Popless Week 29: The Dark Albums

By Noel Murray
July 21st, 2008

Morphine, "I'm Free Now"

The late Mark Sandman and his band Morphine were blessed with a sound like no other, with a noir-ish saxophone and rhythmic rumble underscoring Sandman's basso raps. But they suffered some from the "when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail" syndrome. I liked Morphine from the start, and liked them all the way up to Sandman's untimely end, because they were one of those bands that was instantly recognizable. And, inevitably, a little predictable

Mose Allison, "New Parchman"

Speaking of one-note acts who had a good long run, here's Mose Allison, a jazz pianist and vocalist who combined a spare cabaret playing style, soft monotone voice, and arch beatnik lyrics into his own special style—adopting the persona of a twinkle-eyed old hipster who likes puzzles and secrets. Allison's a good example of how a musician can extend a one-note style into a fruitful career, just by being the only one out there off-beat enough to play that note.

The Most Serene Republic, "Where Cedar Nouns And Adverbs Walk"

Ontario's The Most Serene Republic is Broken Social Scene's closest non-blood relation, sharing a Canadian province and a record label, though The Most Serene Republic's poppier sound (and their charismatic lead vocalist Adrian Jewett) are partly at odds with the goals of Broken Social Scene's faceless art-rock collective. The Most Serene Republic are making indie-prog with personality. Their debut album Underwater Cinematographer shifts gears so often that the lack of a formula becomes paradoxically formulaic, as nearly every song cycles through a half-dozen styles and two-dozen instruments over an average of four weird, wonderful minutes. But Jewett and company have such a gift for melody and such an enthusiasm for joyful noise-making that they make fringe music sound endearingly natural

The Motels, "Only The Lonely"

It took almost a decade for Martha Davis and The Motels to get any attention from labels and record buyers, and it wasn't until the wide-open new wave era—when any LA band that dressed the part got a second look—that they were propelled into the Top 10 with this wonderful, shadowy ballad, followed by the similar-sounding "Suddenly Last Summer." Like a lot of other musicians from their scene and their time, The Motels had a little success and tried their best to tease it out, by letting go of whatever might've been distinctive about their sound in favor of something more contemporary. A couple of minor hits later, they were consigned to the hell of line-up changes, ill-fated reunions, stiff comeback records and the state fair circuit. Only the lonely, indeed.

Mother Love Bone, "Chloe Dancer/Crown Of Thorns"

Mudhoney, "You Got It"

As I've written before, I'd read all about the Seattle scene well before I heard any of the actual music, and the grunge sound ultimately impressed me more on paper than it did when the albums finally started showing up in Athens record stores. My first real exposure to the Seattle wave came via Mudhoney's debut EP Superfuzz Bigmuff, which was certainly good—some Stooges, some Sabbath, and some Sonic Youth, casually combined—but which hardly seemed worth all the excitement in the rock press. I felt the same way about the band's self-titled debut, despite the presence of undeniably awesome rockers like "You Got It," and that's pretty much been my relationship with Mudhoney ever since. I buy their albums, and I've even seen them live twice, and while I enjoy them for what they are, I can't help feeling a little disappointed that they're not smarter or more monolithic. Of the bands that spun off from seminal Seattle band Green River, I'm more intrigued by Mother Love Bone, if only because they evolved into Pearl Jam, a band that I also have mixed feelings about, but which has shown more ambition and range over time. (I'll be covering them at length in a couple of weeks.) Had Mother Love Bone's lead singer not died, I don't know that I would've become a huge fan. They did have an appealingly mainstream rock sound, but Andrew Wood's voice and persona was a little too Sunset Strip—like a JV Axl Rose. For all his annoying personality quirks, I prefer Eddie Vedder, who has a richer voice and an essential earthiness. Vedder would look ridiculous in a silk bandana.

The Mountain Goats, "You Or Memory"

From 1991 to 2002, John Darnielle and his mostly one-man band The Mountain Goats recorded hundreds of songs on a hissy old boom box, tackling all the big subjects: failing marriages, world travel, enduring friendships, souls in crisis, and baseball. In 2002 Darnielle left his living room to record in a real studio, and allowed his plainspoken stories to develop like the literate character pieces they'd always been. My favorite of the "phase two" Mountain Goats albums (and my favorite Mountain Goats album period) is The Sunset Tree, Darnielle's extended reaction to the death of his abusive stepfather. An atmosphere of mixed feelings settles over that record like a thin web. Sticking largely to tight arrangements of acoustic guitar, piano, organ and brisk percussion, Darnielle sings songs of sorrowful defiance, full of vivid memories of childhood, sounding sounds like a youthful Bruce Springsteen backed by The Waterboys (or perhaps Mike Scott backed by a youthful E Street Band). He gets in and out of his songs quick, leaving behind a few choice lines as souvenirs. His is a life of artifacts for further study, like this list of "supplies" from The Sunset Tree's opening song: "St. Joseph's baby aspirin / Bartles & Jaymes / And you / Or your memory."

Mouse & The Traps, "A Public Execution"

Nuggets brings us this garage-rock riff on Bob Dylan, trying to replicate the Blonde On Blonde sound for a buck-ninety-eight.

Mr. Mister, "Broken Wings"

There are one-hit (or even two-or-three-hit) wonders in every era, but in the mid-'80s it seemed like the charts were crowded with bands like The Hooters, The Outfield and Mr. Mister—unclassifiable mainstream rock acts cranking out catchy, state-of-the-art radio fare and then disappearing before anyone could mistake them for one of the all-timers. Where did they all go? Did their lead singers all take A&R jobs with their labels and spend the rest of their careers hiding out in boardrooms?

Mudcrutch, "On The Street"

When I got the Tom Petty box set Playback for Christmas one year, my favorite part was hearing the small sampling of Petty's pre-Heartbreakers recordings, both from his solo development deal and with his first serious band, Mudcrutch. There's not much that especially Petty-ish about this snappy tune; there's barely a hint of Byrds-y jangle or swampy funk. And yet the way "On The Street" zips along, catchy as a fishing lure, really speaks well of Petty's inherent pop sense, which has been the foundation for his success all along.

Muddy Waters, "Mannish Boy"

We didn't have cable when I was growing up, so I saw a lot of the biggest movies of early '80s when they aired on TV, expurgated. I taped Risky Business off of our local UHF station, and even without the nudity and profanity, the movie's take on high school pressure and sexual desire really hit home, and its sensibility became imprinted on mine. This version of Muddy Waters' signature song "Mannish Boy" appeared on the Risky Business soundtrack, and is drawn from the 1977 album Hard Again, for which Waters was backed by Johnny Winter and his band. I knew nothing about Waters when I head "Mannish Boy" on the Risky Business soundtrack, but its rawness and rowdiness were so impressive that it kind of spoiled me for the more polished and tasteful forms of electric blues—much the way Risky Business spoiled me for other, less sophisticated teen sex comedies.

Mull Historical Society, "Instead"

I'm not sure why this Scottish indie-pop band didn't reap the rewards of the interest in all things rock and Scottish back at the dawn of the new millennium, but they put out three very good albums between 2001 and 2004, mixing elements of worldbeat exotica with breezy, arty, folk-rooted music. "Instead" is a good example of Mull Historical Society in their stately and dreamy mode, which balances their busy and uptempo mode. It's charming and chiming, with a stirring lyric.

Mystikal, "Bouncin' Back"

Nas, "Heaven"

I'm not going to pretend like I'm well-versed enough in either of these artists—or in 21st century hip-hop—to register any kind of authoritative opinion about either. So I'll just talk about these two songs, both of which represents aspects of hip-hop that still resonate with me, even in my dilettantery. "Bouncin' Back" offers Mystikal as a hip-hop Cab Calloway, grunting about his resilience in a catchy call-and-response, while "Heaven" is smooth and cinematic, with Nas waxing philosophical over a moody track. It's cockiness versus thoughtfulness, but in both cases, the performers' natural charisma is the most important element in the mix.

Nada Surf, "Fruit Fly"

Nada Surf may not have been the last band anyone expected to become briefly relevant, but their 2003 album Let Go did catch me and a lot of other people off-guard. The New York power trio began its career performing Weezer-like brat-punk, but Let Go fused post-Radiohead sweep with Death Cab For Cutie-style indie-rock, complete with airy melodies, heavy rhythms and sparkling guitar. Bandleader Matthew Caws added lyrics that invested common items like beer signs, Dylan albums, snowed-in cars and clouds of fruit flies with richer meanings, reading them as emblematic of modern lovers' struggles to connect. The album that followed was a bit of a let-down—too slick, too shallow—and I haven't heard Nada Surf's latest, but Let Go is one of those rare cases where a pretty good band works above their capabilities and produces something amazing.

Nancy Sinatra, "As Tears Go By"

There's something romantic about the very idea of Nancy Sinatra: the second-generation pop star with an idiosyncratic style and her feet simultaneously in the worlds of the establishment and the upstarts. Sinatra could've coasted on her family name, had a few novelty hits, made a few movies, and lived on as a footnote to her dad's career. Instead she hooked up with the likes of Lee Hazlewood and Billy Strange, and developed her own distinctive style—aloof, declamatory, seductive—that made her a star for a time, and then an enduring cult act.

The National, "Lit Up"

By all rights, The National should probably be a Piece Of The Puzzle, and if I were doing this series in 2009 instead of 2008, they might well be. But I really just haven't spent enough time with The National. I liked their first two albums, though little about them seemed to portend that they'd become one of the most beloved bands of the '00s. Alligator was more impressive, but it came out at an odd time when I couldn't give it much attention, and then something similar happened with Boxer. Honestly, the hour or so I spent listening The National this week is about the most time I've spent thinking about them ever. They're clearly my kind of band—resounding, dynamic, moody—but I'll have to put them back in my "subjects for further research" file and get back to them next year.

The Nazz, "Open My Eyes"

And here we have the first appearance of Todd Rundgren in our little project, though far from the last. What's awesome about this propulsive garage-rocker is the way Rundgren nips snottily from The Who in the opening riff and the way he throws in a dreamy pop break that's completely unlike the rest of the song. Even here, in an under-three-minute rock single, Rundgren is showing all the wit, invention and smart-ass bluster that would shortly become his stock-in-trade.

The Negro Problem, "Father Popcorn"

Even more than catching up with the new My Morning Jacket and The Hold Steady—though not so much as getting my first taste of Fleet Foxes—one of things I'm most looking forward to picking up and digging into when this project is over is the cast album for Passing Strange, the recent Tony-winning Broadway musical written by and starring The Negro Problem's Stew. I first heard about the show after Popless had begun, and I confess I cheated a bit and watched the cast's performance at The Tonys, and was even more excited to hear the whole show. (Or at least to see the film of it that Spike Lee is reportedly going to shoot.) I'll cover Stew in full later on, but I wanted to share this Negro Problem song, which is practically a demo for the musical theater he was probably already contemplating back in 2002.

Neil Finn, "Anytime"

I haven't really given either of the Finn brothers their due in Popless to date (though Tim will be getting a big warm hug once Split Enz rolls around), but I've got nothing but love for this song that Finn recorded for 2001's One Nil and for that same year's live album 7 Worlds Collide. It's so solidly built and so direct, and yet Finn's earnest voice and plaintive melody make it sound about as close to the truth as a pop record can get.

Neil Richardon, "The Riviera Affair"

Let's step out of the dark to end the week, and head into a world of intrigue and international affairs. Hurry. The jetway is about to pull off.

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Regrettably unremarked upon: Moreno Veloso, Mos Def, Mosquitos, Mott The Hoople, Mouse On Mars, Múm, N*E*R*D, Nanci Griffith, Nat King Cole and Natalie Merchant

Also listened to: The Monks, Monoaural, Monster Bobby, Monsters Are Waiting, Montag, Montserrat Figueras, Mood Elevator, Moonbabies, The Moonglows, The Moore Brothers, Moovers, Mophono, The Mops, Morcheeba, Moreau, The Morells, Morning Star, Morris Pejoe, Mort Stevens & His Orchestra, Mortlis, Moses Dillard, Moses Guest, Moth, The Motherhood, Motion Commotion, The Motions, Motor Boys Motor, The Motors, Mountain Con, Mountain Heart, Mouserocket, Moussa Doumbia, Moviola, Mowett, Mr. Tube, The Mr. T Experience, Mrs. Fletcher, Mrs. Fun, Ms Tyree "Sugar" Jones, Ms. John Soda, MSTRKRFT, Mt. Egypt, Mud Bluff, Mudvayne, The Muffs, Mugison, The Multiple Cat, Murder By Death, Murs, Muse, Mushroom, Music A.M., The Music Explosion, Music For Animals, The Music Tapes, Musiq, Musique, The Mutton Birds, Mutual Admiration Society, Mutya Buena, My Favorite, My Latest Novel, My Vitriol, Myriad, Myron McGhee, The Myrtles, Mystiques, Naked Eyes, Nancy Wilson, Nappy Roots, The Nashville Bluegrass Band, Natacha Atlas, Natalise, Nate Evans, Nate Ruth, Nathan, Nathan & Stephen, Nathan Oliver, National Eye, The National Lights, The National Trust, Naughty By Nature, Navies, Naysayer, Nazaré Pereira, Nazareth, Neal Hefti, Ned Van Go, Nedelle. The Need, Neguinho Da Beija Flor, Neil & Iraiza, Neil Clear and Neil Richardson

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Next week: From Neko Case to Olivia Tremor Control, plus a few words on Anglophilia

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