[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“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 |
62 Tumblr Notes

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Suburban Home” – The Descendents
(Words/music: Tommy Lombardo, available on Milo Goes to College, SST 1982)

For me, the key line in the Descendents’ “Suburban Home” is the one where  Milo Aukerman sings “I wanna be masochistic.”  It’s too self-aware to suggest that “Suburban Home” is anything but tongue-in-cheek for anyone who doesn’t pick up the sarcasm from the opening “I wanna be stereotyped / I wanna be classified” line.  Ultimately, this is the suburban dilemma – assimilate into the white picket fence lifestyle or resist and stand out from your neighbors.  On an oversimplified level, it’s comfort versus individuality, and this struggle is the one that the Descendents thrash against.

Subtlety isn’t one of the Descendents’ strong points, but “Suburban Home” stomps for most of its 1:43 seconds.  The opening and closing spoken word reciting of the opening couplet helps to reinforce the song’s main point – the assimilation that suburbia thrusts upon many – and in the middle turns it into one big slamdance.  Ironically, the Descendents did anything but fade into suburbia; vocalist Milo Aukerman earned a PhD in biochemistry in between stints fronting the band.  While punk rock (in some ways) fell into blandness in the early part of this decade, the Descendents’ thrash went against the grain in 1982.

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

TAGGED UNDER: the descendents | 1982 | 1980s | punk rock | suburbia | sst records |
26 Tumblr Notes

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“History Lesson, Part 2” – Minutemen
(Words/music: Mike Watt, available on Double Nickels on the Dime, SST 1984)

My favorite line in “History Lesson, Part 2” – a short song with a disproportionate number of lyric gems – starts the third verse.  “Mr. Narrator,” D. Boon says, “this is Bob Dylan to me.”  This reference speaks louder than the list of Boon and Watt’s musical heroes that they used to emulate growing up.  It reads as a plea for legitimacy for punk rock – an intergenerational attempt to explain how these songs mean just as much as Dylan’s songs meant to the previous generation.  It’s a specific choice to compare it to Dylan and not the Beatles, Rolling Stones, or even Led Zeppelin because punk rock (or at least the kind of punk rock the Minutemen made and gravitated toward) shares a lot with Dylan.  Both touch on political themes, both ruffled feathers of the previous generation, and both are (to some) an acquired taste.  Boon delivers this line with the genuine tone of a teenager seeking validation, and it’s this sincere tone that makes “History Lesson, Part 2” (and most of Double Nickels on the Dime) so compelling.  Sure, Boon and Watt deliver a compelling argument for punk’s place in history, but it works because it’s 100% honest.

It’s important that Boon follows this line with one containing the word “story” because I’ve always been enamored with punk rock’s storytelling capabilities.  Two main themes run throughout punk rock – viewing the world as an outsider (or viewing yourself as outside of the mainstream at least), and punk rock as a participatory democracy.  Some take this as a violent rejection of mainstream culture, but I prefer to see it as a way to tell your own story – one that may not fit in with what’s popular yet may overlap on some points.  Some take punk rock to its nihilistic end and boil it down to finding something to rebel against, but that misses part of the picture.  Take Boon and Watt – they include Blue Oyster Cult’s E. Bloom with their list of punk rock icons and cover Steely Dan and Van Halen on Double Nickels.  Punk rock, to them, is the vehicle to tell their story.  The opening line to the song – “our band could be your life” (the title of Michael Azerrad’s excellent book about the 1980s American underground) gets read as a sign of fandom – making the bands you love a critical part of your life.  In the context of the song, it’s also meant the other way – we could be in Watt and Boon’s place, singing our own song about our own music.  I’ve seen the Hold Steady play this song changing the references to Minneapolis’ punk icons (and the Minutemen as well), and my version would be yet another musical generation removed.  In this case, the details of the story aren’t as important as the actual act of telling it.

More on Minutemen: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: minutemen | 1984 | 1980s | punk rock | punk rock saved my life | mike watt | d. boon | sst records |
7 Tumblr Notes

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Lake of Fire” – The Meat Puppets
(Words/music: Curt Kirkwood, available on Meat Puppets II, SST 1984)

In many ways, Nirvana shaped my musical taste.  In addition to being my first love, they introduced me to the idea that pop songs could also be “outside the box.”  Nevermind was my first taste of songs that were loud and abrasive yet still melodic, but it was the Unplugged in New York performance that led me down the rabbit hole toward the stranger (and often more rewarding) pop music that wasn’t wildly popular.  As with The Vaselines, I first heard of the Meat Puppets through Kurt Cobain’s interpretation of their songs.  These songs (including the Bowie cover) are peculiar and a little rough around the edges, and I was a little surprised when I sought them out and found the original recordings a little stranger.  Thinking about it now, it makes sense that the Unplugged performance was a little more polished due to the circumstances – a mostly acoustic, made-for-TV performance.  Regardless, this was the perfect scenario for someone like me at that time – a teenager curious to learn more about music – to experience these songs.  By hearing polished interpretations by an iconic performer, I heard the beauty of these songs without having to look for it buried in a recording.  It also gave me a running start when exploring some of these bands later on.

The Meat Puppets’ version of “Lake of Fire” feels more like Hell than the Nirvana performance.  Curt Kirkwood’s vocals sound like a tortured soul enduring an eternity’s worth of torture.  In particular, I love the guitar sound in this version; it sounds like a bubbling, curdling pool of lava flowing through the song, filling every crack with its watery distortion.  The whole thing sounds equal parts foreboding biblical sermon and shambolic sound collage.  When put together, the song sounds a little less serious, as both the music and the narrative sound like they’re having fun rather than waiting for the Rapture.  Strangely enough, the chorus implants itself right in your head, making you sound a little strange walking through the store singing about tortured souls.  Still, it’s a lot more fun than I imagine hell would be (maybe?)

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

TAGGED UNDER: the meat puppets | nirvana | 1984 | 1980s | sst records | track analysis | cover song - original |
5 Tumblr Notes

Based on a theme created by: Roy David Farber and Hunson. Powered By: Tumblr | Email SSC
1 of 1
Email Me: Email No spam please.