Showing posts with label Electronic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Electronic. Show all posts

Monday, 29 November 2021

The 500 - #341 - Play - Moby

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 


Album: # 341

Album Title: Play

Artist: Moby

Genre: Electronica, Downtempo, Techno-Ambient

Recorded: Moby's Home Studio (Manhattan)

Released: May, 1999

My age at release: 34

How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Is it on the 2020 list? No

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Natural Blues

Between 1998 and 2010, I worked as a weekend bartender at Garlics Restaurant in my hometown of London, Ontario.  It is located on a trendy stretch of Richmond Row, beside the Grand Theatre and a short walk from the John Labatt Centre (now Budweiser Gardens).
Garlics of London (formerly Garlics Restaurant) London, ON
One of the many terrific things about working behind a bar in a busy, downtown bistro was serving the late night crowd -- aka "The Jazz Crowd". They were the patrons who arrived without a pressing agenda, not trying to squeeze in a meal before going to the theatre or a concert. They usually weren't driving, so they happily ordered multiple bottles of wine or sampled several signature cocktails, martinis and craft beers. They were, like jazz, a free-flowing, easy-going, collection of eclectic spirits.
Garlics bar (since renovated) - my weekend home for 12 years
By contrast, the pre-theatre crowd was often pressed for time, excited to eat and drink before a performance. We had to get them seated, served and shipped before the curtain went up at 8:00 sharp -- all without seeming as if anyone was in a hurry. This was a team effort pulled off by everyone from the host to the cooking staff, ever-visible in our open concept kitchen. It required a balancing act, coupling efficiency, manners and an easy-going disposition. Like the proverbial duck, we were composed on top and paddling furiously beneath the surface. 
The tension relaxed after 8:00 on a Friday or Saturday night, shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, kitchen staff spelled each other for breaks (usually a cigarette) and I was at liberty to change the music in the Compact Disc player. Systematically, I would swap out the jazz standards and easy, familiar coffee-house and world music selections for discs that were more uptempo, avante-garde and even risque.  
Garlics' theatre seating standards (circa 2000)
In the early 2000s, one of my favourite discs to shuffle into the Compact Disc carousel mix was Play by Moby. Released in the spring of 1999, it is the fifth record by multi-instrumentalist and electronic musician Moby (born: Richard Melville Hall). 
Moby (early 2000s)
My first exposure to Moby came with the release of the Danny Boyle film The Beach, starring Leonardo Dicaprio, who was white-hot following his performance in the mega-hit Titanic. Moby's song, Porcelain, was featured in the movie's trailer. It, like many of the tracks on this record, immediately grabs your attention. The slow, atmospheric groove is haunting and lush. Porcelain and Natural Blues were the two tracks that invariably motivated a Garlics' patron to head to the bar and ask, "Who is this?"
I haven't listened through Play in many years, until recently. It was a blast of early 2K nostalgia. Unlike some of the other discs we played at Garlics, Play is not anxiety-inducing. Whenever I hear the soundtrack to Big Night or Willie and Lobo's Caliente, I am reminded of the urgency that accompanied a pre-theatre seating. Conversely, Play reminds me of calmly polishing wine glasses as the late night jazz crowd breezed leisurely through the restaurant's front doors. Another memory, another time.


 

Monday, 16 March 2020

The 500 - #441 - Suicide - Self Titled Debut

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

My plan (amended). 

  • One record per week(ish) and at least two complete listens.
  • A blog post for each, highlighting the important details and, when possible, a background story that relates to the record.
  • No rating scale - just an effort to expand my appreciation of diverse forms of music.
  • Listen to Josh and his guest on The 500 podcast to gather additional information and insights.

Album # 441

Album Title: Self-Titled Debut
Artist: Suicide
Released: December, 1977
My age at release: 12
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at All
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: Ghost Rider

The list from which The 500 Podcast and my weekly posts draw their inspiration was originally published by Rolling Stone Magazine in 2005. It was compiled in 2003 when the magazine asked a panel of artists, producers, industry executives and journalists to select their favourite albums. These were then evaluated by the Ernst & Young accounting firm which "devised a point system" to tabulate the responses. The list was revised in 2012 and this is the list to which I adhere.
However, the criteria used to determine which albums were, and were not, the "Greatest Of All Time" is not easily ascertained. Is a voter's choice based on... 
  • musicianship?
  • Billboard chart position?
  • record sales?
  • musical impact or influence?
  • personal taste?
Additionally, The 500 List is not without criticism. Edna Gunderson of USA Today described it as predictable, "weighted toward testosterone-fueled vintage rock". Additionally, Jonny Sharp, a contributor to the New Music Express described the list as, "a soulless canon-centric (list) of the same-old, tired titles," noting that "when only one album in the top ten is less than 40 years old, you need to rethink your approach."

I've done my best to avoid over-analyzing The 500 but I'll admit skimming through its titles. Perhaps it is because I am "a testosterone-fueled fan of vintage rock" who is over 40 that I am a fan of many of these records. Entry number 441, the debut album by the band Suicide, is not one of them.
To be fair, I played it five times in a variety of settings (my home stereo, on headphones & through car speakers). The opening track, Ghost Rider, which I have included on my Spotify Playlist, is the song I enjoyed the most. It draws its title from a lesser known Marvel comic book and its protagonist. 

This is the debut album by Suicide, the New York Minimalist, Electronic-Rock, Synth-Punk duo of Alan Vega and Martin Rev. Vega, a visual artist and sculptor, met Rev, an avant-garde jazz keyboardist, in the late-sixties. After witnessing the burgeoning New York punk scene, the two decided to "create art".

Rev bought a cheap, Japanese electric keyboard and ran it through a series of bass-and-treble boosting pedals to enhance its limited sound. Simultaneously, Vega would sing, speak and scream improvised lyrics over the strange, dry, electronic hum.
Vega (left) and Rev in 1988
If you've never heard this record, I encourage you to listen to a few tracks to experience this bizarre cacophony.

Unsurprisingly, the record was not well received critically and it failed to make the charts. Regardless, it served as a template for the electronic sounds that would follow and it is easy to see how it influenced bands such as Nine Inch Nails, Daft Punk, Radiohead and Devo (whom I wrote about last week). It has also be praised by music heavyweights Bruce Springsteen and U2.

Although I did not enjoy the record, I have to admit this record deserves its place on The 500. Alan Vega's passing in 2016 was recognized by countless artists who celebrate his and Martin Rev's five-record "art experiment" as groundbreaking and profoundly important.