one got increasingly more uncomfortable. I probably lasted fifteen minutes before leaving.
11. French Fries —I remember the last time I was at McNally's. I didn't know it at the time, but it definitely did end up being the final sojourn. Pam was pregnant. I think the Usual Crowd got dinner at Hop Angel, and then walked across the street to enter that old haunt. I think everyone was pretty much over it at that point. I remember half the group sincerely thinking that the idea was a joke when we discussed our plans over dinner. Was I sober then too? I don't remember. Most likely I was just taking it easy, having recently started drinking again. Either way, it was a wet fart anticlimax of a night to go out on. Though I wonder how different it could've possibly been, even if we did know it was the last night we'd all be at McNally's together. Maybe we were too old by that point anyway.
10. Meatball Parmigiana — My favorite McNally's story occurred after Pam's and my "going away party" at McNally's, before we moved to Vegas, so this was February 2012. My parents were there, and they were sober enough that they drove a couple of cars back to their house with me and Pam and some friends. My dad drove my old '91 Camry. It's snowing at this point. Pam's in the passenger seat. Me and Dwyer and Dranders are in back seat. We're ready to pull out, and all of a sudden, some kid around our age is at the door, opening it, slurring something about getting a ride home. We didn't know this guy. My dad assumed that it was one of our friends. But he's trying to get in the car with us! So Dwyer says "My aunt is sick at the hospital, we have to go!" and my dad hits the gas as we shoot out of the lot. We look back, and the kid had slipped in the snow, and was on his back like a turtle as we turned onto Rhawn.
9. French Dip — Dwyer used to claim that McNally's was his favorite bar. This is the equivalent of the theory that the albums you listen to when you're seventeen are always going to be your favorite.
8. Cheese Fries — I don't necessarily think that it was my favorite bar of all time at any point in my life. There were only five months in between turning 21—when such an opinion as "favorite bar" would even be appropriate—and meeting Pam—who opened me up to all the bars in the rest of Philadelphia—so I don't think that's enough time to form any type of opinion about "favorites" one way or the other. Most frequented? At a certain point in my life, most definitely.
7. Buffalo Chicken Cheesesteak — Like, I used to literally leave my parents' house and walk down to the bar in my slippers. That's the kind of bar McNally's was.
6. Grilled Chicken Patty — There were probably plenty of people who had the weirdest night of their lives there. I'm confident that I did. I did not have the worst night of my life there, but I know a couple friends for whom that is true. But how about best night? Could anyone possibly have the best night of their lives at McNally's? I kind of doubt it.
5. BLT — One time, me and Pam went with my parents to opening day at the Phillies. Me and my dad were waiting for the girls outside of the restrooms when all of a sudden, a short, stout, very drunken man came up and gave me a hug. We exchanged pleasantries, and then he stumbled off into the crowd. "Who was that?!" asked my dad. "Oh, that was Iggy, the cook at McNally's." This is really what McNally's was about, right? Or maybe all neighborhood bars are like this, and McNally's is no exception. There's a sense of community. I'm not claiming I was an intimate part of that community—I was a weekender, and if I was anything more than that, I might be in AA already—but at least I was there enough that I could pretend to be. I was comfortable enough there to consider the goddamn grill cook my friend.
4. Pork Roll Sandwich — (Iggy, through his connection with Kev, was with us when we traveled from La Salle to Camden for the Red Bull Flugtag. Picture it: Me, Kev, the middle-aged cook from McNally's, and about eighteen sophomore college girls.)
3. Tiniz — I felt comfortable there. Yeah, I make fun of McNally's often, and piss on its memory, even today. But I was always comfortable there, and knew I was gonna have a good time there (unless, of course, I was sober, which is a whole different story).
2. Wings — The nights are starting to bleed together in my mind. That's what happens when a neighborhood bar isn't conducive to much more than hunkering down with your friends and drinking pint after pint. It all starts to combine into one grand night at one single bar, getting tipsy, dancing on the tiny dance floor to the worst songs of all time, bullshitting with your best friends and many acquaintances, nothing truly "crazy" happening. Just good, clean, young fun. Well okay, maybe not good, and definitely not clean, but young for sure. When I was young, I drank at McNally's.
1. Tavern Pizza — Don't let anyone tell you any differently—McNally's had good pizza.
Happy Thanksgiving Eve, everybody. In another universe, somewhere really far away, we're all getting ready to post up at McNally's at 6 PM, and watching as every friend and every hoodrat we've ever drank with starts walking through the door. Cue the music!!!!!
I think for a playlist to be something special, then it needs to come together organically over a long period of time. Each song has to be purposeful. Each song has to mean something. Pam has achieved such a playlist in the creation of her "Bathtime Fun" mix. Goes to show you that magic can come from any corner of the music world when you happen upon the right combination, even kids' music.
Look, there are some bad songs on this playlist, just as there are some all-time great bangers. The quality of the individual songs almost doesn't matter, because in combination, these are the first songs that my kids are "into," so they make bathtime go smoothly. They are also at the very least tolerable enough to get the parents through the bathtime ordeal as well.
So it's almost a disservice to break the playlist up into a couple Top Five lists, because that's the not the point here. The point is to be able to hit shuffle and convince the kids to sit still while also giving some moderate enjoyment to the adults who are doing the convincing. Music can move mountains in contexts like these. Excellent work, Pammy.
Top Five Songs on Pam's Bathtime Fun Playlist
5. "Il Gatto e la Volpe" by Edoardo Bannato
The top YouTube comment for this song is: "Italians: Song by Edoardo Bennato. Non-italians: Luca." Accurate.
4. "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons
Too on the nose? Psh, this is a children's music playlist. You ain't seen nothing yet.
3. "I've Got a Dream" from Tangled
I just love the insane mix of artists featured on this thing. Oh, your playlist features Mandy Moore, fucking Brad Garrett, and disgraced pervert Jeffrey Tambor? And all on the same song?!
2. "Louie Louie" by the Kingsmen
The FBI had a years-long investigation into whether "Louie Louie" featured foul language. Ultimately they found no evidence. Somehow, they weren't able to hear the drummer drop his drumsticks mid-song and yell "FUCK!" in the background. In terms of all-time Fucks in songs, it's pretty subtle, but I'm still proud that Pam was able to sneak one into her bathtime playlist regardless.
1. "On My Way" by Alex Lahey
I'll save many of my thoughts for next week's Top Songs of 2021 post, but suffice it to say that this will probably go down in K*** Family herstory as the first cool indie rock song my daughters love independent from their dad (who also loves it).
Top Five Worst Songs on the Bathtime Fun Playlist
5. "Danny Boy" (traditional?)
The best part about this song is that Willow always says "Daddy, it's your song!" because she hears "Danny Boy" as "Daddy Boy." The worst part about this song is everything else.
4. "So Long, Farewell" from The Sound of Music
Let's check back in when I get around to watching the movie sometime in 2023 or 2024. Until then, gotta tolerate this shit.
3. "I Can't Let You Throw Yourself Away" by Randy Newman
It sincerely amuses me that someone at Pixar probably told the Toy Story musician to "write a song that'll play when Woody doesn't let Forky throw himself away" and Newman took that idea as literally as possible.
2. "Peanut Butter" by RuPaul featuring Big Freedia
A recent addition to the playlist. Look, y'all already know I have an issue when it comes to RuPaul's musical tastes, but this is a new low. Doesn't he know that Martha has a peanut allergy?!?!
1. "Baby Shark" by Pinkfong
The O.G. of shitty kids songs. Fuck this song and blast it into the sun. Three and a half years of this shit and counting!!!!!!!!
I've always kind of disliked/tolerated Bruno Mars for being a very talented pastiche with no original ideas. I've always thought of Anderson .Paak as a family-friendly, low-rent Kendrick Lamar. But when they get together and call themselves Silk Sonic? For some reason, this is really appealing to me.
Of course, the music they create is not an original idea either, because Bruno Mars doesn't do original. He does old music for a new generation. He does it well, admittedly, and he possibly has never done it better than he does in An Evening with Silk Sonic. This is some string-drenched '70s Philly soul shit, and it's pretty great.
It leads me to believe that the vast majority of pop music is all about branding. Were this song called "'Skate' by Bruno Mars (featuring Anderson .Paak)" (or "'Skate' by Anderson .Paak (featuring Bruno Mars)), then there's no way I would've even bothered. But by labeling themselves as "Silk Sonic," one might be inclined to think of this as a fresh direction for these artists, even if it's really not fresh for anyone.
An example of something similar (though completely ignoring scale) is when Paul McCartney wanted to do some rebranding when he wanted to push the Beatles even farther into the psychedelic ether—suppose the Beatles were called by a different name, say, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band? Would that make a difference? That was the original idea, anyway, before they stuck with the label "the Beatles."
And I don't even know if Bruno Mars or Anderson .Paak even give a fuck about any of this. It's probable that they just called themselves Silk Sonic because it's less unwieldy than "Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak." The result is the same—this shit is certifiably cool. Not new, not bold, and ultimately not even significant (the album is too breezy and short for that), but definitely cool. For the first time ever, these artists have made something retro and cool. I'm glad the name change convinced me to give it a try, even if the convincing was at first subconscious.
We have the new album below, as well as the archives and the playlist and all that good stuff, but first...
Record Club's Third Annual Christmas Album Vote Spectacular
As we've done for 2019 and 2020, it is asked that any participating members of Record Club vote on which Christmas album we're gonna cover. I have compiled another eight new releases from this current season, recorded by popular (or "popular") artists, and I am now asking that you email me your choices (up to three). Whichever album gets the most votes will be the official Record Club album for the week of December 12th-18th (but, as always, feel free to review any album you'd like for any given week of Record Club! There are no rules!!). I will send reminders in all the emails between now and then. Here are the choices.
(Sidenote: In the three years I've been doing this, I haven't seen any new and popular-ish Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Solstice (etc.) albums in my surface-level research. If any artist or any Record Club member can prove me wrong, then I welcome the opportunity to throw it in for the vote, either this year or in the future, as well as change the descriptions to "Holiday Album Vote." Thanks for understanding.)
VOTE VIA EMAIL FOR UP TO THREE ALBUMS
Happiness Is... Christmas! by Kristin Chenoweth
When Christmas Comes Around... by Kelly Clarkson
A Very Darren Crissmas by Darren Criss
O Come All Ye Faithful by Hiss Golden Messenger
I Dream of Christmas by Norah Jones
The Season by Steve Perry (of Journey)
Hell of a Holiday by Pistol Annies
Something About Christmas Time by Rob Thomas (of Matchbox 20)
Thanks, and good luck.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled program. It's Thanksgiving Week! I understand that it's a bad week for Record Club! I picked a really short album for this reason!
WEEK 147 — November 21-27, 2021
What we're listening to this week (Joe's pick):
ALBUM: to hell with it
ARTIST: PinkPantheress
RELEASED: October 15, 2021
WHAT GENRE IS THIS: dance pop, UK garage, hyperpop(?)
WHY JOE PICKED IT: As I said, this is Thanksgiving, and I don't expect many people to have Record Club on their minds. That's why I'm picking the album this week—don't want to give any contributors the short stick. And, as I did last year, I'm choosing something that I've already been listening to, to give myself a break during a tight week. I usually try to pick something I have never heard before, but there's not enough time to explore new music during a holiday week, so I'm just picking something that I feel like I need a little more time with before the EoY lists come out.
READING SOME SHIT: Yes! It seems as though PinkPantheress was popularized on TikTok! Oh lord! And she's crossed over with the NPR crowd! Yikes!
PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB:Mura Masa, one of this album's producers, has stated that Gorillaz was a big influence on him, and he recently supported Nile Rodgers on a Chic comeback album, paying Rodgers back for when he supported Diana Ross on one of her comeback albums.
STEP ONE: Get into the whole classic rock mysticism thing; try to believe that the presentation of these rock icons as larger than life can translate to the music; get hooked on the back-to-front masterpiece of The Doors.
STEP TWO: Realize, as time goes on, that maybe the Lizard King is just a mirage; realize that nothing can stack up to that first album; realize that nothing about Jim Morrison's persona was healthy; realize that as he started to believe his own hype, the quality of the Doors' output conversely started to dip as you go farther down the discography.
STEP THREE: Start to resent Morrison and everything he represents; start to resent the Doors because of it.
STEP FOUR: Realize that you are not the only person who thinks this way, and that there is this whole movement—at least, outside of Boomer circles, anyway—that is tearing down figurative monuments, and now it feels like—again, definitely not talking about older people who don't think this deep about it—like we are now in the majority, that no one likes the Doors; realize that this doesn't make you feel good either, being on the side of the majority; realize that the Doors are now fucking underdogs and that maybe that's almost starting to look perversely appealing, despite everything you may have thought in the past?
STEP FIVE: Find a middle ground on Morrison Hotel, which occurred later in the Doors' existence (the second to last album with Jim Morrison before his death); apply your own narrative to it; make it feel like Morrison is also tearing down any Morrison monuments; wonder whether the image of Morrison presented in these songs—more grounded, certainly—is in fact Morrison reacting to the Lizard King's fall from grace in real time, or this was just another layer, another facade, and none of it is real at all; realize that the truth is somewhere in the middle, that Jim Morrison isn't a god, that the Doors are good; understand that I may need to readjust if the pendulum swings back the other way (i.e. if, say, your favorite music critic goes on record defending Morrison, or perhaps the upcoming Paul Thomas Anderson coming of age tale starring Alana Haim allegedly features some effective Doors needle drops), that maybe the Doors will become too popular again, and I'll chill back off for a while.
STEP SIX: Alright, fuck it, I'll listen to L.A. Woman.
I find They Might Be Giants is best in moderate doses—it's a bit too weird to be the staple of any diet. This is even assuming you find the palette at all appealing. As such I feel their catalogue is some moments of genius and a bunch of near-misses/pablum, but even the pablum can be kinda fun. So it goes.
BOOK is pretty much in line with all of that, and it's mostly them doing their thing. Probably puts it somewhere around The Spine or Apollo 18. It's oddball lyrics paired with straightforward pop melodies. Sometimes a song will take you down a rabbit hole—"If Day" has a weird sound to pull you in. Then there's a Godwin's Law reference, and next thing you know you find out "If Day" was a real thing. Real stupid thing. And so there goes TMBG, making songs about Istanbul or fake Nazi occupations.
But there's also that hint of malaise. "I Can't Remember the Dream" starts with what sounds like an extremely familiar guitar riff and then segues to rhymey sad-tune—"It's a never-ending litany of pain and ennui / This waking nightmare is driving me mad." This is TMBG making music in the (x,y,z,t) of today. Funny to see after last week's Swords, which many accurately pointed out the album's wrestling with current day pain and ennui. Or several other albums this year. It's relatable even if it could be a little more fun.
Certainly some tracks that feel self-derivative and forgettable. "Part of You" maybe? I forget. But the album also has enough earworms to keep me humming along and chewing on. It mostly feels like they're just having a good time around a bad time, and I'm good to do that too.
P.S. Is the Book portion of BOOK anything fantastic or just another fun thing to do? The album's not quite good enough to shell out that cash. Hopefully I can find it at my local lending library.
In 1941 John Crowe Ransom published The New Criticism, which outlined his formalist theories about how to interact with and interpret art. Broadly speaking, and oversimplifying it a bit, it basically suggests that art (poetry, specifically) should be given a close read and interpreted for its own merits, in isolation. The intentions of the creator or observer, the life of the creator or observer, should not be considered or otherwise influence the interpretation of the art. This view took over for most of the 20th century, certainly in literary criticism, but also in other corners of the art world. This theory is, to my mind, the ideal way to interact with art.
I cannot apply this thinking to BOOK, because BOOK is the same above-average, "batting .289 and hitting 28 home runs" album that these two titanic talented dorks have been putting out since Mink Car. Mink Car came out in 2001! How the hell do these freaks do it? I will listen to their albums for as long as they create them. If there is a band with a more consistently above-average 30-year discography, I am unaware of them (Yo La Tengo, maybe?). They Might Be Giants don't have a Goats Head Soup. They have BOOK, over and over again. God bless them.
Here is your instruction book. This is where you begin the review1. Here is where you tell the reader what you know about the band2, so that the reader can compare their own experiences to yours3. This is the point where you say what you know just from listening to the current album4. If you like it a lot, then you should temper expectations5. If you didn't like it that much, then you should name some exceptions6, some nice moments7, some things to take home with you8. If you thought it was okay9, you could always just do a paragraph in which you juxtapose some of the better songs with some of the worse songs10. Regardless, at this point you should underline your main point11. You can possibly make an inane comparison to some non-music thing12. This is the point where the reader is distracted and you can drop a reference to an old Record Club album13, for the true heads. Make sure you give an "explanation" as to why this review may not have been the best review you've ever written14. Equivocate further and say that this album was good enough to listen to throughout the week for whatever reason15. Drop a grade16. Edit this shit, make sure there are know typos17. Hit publish. Forget about the album for at least like three weeks.
1. On Thursday afternoon? Oof.
2. I dunno, probably as the Malcolm in the Middle band? Honestly, the whole side quest thing into children's music totally tracks for this band.
3. I could totally see how knowing a single fucking thing about They Might Be Giants might have enhanced your experience, so take mine with a grain of salt. That's how it goes with legacy bands who are new to yours truly within the context of Record Club.
4. So they definitely aren't a "parody" band by any stretch of the definition, but something about their whole shtick makes them reek of the genre anyway. I know from my experience this week only that they are a band who don't take themselves too seriously, and who have found a niche (and who have succeeded in that niche).
5. I would say something like "This is a rocking band who occasionally lapses into corny children-music-adjacent tunes, something silly like 'If Day for Winnipeg'" or whatever.
6. I would say something like "This album doesn't land too often, but those songs that do hit—the goofy guitar stomper 'Part of You Wants to Believe Me' or the even sillier but still fun 'Brontosaurus'—hit fucking hard" or something along those lines.
7. The four-on-the-floor "I Can't Remember the Dream."
8. The quirky stop-start waltz of "Wait Actually Yeah No," and so on.
9. This is the most accurate version of my opinion.
10. "...then you take the brutal urgency of album closer 'Less Than One' with some of the boring dreck like 'Quit the Circus'..." or maybe "...then you take the confidently theater-geeky 'Darling, the Dose' with some of the overly-geeky 'Drown the Clown'..." and there are like endless permutations of this game.
11. The vocals make this sound incredibly amateurish, despite the fact that those vocals are laid over music that is competent and catchy most of the time, and that amateurishness makes it really hard to take BOOK seriously.
12. E.g. it's like when someone says "fuck, man, the boneless skinless chicken breast from Aldi is always so tough," and later you're baked some chicken breast and it does seem a little chewy but you doubt you'd even have noticed if it wasn't for that one thing that was said up front, like, you don't know if this is a reflection of the chicken itself or your inability to block out opinions that can't possibly be based in fact.
13. Oh god, the vocals totally reminded me of Harry and the Potters. Yes, I overrated these guys at the time, but I still really like Lumos, and at this point, I have to acknowledge the fact that my love for the source material totally wallpapered over the fact that those guys sucked ass at singing too, ya know?
14. Yup, real shitty review. We are entering the final three weeks of the semester and I am getting my ass kicked. All apologies to everyone who has to sit there while I pretend that the half-assed footnotes premise was able to excuse any of the last-minute hack job.
15. I didn't mind this album. Liked it more than I disliked it, honestly.
