Elvis Costello
Years Of Operation 1976-present
Fits Between The Clash and Van Morrison
Personal Correspondence I'm pretty sure I've mentioned the high school English teacher who used to make tapes for me of various rock classics, either by request or of his own volition. Well, he also wrote up a list of essential rock albums that my best friend Rob and I spent a few years chasing down at flea markets and bargain bins. By sheer coincidence, on the same day at two different record stores, we each bought our first Elvis Costello albums, both off of Mr. Stackhouse's List. Rob got Armed Forces; I got This Year's Model. I've always thought of that moment as a key point in our soon-to-diverge tastes. From then on, Rob tended to gravitate more to florid pop-rock, and I started leaning more toward the spunky and punky. Not that we didn't both cross back over now and then. When it comes to Elvis Costello, I too came to love Armed Forces, and My Aim Is True, and especially the generous, effortlessly amazing Get Happy!! (which is probably my favorite Costello record). One of my best concert-going memories is seeing Costello with Nick Lowe at Vanderbilt's Memorial Gym (with Rob, and our friend Curt), shortly after the powerful one-two punch of King Of America and Blood & Chocolate. Costello played with an excellent band (not The Attractions), and tried out some material from the yet-to-be-released Spike. Then he did an acoustic set, blending his own songs with other music he liked. "New Amsterdam" segued into The Beatles' "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away." For "Pump It Up" Costello turned on a beatbox and added snatches of Prince's "Sign O' The Times" and Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues," as well as his own "Tokyo Storm Warning." David Lee Roth once snarkily commented that rock critics loved Elvis Costello because he looked just like them. Well on that night in Nashville, Costello didn't just look like me, he thought like me. He made a fan for life.
Enduring presence? In recent years I've heard some younger rock fans say that Elvis Costello is largely irrelevant and dull, and pretty much a waste of time as a recording artist after 1978. This makes me tear at what little hair I have left. I have a hard time thinking of many rock acts as eclectic and enduring as Elvis Costello. He has his fallow periods, and bum LPs, but over the last decade-plus he's been involved with three albums—All This Useless Beauty, Painted From Memory and The Delivery Man—that I've listened to as much as This Year's Model or Imperial Bedroom. And I'm constantly re-discovering records of his that I think are really underrated, like Trust, and Brutal Youth. Even his weakest records yield terrific songs like "The Other Side Of Summer," "When I Was Cruel" and "The Comedians." I place Costello with Springsteen, Bowie and The Clash (and others I'll get to later this year). His is a discography that, for me at least, never stops yielding rewards.
"King Horse" by Elvis Costello & The Attractions
Elvis Presley
Years Of Operation 1954-77
Fits Between Bill Monroe and Dean Martin
Personal Correspondence As (mostly) awful as the Elvis movies are, in some ways I relate to Presley better in the Hollywood milieu than I do as a recording artist. I acknowledge his influence and I'm in awe of his unstudied charisma, but there's just so much chaff to cut through to get to the wheat—and even that wheat feels pretty well picked clean by this point. So I guess what I like about Actor Elvis is that he's not so unassailable. He's so out of his element—uncomfortably so at times—that he ends up coming off more natural than the seasoned actors he's up against. That Elvis seems more human to me than the one who crooned "Love Me Tender" so cleanly. But I'm also sure that a lot of what keeps Elvis at arm's length from me is extra-textual, related to his pervasiveness, not his music.
Enduring presence? In the culture at large, Elvis is still king, yes? But for me personally? I dig him as an icon and I like a good 30 or so of his songs, but he's never been a go-to rocker for me. I'm not trying to be a contrarian here; just stating where my head is at, Elvis-wise.
"Roustabout" by Elvis Presley
Stray Tracks
From the fringes of the collection, a few songs to share….
Duke Ellington, "Caravan"
I don't have any particular infatuation with Ellington as a musician. I have a couple anthologies that I play occasionally and enjoy, and he was one of the first artists I sampled when I made my first tentative steps into jazz during my college years. But I'm more interested in Ellington as a songwriter. One of my favorite bands, The Jody Grind, used to cover Ellington's "Caravan" and "Mood Indigo," and those songs—along with other versions of Ellington's songs I've heard over the years—have driven home how flexible and timeless his work is. Like Gershwin or Porter or Brubeck, Ellington could set himself an assignment to write in a certain style, or about a certain subject, and deliver a song that felt inspired, not studied. Plus he had the good sense to collaborate with composer Billy Strayhorn, who helped frame Ellington's free-ranging genius with elegance. His songs can be played in concert halls or dingy clubs. They swing both ways.
"Caravan" by Duke Ellington
Dwight Yoakam, "I Sang Dixie"
When Dwight Yoakam's Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc. came out in 1986, it got almost as much play on college rock radio than it did on contemporary country radio. The latter was still about a year away from the "hat act" wave (partially led by Yoakam), while the former still played The Blasters, The Long Ryders, and countless roots-informed post-R.E.M. jangle-pop acts. So Yoakam has always had a certain cachet among my alt-rock-minded friends, although I've generally contented myself to listen to their Yoakam tapes rather than buying any of my own. It's still on my to-do list to explore his discography more fully. Currently, all I have on my hard drive is a live record and some scattered songs—including my favorite Yoakam song, "I Sang Dixie," an evocative ballad about booze and lost legacies.
"I Sang Dixie" by Dwight Yoakam
The Eames Era, "All Of Seventeen"
This is old-school indie-rock: hooky, guitar-driven, just a little sloppy, and beholden to an off-canon pop music tradition. The Eames Era isn't studying The Anthology Of American Folk Music, or John Lee Hooker, or Nuggets. "All Of Seventeen" is all Breeders, Belly, Go-Gos, Waitresses, Motels, Altered Images, Missing Persons and pieces of John Hughes movie soundtracks, given a personal spin. This song is from The Second Eames Era EP, which consists of four flawless examples of femme-friendly guitar-pop. The LP that followed, Heroes And Sheroes is pretty amazing too. If you're not already aware of The Eames Era, consider this a helpful alert.
"All Of Seventeen" by The Eames Era
Earth Mama, "Grass Roots!"
I haven't shared any songs from the dregs of my collection in a while, but since this week I wrote about the flood of crap that used to come my way, I thought I'd give you a sample. This song is just under four minutes long. How much of it can you take?
"Grass Roots!" by Earth Mama
Edan, "Funky Voltron"
I am now going to warm Nathan Rabin's heart. Even though I'm not a huge fan of the genre, I do buy a few hip-hop records each year, and usually Nathan's recommendations are what move me to spring into action. When I bough Edan's Beauty And The Beat back in 2005, I remember being kind of disappointed by it, as I have been with most of the hip-hop albums I've gotten in the '00s. (I'm not sure why. Too silly maybe? Too slight?) But this week, I had an experience similar to I've had in previous weeks with The Coup and Dangerdoom and Dr. Octagon and some of the other hip-hop acts I've been revisiting. Something is clicking now that never clicked before. I'm really, really enjoying these records. Maybe it's because I'm getting the opportunity to listen with more concentration—often under headphones—instead of having to keep the volume low so I won't bother my kids. I've got our next regular feature, Nathan. "2009: My Year Of Hip-Hop." You recommend it, I listen to it, we talk about it. Together, we'll own the Internet.
"Funky Voltron" by Edan
Eddie Money, "Two Tickets To Paradise"
I include this song not only because it's a classic of its kind—a superior example of FM-ready post-boogie—but because I can't think of Eddie Money without remembering an old Grammy broadcast in which Simply Red performed "Money's Too Tight To Mention" and at the end of the song, some too-clever TV director cut to a shot of Eddie Money, sitting in his seat, looking a little disgruntled. It makes me snicker every time I think of it. I've got it on an old VHS tape too… someday I'll figure out how to upload it to YouTube.
"Two Tickets To Paradise" by Eddie Money
Eddy Arnold, "Gentle On My Mind"
First off, this is one of the most lovely songs ever written. And it's rendered well here by Arnold, an artist who straddled the line between country music and brassy pop so masterfully that he's arguably responsible for making "country" into a form, like jazz, as opposed to strictly a genre. Just as you can do "jazz dancing" or play in "jazz band" in high school, you can now sing "country" without being a "country singer."
"Gentle On My Mind" by Eddy Arnold
The Edgar Winter Group, "Free Ride"
Here's another FM classic, well-utilized by Richard Linklater in Dazed & Confused (which is in my top 10 favorite movies of all time, by the way… largely because, drug use aside, it pretty much describes by life from junior high through graduation).
"Free Ride" by The Edgar Winter Group
Editors, "All Sparks"
As much as I like Interpol's first two records, I gotta say, Editors' The Back Room out-Interpols Interpol in its pastiche of Joy Division, Echo & The Bunnymen, The Chameleons and Bauhaus. It's an incredibly well-balanced LP, paying homage to its influences while also integrating them a taut, modern presentation that, remarkably, never sags or meanders. Even the bands that inspired Editors often can't make that claim.
"All Sparks" by Editors
Eef Barzelay, "Ballad Of Bitter Honey"
I know I've already written up Clem Snide, but though Barzelay's sole solo album to date doesn't vary much from Clem Snide's sound—despite the acoustic presentation—I can't pass by this track, which is one of my favorites of the past five years. From a funny opening line ("That was my ass you saw bouncing next to Ludacris"), Barzelay gradually opens up this first-person character sketch, making a woman who initially seemed like a vacuous rap video hoochie into someone whose vanity and insecurity comes from someplace real.
"Ballad Of Bitter Honey" by Eef Barzelay
El-P, "Stepfather Factory"
I can't say that revisiting El-P has been as, um, delightful as my trip back though some other hip-hop acts, because I still find his music too dark and dense, even as I note its frequent brilliance. But this song—brutal as it is—never fails to amuse and appall me in equal measure. The wordplay, the dystopian vision, the rapid-fire delivery—it all works. And even though my wife would probably rather divorce me than ever listen to this song again, we both frequently adopt a robotic voice and say, "Why are you making me hurt you… I love you," to each other, usually after we've had to give one of the kids a time out.
"Stepfather Factory" by El-P
El Perro Del Mar, "God Knows (You Gotta Give To Get)"
Here's another one of my favorite songs of recent years, from one-woman-band Sarah Assbring, who's responsible for another of my favorites, too: "Party." About El Perro Del Mar's 2007 US debut, I wrote, "El Perro Del Mar sports a stunning sound that combines the bewitching ethereality of Kate Bush and Cocteau Twins with the lipstick-and-spangle pop sense of Motown and the Brill Building, all draped in a deeply Scandinavian sorrow. For three minutes at a time, El Perro Del Mar's songs feel like the only thing happening in the world, but after two or three songs in a row, it's tempting to switch her off and start moving again. For purposes of some future iPod shuffle though, moody pop fans need a copy of El Perro Del Mar's 'God Knows (You Gotta Give To Get),' a charmingly airy tune with cooing background singers, lush strings, and a rumbling sax solo, arranged to create a feeling that's simultaneously positive and eerily distant. Or 'Party,' which employs the 'be-bop-a-lula' grammar of a happy song, but recasts it as something somber, led by Assbring's tear-streaked monotone. Almost every song on El Perro Del Mar hangs cheerful orchestration over a core of methodically strummed guitars and robotic rhythms, creating a sharply divided sonic space for the singer to occupy. Then she settles into it, arms around her knees, like a little girl singing The Ronettes softly to herself and trying not to weep."
"God Knows (You Gotta Give To Get)" by El Perro Del Mar
Elastica, "Vaseline" Here's a band that was ahead of its time, if only by being behind the times before everyone else. The rest of the alt-rock industry waited until around 2000 to start re-hashing the rigid beats and angular guitars of post-punk acts like Wire, Joy Division and Gang Of Four, but Elastica ripped them all off back in '95, often to splendid effect. Because of the massive success of their Wire-pilfering song "Connection," I got to hear the riff from "Three Girl Rhumba" on TV commercials for a while, which was… nice? I've always thought of Elastica's debut album's closer "Vaseline" as another kind of homage to Wire, specifically Pink Flag's "12XU." The two song don't really sound alike, but both are start-stop punk numbers drenched in leakage, and they both rock like fuck.
"Vaseline" by Elastica
Electric Six, "I'm The Bomb"
Remember when Electric Six were going to do for cheesy funk-disco what The White Stripes did for garage-rock and the blues? Then people realized that a little bit of E6's crude grooves, bombastic production and dirty jokes goes a long way. Still, I've always liked this song's nods to Van Halen's "Panama" and countless proto-rap club singles. When I put "I'm The Bomb" on one of my year-end compilations, a friend referred to it as possibly the worst song ever recorded. I don't think he approached it in the right spirit.
"I'm The Bomb" by Electric Six
Electronic, "Getting Away With It"
The idea of a Britpop band featuring contributions from New Order's Bernard Sumner, Pet Shop Boys' Neil Tennant and The Smiths' Johnny Marr is pretty exciting, but most of this makeshift supergroup's music has actually been fairly forgettable. The major exception: Electronic's first single, one of the most gorgeously yearning pop songs of the '80s—released just as the decade closed. It's a kind of transitional song, bidding farewell to the best of a generation's sound while paving the way for something much lighter than what the last half of the '80s stuck us with.
"Getting Away With It" by Electronic
Regrettably unremarked upon: East River Pipe, The Easybeats, Eddie Cochran, El Capitan, Elf Power, Elizabeth Cotton, Ella Fizgerald, Elmer Bernstein and Elmore James
Also
listened to: Dub
Specialist, The Dudley Corporation, The Duhks, The Duke
Spirit, Dumbwaiters, Dungen, Dustin
O'Halloran, The Dynamic Superiors, Dymaxion, The Dynamic Superiors,
The Dynamites, Earl Gaines, Earl Grant, Earl Scruggs Revue,
The Earlies, Earlimart, Early Evening, Early Man, The Early
Years, Eartha Kitt, Eastern Conference Champions, Echo, Echobelly, Ecstatic
Sunshine, Ed Askew, Eddie & The Hot Rods, Eddie Albert,
Eddie Holland, Eddie Holman, Eddie South & His Orchestra, Eddie Vedder, The
Edge, Edie Brickell, Edie Carey, Edison Shine, edIT, Edmunds
Crown, Edwin Starr, Edwyn Collins, Eglantine Gouzy, Eisley, El Goodo,
El Michels Affair, El Presidente, El
Riot, El Ten Eleven, Elan Atias, Elana
James, Elanors, The Elastic Band, Eldrige
Skell's The Rude Staircase, Electrelane, The Electric Flag,
Electric Guitars, Electric President, The
Electric Prunes, The Electric Soft Parade, Elekibass, Element
Eighty, Eleni Mandell, Elevado, Elijah & The
Ebonites, Eliza Gilkyson, Elizabeth Cook, Elks Skiffle
Group, Ellegarden, Ellen McIlwaine, Elliott, Elliott Brood,
Elliott Murphy & Iain Matthews, Ellis Hooks, Ellis Pail,
Ellul, Elope and Elvin Bishop
Next week: From Emerson, Lake & Palmer to fIREHOSE, plus a few words on "shadowing."
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