The Albums That Matter: Attack on Memory

Joe runs through every album on his iPod, mostly in alphabetical order, and offers some brief thoughts. Check out previous columns HERE.

Attack on Memory

Cloud Nothings

2012

You have to love an album that lays out its themes so clearly. With Attack on Memory, frontman Dylan Baldi makes his case again and again for destroying everything in front of you and everything behind you, and putting all your energy into the present. This may seem like I'm talking about some sort of musical crochet wall hanging at your aunt's house that says "LIVE IN THE MOMENT." There's nothing cutesy or etsy about Attack on Memory. It is violent, it is visceral, it is desperate. The present moment is something to be met with two fists in front of you.

"I thought I would be more than this" Baldi screams over and over in "Wasted Days," a nine-minute look into the dark depths of his soul. Cloud Nothings have torn down the past, they have pissed away the future, and what do they have left to show for it?

It's possible that Baldi is also referring to the sound of the album itself when he is referring to the present vs. the past. Cloud Nothings, if you listen to their self-titled debut, started out as an almost power pop band. With few exceptions ("Falling In" has few rough edges, but is more of a palette cleanser than anything), every song on Attack on Memory wipes the slate clean. This is not power pop. This is ragged, screaming, raw rock and roll.

But there is definitely more here than just songs about how Cloud Nothings itself sounds tougher. It goes deeper than that. I wasn't kidding when I said that the themes are laid out bare all over each song. On "Our Plans," Baldi says that there's "no time" and "we won't last long." On "No Sentiment," it's ordered that we "forget everything... no nostalgia." These are the lyrics of a man stuck in time. Everything sucks, and he feels like he can't move forward, or back, and to stay still is torture.

That's why, in my opinion, "Stay Useless" is a rare track on Attack on Memory that plays with an almost a perverse optimism. The chorus states over and over: "I need time to stop moving / I need time to stay useless." Now, I've had arguments as to what exactly this lyric means (and maybe it's a great lyric because of its ambivalence), but I take it as Baldi finally accepting his fate to be stuck here, and taking charge of the fate. "I need time to stay useless," meaning that time is currently useless, and all things considered, he wants it to stay that way.

For my money, "Stay Useless" is one of the top three songs of the decade, possibly even flirting with #1 depending on my mood. That I can find so much joy and hope in such a despairing and hopeless record makes Attack on Memory one of the greats. If you find yourself hating who you've become, then it's time to put in those earbuds, my friend, and turn the volume up. There's no future, there's no past, let's mourn together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If this album sounds interesting, try this song: "Our Plans"

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Stray Observations

• I couldn't fit in talking about "Separation" because it doesn't really talk about the album's theme, mainly due to the fact that it is an instrumental. But it is still a really fun track, and it features one of my favorite musical tricks that Cloud Nothings employs a lot more in later albums. I'm talking about the band's knack for seeming like they are going to go off the rails, but then, at the climax, all of a sudden clicking into place and barreling toward the finish line. It's thrilling every goddamn time.
• I enjoy all five of Cloud Nothings' LPs, even though Attack on Memory is unquestionably their greatest achievement. I hope in this column we eventually get to some of the other albums in the months and years ahead (though at the pace I move, it's unlikely), because I'd like to explore how the subsequent albums take the theme of Attack on Memory and mirror it, distort it, or rebuke it.
• ALBUM COVER: I am struggling to find a definitive answer on Google as to what exactly we are looking at here. I've always thought it was a boat crossing in front of a lighthouse, but the more I stare at it, the more I'm thinking it might be a Alcatraz-like prison? Perhaps it doesn't matter. The picture is fuzzy, it's fading away. Whatever it is, it is no longer that. It's just a memory now.
• Just to reiterate, "Stay Useless" is sincerely one of my favorite songs of all time. It makes me feel everything.

NEXT TIME: Automatic for the People by R.E.M.

Song of the Week: "It's Cold Outside"

"It's Cold Outside"

The Choir

Single b/w "I'm Going Home"

1966, re-released in 1967

The past month or so I've been working my way through Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-1968, a four-disc compilation of almost 120 songs from the late '60s, all of them "forgotten" tunes of their time. I've been having a blast going through and picking apart all of these garage rock classics, some straight-ahead rockers, some obtuse acid-psych jams, some from pseudo-famous bands, some from bands that were instantly forgotten. And some of the songs, of course, stand larger than others, just due to pure catchiness alone.

"It's Cold Outside" is one of those songs. It's a Beatles-esque mod rocker that's almost instantly recognizable even if you've never heard of the song or the Choir. It's formulaic in that it follows that '60s game plan of bright hooks and brighter doo-doo, ahh-ahh harmonies and a climax-building key change. You can close your eyes and practically see the young lads on stage, all wide-eyed and singing their heart out to a world-conquering single.

Of all the songs all Nuggets that could apply, I think "It's Cold Outside" comes closest to being a song in the style and culture of That Thing You Do!, a 1996 movie about a band just like the Choir who have a hit song and travel the world playing it to screaming fans. I get preoccupied thinking about what happened to the characters in that movie after the film stopped rolling. Is the guitarist at some dive bar in the Midwest, when his old hit song comes on, and it brings him back to the most exciting part of his life, the part that is most assuredly over now?

For some semblance of an answer, take a look at the Choir's Wikipedia page. There's a picture of a bunch of old dudes gathered around. This is the Choir at their 2006 reunion. The picture makes me both happy and sad. Sad that no one in that picture probably ever reached those same emotional heights that they did when they were teenagers with the #68 song on the Billboard charts. Happy because they gave us "It's Cold Outside," and the song will outlive us all.

TV Review: Killing Eve (Season 1)

I hesitate to call Killing Eve an exercise in "cheap thrills" because it was a really well-done season of television, and I enjoyed it thoroughly almost from start to finish. But when the final credits roll, and the reaction in the room is "Wow, that was cool!" and then the TV is turned off and you go to bed and you barely give it another thought, then maybe it's clear that the show will not be joining the pantheon of the Greats just yet.

Killing Eve is an exciting thriller, a cat-and-mouse spy drama, starring Sandra Oh as the titular Eve and Jodie Comer as the ostensible "villain" of the season. Both actresses are fucking impeccable in their roles. Oh is (and always has been, your opinions of Grey's Anatomy notwithstanding) one of the most natural and comfortable actresses on television. A lot of the subtle humor in Killing Eve derives from Oh's relaxed and even dry delivery of her lines, even in the face of danger.

Jodie Comer has an even more challenging role, I'd argue, tasked with bringing pathos to a psychopathic mass murderer, and she knocks it out of the park. It's crazy to think that anyone could watch her stand there over a dead body with blood all over her dress and then see her smile and think "that's fucking adorable." If there's justice in this world, both Oh and Comer will be competing for some Emmys this fall.

Now that I'm done my fawning, let's talk plot. As is typical of all spy dramas, there are plenty of twists and turns and double-crosses, and Killing Eve handles it all well. Clearly I won't spoil any of it here, but the story moves forward at a rapid pace. Honestly, sometimes the pace is so accelerated that I feel like they were burning through a season's worth of plot in a single episode. And that's an exhilarating feeling! In that way, it kind of reminded me of Homeland Season 1, how the plot kept collapsing in on itself and getting faster and faster.

But again, there wasn't much to think about by the end of the season. Killing Eve has pure summer popcorn flick status. Do I want to see what happens next? Fuck yeah. But I'm probably not going to give it much thought until Season 2 hits my TV screen. It has no real lasting impact on me. Cheap thrills? Maybe. Doesn't make it bad. Doesn't make it perfect either.

GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5

Song of the Week: "Casual Discussion in a Dome Between Two Temples"

"Casual Discussion in a Dome Between Two Temples"

Algernon Cadwallader

from Some Kind of Cadwallader

2008

I don't know how it's possible at this point, but there are still moments when I become breathless while listening to music. Here, with Algernon Cadwallader, I am indeed breathless, like, the wind is knocked out of me. On a personal level, listening to "Casual Discussion..." is akin to opening a door expecting a broom closet, only to find an entire new room. I've never given Midwest Emo more than a passing glance, but here I am, utterly fucking enthralled. Not gonna lie, I'm a little drunk, typing this. But don't let my BAC distract you from the fact that this mid-'00s, terribly vocal'd emo bullshit is MY FUCKING JAM. It's so good I can't even imagine listening to anything else. SHIT.

The Office Revival

hasn't been confirmed yet, but c'mon, those TV execs want their MONEY

What The Office Season 10 should look like:

• Jim and the two Halpert kids died in a car crash, so Pam, not knowing what else to do, comes back to Scranton and gets her old receptionist job back, because she feels like that was the only thing that ever truly made sense to her.
• Everyone is really concerned to see Pam back at the front desk, because they know she's better than this. They've always known. Oscar admits that the snark he and the rest of the office showed her during her last few years working there was less out of disdain and more due to the fact that they always knew she had potential, and she was pissing it away working at a goddamn paper company. Oscar confesses that he felt like Will Hunting's gay older brother on the day that the Halperts stopped showing up to work.
• Dwight is getting therapy, and starting to come to terms with his outrageous behavior. He is constantly wrestling with the fact that he has, at times, put his peers in immediate danger. He breaks out in a cold sweat when he has a nightmare about the time he brought a gun into the office. Angela wakes up to find her husband screaming, "I could've shot Stanley! I could've shot Stanley!"
• Phyllis knits a lot at her desk. It's been three years since Bob Vance died of heart attack complications, and as a widow, she just can't seem to find the satisfaction she once could in selling paper (especially because the hospital bills are piling up, and they are all on Dunder Mifflin brand paper). So she knits. Except on Tuesdays. Pam asks, what's on Tuesdays? "Oh honey, we didn't think you'd ever want to come. But every Tuesday, a few of us take a half day and go to early happy hour at Poor Richard's."
• Kevin, you'll recall, now owns Poor Richard's. Always lost among the numbers and figures in the accounting office, Kevin seems to have found his calling, serving cold beer to the sad patrons of his establishment. The gang files in.
• Andy is sitting at the end of the bar. "Guys! You made it!" Everyone waves uncomfortably and starts to shuffle toward the other side of the bar, except Pam: "Andy! Oh my god! I thought you worked at Cornell?" And she starts to walk toward Andy, before Erin grabs her by the sleeve, "Pam, wait. We need to see which Andy this is." "What do you mean Erin?" Pam asks (a bit sarcastically, since she knows Erin can be kooky and also she has a history with Andy, so maybe she's just being Erin, ya know?). "Well, you know how it always seemed like Andy became a different person every year? Like, one year he had severe anger issues, the next he was a dumb cuckold, somehow he became regional manager, and went from lovable loser to vindictive asshole?" "Oh yeah, I guess I never noticed that." "Well, as it turns out, Andy has severe mental health concerns, possibly a personality disorder. We always wait for Andy to approach us. Sometimes he comes over and buys us a round. Sometimes he punches a hole through the wall. But we always wait and see."
• Dwight walks up to Kevin. "First rounds on me, Kev. How're you holding up?" Kevin: "Dwight. I, am, phenomenal. Your firing me was the best thing that ever happened to me. Let's let bygones be bygones. I will buy the first round." Dwight: "You know, Kevin, I never appreciated your heart when you worked at Dunder Mifflin. I was always distracted by your lack of accounting know-how. But now I see that people are not binary. They have good skills and lack other skills. Your work with spreadsheets shouldn't have defined you as a person. I know that now. I am in therapy." Old Dwight would've looked straight into the camera at this point, a self-satisfied smug smile on his face. But that was the Old Dwight. New Dwight just lives his life the best he can.
• "Who's watching the kids, Angela? Mose?" asks Meredith. "Mose?" responds Angela, "No, didn't you hear? Mose died in a tragic tractor accident. It wasn't something we took lightly at Schrute Farms. He was practically running the farm since Dwight became Regional Manager. But Mose is in The Good Place now." 
• The staff, old and new, sit around their favorite Tuesday table, mostly in silence. They know this is it for them. There's no getting out of Scranton. "Hey," pipes up Pam, "Remember that time Michael thought it would be a good idea to eat a whole container of fettuccine alfredo before running a 5K?" Everyone chuckles appreciatively, and they spend a few minutes recounting Michael Scott's wackier exploits. Another silence, then: "I wonder what he's up to now?"
• Creed walks into the bar, and exclaims: "I was released and am on parole!" Everyone is perplexed. Toby asks: "Creed, are you serious?" Creed says: "Who's Creed?"
• Every episode is pretty low-key. There are a few guest appearances. For instance, Stanley is retired, and to be true to the character, it wouldn't make any sense for him to appear more than once maybe. Perhaps we see him in line during Free Pretzel Day, and Phyllis is able to convince him to come up to the office and say hi to everyone.
• The season's arc is Pam coming to terms with the fact that this is her life. She is neither happy nor sad. She misses Jim dearly, but life has become a little less hectic without him, and at the end of the day, she occasionally appreciates that. Pam has to come to terms with the fact that she was kidding herself when she went to art school. She looks around the office. Mediocrity is a comfortable fit for her. She aspires for nothing more.
• Dwight is proud of the office. He and his subordinates do their work and do it well. Profits are in the black, which is more than many other similar companies can say in this increasingly paperless world. Dwight finds a gray hair. He's getting old. He will probably die here. He reflects on his old frenemy Jim Halpert, and the discomfort Jim felt when he perceived that he was "stuck" here at Dunder Mifflin. Dwight has never felt that way. He has felt at home here since orientation day. He has no higher aspirations. But what if...

What The Office Season 10 will probably look like:

• Pam bursts through the office door: "Hey guys, guess what! Jim is working from home on his Athlead stuff, which was bought by Amazon, and he may stop by as often as his Amazon contract will allow. But I was bored, so I'm back!"
• Andy quit Cornell and came back to Dunder Mifflin as the receptionist. Erin and Pete are co-Office Coordinators. Dwight says, "I'm glad my best friend is back! Alright Beesley, let's make up a job for you. How about Special Projects Manager?" Pam: "Sounds great Dwight."
• Meredith says something crude about having sex.
• Stanley bursts through the door: "Guys, I just heard that a paper company in Florida, Schmunder Schmifflin, is trying to steal our clients!" "Battle stations, folks!" yells Dwight, "We can do this!" But Dwight is waaaay too aggressive with the clients, and loses a lot of them. Like, he's acting like no normal human being would. There are no lasting repercussions. 
• Erin says: "Oh no, I forgot the password to my computer!" The camera finds her trying to type on an upside-down keyboard. Kevin, who for some reason was rehired (with no explanation), says: "Oh no, I forgot the password to my computer too!" The camera finds him trying to type on a calculator.
• Nelly is still there.
• Creed: "flippity floppity ho ha mana!" The AVClub writes in its post-episode review: "Creed was a clear standout in tonight's episode."
• Anyone who hasn't hooked up in the office yet ends up hooking up. Phyllis thinks Andy is hitting on her. Darrell takes his old job back and hooks up with Meredith. Toby takes his old job back and marries Nelly in a Very Special Episode. Kelly takes her old job back and tries to hook up with Clark, which makes Ryan—who took his old job back—very jealous.
• Gabe takes his old job back, and sexually harasses every woman in the office with no repercussions.
  
• You never see anyone selling any paper. David Wallace shows up and says, "Dwight, you're doing a great job! I think Dunder Mifflin will be expanding soon!" Dwight smiles a shit-eating grin into the camera.
• Special Guest Star Whoopi Goldberg is the new CFO! Hijinks ensue!
• Erin: "Hey everybody, I just want to let you know that my Biological Father is having a foreign film festival tonight on his yacht, and you are all invited!" Andy: "None of us have lives outside of the office. We will literally ALL be there."
• Andy sings a semi-recent pop song a cappella style, and everyone cheers for him, because they all have forgotten his awful behavior when he was dating Erin.
• Everyone acts like they are mentally challenged, and they all fail upward.
• Everything works out great in the end.

The Albums That Matter: AT WORK

Joe runs through every album on his iPod, mostly in alphabetical order, and offers some brief thoughts. Check out previous columns HERE.

AT WORK

DARK THOUGHTS

2018

One of my most prominent and gaping flaws I have as a music listener is my inability to get straight the different genres and subgenres of music. If you were to ask me to explain what "punk music" is, I would probably not do a very good job of it. There's so much that could be considered punk, so many varied types of music that fall under the umbrella, that I don't even know where to begin. But I'll try.

There are a ton of subgenres when it comes to punk. Here's the list that punk's subreddit offers up. There's a lot on there. Some of it greatly appeals to me (e.g. garage rock), and others less so (e.g. crossover thrash?)

If we're talking straight though, for me, DARK THOUGHTS plays punk in its purest form. This is punk as a genre, no subgenre qualification needed. If someone needed to hear what "punk music" means to me, I'd play them AT WORK, the band's 2018 effort.

The hallmarks (again, at least in my opinion) are all here. The short songs, or rather, short blasts of energy. The power chords, the walking (sprinting) bass, that relentless kick drum. A vocalist that simultaneously sounds like he doesn't give a shit and also like these are life and death stakes.

I learned to appreciate this type of music at a bar called the Double Down Saloon in Las Vegas (well off the strip). It is the self-proclaimed dive-iest bar in America, and as far as I could tell, they weren't lying. I sat in that dark and dingy bar many times during Pam's and my sojourn in the desert, and all they played was punk music. I couldn't really tell the difference between many of the songs, but the overall elated and excited emotions that punk music gave me during that time in my life will always stick with me.

AT WORK, at first listen, is the same ordeal as all those punk rock playlists—all the songs sound somewhat similar. And that's okay! Punk is more broad strokes than details. DARK THOUGHTS have twenty minutes to get their point across here, and they do it well.

Even so, in my limited knowledge of this genre, I have to imagine that AT WORK is top of the class, because despite everything I said above, there are actually some songs that have particulars that make 'em stand out. Some examples to explore:

"Gimme Soda" offers a false start to the album, before pausing for the briefest of moments, and then kicking a hole through the wall. "I Wish" takes it up a notch and offers some real nice line readings about walking around and causing mayhem, before turning in a heavier half-time outro as well. "With You" could almost be a love ballad, and starts that way before bringing in the whole band to rock out. "Hate This Song" has this, like, three-second drum breakdown that is probably the best moment on the album, and gets me pumped every single goddamn time.

These are small distinctions. They are important, but they are still comparably tiny. I mean, "Anything II" is 90-second sequel to a 90-second song on their first s/t album, and it shares similarities. The entirety of DARK THOUGHTS' discography is about 35 minutes long, and they are already repeating themselves slightly? But guess what—it still fucking rocks. It's so goddamn badass, you guys.

Out of any album that I've discussed in this column, AT WORK would be the one I would implore you to give a shot right this second. Seriously, it's only fifteen minutes, and it'll make you so goddamn happy. Stop what you're doing. Listen.

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If this album sounds interesting, try this song: I can't in good faith post a 60-second song in this section today when the whole goddamn album is 20 minutes, and so you should just listen to the whole thing, okay?

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Stray Observations

• A lot has been made about the fact that these guys sound remarkably like the Ramones. Even if that were true (and yeah, it's 85% true), that's not a bad band to sound like.
• Yes, the band's name is in all caps, and yes, their albums' names are in all caps, and yes, I will continue to make a fuss when bands do stupid things with capitalization.
• XPN's The Key featured a pretty good (if somewhat meandering) interview with the band last summer. Read it here. Things I learned from the interview: The bassist is female! The band members all work at Philly coffee shops! 
• Sorry, DARK THOUGHTS, I will never be able to go to one of your concerts. I'm too old, I wouldn't make it to the end of your set. (Sidenote: How long are their sets? They could play every song they have and not even last an hour.)
• ALBUM COVER: Bullshit answer: The deep blues and black and white create a pattern that forms a Rorschach test for the listener, evoking that primitive caveman part of you brain, as punk rock often does. Actual answer: I have no clue. (EDITED ANSWER: Holy shit, it only just occurred to me to check the Ramones' discography and see if there are any comparable album covers. And sure enough—Leave Home. This was dumb of me not to catch the first time, since in that XPN interview, the band specifically mentions this Ramones album.)
• Hey, you could OWN this album, and name your price! Go check out their Bandcamp!

NEXT TIME: Attack on Memory by Cloud Nothings

Fuck Bryce Harper!(?)

In case you haven't followed baseball in the off-season (and if you haven't, I really don't blame you), you may have heard that the Phillies are interested in acquiring Bryce Harper. I've hated Bryce Harper with all my strength for the past six years, and it's possible that he'll be wearing Phillies pinstripes by the end of the winter.

Fuck Bryce Harper.

Of course, we begin this by saying that I don't know Bryce Harper personally, and any "hate" that I spew from my drunk mouth when I see Harper on screen or at CBP is mostly due to the idea of "hating our rivals" that I discussed in length here. But I've hated Harper more than other Nationals players (or, for that matter, most Mets and Marlins and Braves and Yankees, etc.). The reasons are slight, sure, but they are there, and they fucking matter.

I think Bryce Harper is cocky, and it irks me that he, more often than not, has a reason to be, because he's a really good baseball player. Here are his worst moments early on, as compiled by another website. "But Joe," you may protest, "this was in 2011, when he was a teenager! Surely he has grown and matured since then!"

But has he? When you google "Bryce Harper apologizes," there are not too many hits. Of course, we all remember the 2015 incident when he was so cocky and such an asshole that his (admittedly hotheaded) teammate decided that Harper deserved to be choked out, in public, during a game. Papelpon later apologized, but c'mon, look at Harper chirping away right before he gets assaulted. Who wouldn't want to assault such an asshole?

There was also the 2016 incident in which he got suspended for yelling at an umpire after already being ejected. "Eject me?! I'm Bryce Harper!!" The dude is a fucking asshole with no class. 

It may seem like I am grasping at straws here, and maybe that's true. But clearly he's given me more than enough reason to dislike him more than other comparable baseball players. And it may seem like I am a hypocrite, if you want to argue that I would not feel this way if it was a Phillies player doing this shit. And... maybe you are right...

There's plenty to suggest that I'll be rooting for Bryce Harper when Spring arrives. He's apparently meeting the Phillies in Las Vegas on Saturday. The Phillies owners are spending "stupid amounts of money" this off-season. The Phillies appear to be a team on the rise that could hit a higher plane of success with a genuine superstar. Etc.

If, and again this is all hypothetical and definitely not guaranteed, but if Harper comes to Philly, I will swallow what little pride I have and root for him. I have no other choice. I am a Phillies fan, and unless a player commits a heinous crime off the field, I'm going to cheer for any Phillies player on the field. And so if Bryce Harper's biggest crime is that he is a jerkoff dipshit, then I'll have no choice but to support him, regardless.

I guess the reason I don't want Harper to come play in Philly is that my switching allegiances would expose the true frivolity of sports in general. One day I hate Bryce Harper, and the next I don't, so what does that say about my/our reasons for cheering or booing in the first place? I enjoy watching the Phillies and I cheer for them because I believe that their success means something to me. But if I have to immediately change one of my core values overnight, doesn't that mean their success means nothing to me?

I know that baseball ultimately amounts to nothing more than a way to distract ourselves from the inevitability of death. But can't I just pretend otherwise? With Harper on the team, we might win, but it will be a lot harder to pretend.

Dumb Google Photos

I spent a good amount of time transferring all my pictures and videos to Google Photos because, even though nothing is truly private on the internet, it seemed a little more private than Facebook. Pam and I mainly utilize Google Photos for uploading baby pictures (don't get me started on that shit again), but I put every picture of my family on there. 

And apparently Google Photos automatically sorts your photos for you when you have enough of them. There are albums organized by "People" (you can't tag faces, a robot does it for you, and it's... mostly accurate, I guess), by "Places" (you can tag each photo with a location, though the "Places" albums are broadly categorized by city), and by "Things."

The "Things" albums are hilariously inaccurate, and give a great insight as to the thought processes of robots who are trying to figure out what exactly is going on in a photo. Here are the "Things" albums that Google Photos gets wrong for me.

"Prom"

I guess I can kind of see the logic for this one, but c'mon. There is clearly a bride in a white dress there. And the lack of a tie on the guy in front would NEVER be allowed at the strict Catholic high school proms I attended. Keep the tie on, look presentable!

"Airplanes"

There is absolutely no logic to this picture choice. I don't know of any airplanes that have couches in them, at least not airplanes that Pam and Willow would be buying a ticket for. This pic was taken at Evil Genius Brewery, which sits firmly on the ground (though drink prices might be worse than an airplane's).

"Buses"

I mean, I guess technically this is a bus, but it's really a bus-shaped Wildwood boardwalk ride. I don't think I would let my niece drive a bus at three years old, and the Google robots should know that.

"American Football"

I have no idea why this picture was chosen as the cover of the "American Football" album. The picture takes place at a Halloween party, and neither person in the picture is dressed as a football player. I guess Matt's jacket could theoretically be misconstrued as a letter jacket? But not really (he's supposed to be Ferris Bueller, I think). Bad job, Google.

"Food"

There are not many pictures of food on my Google Photos account, because taking pictures of your food is fucking stupid. But that doesn't excuse why a picture of some very non-edible wedding centerpieces would be chosen for this album cover.

"Baking"

I mean, this would be a better choice for "Food," right? Especially because cookies cakes are by-and-large bought from the store, and not baked by the consumer him/herself. I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiments expressed on these cakes, and I assume they were baked by somebody, but it's still a weird choice here. That's not even considering that there is a "Birthday" album where this would make a good cover!

"Bowling"

As you can see, Google Photos really struggles with sports. Here's another Halloween photo where the robots assume someone is playing a sport. How the algorithm saw a picture of Frank dressed as a superhero(?) standing next to R2D2 and assumed that they were bowling is anyone's guess.

"Rugby Football"

This is almost the most accurate sports-themed album cover here. SO close. I guess the robots saw a bunch of jabronis getting sloppily tackled and assumed that this was way too unorganized to be American Football. (Not included here is the "Football" album, which actually includes a picture of two Turkey Bowl football teams posing for a picture, but I guess it was assumed that that picture was of a SOCCER team, right?)

"Softball"

There is actually a decent amount of softball photos on my account, since we used to play at the Fox Chase Rec every Tuesday, but for some reason, a picture of a group of nurses at a baseball game was chosen here. This, in addition to the fact that the actual softball pics were classified as...

"Circus"

Circus?!?! I mean, I know I look like a fucking clown when I'm up to bat, but in what world is this is a circus? And speaking of clowns...

"Clowns"

Okay, this one is just hilarious.

"Hot Tubs"

Credit where credit is due, this is indeed a group of handsome young gentlemen in a hot tub. But this just goes to show how crazy Google Photos is when it comes to categorizing pictures. This is literally the only picture of anyone in a hot tub that I have. How did this necessitate a whole album? I just don't get it.

"Musical Theater"

Almost correct, Google robots, almost! This pic shows Pam and I on a stage where we both took part in college musicals, but it is actually an engagement photo. No singing involved. But I'm proud of you for trying.

"Trains"

I take it back, you didn't even try for this one. How in the world is this a train?! This is the Rockledge Pub! Though, truthfully, I guess I'd rather be on a crowded train than in the Rockledge Pub most nights.

"Opera"

This is my vote for funniest juxtaposition of album name and allegedly appropriate picture. This is a picture of me, in terrible drag, dancing to Cher's "Strong Enough," and Google Photos calls it "Opera." Good lord.

Song of the Week: "When the Whip Comes Down"

"When the Whip Comes Down"

The Rolling Stones

from Some Girls

1978

My parents—I mean, ahem, Santa Claus—gifted Rolling Stones tickets to me and Pam for Christmas. This is all the excuse I need to start doing a little more digging into the Rolling Stones' discography. Not that I honestly think they are going to be playing deep cuts from Goats Head Soup at Lincoln Financial Field, but I want to be prepared because they could, right?

I tried talking to my pops about where I should listen next, since I already know the classic four (Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main Street). He was the wrong person to go to. First, he claimed that his favorite Rolling Stones was Hot Rocks, which is a fucking Greatest Hits album. Second, when asked about Some Girls, he claimed that he never got into it because it was a "disco album." After actually listening to Some Girls, I can definitively say that it is not fully disco by any means. Save for their ostensible hits ("Beast of Burden" and "Miss You"), it's more punk than disco. See "When the Whip Comes Down" for an example.

This is not disco. It's a relentless rocker with a pretty big bite, possibly due to the fact that three guitars battle for attention (Jagger learned how to play guitar so he could get in on the fun). And I give shit to Charlie Watts for mostly being a subpar classic rock drummer, but there's no denying that he shows Bonham-like power here.

As far as the lyrics go, I hesitate to call the song "progressive," but it is kind of crazy that Mick Jagger felt comfortable enough in the '70s to write a song from the perspective of a gay prostitute. I'm not gonna defend his use of the word "f*g" by saying "it was a different time" or whatever, that excuse is dumb. But I do think that Jagger was coming from an empathetic place. In an interview, he said of the song: "I don't know why I wrote it. Maybe I came out of the closet." It's probable that he's making a joke, but there's evidence that Mick Jagger is bisexual, so maybe consciously or subconsciously he wrote this song with himself in mind.

Whether you take it as a quasi-LGBTQ anthem or just a rollicking punk song, it's still worthy of your time.

New Year's Resolutions for 2019

Even though I (and the rest of the human race) am terrible at actually following through with my New Year's resolutions, there's a certain comfort in knowing that I could be a better person, next year, if I really tried. This year, I swear, I'm really gonna try. I will.

• I want to see a "1" in the hundreds column on the scale. Even if my weight is 199.9 lbs for just one day, I'll be happy and content. Keto worked for me when I actually committed to it in 2018, and so I'll utilize that again next year. I also want to add some more exercise into the mix, with some more running, some more walking, continued biking, and trying to do an actual, real life push-up.
• I want to journal every day. I did this for the month of November; I just wrote a few hundred words about my previous day, trying to make it creative as possible (depending on how exciting my day was, and how hungover I was while writing). So it's feasible to do it all year. (Don't worry, you won't subjected to those diary entries here, I have a private blog set up.)
• I also want to make an honest effort to live my life every day as if it were worth writing about. No, this will not be a repeat of Joe's New Summer, when I did something honest-to-god NEW every day. I just want to be able to look back on every day of 2019 and say, yeah, that thing that I did (or saw, or read, or achieved, or watched, or experienced), that thing made today WORTH LIVING.
• I want to make an honest effort to explore different music genres. I want to push past my comfort zone of white indie rock. I want 2019's Musical Year in Review to be more diverse than years past.
• I want to read a chapter of War and Peace every day of 2019, and follow along at r/ayearofwarandpeace. I actually don't know if those discussions will be taking place again in 2019, but I'll at least follow along on the 2018 archives. There are 361 relatively short chapters in War and Peace, so if I read one a day, then I'll be able to conquer this intimidating beast by year's end.
• I want the book club to go well. First meeting is January 12th (where we'll be discussing Beartown), and subsequent meetings will be quarterly afterward. So if we have four book club meetings by the end of the year, I'll be a happy man. (And if the book club devolves into a bunch of dudes just sitting around getting drunk on a Saturday morning, I'll be happy with that too.)
• I want to complete, or at least work on, at least one additional goal on my Bucket List. Possibly watch a bunch of movies (#2), start training (#12), play some more drinking games (#16), make some moonshine (#20), brainstorm sandwich ideas (#28), I mean, shit, man, there's plenty I could be doing next year. So let's start doing it.

Of course, I also want to still try to be a good husband and father and friend and not drink so much and keep my job and invest my paycheck wisely and try to keep those Philly kids safe and work on the house and stay positive and enjoy the good times and all the usual bullshit, but I shouldn't need a New Year's resolution to do any of that... right?!

Cheers to 2019. Let's do this shit.

Song of the Week: "Two-Handed Handshake"

"Two-Handed Handshake"

The Hold Steady

2008

I tend to avoid B-sides and bonus tracks because, generally, there is a reason why the song was left off the album, ya know? If albums are meticulously crafted pieces of art, then the songs that were dismissed from the album were determined by the band to be not good enough for that art.

However, there also exists the rare band that just happens to make TOO MUCH great music, and it simply can't all fit on the album. For these bands, it is strangely rewarding to work through their odds and sods, because occasionally you find a brilliant tune that makes you question why it didn't end up on the album in the first place.

The Hold Steady is one of those bands, and the B-side "Two-Handed Handshake" is one of those songs.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that "Two-Handed Handshake" is peak Hold Steady. All the touchstones are here: the ultra-specific details about that one crazy night, the wayward young adults trying to find their place in the world (and usually finding it in some seedy bathroom), the acknowledgment of the shittiness of it all and the hope that it'll all get better soon. Seriously, is there a more Hold Steady-ish chorus than "We gotta be a little better / We gotta pull it back together"???

So why didn't this make the cut for Stay Positive? Hard to say. I could see an argument for the fact that Stay Positive was going for a bit more melancholy sound in general than the band typically deals with, a sound that wouldn't have meshed well with "Two-Handed Handshake"'s uplifting, fist-pumping singalong.

It's probably the horns. That horn riff is so goddamn great, it would've completely overshadowed everything else on any album it landed on. The horns have been in my head all week. Listen, and let them take over your life too.

Don't Tell Me What I Can't Do, Part IV: The Lip Sync

Welcome to "Don't Tell Me What I Can't Do," a new series here on PoYB. Please first read this blog post I wrote in 2009. There, I listed 22 subjects that I would NEVER write about on this website. Here in 2018, I say: don't fucking tell me what I can't do. For a total of twenty-two posts, I will be blogging about these subjects, in striking defiance of my 20-year-old naiveté.

TODAY'S "FORBIDDEN" SUBJECT: The video in which I do an interpretive dance to an NSYNC song in fifth grade

WHY IT WAS FORBIDDEN: Because it's fucking embarrassing, that's why. For my parents' Christmas gift this year, I digitized 296 home videos from their collection. The catch was that, in order to record them onto the computer, I actually had to sit down and watch them as they recorded. This was an insanely frustrating and monotonous task, as there are only so many times you can watch school musicals and still shots of opening Christmas presents before you start to go fucking crazy. Plus, there's always that uncomfortable feeling that you get when you watch yourself when you were young. I was a dork, a loser, and it was tough watching this dorky loser on camera, embarrassing himself. I was embarrassed. May these home videos never gain a wide audience. That being said...

HOW I WILL WRITE ABOUT IT: I will post the goddamn video.

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The password is pukeonyourbirthday.

Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, ya dumb fucks. Enjoy.

2018 in Review: Favorite TV

***Spoiler for It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia below, if even spoilers for basic cable comedies piss you off (they definitely do for me)***

I didn't watch a ton of new television this year, because sometimes it seems like the amount of new shows coming out is so overwhelming that I'd rather just watch another The Office rerun. I suppose I watched enough that I could cobble together a Top Ten Episodes or something, like I've done in the past. I enjoyed plenty of shows like Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, GLOW, This Is Us, Atlanta, The Good Place, etc., etc.

But I didn't watch enough TV to consider myself a definitive expert in the field, so a lot of what I would write about in such a list would mirror what plenty of TV critics already wrote about (and wrote better). And more importantly, while those shows gave me great pleasure, none of them made me feel something extra, made my chest tighten with emotion. Except one. And I'm still not even sure what to make of it.

Yes, I'm talking about the final episode of Season 13 of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. "Mac Finds His Pride" starts as a series of cheap jokes and ends in the most strangely beautiful thing the show has ever done.

The episode is the culmination of the "Mac is gay" storyline, one that started almost a decade ago. It began as a joke, but in a classic Always Sunny subversion, the joke was never homophobic, but rather commented on how fucking repressed Mac is. It wasn't "ew, you are gay," it was, "clearly you are gay, just come out already because we're tired of your lies and plus we don't care either way."

In Season 12, Mac finally came out of the closet (hilariously, over a $40 scratch-off lottery ticket), and has spent the time since trying to figure out what this means for him as a person, and how he can reconcile his unequivocal homosexuality and his Catholic upbringing (and again, hilariously, a lot of this struggle is undercut continuously by Mac in general being a terrible person in a group of terrible people, regardless of sexuality). In "Mac Finds His Pride," Mac finally grapples with the inner turmoil in a completely serious way.



Not that I have extensive experience with this art form, but I've never been as affected by ballet as I am when I watch this sequence. No, I don't know what it feels like to be Mac. But I know what it feels like to be confused and hurt and overwhelmed. Those feelings are universal. Somehow, this dance sequence is able to thrillingly portray those emotions, and it cuts deep.

What makes this extended scene incredible in the context of It's Always Sunny isn't that a comedy is taking a moment to be serious—Sunny does that all the time, to great effect. It's incredible because it starts serious, and it ends serious, and no joke undermines it whatsoever. If Sunny was playing by its own rules, then at the end of the number, Dennis would pop out and talk about how disgusting Mac is or something like that. But all rules are broken here. The tension ratchets up with each high-flying maneuver, until a room full of hardened criminals give a standing ovation, Frank finally and tearfully admits that he understands Mac, and then... scene. Season over.

The fact that I'm even talking in this serious of a manner about It's Always Sunny is insane. This is a fucking COMEDY SHOW that has spent thirteen years making us laugh with juvenile glee. Season 14 will probably be more of the same. But for five minutes, Sunny dropped all pretenses, and fucking stunned me with a daring, out-of-left-field treatise on love and hate and confusion.

I don't even know if I'm qualified to feel this strongly about this episode. I am a straight male who hasn't been to a high-art dance performance in over a decade. And I don't know if Always Sunny was even qualified to tackle it; they note multiple times in the episode in typical meta fashion how they shouldn't have a straight man portraying a gay man, because "the press will murder us." If that's the case, then I accept fault.

But as unqualified as I am, I cannot deny my emotions while watching this episode of television, and what I feel is gut-wrenching. Always Sunny transcends the political conversation. Mac's dance is universal, and it's fucking brilliant. This was my favorite TV moment of the year, and I look forward to celebrating it even more at the next Emmy ceremony, if there is a goddamn ounce of justice in this fucked up world.

My Favorite Christmas Movie

There is a difference between "best" and "favorite." The "best" in a category is well done, culturally important, and critically noted. A "favorite" is just whatever one you like the best, subjectively. Last week we took a deep look at the best Christmas movie, It's a Wonderful Life. But today, on Christmas Eve, I want to just watch my favorite Christmas movie, A Muppet Family Christmas.

Here is the full version as it appeared on TV in 1987, including old-school commercials that aired during breaks. Watch it before YouTube kills it! [Editor's note: YouTube indeed killed the one with the commercials, so here's one without the commercials, but otherwise still completely intact.]



I love this holiday special because it epitomizes what I believe to be the true reason for the season—togetherness. Being with the ones you love is the most important part of Christmas, whether it's your actual family (Mrs. Bear drops everything to accommodate Fozzie) or your chosen family (every Henson-created lovable weirdo gathers to sing Christmas carols). The Muppets show us the true meaning of Christmas through singalongs and bad puns. God bless 'em.

Song of the Week: "Rape Me"

"Rape Me"

Nirvana

from In Utero

1993

When Nirvana's cash-grab Greatest Hits album was released in the fall of 2002, all my friends and I put it on our Christmas lists, because apparently we had all seen VH1's countdowns of best music videos of all time and were inspired by the dead guy rocking out in a high school gym. My buddy Ed was one of my friends who requested the disc from Santa, and he found it under the tree on 12/25/02, but with a catch—his dad had opened the package, and burned an edited copy of the CD, purposefully leaving off the track called "Rape Me."

Mr. McG**** is one of the most loved and well-respected elders in my life, but he is also hilariously conservative, and I'm not sure I agree with his censorship here. Though who am I to say! I don't have a fourteen-year-old child yet. Maybe in thirteen and a half years I will feel differently with regards to how I expose my daughter to music.

But if I had to guess now, I think I would probably have a conversation with her about the song instead of just hiding it from her. I would delicately explain to her what "rape" is and why it is inappropriate. I would tell her what being "figurative" means, and how Kurt Cobain wasn't necessarily talking about literal rape, but instead expressing his feelings about how the media was treating him, and how he was self-hating, and welcomed the abuse. And I'd probably touch on the fact that the opening guitar riff bears a striking similarity to "Smells like Teen Spirit," which is by design; it's a middle finger to a music industry that used and abused Nirvana's first hit, squeezed every penny out of it, so by playing it again, Cobain is in a sense welcoming that same music industry to continue to "rape" it.

I don't know if this is what I'd actually say to my fourteen-year-old daughter. We'll see. But I want her to hear this song, because it's a great track off a great album from a great band, and so if I provide her with the right guidance, I don't see why she couldn't listen to it. Honestly, I would take more offense if she put a greatest hits album on her Christmas list.

The Philosophy of It's a Wonderful Life

Pam and I are spending our ninth Christmas together this year, and so, for the ninth time in my life, I cozied up on the couch with my loved one and watched It's a Wonderful Life. George Bailey, our protagonist, saves Bedford Falls from collapse by consistently doing what is right instead of what is easy, and in the end, convinced by a nightmarish vision of a world without George Bailey, he comes to appreciate all which he has saved, because it now saves him. "Remember, no man is a failure who has friends" reads the note left to him by his now-winged guardian angel, and the message lands like a fucking hammer to me every goddamn year, as I sniffle and wipe away tears watching that cathartic finale.

But seeing as 2018 has been a cynical year for all of us, let's consider the scenario that we just witnessed, the horrors of the Bailey-less Pottersville, a town of moral corruption and decay. Because once Cousin Eustace has the money all counted, and the multitude of friends pack up and head to their cozy Bailey Park homes, once the last echoes of "Auld Lang Syne" have died, surely George Bailey himself would have to reconsider the terrifying alternate universe that he was witness to, and what it means for him and for his hometown.

Clarence uses the power of God to change the entire world in one crucial way. He states that this is the world in which George Bailey was never born. That's the entirety of it. There are no other corollary rules stated. The world is exactly how it is and how it always was, with the only difference being that George Bailey does not exist.

So we can assume that in this alternate world, what's worse is directly due to George Bailey not existing. Conversely, what's better in the actual, real universe is directly due to George Bailey's influence and interference.

This is frightening to think about, that one man was the only thing standing in the way of a town collapsing, and everyone becoming an asshole.

Let's name a character at random. How about Nick, the bartender at Martini's? We'll have to fill in a lot of blanks here, but bear with me.

What little time we spend with Nick in Bailey's actual reality shows the man to be kind and patient. He has nice words to say to our protagonist as George sits on a barstool and contemplates suicide. He shows real concern. And he steps up and takes action when George gets (rightfully) punched in the face by the husband of a hassled school teacher, kicking Mr. Welsh out and attempting to make sure George doesn't drunk drive (it's the effort that counts here).

But when we enter Clarence's nightmare, we meet Nick again, and he is a heartless bastard. He is suspicious of and hostile toward strangers. He mocks and assaults a homeless man. His jokes about angel wings are cold blooded and cocky after he boots George Bailey out of his restaurant for... ordering the wrong drink? And knowing the homeless guy's name?

My point is that Nick is a fucking asshole in this alternate reality. But the rules have been established, and so we must determine that Nick is an asshole BECAUSE George wasn't born. And Nick was nice in the real world BECAUSE George was born. These determinations have implications.

For instance, we must examine what exactly it means that Nick is an asshole because George was never born. How is that possible? People don't change who they are just because of a tangential influence by a neighbor (this is me being cynical). It must be true that the only thing that was stopping Nick from being a huge dick was the fact that he was with George Bailey.

So either it's just tough to be mean to a nice person (i.e. "George has always been so nice to me, so I'm going to be nice to him"), or Nick was able to buy a house at Bailey Park due to George having the town's best interest in mind (i.e. "George helped me find a home, so I'm going to be nice to him"). Either way, the only reason Nick is being nice to George as he sits there and cries is because of a transaction; George gave something to Nick (kind words, a house), so Nick gives something to George (kind words, protection from a violent drunkard and himself).

We don't have any Nick scenes in the world where George Bailey exists, but when George isn't sitting in front of him, but I have to imagine in that scenario, Nick is still a huge fucking asshole. Being a good person means showing compassion even when there's nothing in it for you, and Nick clearly isn't doing that. George, when he gets kicked out of a bar and mocked, has seen Nick for who he truly is.

Time and again, the masks drop from the town folks' faces, as George discovers the true nature of the people he has worked tirelessly to help.

Ma Bailey needs a son to have motivation to be a nice person, apparently, and with one dead and one having never been born, she becomes a wretched old hag who spits venom at the stranger who shows up at her door.

Uncle Billy has always been a mentally-crippled lunatic, but because he is in the "nuthouse" in the George-less timeline, it's made stark clear that George Bailey was only covering for his mental illness instead of working to get him the help his knotted fingers and knotted brain need.

Harry is dead, because no one was brave enough to jump in the lake and pull him out. The other children just stood around and watched him drown.

Burt the cop literally pulls out his gun and shoots blindly at someone whom he perceives to be mentally ill. George is unarmed and running away, but Burt pulls a firearm and shoots three bullets aimed to kill, all the while innocent bystanders stand dangerously close. 

Are we saying that Burt becomes a crooked cop BECAUSE GEORGE NEVER EXISTED?! Because that's the argument that the movie wants us to believe. What George must've realized, as he lay in bed on the eve of Christmas, was that Burt is a crooked cop, full stop. Just because George himself has never witnessed the brutality, that doesn't mean Burt wouldn't hesitate to reach for the holster if it was someone else in trouble with the law. Burt's mask was removed in George's eyes, and no amount of money on the table in front of him is going to change that.

George stands there, in front of his fellow townspeople, in front of well over $35K, and he stands there bug-eyed, terrified, at all the people he thought he knew, before Clarence showed him the truth.

And as I myself lay in bed Monday night after watching It's a Wonderful Life, the tears dried, and I of sober mind, the masks fell away from in front of me as well. What horrors would I encounter in a world without Joe K***? Would my mother see me on the street and sneer? Would my cop brother-in-law attempt to shoot me with his gun? Would countless people be murdered due to the cowardice of others?

Do we currently live in Pottersville? The way America seems these days, maybe so. And that's SCARY AS FUCK.

Still, it's Christmastime, and so I will take this line of reasoning one step further in the name of good cheer and positive thinking. Even if everything I've said above is true, then we still have to take Clarence's last words as the final true conclusion: "Remember, no man is a failure who has friends."

It's always been true that humans are, at their core, mostly despicable creatures, myself duly included. But it's though the decisions we make and the bonds we forge that we can eventually overcome our cruel natures.

George forged a friendship with Nick the bartender through his general good nature and his efforts to make Nick's life more comfortable. This was a decision that George made in life. He could've traveled the world, and he probably would've been happier doing so, but instead he stayed in Bedford Falls and gave Nick a loan. Nick is happier because of this, and despite the transactional nature of the friendship, the bottom line is that Nick is putting more positivity into the world because of the decisions that George Bailey made.

Ma Bailey smiles when she sees George. Even if she wouldn't have smiled otherwise, the main point is that she's smiling now, and that's because of George. Uncle Billy is a useless fuck up, but he's happy, and he tries, and he is that way because of his nephew George.

Earlier, I defined "being a good person" as doing what is right and kind even if there is nothing in it for you. Pretend George Bailey didn't have a big pile of cash in front of him at the end of the movie, because he didn't ask for that. Pretend the townsfolk don't heed the call, and George ends up in jail, and he is sitting in his cell on Christmas morning. That wouldn't change who George Bailey is, and what he's done. Time and again, George helps the residents of Bedford Falls at his own expense, and time and again, Bedford Falls beats him down and destroys him. But he keeps doing what is right.

And if George really were charged with embezzlement and fraud, and came out of jail to a town that had turned their backs on him, I don't think George would've done anything different. I think he still would do his best for his fellow man. George didn't know that he would find himself with $35K, and so that's not why he lived his life the way he did. He lived a good and noble life, even with the possibility that he would never be rewarded. Bedford Falls crucified him before they made him rich, but he held the town on his shoulders, no matter the endgame.

It doesn't matter that Bedford Falls is a crummy, one-horse town filled with assholes. George knew that all along, even before the vision, and yet he kept giving everything while taking nothing in return. Christmas is the time that we should all aspire to be like George Bailey.

The Albums That Matter: At Mount Zoomer

Joe runs through every album on his iPod, mostly in alphabetical order, and offers some brief thoughts. Check out previous columns HERE.

At Mount Zoomer

Wolf Parade

2008

We've already discussed the idea of follow-up albums, and their reputations being affected by the album preceding them, when we talked American Slang. I will probably talk about it again with At Mount Zoomer, only because it's similar but also something completely different. 

American Slang was underrated in 2010 because it followed The '59 Sound, the Gaslight Anthem's breakout hit album. At Mount Zoomer was underrated in 2008 because it followed Apologies to the Queen Mary, Wolf Parade's breakout hit album. The big difference is this: American Slang is actually better than The '59 Sound, despite its reputation, but Wolf Parade will never top Apologies to the Queen Mary. Not many bands in general will top that album. So when At Mount Zoomer was released and was dismissed as the lesser of two Wolf Parade albums, that assessment wasn't necessarily incorrect. It did, and does, in fact, pale in comparison to Apologies.

But it's been over a decade since At Mount Zoomer came out, and that decade has given me the time and space to realize that At Mount Zoomer gets A LOT closer to matching the preceding album's genius than we all gave it credit for at the time. In fact, before we get into it and talk about some highlights, let's first take a look at an actual review of the album that I wrote when it first came out in the summer of '08. I copy and paste in its entirety, not only because I want to eventually gather all my blog writing here on PoYB and this is a good way to do it without being cloying, but also because it seems like a good and necessary way to be able to compare how I felt then and how I feel now.

Bang Your Drum
June 24, 2008
by Joe K*** 

I always get incredibly nervous when a band that I love puts out another album. In my mind, there is a lot pressure for a band that was so good in their previous albums to be even better the next time around. Enter Wolf Parade, whose Apologies to the Queen Mary is one of the best albums released in recent memory, if not one of the greatest albums of all time. I've spent many a car ride with that album on full blast, fist pumping out the window, singing along at the top of my lungs, risking a car crash time and time again. Shit though, it's an amazing piece of work. 

Now arrives their latest, At Mount Zoomer. Does it measure up? I'm tempted to say no, but to say so would be unfair. Wolf Parade had big shoes to fill, and with At Mount Zoomer they did their damnedest to fill them. It's a solid record, no doubt. 

The record kicks off with an almost comical piano riff on "Soldier's Grin." Is that Spencer Krug playing the piano, or a cat meowing? Sometimes I'm not so sure. Nevertheless, it works. Things get interesting on the twitchy waltz stylings in "Call It a Ritual." And "Language City" harks back to the Wolf Parade of old; this song would not seem out of place on Apologies. 

What strikes me is the fallibility in Spencer Krug's writing, as compared to his Wolf Parade counterpart, Dan Boeckner. I'm usually inclined to favor Krug; not only does his side project succeed when Boeckner's is shit, but on Apologies it was Krug who provided the best tracks, most notably "I'll Believe in Anything." Here At Mount Zoomer, however, Boeckner provides the top moments. "The Grey Estates" is an epic featuring what could be mistaken for Jamaican kettle drums; likewise, "Fine Young Cannibals" is a dark slinking melody that beckons me to get up and dance in a very promiscuous manner. 

Zoomer ends with "Kissing the Beehive," almost prog-like in nature. It has a fucked-up time signature, which is so typical of a prog-rock band, but somehow Wolf Parade reigns it in and manages to not let it get out of control. The first six minutes are excellent, almost a masterpiece. Unfortunately, it slips up during that treacherous and dull four-minute coda; it just drags and drags. Oh well. 

No, it's no Apologies to the Queen Mary, but what is, really? As I mentioned before, it's unfair to make comparisons. At Mount Zoomer, as a standalone record, is solid from beginning to end. When it fails, it bounces right back to deliver delicious rock-and-roll. Props to Krug and Boeckner for giving it their all on their sophomore effort. You guys get a very respectable 3 pukes out of 5.

Here in 2018, things have changed; every positive opinion I had of Zoomer has been confirmed over and over with every listen, and every negative opinion I had of it has been softened, or has been confirmed to be flat-out wrong. Let me state right out front that I was wrong about "Kissing the Beehive," because that fucking thing is great back to front, up to and including the bonkers coda. When I was a teenager and taking my first stabs at music criticisms, I thought it was necessary to focus on the negatives even if there weren't many, and even if the negatives were weak. Though I'm not any better at music criticism in my 30s, I have learned to just appreciate good things if they are good. "Kissing the Beehive" is good, no need to exaggerate any slight flaws.

I thought that the brief Spencer vs. Krug was interesting as well, because I was incorrect on at least three counts in just that brief paragraph.

First (and least pertaining to At Mount Zoomer), Boeckner has ultimately proven to be the more durable solo artist in his multitudinous projects outside Wolf Parade, whereas Krug's work is lackluster at best these days.

Second, there are plenty of highlights on Spencer Krug's side of the LP here, which I failed to mention because of a bullshit narrative. I love "Call It a Ritual," an off-kilter waltz. I love "California Dreamer," sunny LA pop music in a dark mirror. I love "Bang Your Drum," featuring a classic Krug-ian caveman yawlp "woah-woah-WOAH" sing along hook.

Third, I was wrong in trying to craft this narrative of Spencer vs. Krug in the first place, because Wolf Parade is truly a testament to the fact that these two brilliant minds do their very best work when they are together. Take "Language City," for example, possibly the best song on the album (incredulously not included in the original review!). "Language City" starts as a straight-ahead Boeckner rocker, but does a wonderful costume change halfway through. I have to imagine that Spencer Krug had an influence there, even though his name isn't in the credits. "Language City" would look a lot different on a Handsome Furs or Operators album. It wouldn't reach the same heights as it does here. For that matter, a song like "California Dreamer" would have been a lot more bizarre and inscrutable on a Moonface or Sunset Rubdown album. It wouldn't've been as grounded.

In Wolf Parade, Krug has his head in the clouds, Boeckner has his feet on the ground, so in combination, they stand incredibly tall.

It's interesting, when you go back and read 2008 interviews with Wolf Parade, most of them are conducted without Spencer Krug OR Dan Boeckner. They are mostly with drummer Arlen Thompson. I have to imagine this was by design. The best way to avoid having to talk about follow-up albums is to not talk at all. They let the record speak for itself. Ten years later, At Mount Zoomer still speaks to me.

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If this album sounds interesting, try this song: "Call It a Ritual"

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Stray Observations

• You may recognize the album's penultimate song, "An Animal in Your Care," from PoYB correspondent Mandy B.'s list of Best Songs to Fuck To back in 11/2008. It's a great song, but I cannot ever imagine having sex while listening to Spencer Krug slamming the keyboard and yelping like a wounded dog.
• "Mount Zoomer," it should be noted, is the recording studio in which At Mount Zoomer was recorded. Naming your album after the studio is a grand tradition (Abbey Road, Music from Big Pink, Nashville Skyline, etc.), but it's kind of lazy too, isn't it? I imagine the band sitting down and saying "hmmm, what should we name the album?" and then just naming the first thing they see when they look around. To Wolf Parade's credit, they originally wanted to name it "Kissing the Beehive," but were afraid of getting sued by Jonathan Carroll.
• ALBUM COVER: Wikipedia links to this fansite in their citations regarding the cover art. The fansite alleges that the cover was created by two artists, Matt Moroz and Elizabeth Huey, and that the art depicts two artists in the midst of battle. The assumption is that the "two artists" in question are Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner. But that's all hearsay, because I can't find any other evidence that this album cover explanation is legitimate (a "friend" is the source on the website; surprising that Wikipedia is using such a weak citation). This old Stereogum article is unhelpful. I guess I will assume wolfparade.nonstuff.com is correct until I learn otherwise.
• "Kissing the Beehive" has inspired me to create a Top Ten list of best songs over ten minutes in length. Coming soon to PoYB!

NEXT TIME: AT WORK by DARK THOUGHTS

The Albums That Matter: At Hope's Ravine

Joe runs through every album on his iPod, mostly in alphabetical order, and offers some brief thoughts. Check out previous columns HERE.

At Hope's Ravine

Holy Esque

2016

At Hope's Ravine is a bizarre little album that I stumbled upon in 2016 and haven't done much with since, to my detriment. It won't rank among the greats, but it offers enough intrigue and novelty to interest me throughout its entire run. I dunno exactly why, but something about this album's inscrutability and mysterious excitement reminds me of House of Leaves, the ergodic literature that I discussed a few weeks ago. I think it has to do with the feeling of, "Is this piece of art just fucking with me by being so obtuse, or is there hidden meaning here that I'm not getting?" It's a feeling I felt reading that behemoth, and I feel it listening to Holy Esque as well. There's a thrill in teetering on the brink of the unknown, but there's also that sinking feeling of not being sure if there's any true meaning behind it. A sugar rush from no known substance.

I actually kind of lean toward the latter here, the more I listen to At Hope's Ravine. Pouring over the lyrics multiple times, I keep getting the sense that a lot of this would feel right at home on the r/im14andthisisdeep subreddit. Take the anthemic centerpiece of the album, "Tear," a song that soars even as it veers too close to I Heart Radio territory for my liking. Here is the climax of that song: "A hope, life will beckon you to a prayer / A hope, these are my prayers they only cover despair." What does this mean? Does it mean anything? Am I just being stupid, or are the lyrics just gibberish?

Let's ask Pat Hynes, lead singer of Holy Esque. Hey Pat, what do these lyrics mean? Pat responds: "These are songs about belonging, fear, love, self-doubt, dreams, religion, release, darkness versus light and escape." Okay Pat, that says about all we need to know.

Thankfully, despite what The Albums That Matter as a music column would have you think sometimes, clear and specific lyrics aren't necessary to make a great album as long as the music is there. I happen to quite like the music on At Hope's Ravine. It's a post punk album that really goes to show how the term "post punk" is pretty broad, maybe too broad. I want to compare them to Algiers, but without the strong political overtones. Also, there's the vocals.

The vocals from Pat Hynes are a wonder to behold. I'd say they are universally great, but I have a suspicion that many people would be turned off by them. E.g. I'm trying to picture a world in which Pamela K*** is enjoying Holy Esque, but I just can't. The closest comparison I can think of to Hynes' singing is to the sounds of a bleating sheep. When he hits those aforementioned anthemic choruses, the squealing vibrato is strange and kind of out of control. And it works, y'all. For me, anyway. Your mileage may vary.

Hynes' backing band in Holy Esque plays with enough variety to keep things moving along in a very indie-rock-'10s sort of way. "Rose" has a catchy but unequivocally peculiar guitar riff that almost sounds like it was influenced by music out of the Middle East. "St." sounds like Interpol doing a post punk version of dream pop, with varying levels of success. The band is able to try to sound like U2 in "Hexx" and then slide immediately into quasi-Nine Inch Nails industrial skronk in "Covenant (III)." I don't really have any qualms about the band here, I like it all, and they don't overstay their welcome on any of these sounds.

All this adds up to a band that somehow pulls off sounding simultaneously wildly diverse but also trite, and an album that simultaneously brings a whole lot of new and exciting ideas to the table while also not really making a huge impact on anyone. It's an album that I truly enjoyed listening to multiple times in a row while prepping and writing, but it's also an album I won't have a strong desire to spin all that much after I hit "Publish."

So it's a decent album, I guess, is what I'm trying to say.

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If this album sounds interesting, try this song: "Strange"

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Stray Observations

• There's really not much biographical information about Holy Esque on the internet (I should know, I went to PAGE FOUR on my Google search). They are from Glasgow; that's about all I got. If they are going for the "mysterious unknowns" angle, they are succeeding. (Though their Twitter feed betrays this attempt by being genial and generic).
• Even more mysterious is the fact that they at one point opened for Haim, of all bands. I can't really think of two bands that sound as dissimilar. How perplexed were the Haim fans in that audience when Holy Esque got on stage?
• One time, me and Pam were at local establishment Byrne's, and at the other end of the bar there was a drunk local who was laughing a lot, and his laugh sounded just like Pat Hynes' singing voice, all gurgly and loud and unwilling to stick with a chosen pitch. We laughed a lot at that guy, and sometimes I think about him when I listen to the strange tones of At Hope's Ravine. This has been another edition of Dumb Port Richmond Anecdote Time, thanks for reading.
• ALBUM COVER: Okay, this is not another instance of me just shrugging my shoulders, because I sincerely tried to do some research, but came up short. My usual cursory search of "at hope's ravine album cover meaning" yielded no results. I thought that the album cover for their sophomore effort, Television/Sweet, might've held a big clue, because that cover features a language written vertically, and I thought maybe if I could figure out what language that was, then the At Hope's Ravine album cover symbol might be part of that language. But I searched every vertically written language on this website, and nothing really matched Television/Sweet's symbols. Another website suggested that the cover was that of a crucifix, and the more I stare at the cover, the more I tend to agree with that guess. I mean, it matches with the band name "Holy Esque" and the allegedly "edgy" nature of the band itself. Let's go with that, shall we? A crucifix? Even though I won't be able to explain WHY it is a crucifix, just like I couldn't explain any other lyric on here.
• [Editor's note from 2021: I finally see it. It's a crucifix. I was too busy looking at the gold part, but the color gold is actually the shading on the edge of a 3D crucifix, if that makes sense. DUH. I guess this is kind of like one of those optical illusions that you can really see after staring at it for three years.]
  
• If you laughed at how Pat Hynes described the album above, then feel free to read his description for every track.

NEXT TIME: At Mount Zoomer by Wolf Parade