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“Take the Skinheads Bowling” – Camper Van Beethoven
(Words/music: Victor Krummenacher, David Lowery, Chris Molla, and Jonathan Segel, available on Telephone Free Landslide Victory, Cooking Vinyl 1985) 

Two chords in the verse and a third introduced in the chorus, and that’s it for “Take the Skinheads Bowling.”  If I didn’t know all the trouble I had getting a F chord to sound good when I first started playing, I’d recommend this song for beginners new to the guitar.  Hell, it would be a lot better of a song for random dude at a party to pick up the guitar and start playing.  It would at least make things a little more interesting. 

I cite the simplicity of the chords only to set the context for my desire to over-analyze the lyrics.  I’ve spent most of my intellectual life training myself in close reading, and with that comes the tendency to look deeper than necessary in some occasions.  With “Take the Skinheads Bowling,” it’s a fruitless exercise trying to find some kind of motif.  It’s unnecessary as well, as it’s a goofy, fun song that might be ruined by a line-by-line analysis.  If anything, I’m tipped only by the final verse and its repetition of the phrase “had a dream” followed by the different images.  If the whole song is meant as a series of oddly related dream images, then it explains some of the oddities.  Then again, the dreams are bookended by dreams that he “forgot what it was” and “nothing,” so perhaps not.

Crap, I fell into the trap.  I’m just going to stop and practice these chords.  Where’s my guitar?

More on Camper Van Beethoven: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: camper van beethoven | 1985 | 1980s | cooking vinyl | the over-analysis trap |
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“Terms of Psychic Warfare” – Hüsker Dü
(Words/music: Grant Hart, available on New Day Rising, SST 1985)

The verses in “Terms of Psychic Warfare” feel like a cousin to “Wild Thing” or other similar 1960s garage rock songs.  It has the same kind of repetitive riff and even Grant Hart’s vocal cadence reminds me of the extended pauses between lines.  That being said, “Terms of Psychic Warfare” is the distorted, slightly twisted take on garage rock, pushing the tinny guitars to the front of the mix and sticking Hart’s somewhat mumbled lyrics further back into the mix.  Ultimately, these cousins share the same loose garage-rock feel and lo-fi production aesthetics.

Of course, “Terms of Psychic Warfare” isn’t, to echo one of 2009’s recurring debate, great because it’s lo-fi; it’s a great song that transcends its production limits.  Even with Hüsker Dü’s standard production budget, the coarseness doesn’t preclude ability both as performers and as arrangers.  Bob Mould’s feedback-heavy guitar contrasts Greg Norton’s carefully plucked bass line, giving the song its strange pseudo-Spectorian wall of feedback beneath Hart’s rantings.  There are even harmony vocals deep in the mix, eeking out just enough to hint at their presence after several listens.  The song’s deceptiveness masks its assets beneath the treble-laden surface yet gives it enough charm to make it interesting many listens later.  Whether it’s embellishing on the garage rock form or funneling an entire lifetime of listening through the sound available to them, Hüsker Dü’s songs like “Terms of Psychic Warfare” warrant a reputation that expands beyond simple shredding.

More on Husker Du: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: husker du | grant hart | bob mould | 1985 | 1980s | sst records |
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“Hold My Life” – The Replacements
(Words/music: Paul Westerberg, available on Tim, Sire Records 1985)

I hold the Replacements so dearly because I fell in love with the band as a teenager.  I went out on the afternoon of my first date in high school and bought a copy of Tim. I can’t remember why – if I went out specifically to buy it, or if I was going out to blow off steam and came across it incidentally.  Regardless, I have a vivid memory getting ready for the homecoming dance with the first two thirds of Tim playing in the boombox next to me.  I remember the circumstances behind the acquisition of most of the Replacements records I own in fact, but my association with Tim stays with me the most.  Today I wonder if Tim is my favorite Replacements album because it has my favorite songs on it, or if it has my favorite songs on it because of the numerous personal connections I have with the album. 

I share this because my experience with The Replacements isn’t unique to either the band or the teenage experience.  We all have song bound to specific times in our lives, and it just seems that the Replacements wrote many songs that lend themselves to this hyper-sensitive period in our lives.  I spent too long tonight trying to track down the source (even stumbling on another instance where I paraphrased it), and I’m fairly sure it’s in my missing copy of Our Band Could Be Your Life, but the best description I’ve ever heard of The Replacements was that Paul Westerberg wrote vividly about the teenage experience from the safety of the “other side” of adolescence.  Appropriately enough, it’s something that I appreciate more as I get further away from my teenage years.  It reminds me of the predicament Holden Caulfield thrusts himself on at the end of The Catcher in the Rye.  Impetuous Holden tells his sister that he wants to be the one who wants to protect kids from getting hurt or going down the wrong path.  He doesn’t realize that it’s a foolish pursuit; first, it’s near impossible, and moreover kids need to learn how to fall and recover.  Yes, there are certain mistakes kids can and should avoid, but some struggles, such as heartbreak, rejection, or frustration, are necessary.  Learning to grow up is to learn to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and continue on, and without the opportunity to fall (in relative safety), it’s impossible to learn how to get back up. To paraphrase Westerberg’s narrator in this song, they need to learn how to use their lives rather than merely hold onto them indefinitely.

The point is that no matter how much we want to intervene, there are some mistakes, injuries, and failures that we all must experience, and the only reason we feel qualified to guide others is that we have the benefit of hindsight and experience.  This is what makes Westerberg’s perspective work – he strikes the right balance between experience and authenticity, knowing where to nudge the listener and where to just lay out all his cards and let the listener take stock of the situation.  His songs aren’t judgmental or didactic as much as they are reflective.  We can see ourselves in the bored, frustrated, alienated, and hopeful personalities that populate Replacements’ songs, and perhaps with Westerberg’s mirror we can take better stock of ourselves and where we fit in to the big picture.  Rather than offering advice quickly tuned out, Replacements songs like “Hold My Life” wait passively for the next person to come along and find whatever he or she needs – empathy, understanding, catharsis, validation, or whatever – ready to help on the listener’s terms.  Mark Richardson, in a review of the Replacements’ reissues, put it well by saying that records, particularly the ‘Mats records, are always waiting.  “People change, but records don’t, and that’s part of what makes them great. They’re frozen in place, ready to be found by people who need them.”

More on The Replacements: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: the replacements | paul westerberg | the catcher in the rye | our band could be your life | sire records | 1985 | 1980s | personal reflection |
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“Bittersweet” – Hoodoo Gurus
(Words/music: Dave Faulkner, available on Mars Needs Guitars!, Elektra 1985)

Back in 2003, I attended the CMJ Music Marathon, the annual “college radio convention” in New York City that’s basically an excuse to see bands and drink free beers.  One of the few panels that I went to (most were either topics I wasn’t interested in or were far too early) was a panel discussion on music in video games.  At the time, video game music was somewhere between the 8-bit soundtracks embedded in my memory (I probably know the map music from Legend of Zelda better than any song I’ve heard more recently) and the Guitar Hero / Rock Band phenomenon of gaming as musical participation.  Some games – EA Sports games and Grand Theft Auto 3, off the top of my head – started using pop/rock songs in their soundtracks at the time, and game developers, marketers, and A&R people told the small crowd how video games were going to become as important as radio or music videos.  I mildly laughed at the idea then, but in retrospect only laugh at my skepticism now.

Thinking about it a little bit, video games are great vehicles for marketing music for a couple reasons.  First, video games create a captive audience that keeps returning.  We’re programmed to shift stations in the car or flip channels during commercials, but when playing a video game we’re sitting down in front of the TV (save for a bathroom break) for long periods of time.  Even though the soundtracks are swelling with each new game, there’s still a good degree of repeated songs with each repeated play.  Without realizing it, these songs are embedded in our consciousness.  This is where the second part of my theory comes in – when we hear these songs outside of the game, we start thinking about the video game again.  So if you hear a song from the newest edition of Madden football or GTA or Rock Band, it makes you think about the game (which, more often than not, is a pleasant thought).  Then, the positive opinion of the video game transfers to the out-of-context song; it has the power to turn good songs into something great, mediocre songs into something good, and even bad songs into tolerable to slightly favorable ones.

I don’t play a lot of video games anymore, but back around this time I was obsessed with EA’s MVP Baseball 2004 (The one with Albert Pujols on the front of it).  The songs in the game were heavy on early 2000’s alternative rock.  The “biggest” song in the game was the Von Bondies’ “C’mon, C’mon” and otherwise there were smaller, lesser known bands (Stellastar and Snow Patrol among others, with the latter finding success in the ensuing years).  One song, “Bittersweet,” was out of place simply by being the oldest song in the game and one of the few that wasn’t a bland modern punk song.  As I kept leading my New York Mets towards the World Series, “Bittersweet” (an appropriate description of being a Mets fan, by the way) was a welcome rest from the angrier songs in the game.  It’s a fine piece of mid-80s pop rock – some nice background vocals in the pre-chorus, just enough guitar to keep it interesting, and a simple melody that’s pleasant but not annoyingly catchy.  It wasn’t a song that I liked enough to find the album right away, but one that I’d nod along to (and sing along to the “don’t cry-e-ay” part) while adjusting my rosters.  At best, it sounds like something from the last Replacements album – a nice enough song, but nothing worth getting worked up over.

So a few years later, while watching VH-1 Classic late at night, I saw the horrendously dated video.  I was doing work on my couch, so my head was turned away from the screen until I realized that I was singing along.  I looked up and watched the rest of the video just to refresh my memory – I knew the song, and I knew it was from MVP Baseball, but I couldn’t remember the name of the song.  The marketing worked, but only half way – I thought fondly on the Hoodoo Gurus (who have a handful of equally pleasant singles that I have on a couple compilations), but that night I longed for those afternoons spent desperately trying to throw a no-hitter rather than a burning passion to buy their album.

That’s not to say I don’t like the song - it’s deceptively catchy and has a strong arrangement. Faulkner’s voice is uniquely gruff in a way that really just well with those backing vocals I love to sing.  Everything falls into place well - the way the chords change every measure, the way the acoustic guitar cuts right to the front of the arrangement.  But to be perfectly honest, I think the reason I like it (and ultimately hunted it down) was that I had heard it probably a hundred times while playing video games (also, having mostly mediocre songs surrounding it drove its stock higher).

More on Hoodoo Gurus: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: hoodoo gurus | elektra | 1985 | 1980s | pop/rock | video games | personal reflection | albert pujols | cmj music marathon |
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