flashback friday – Audiofemme

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Pete Seeger

It’s the hammer of justice

It’s the bell of freedom

It’s the song about love between my brothers and my sisters

All over this land.

I used to go to the Hudson Clearwater festival every year as a child with my mom, dad, brother and grandparents. I’m not sure if this is a real memory or not, but one year- I must have been less than ten- I briefly met Pete Seeger. I knew nothing about him, just that he was an old man who sang folk songs that my parents and grandparents listened to when they were growing up. They told me that he was important and that I would know all about him later. Whether or not this is a real or invented memory, it is one that I’ve held onto for some reason, probably because of Pete Seeger’s influence on my own development as an ethnomusicologist and a folk music enthusiast. Pete Seeger (1919-2014) was one of the most prolific and important folk musicians of the 20th century, but his legacy extends beyond the music that he created. He was groundbreaking not only because of his music, but also because of his work as an ethnomusicologist, educator, activist and patriot. This installment of Flashback Friday remembers the music and the work of Pete Seeger.

Most American folk songs cannot be traced back to a single origin. Traditionally, music was passed down to friends and family members by word of mouth, changing slightly along the way. By the time folk songs reached their final destination, they might not even sound like the originals, yet every hand that touched them played a part in their creation. Folk music was a collective effort that took place over distance and time.

Pete Seeger understood the necessity of maintaining this songwriting tradition. As an undergraduate I studied one of Pete Seeger’s most pivotal songs, “We Shall Overcome.” “We Shall Overcome” was typically sung at protests and rallies during the civil rights era and is commonly referred to as the anthem of this movement.

“We Shall Overcome” was not only an important protest song, but it is an exemplary folk song because of its collective origins. “We Shall Overcome” evolved in the 1900s from two spirituals containing similar themes and lyrics, “I’ll Overcome Some Day” by Charles A. Tindley, and “I’ll Be Alright Some Day.” In early union meetings in South Carolina, one verse from “I’ll Be Alright Some Day” was turned into a song. In 1946, during an American Tobacco Company strike in Charleston, South Carolina, Lucille Simmons sang “We Shall Overcome.” It contained the same verse that was taken from “I’ll Be Alright Some Day,” except the “I” had changed to “we.” She also sung it in long meter style. A striker later introduced this version of the song to Zilphia Horton. She then passed it along to Pete Seeger, who implemented a steady rhythm and presented it to Guy Carawan. Guy Carawan sped up the tempo. He organized a Singing in the Movement workshop where he taught the song to seventy people. It was eventually swept up by the movement. Pete Seeger obtained songwriters credit for “We Shall Overcome,” yet he highlighted the song’s history as a spiritual and acknowledged all of the hands that played a part in its evolution.

As an ethnomusicologist, it is impossible to ignore Pete Seeger’s influence on American folk music. As his father, Charles Seeger was a highly regarded ethnomusicologist, Pete Seeger developed an early interest in the discipline. In the late 1930s, Seeger worked alongside Alan Lomax, assisting him by sifting through his field recordings. He later appeared a number of times on Alan Lomax and Nicholas Ray’s broadcast show, Back Where I Come From. Folk musicians such as Josh White, Burl Ives and Lead Belly also appeared on this show alongside Seeger. Seeger also did a vast amount of fieldwork in his own right. Seeger traveled around America (and later around the world) to discover local folk traditions. Most notably, Seeger popularized the five-string banjo, an instrument that was previously constricted to the Appalachian region of America and is now known as a staple of folk and Americana music.

Pete Seeger was equally seminal as an educator of folk music. In 1954, he published How to Play the Five String Banjo, an introductory book on the banjo. Seeger went on to write a number of books, from instructional books to books on the civil rights movement and even children’s stories. Pete Seeger also led numerous talks and seminars on folk music and protested movements throughout his career. Furthermore, in 1965 Seeger hosted Rainbow Quest, an educational folk music show that featured artists such as Mississippi John Hurt, Doc Watson, Johnny Cash, June Carter, Judy Collins and Buffy Sainte-Marie.

Pete Seeger was a champion of the first amendment during a time in United States history when freedom of speech was at risk. Seeger rose to prominence amid the McCarthy era red scare. The House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) was formed in 1938 to investigate individuals who were suspected of communist leanings. By 1950, a number of public figures were forced out of work after being blacklisted by the HUAC. Pete Seeger, a known member of the communist party since the late 1930s, had a number of run ins with the United States Government. Seeger was blacklisted in 1952 along with the rest of The Weavers.

On August 18, 1955, Seeger was brought to trial and testified before HUAC. Seeger refused to plead the fifth amendment and state his political leanings in order to protect his first amendment rights. This resulted in an indictment for the contempt of congress. He was later tried by a jury for contempt of congress and sentenced to 10 years in jail, although this charge was later overturned. Seeger was subsequently blacklisted a number of times throughout the ’50s and ’60s.

Inspired by Woody Guthrie, Seeger’s banjo was branded with the phrase “This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender.” From the onset of Seeger’s career, he demonstrated music’s ability to promote social change. Although often silenced or censored by the government, Seeger continued to champion human and environmental rights locally, nationally and globally. Throughout his career Pete Seeger wrote topical songs for a number of social movements and political events (the Spanish Civil War, World War II, union’s rights, the Cuban Revolution, Chilean nueva cancion, women’s rights and civil rights, to name a few).

It’s no secret that the Hudson River used to be a lot dirtier than it is today. By the 1960s, the Hudson River was pronounced “dead,” and even unsafe for swimming or fishing. In 1966, Pete Seeger and his wife Toshi Seeger founded the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater, inc.. Seeger raised funds to build the Sloop Clearwater by passing his banjo through the crowd after performances, asking folks to contribute anything that they could. In 1969, thanks to Seeger’s tireless efforts, the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater had its first inaugural sail in 1969. The Clearwater is a sailboat dedicated to conducting environmental education on the Hudson River. In celebration of its annual sail up the Hudson River, The Hudson River Sloop Clearwater, inc. produced the Great Hudson River Revival, or the Clearwater Festival at Croton Point Park. The festival, which is a celebration of folk music and environmentalism raises funds for the non-profit organization.

Richard Rorty’s famous quote “You can feel shame over your country’s behavior only to the extent to which you feel it is your country”, is especially relevant when discussing Pete Seeger. Throughout his life, Pete Seeger maintained his love for America. Pete Seeger celebrated the countryside. He knew that there were musical gems to be discovered in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, the swamps of the Mississippi Delta and the tobacco fields of North Carolina. He dedicated much of his life to sharing those traditions with the rest of the country. Seeger maintained this patriotic fervor throughout his life, even when the government of the country that he loved was doing everything that they could to silence him.

While many folk musicians became disillusioned with protest music for various reasons, Pete Seeger maintained the importance of protest music, both long before and long after it was in vogue. Pete Seeger illustrated the timelessness of protest songs. For instance, “We Shall Overcome,” a song that was originally written for civil rights, has been re-appropriated for a number of different social movements (even as recently as Occupy Wall Street). The other day, my grandmother told me about the first time she saw Pete Seeger. She was younger than I am, and she went to a square dance in New York City, where Pete Seeger was the featured performer. While both my grandmother and I remember our first encounters with the seminal folk musician, I have no doubt that countless others have similar multi-generational stories of their own encounters. Pete Seeger’s songs will continue to be relevant long after his death, as will his accomplishments as an ethnomusicologist, an educator and an activist.

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“Sometimes we’ve had tears in our eyes when we joined together to sing it, but we still decided to sing it!”

-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Giorgio Moroder “From Here to Eternity”

In honor of legendary super-producer Giorgio Moroder’s first solo track in 22 years (thanks to the fabulous Adult Swim series, no less), we put on our finest polyester pants and creepiest pornstaches to revisit his seminal 1977 album From Here to Eternity.

His third solo EP and arguably most famous, it’s a bonafide Euro-disco behemoth that continues to invoke a sense of neon dance floors and Back to the Future-worthy whiplash. Filled with ass-shaking syncopation, distinct four-on-the-floor beats and soaring robo-vocals, it pioneered a futuristic club experience that can still squeeze out a couple of head-bobbers within our bro step-obsessed world.

Powered by a seemingly unstoppable digital drum machine accented by heavenly sopranos and pumping synth lines, From Here to Eternity is an ethereal album for the space-age exotic. Laying the groundwork for modern dance music, as everything from house to juke has its roots in Moroder’s pioneering sound, this banger changed the way people perceived pop forever.

And there’s a good reason for its immense influence. From the glimmering title track to the squelching closer, it’s packed with more electronic flutes and banging bass beats than you’d ever imagine a hypnotic half-hour disc could contain. Born from the same technology bequeathed to Kraftwerk in the late 70s, Moroder just let the man-machine keep its soul with his experimental brand of emotional, movement-inducing pop.

Joyous in its very essence and forever pigeonholed as the go-to music for cheesy celebration, his beats are programmed to exaggerate a sense of fullness, sexuality and voluptuous. All of which is just further proof of his impressive knack for creating something out of nothing. Because when you think about it, assembling an entire synthesized orchestra from a completely artificial assortment of pipes, percussion and bass lines is quite the accomplishment. And it’s not exactly like the dude had Garageband either.

What’s even more remarkable though is how catchy his hodge-podge of instrument samples actually turns out to be. It should be messy, but instead it’s a constant one-two punch of disco hit after disco hit, as we’re constantly floating back and forth from the pulsating highway drone of “Utopia Me Giorgio” to the ho-hum digi-drum of “I’m Left, You’re Right, She’s Gone.” In short, it’s perfect pop.

And for what it lacks in poetical brilliance, it makes up for in pure bump factor. Because while lyrics mostly consist of the track title repeated over and over again by robocoder vocals, it sure makes for great background music at the very least. After all, “Too Hot To Handle” with its bouncing wob and angelic affirmations is optimal strut-your-stuff music. Take it from me.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Theme songs from ’60s TV shows

Often very catchy, sometimes even addictive. We try our best to resist, yet find ourselves giving in. Succumbing to that higher power— that undeniable urge to sing and hum along, learning all the words or memorizing that distinct melody. Of course I’m talking about theme songs. While many of our favorite T.V. shows these days may not have one, it was an unequivocal fact that TV shows in the 60’s all had their own theme song. So for this week’s Flashback Friday, here are five of the most memorable themse songs from television shows of the 1960’s. Theme songs that became earworms; burrowing their way into our brains. Songs that even when we hear them today, decades later, we know exactly where they are from.

5. The Twilight Zone. Created in 1959, The Twilight Zone’s theme song would soon become wildly popular. Its eerie quality and suspense-building rhythm was a great match for the television show. Something about that theme song just makes you feel a little uncomfortable, and it evokes the image of someone tiptoeing quickly and carefully, so as not to get caught snooping. A perfectly written song for this legendary TV show.

4. I Dream of Genie. Interestingly enough, the theme song we all know and love for I Dream of Jeanie wasn’t the original theme song. In season one, an instrumental jazz waltz was written for the show, and later rewritten and changed to a campier tune entitled “Jeanie.” This version was far more chipper and a bit more fast-paced. The use of the drums and trumpet in this song are especially memorable, though the use of live instruments was a very common practice in theme songs of the ’60s.

3. The Addams Family. I absolutely love everything about this song! Created in 1964, the theme song was written by a well-known Hollywood composer by the name of Vic Mizzy. The main instrument used in the song was a harpsichord, but we all remember this theme song for its use of finger snaps in the place of a percussion. This theme song was so distinctive that it was also used for the show’s sequel, The Addams Family Values, and the animated series that came out in 1992. Truly, this theme song captures the feel of the show, with an eerie aspect to it that’s also fun and silly at times.

2. Batman. Created in 1966 by Neal Hefti, the Batman theme song became very popular rather quickly. Partly because of its simplicity, and also due to its vibrant melody. The theme song consists of steady guitar playing and a chorus of four tenors and four sopranos singing, “Batman!” This theme song has been covered and sampled by various artists (including Prince and Snoop Dogg) and has been used in different television shows such as Sesame Street and SpongeBob Square pants. Needless to say, over the years this theme song has spread like wildfire.

1. Mission Impossible. Created in 1966, Mission Impossible’s theme song was written by Lalo Schifrin, and since then this song has appeared in many of the movies in the Mission Impossible franchise, including the 1988 TV series, the film series, and the video game. The original 1960’s theme song has gone down in history as one of TV’s greatest theme songs ever written, with live instruments that give a sense of mystery as well as beauty.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: “Goodnight Irene”

I woke up this morning to my first Brooklyn snow storm. After promptly deciding that I wasn’t going to leave the my apartment for at least 24 hours, I poured myself a cup of coffee, curled up next to my cat, and put on some folk music.

While some children needed their blankets or teddy bears to fall asleep, I relied on my parent’s rendition of Lead Belly’s American folk classic, “Goodnight Irene.” Some of my earliest childhood memories involve my parents tucking me into bed and attempting (unsuccessfully) to sing “Goodnight Irene” in a two-part harmony.

“Goodnight Irene” was originally sung and recorded by Lead Belly in 1934, but like most American folk songs, its exact origins are unknown. Lead Belly claimed that he was taught the song by his uncles. While he may have borrowed aspects of the melody and structure, Lead Belly modified the song and molded it into what it is today.

Huddie William Leadbetter, or Lead Belly (1888-1949) was an American folk, gospel and blues musician. “Lead Belly” is best known for his unique baritone voice and his prowess as an instrumentalist (specifically on the 12-string guitar). Lead Belly was born into extreme poverty in the countryside of Louisiana. Much of his early life was plagued with criminality and incarceration (twice for homicide and once for attempted homicide). Most of Lead Belly’s songs are subsequently dark, usually touching on racism, alcoholism, depression, prison life and poverty.

During Lead Belly’s final stay in prison he was discovered by folklorists Alan and John Lomax, who petitioned the governor for his pardon. The petition was eventually granted, and between 1934 and 1943 Lead Belly recorded a number of songs for the Library of Congress, one of which was “Goodnight Irene.”

Of course as a child I was oblivious to the song’s dark undertones. “Goodnight Irene,” which was almost definitely not intended as a child’s lullaby, depicts a story of a man who was kicked out by his wife and child for drinking, gambling and infidelity. In the song, Lead Belly mourns and reflects on his actions. A number of the verses contain direct references to suicide (sometimes I have a great notion, to jump in the river and drown // And if Irene turns her back on me I’d take morphine and die), adding another dimension of solemnity to the already grave lyrics.

“Goodnight Irene” might initially come off as a simple song, although upon deeper listening it can be made clear just how emotionally complex it is. The lyrics are accompanied by basic acoustic strumming. Adornment is minimal yet effective. The rolling ¾ tempo and soothing vocals make the lyrical content of the song all the more jarring. It’s almost as if Lead Belly rocks you to sleep with the music yet wakes you up and slaps you on the face with the lyrics. The result is astounding and heartbreaking.

As with a number of key American folk songs, Goodnight Irene has been covered and modified by a number of musicians, including Johnny Cash, Eric Clapton and The Weavers. Although Its success has made “Goodnight Irene” an essential example of early folk music and has carved its place as a fundamental component of the American folk music canon, to me, it was most importantly the only song that could put me to sleep as a child.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Queen’s “A Night at the Opera”

I have been listening to Queen ever since I can remember hearing things. The short drives to our swim practice in the summer were accompanied musically by some Queen album my mother had lying in the car. The one in particular I can recall as having stuck with me at the most susceptible time in my life was A Night at the Opera. I am sure this is the case for most people hearing Queen for the first time, as this album contains the one and only, “Bohemian Rhapsody”. Many a Waynes World-esque sing along has been partaken in on my end, and I’m sure as you’re reading this, you’re recalling similar drunken nights at a party or a bar. When the first harmonizing vocals come on, you can’t help but stop whatever the hell you’re doing and shut up for a second. You then continue to butcher the song into oblivion.

Their 1975 fourth studio effort was, and is, their most prominent album in their catelogue as a band, debuting at #1 in the UK and #4 in the USA. It also took the name from a Marx Brothers film of the same name, which I as a Marx Brothers fan was ecstatic to find out about a few years ago. Additionally, the album was the most expensive one made at that time. Besides “Bohemian Rhapsody”, A Night at the Opera saw the release of other infamous hits such as, “You’re My Best Friend”, a pop ballad now featured on car commercials, and “Death on Two Legs”. The latter was one of those “F-you” songs written about the ex-manager who screws you over, which has been disputed by said manager in a tell all book, and then re-disputed by the band members. Personally, I see it as a great breakup song or if you were wrongly fired for some reason, as I always was when I was younger. At least in my eyes.

Queen isn’t just all about Freddie Mercurys’ amazing showmanship and crazy vocal range, which in itself is something to write about. But also, lends a chance for the other band members to showcase their talents. Brian May is undoubtedly one of the greatest guitar players in existence, and a modern day wizard. He also is a brilliant songwriter, as he penned some of my favorite songs on the album, including the sci-fi guitar ditty “’39” and the multi-layered, Biblical-influenced epic, “The Prophet’s Song”. Their drummer, Roger Taylor, was keen on writing high-energy hits from behind the kit, including “I’m In Love With My Car”. There’s no real theme to the album, and there doesn’t need to be one. Every song on it’s own has the classic Queen sound, with the multi-tracked harmonizing and inclusion of random instruments that blend perfectly with the song.

Queen continued to make classic albums and even went on to write the soundtrack for the movies Flash Gordon and Highlander, in all of their campy goodness, which Queen was perfect for. The death of Freddie Mercury in 1991 brought a break in Queens’ stride. They put together a benefit concert for Mercury in 1992, which independently accounted for some well-known performances by extraordinary artists like David Bowie, Robert Plant, Elton John, and many more. Their tongue-in-cheek attitude towards music will stand the test of time, as they continue to influence modern days artists, even inspiring some to take their stage name from songs (Lady Gaga, from “Radio Ga Ga”). A Night at the Opera is a definite milestone in the music world and and opened my eyes to other artists before and after them, but I always come back to Queen.

Here is Queen performing a medley of “Killer Queen” (a track on their previous album) and “I’m In Love With My Car” in Montreal in 1981.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: The Neptunes

In hopes that the rumored Clipse reunion circulating the blogosphere this week is for real, we’re going through the best moments in The Neptunes’ career, which now spans two decades if we consider Blackstreet’s “Tonight’s the Night” their first official gig as a production team. Chad Hugo and Pharrell Williams have come quite a long way since 1994, hitting the top ten in Billboard’s Hot 100 with 24 of their produced tracks throughout the ‘90s and ‘00s and collecting Billboard and Grammy awards left and right along the way. Here’s a rundown of a few of their more memorable successes:

N*E*R*D

The Neptunes’ side project with Shay Haley is now sort of a cult favorite, though most would recognize their early ‘00s hit songs “Lapdance” and “She Wants to Move.” The trio deftly mixed rap with funk and rock, exuding swag long before the word was a trend. N*E*R*D gave Williams and Hugo the space to do everything their own way and show off the former high school band geeks’ instrumental abilities.

Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave 4 U”

Brit knew she wanted a turning point in her already well-established pop career, and she chose the right guys to make it happen. “I’m a Slave 4 U” was not only produced but also written by the Neptunes, who had originally intended it for Janet Jackson; but let’s be honest: in Jackson’s hands, the song would’ve come off as more of the same. In the hands of a 19-year-old, virginal Britney Spears, though, it was explosive. And—especially when paired with an albino python at the 2001 VMA stage—it was perhaps the peak of this megastar’s career.

Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl”

After working with No Doubt on “Hella Good,” The Neptunes continued collaborating with Gwen on her breakout solo album, co-writing and producing the hottest hit off of Love Angel Music Baby. It seems like this is what the Neptunes do best: turning pop musicians into pop superstars.

Work with Kelis

The Neptunes’ very first full album production gig came with Kelis’ debut record, 1999’s Kaleidoscope. In fact, they didn’t just produce that entire album, they also wrote, arranged, and provided instrumentation and vocals for the majority of it. Kaleidoscope didn’t do so well commercially but critics gave it high praise and Kelis continued to work extensively with the Neptunes for her sophomore record, Wanderland, and of course for her third record, Tasty, which featured the Neptunes-penned track we all know: “Milkshake.”

“Drop It Like It’s Hot”

Snoop Doggy Dogg may have come up under Dr. Dre, but his first single to ever reach number one on Billboard’s Hot 100 was written and produced by none other than the Neptunes. For a while, this song was the most substantial mainstream representation of Pharrell, who provides vocals and is heavily featured in the video, but his and Hugo’s behind-the-scenes production work on the track is what gave it that unforgettable, tongue-clicking sound.

Work with Clipse

Pusha T and brother Malice were to the Neptunes as Eminem was to Dre. Their mainstream success was limited back in the day—“When the Last Time” being their biggest hit—but Pusha T in particular has significantly developed his sound, especially with last year’s solo album My Name is My Name. Any new Clipse material would likely be a huge step forward from their last release, ’09s Til the Casket Drops. Pusha T recently posted pictures on Twitter of Hugo and Williams in the studio, so here’s to hoping Malice is getting in there soon, too.

Justin Timberlake’s Justified

As most of us know, JT’s debut solo album included pop gems like “Senorita,” “Like I Love You” (featuring Clipse), and “Rock Your Body,” all of which have the Neptunes’ instantly recognizable fingerprints all over them. Truth is, Justin’s transition from N’SYNC to solo career would not have gone so incredibly smoothly without the Neptunes’ work on those supersmash hits; and who knows, without the crazy success from his first foray as a one-man-show, maybe today’s JT wouldn’t be nearly the pop legend he has become. So let’s all take a moment to silently thank Hugo and Williams for introducing to the world the Justin Timberlake we all know and love today (not just figuratively but literally, if you count those first few seconds of “Senorita”).

2004 in general

This was a great year for the dynamic duo, who snatched the Grammys not only for “Best Pop Vocal Album” as the producers on Justified but also for “Producer of the Year, Non Classical.” The Neptunes were also nominated that year for “Best Rap Song” and “Best Rap/Sung Collaboration” as producers for Jay-Z’s “Excuse Me Miss,” Snoop Dogg’s “Beautiful,” and Pharrell’s own “Frontin’.” These guys were basically ubiquitous in 2004—hell, even the New York Times ran an article about them. This was their heyday, but hopefully with Hugo and Williams back in the studio along with Pusha T, plenty of good things are on the way.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Karen Dalton

Karen Dalton’s mystique, largely a product of her personal misfortunate, makes her an easy candidate for legend: it’s fun to imagine her, half Irish, half Cherokee, in a wooly, bohemian large-pocketed coat, Dalton had thick dark bangs and two missing bottom teeth knocked out when she got between two fighting boyfriends, and spent the sixties wandering Greenwich Village, palling around with Bob Dylan and enchanting tiny apartments full of literati with her banjo and her incomparable voice.

Most often liked to a folksy Billy Holday, Dalton’s voice is bluesy and husky, perfectly timed, but especially haunting for the sadness behind it. Dalton was criminally overlooked during her lifetime, and barely recorded, both because of her inconsistencies with the kind of pop music that got signed at the time and because of her own stubbornness and famous refusal to perform. The story of how her debut album, It’s So Hard To Tell Who’s Going To Love You The Best, was made has become a legend unto itself:a friend tricked her into playing the songs, and secretly recorded the performance. Dalton released that album and one other, In My Own Time, and then disappeared off the scene. She struggled with drug use until her death from AIDS in 1993.

In My Own Time, released initially in 1971 and then again in 2006, epitomizes something of the intimacy and romance that had haunted her voice on It’s So Hard. The record was undoubtedly more comfortable, and Dalton’s experiments into the bluesier aspects of her voice (“When A Man Loves A Woman”), which even switches some of the lyrics of that song around to fit a female protagonist, feel natural alongside the beautifully archaic banjo-based tune “Katie Cruel.” Then there’s “Take Me,” a simple, heart-shattering song built around fermatas and soul, that hits a new peak of earnestness in Dalton’s career. However, the most memorable track on this album, for me, is the first one, “Something On Your Mind.”

The mythologizing of Karen Dalton, as much as it skews the life it imagines, lets you take the music for your own, and so it is with this song. “Something On Your Mind,” honest and comforting, utilizes a set of lyrics just vague enough to apply to anything—Yesterday, anyway you made it was just fine/So you turned your days into nighttime/Didn’t you know you can’t make it without ever even trying? And something’s on your mind, isn’t it—and cutting enough to feel like a conversation. More than thirty years after the song was recorded, “Something On Your Mind” is balm for the wounds of the lonely two thirty AM subway rider, the recently dumped or the recently unemployed, the weary traveler, or the woolen-jacketed wanderer through a snowy Greenwich village. Her voice, an acute blend of lonely weariness and deep strength, sounds like nothing to come out before or since.

Take a listen to “Something On Your Mind,” off In My Own Time, below:

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: A Letter to Tegan and Sara

Dear Tegan and Sara,

It’s 2002 and you guys just released your third album, If It Was You. The record is a little bit “indie rock” and a little bit folk and a little bit understated pop—a combination that works like a magical key to unlocking all of your best attributes. It sounds honest and genuine. These days, people are still calling you “Lilith Fair spin-offs” and throwing around names like Ani DiFranco and Alanis Morissette in trying to categorize you, but that’s a tough thing to do when all you two truly sound like are yourselves.

A little over ten years from now, critics will praise you for your “new pop direction” and your chart-topping, synthy single “Closer.” But right now, in 2002, If It Was You couldn’t even graze the charts, and it’s not trying to. Instead, it’s just softly playing from my headphones, and I’m listening intently to your fingers slide on your guitar strings and your gritty voices leisurely singing “Love pull your sore ribs in / I will pull your tangles out.”

This is the kind of intimacy that your music allows for—no, is made for—in 2002. And in ten years when you release your third DVD, “Get Along,” a live rendition of “Living Room” (the eighth track off of If It Was You) will set the stage, introducing the entire movie. And I’ll think about whether that means that you both feel that song still encompasses you two as songwriters and musicians, more so than your most recent work.

Your most recent work today, in 2013, is Heartthrob, the complete antithesis to If It Was You. This album is laden with electronic beats and hazy synthesizers and your voices are polished and neat. You explain your evolving sound as a product of a “calculated risk:” you both sat down and discussed what you wanted as musicians (your names on the Billboard charts, your songs on the Top 40 radio stations, your live shows in arenas). You made a conscious effort to “bite off a bigger piece of the mainstream,” as Tegan put it in an interview, and you succeeded. And I’m happy that you’ve achieved what you set out to achieve.

See, I’m not writing to you to tell you that you SOLD OUT. I’m your fan in the truest sense of the word: I’ll respect and support you two even when you stray pretty far away from what I’d normally dip into. The truth is I hate Heartthrob—it feels, to me, like your work on The Con, and So Jealous, and If It Was You was able to musically highlight all the nooks and crannies of your songwriting, whereas Heartthrob simply drowns your quirks in synths. But I can’t really knock an album that was pretty universally loved by critics and blogs and most of the general population (congrats, by the way, on making so many of this year’s “Best Of 2013” lists). In the end, I just can’t help wondering if you miss the way you once sounded as much as I do.

Sincerely,

Raquel

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: John Hammond (Jr.)

When I was about 12 or 13, I was making my bi-annual visit to Grandma’s house in California. Being at the peak of my Punk-Rock-ness, I would scour through local newspapers looking for shows and record shops to alleviate my pre-teen boredom. Then I’d beg my mom to drive me to them. On one such hunt, I saw an ad for a record store in Costa Mesa called Noise Noise Noise. It was a tiny, piss-wreaking place where you had to sit on the floor to flip through the filmy milk crates full of records. I used to pray I’d find some rare, colored-vinyl, perfect condition, original pressing of The Germs or Catholic Discipline…as if the record store that specialized in Punk music wouldn’t know what they had and I’d snag it for a buck fifty. I thought I was sooo smart.

Well, I didn’t ever find anything like that for less than $40, but I did stumble upon something that I still treasure to this day. It was an original pressing of John Hammond’s first studio album from 1964. Self titled, it had a black and white photo of a young, very attractive man mid-croon, holding a guitar. I knew the name from somewhere…John Hammond. I bought it for less than five bucks anyway, knowing that my memory would kick in and I’d realize what I had at some point. Eventually the switch flipped: Bob Dylan.

John Hammond was the guy they say discovered Bob Dylan. While that is still a point of contention, Hammond did sign Dylan to Columbia records in ’61. Dylan was not well received by the label, and was referred to as “Hammond’s Folly.” Hammond also discovered Aretha Franklin, was personal friends with Benny Goodman, and active in the Civil Rights movement.

The man lived a novel-worthy life, and while I would expand on it, the record I bought was not his…it was his son’s. The record’s moniker is John Hammond, but the artist is in fact John P. Hammond, a.k.a John Hammond Jr., spawn of the famous producer and activist. Yet despite the easily reached conclusion that Jr. had it easy, being the son of a talent scout and all, he was actually raised by his mother and rarely saw John Hammond Sr.

He recorded his first album on Vanguard records when he was just 22 after dropping out of college and submerging himself in Southern Blues culture. He is one of the most respected, yet little-known white blues artists of the genre’s mid-‘60s revival, and has recorded 35 studio, and two live albums since the start of his career. The New York Times interviewed him when he was only 20. He hung out with the likes of Robbie Robertson and Jimi Hendrix, and was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame in 2011. He is also a long-time friend of one of my favorite artists of all time-Tom Waits-and released Wicked Grin in 2001, a collection of Waits covers that was produced by the gravel-mouthed Californian himself.

Despite Hammond’s irrefutable proficiency in traditional blues guitar and barrelhouse vocals, Hammond has never been a songwriter. His specialty was performing the traditional blues ballads of the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s. His style was so pure and convincing, his voice so full and deep, one would never guess he was a scrawny white boy from New York City.

When I first put on the record, I was blown away. It was so sparse, yet so full-bodied. All that could be heard was guitar, harmonica, that voice, and one, solitary foot stomping on an echoing stage. It was brilliant. Hammond’s vocal style is one of booming trains, slow-moving molasses, and good, old-fashioned pain.

While I wish I could share the whole album with you, it was incredibly difficult to find tracks from this specific record on the web. I was able to locate track five, a rendition of Big Bill Broozny’s “This Train.” Still, I highly recommend you continue the search yourselves. Maybe you’ll find something in a crusty record shop in Costa Mesa.

(Hammond is still alive, well, recording, and touring to this day.)

Tracklist:

1) Two Trains Running (McKinley Morganfield

2) Give Me A 32-20 (Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup)

3) Maybelline (Chuck Berry)

4) Louise (Mixed Sources, Plus Robert Pete Williams)

5) This Train (Big Bill Broonzy)

6) East St. Louis Blues (Furry Lewis)

7) Going Back To Florida (Lightning Hopkins)

8) Mean Old Frisco (Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup)

9) I Got A Letter This Morning (Eugene “Son” House)

10) The Hoochie Coochie Man (Muddy Waters)

11) Crossroads Blues (Robert Johnson)

12) See That My Grave Is Kept Clean (Blind Lemon Jefferson)

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Graceland

In 1986, Paul Simon released his critically acclaimed, music-history-making album Graceland. The record would make waves across the globe, topping charts in the US as well as the UK and snagging the Grammy’s Album of the Year award in ’87. We know its songs well to this day: “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes,” “You Can Call Me Al,” and, of course, “Graceland” are staples in Paul Simon’s discography. But, as many already know, the most notable aspect of Graceland’s genesis, reception, and lasting influence on musicians around the world is its firm footing in South African music.

The story of this album begins with a cassette tape of the Boyoyo Boys, a South African group that captivated Paul Simon and incited much of the inspiration that would give birth to Graceland. He was so enthralled by the sounds that he ventured to South Africa at a time when the country was still deeply in the thralls of apartheid, disregarding a United Nations cultural boycott that was fiercely supported by several popular artists at the time. It was a bold move that eventually led to a lot of criticism, but Simon was fueled solely by his artistic desire to work with the South African music he was so stirred by.

During Paul Simon’s first visit to South Africa, Nelson Mandela was still in prison. But three years after Graceland‘s release, Simon was invited by Mandela himself as the first American to play a concert in post-apartheid South Africa. Because, as Simon stated in an interview with National Geographic last year, “what was unusual about Graceland is that it was on the surface apolitical, but what it represented was the essence of the anti-apartheid in that it was a collaboration between blacks and whites to make music that people everywhere enjoyed.”

Graceland’s enormous success spotlighted the many South African musicians featured on the album and introduced to the world artists and groups like Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Ray Phiri, and The Gaza Sisters (to name just a few). Songs like “Homeless” and “I Know What I Know,” recorded in collaboration with these artists, featured traditionally South African musical styles like mbaqanga and isicathamiya, made accessible to the West by Paul Simon’s treatment. The music depicted an exuberant and colorful culture, despite coming out of a horrible and disgusting political context.

In response to the loss of Nelson Mandela, Paul Simon had this to say:

Mandela was one of the great leaders and teachers of the twentieth century. He conceived a model for mortal enemies to overcome their hatred and find a way through compassion to rebuild a nation based on truth, justice and the power of forgiveness. His passing should reignite a worldwide effort for peace.

Today, flash back to the sounds of Graceland and South Africa and celebrate the life of Nelson Mandela.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Cross-Genre Covers

In 2005, Ben Folds recorded an indie-rock cover of Dr. Dre’s 1992 gangsta rap song “Bitches Ain’t Shit.” Although the recording was a half-joke, Folds’ introspective take on the gruff, expletive-riddled track was such a massive success that he eventually got tired of playing the song and retired it from his set list, ceremonially performing “Bitches”‘s swan song at Glastonbury Festival in 2008. Interestingly enough, that very same year, Jay Z had originally been turned away by the festival–Glastonbury, its representatives claimed, focused on guitar-based music, and didn’t include hip hop acts in their line up–but wound up performing due to overwhelming demand. Unaccustomed to have festivals turn him down, the rapper retaliated. He began his set with a farcical Oasis cover, holding an electric guitar in his hands, fumbling chords, and butchering the lyrics to “Wonderwall.” When the song was finished, he looked out into the audience with a spectacular poker face. Glastonbury’s booking agents may have felt Jay Z was the wrong performer for the festival; his audience disagreed. An oceanically huge crowd went nuts at the end of the “Oasis” spoof, and screamed even louder as he launched into “99 Problems.”

All of which gets me to thinking about cross-genre covers. Both Glastonbury songs–a hip hop song played as a rock song, and a rock song played as a hip hop song–garnered a massive and positive response and poked fun–to varying extent–at the genre they emulated. They were novelties; that is, when the songs changed genre, they assumed bizarre new meaning, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, and sometimes just for the more hilarious. Without further ado, here are five more bizarre cross-genre covers of songs you’ve heard before, and now may never hear the same way again.

1. “99 Problems” by Hugo: An artist who is himself a cross-genre mash-up of sorts, Hugo Chakrabongse Levy is a half-Thai, half-British bluegrass musician who covered Jay Z’s classic song on his 2011 debut album Old Tyme Religion. Hugo’s vocals on this song sound live, with a very slight Memphis-style slapback-like sound to them, and are accompanied by a strong bass line and knee-slapping percussion and banjo. It works, channeling a slightly more sinister aspect of the song as opposed to Jay Z’s liberated, powerful original.

2. “My Humps” by Alanis Morissette: This song is simply bizarre. The original is bizarre, and the cover is bizarre in an entirely different way. Sorrowful and pretty, closely backed by a piano, Morissette’s clear and unironic enunciation of the lyrics in Black Eyed Peas’ 2005 release makes the song hilarious, even though the vocals and piano melody are quite lovely.

3. “Enter Sandman” by Iron Horse: Here’s my theory as to why bluegrass covers both metal and hip hop so well: though they’re all very different genres instrumentally, all three lend themselves to minor mode and dark thematic matter. Since 2001, Iron Horse has released eleven whole albums full of tribute material, several of which covered Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, and, as here, Metallica.

4. “Believe” by Dollar Store: As much as I love Cher, “Believe” is not my favorite–all I got out of the 1998 original was that someone in the studio was really excited about using a vocoder that day. What the track really needed was some loud-ass slide guitar. No, seriously: really unabashed, powerhouse country is the genre that “Believe” should have been recorded in all along. It just matches the song so well. There, I said it.

5. “Ghetto Supastar (That Is What You Are)” by Pras featuring Maya & Ol’ Dirty Bastard: Released in 1998, this hip hip cover of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers’ “Islands In The Stream” replaced the duo’s close-harmony pop verses with rap lyrics and kept the chorus similar to the original rendition. As it happens, though, this song is kind of a super-cover, because although Parton and Rogers recorded the song in 1983 and have since been considered its performers, “Islands” was originally written by the Bee Gees, and was named after an Ernest Hemingway novel by the same name.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Pink Moon

British folk artist Nick Drake died on November 25th, 1974. In light of the anniversary of his death, my newest installment of Flashback Friday will focus on his final album, Pink Moon.

Nick Drake was a British folk musician who is known for his distinct vocal tones, sweet melodies and haunting lyrics. On November 25th, 1974 Nick Drake overdosed on anti depressants. While it was never determined whether or not the overdose was accidental, his deep depression during this period comes across when listening to Pink Moon. Unfortunately like many tortured artists Nick Drake only achieved commercial success after his untimely death. Drake wrote three albums, Five Leaves Left (1969), Bryter Layter (1970) and Pink Moon (1972).

Pink Moon is easily the most depressing Nick Drake album, which is saying a lot. It is also one of the most underrated albums of the 70s. Contrary to his previous albums, Pink Moon is completely stripped down and minimally produced. Other than the piano solo on the title track “Pink Moon”, all that can be heard on the album are vocals and acoustic guitar.

If I could describe Pink Moon using one word it would be “simplicity”. Simple melodies, songs and lyrics characterize the 11 tracks on the album. By calling it simple I am not insinuating that Pink Moon is unsophisticated. To the contrary, Drake stripped the excess and left the important parts of the lyrics and the melodies. The lyrics are short, containing one or two verses. Although Drake was terse, the descriptive and emotionally evocative lyrics succeed in telling a genuine, relatable and moving story.

“Open up the broken cup

Let goodly sin and sunshine in

Yes that’s today

And open wide the hymns you hide

You’ll find renown while people frown” (“Thing’s Behind the Sun”)

Nick Drake was a master at creating haunting and beautiful yet simple melodies. Pink Moon exemplifies this. In “Horn”, for instance, lyrics are absent and the melody consists of a simple repetitive line on the guitar . In most of the songs on the album, the guitar pattern repeats with little to no variation. Furthermore while the piano solo on “Pink Moon” mainly consists of descending notes, it is one of the most gripping piano solos that I have ever heard. By expelling all of the flourishes and distractions from the music, the listener is able to get acquainted with the core melody of each song.

Nick Drake did not not shy away from his imperfections. Drake’s voice falters from time to time. For instance after a long verse he might throw away a note to catch his breath. He utilized a large vocal range in the album, and sometimes sounds slightly sharp when he reaches his lowest register. The best example of this is when he sings the line, “pink, pink pink pink pink moon” in “Pink Moon”. The note descends with each word. Drake is slightly sharp on the final word, “moon”. Although there are no glaring mistakes, Nick Drake’s guitar is also flawed. The imperfections however somehow add to the charm of the album by making Drake seem more relatable. This gives the album more power to evoke emotion from the listeners. Nick Drake achieved a difficult task in Pink Moon. He managed to create a masterpiece seemingly effortlessly. With simple melodies, lyrics and instrumentation, the album comes across as honest and relatable. Pink Moon is just as relevant now as it was when it was released over 40 years ago. Nick Drake has influenced a number of his contemporaries, most notably Elliott Smith, Andrew Bird and Sufjan Stevens. Check out the title track, “Pink Moon” here.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: My Morning Jacket

From humble Kentucky beginnings to performing on Saturday Night Live, cartooned appearances on American Dad, and alongside Bob Dylan on a nationwide-tour, My Morning Jacket has made it somewhere, to say the least. Their penchant for blues and folk-tinged rock captured my ears from the first time I heard them. I was sitting in Spanish class in 9th grade, out of sight of my teacher, of course. The album I was surreptitiously listening to It Still Moves, which has been out 10 years this September. Talk about feeling old. I broke the CD a long time ago, but the digital copy will always exist; Indeed, it has stood the test of time.

When I say that this is probably my favorite album of all time, it’s probably my favorite album of all time. I mean, one look at the album cover and you have a hard time saying “no” to listening to it. The songs still carry weight as if hearing them for the first time all over again. From the tropical flavored opener “Magheeta” to the magnificently somnolent (in the best way) closer “One In The Same”, to the ubiquitous track seven snoozer, there’s no “bad song”. Oh, and the fact that their usual recording spot is in a grain silo is pretty badass, to boot. Lead singer and guitar player Jim James’ arresting lyrics always fit the bill. The band would not be what it is without his reverbed crooning, adding celestial atmosphere to their songs. “Golden” captures the feelings this album elicits perfectly: barreling down a long road, going who knows where, with someone you love by your side.

Halfway through the album, their hazy, listening on a Sunday afternoon vibe, begins to crescendo into their showpiece, “One Big Holiday”. The furious tapping on the high hat at the beginning communicates to the listener exactly what’s about to go down. The music, replete with blaring guitar solos off the Richter, speaks for itself, as lyrics are minimal. Following this, the album immediately dives into the comedown track, “I Will Sing You Songs”. A song regarding a relationship nearing its’ inevitable end set to a beautiful dream-like arrangement. One of my favorite parts on the album is in the middle of “Run Thru”. Slow to rise, it takes a complete 180 with a synth heavy interlude complete with Iron Maiden style riffs. Imagine watching bread bake in the oven then a guitar rips out of the bread and blows your mind. A weird occurrence, but that’s exactly what it would be like.

The ethereal beauty of their double tracked vocals, especially on the end of “Steam Engine”, is so melodic and makes an imprint on your mind whether you like it or not. It becomes their trademark by the end of the album, and you want to hear more. It Still Moves is a sleeper, groundbreaking album: something you wouldn’t expect to move music forward. Without My Morning Jacket, I doubt the whole folk and blues-rock movement would’ve taken a turn for the better. Festivals such as Austin City Limits and Bonaroo are breeding grounds for bands of this sort, but My Morning Jacket gave them a confident voice by doing what they did.

Watch “One Big Holiday” performed at Bonaroo. They may have now traded in their T-shirts for suits, but when you get down to it, this is what My Morning Jacket is all about.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: M.I.A. – Kala

Everyone in the entire world has heard “Paper Planes” and is fully acquainted with M.I.A (a.k.a. Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam). She has claimed that guerrilla art is a huge influence on her style, and her musical influences range from Madonna and Bjork to the Clash and Public Enemy. The result of these far-ranging inspirations is more of a mélange of jumbled sounds and lyrics. However, there’s something that glues you to your headphones, anticipating the next mishmash of whatever soundboard M.I.A. decided to use that day. Her talent is evident in the leap to fame that produced her critically acclaimed second album, Kala, and various awards and nominations.

M.I.A. was born in London in 1975 but raised in Sri Lanka. The Sri Lankan Civil War was taking place, which caused much disruption and confusion in her world. Her political activist father was, as a result, often away from home, creating displacement in M.I.A.’s life. Her family eventually moved back to London where she attended art school. There she found her voice through film production, fashion and painting. She was soon showing art in galleries and having big name directors asking her to work with them. Her roommate convinced her to start recording music, and she did so on a 4-track tape machine, a groovebox, and a radio microphone. She came up with a 6-song demo which included “Galang”, a hit from her debut album Arular. Thanks to the popularity of Napster and other music-sharing programs, M.I.A. quickly became known before the album was even released. Once it was, it garnered critical acclaim and ended up on many Top 10 lists at the end of 2005.

And then there was 2007’s Kala, M.I.A.’s pièce de résistance. An amalgam of dance and world music, Kala included significantly more diverse instrumentation than previous work: traditional folk music from various countries, live instruments, and music snippets from bootlegged Indian films. She teamed up with producers Timbaland and Diplo, stars in their own right, along with Switch, her faithful co-producer. The opener “Bamboo Banga” showcases M.I.A.’s signature chanting, sometimes bordering on shrieking. “Bird Flu”, hits you like a hive full of rabid bees. Or, more appropriately, a flock of crazed birdies. Her repetitive beats get stuck in your head and provide a medium in which you can really enter the frenzied mind of M.I.A. Her flat, droney vocals make sense of her music, especially on “20 Dollar”. The song “Paper Planes”, as mentioned before, is the seventh best-selling song by a British artist in the digital era. Considering most, if not all, of our music is digital, that’s an esteemed accolade to have.

The album Kala, although not terribly old, changed the way we experience music. M.I.A. pushed the boundaries of acceptability and etiquette by today’s standards. The fact that it came out in the digital age is so appropriate, especially for her style. Would an album like this have gone over as well in 1993? Do our attention spans, historically the shortest they have ever been, have something to do with that success? We jump from idea to idea, and so does M.I.A. with her sound. Still, there is always a concept that she’s pursuing in her songs. Sometimes her music may sound dissonant to the listener, but it always comes full circle at the end.

Watch M.I.A’s “Jimmy”, here, via Youtube.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Kings of Leon “Youth and Young Manhood”

Anthony Caleb Followill, Ivan Nathan Followill and Michael Jared Followill — who go by their middle names — spent their childhood traveling the southern states while their father, Ivan Leon Followill, delivered sermons as an United Pentecostal Church pastor. As detailed in the Kings of Leon’s documentary, Talihina Sky, their father’s religion had a great influence on the family. The boys were enrolled in religious education when they were not home-schooled by their mother, Betty Ann. Eventually, Ivan became overwhelmed by his religion, which may have been a contributing factor in his divorce with Betty Ann and the boys going their own way — Caleb and Nathan moved to Nashville, Tenn., their birth state, to try their hand at music. They had performed in choirs with their church, but now that they were on their own and free of the religion’s strict hold, they began experimenting with heavy drugs and rock and roll. The two rejected the idea of a musical duo and recruited their younger brother Jared as their bassist — although at the time he had no experience with a guitar — while Caleb and Nathan would become vocalist/guitarist and drummer, respectively. Once they “kidnapped” their cousin Matthew to play guitar, the band was set.

Caleb and Nathan had signed a deal with RCA, who promised to check up on the band after a month. In that month, the brothers and cousin began planning what would become the Holy Roller Novocaine EP, a five-track offering of drug-induced hard rock with blues influence, released in 2003. The boys sang of women, narcotics and fame. Their hair was long and their bellbottoms were flared: they were the image of southern rock and rebellion. Four songs of Holy Roller Novocaine became part of the band’s first full release, Youth and Young Manhood, later that year.

The album opens with clashing guitars and drums and Caleb’s quick lyrics about a girl prostituting herself and the attitude of the men she serves. This song quickly sets the tone of the rest of the album full of smoky rooms and rock and roll. The best of the album is found in the songs riffed from Holy Roller Novocaine. “California Waiting” involved Caleb crooning about how he just wants to be alone and live his life how we wants without the influence of others. “Molly’s Chambers” was redone to a quick, hard-hitting jam about a girl who enslaves men in her “chambers” for her fun. They both hate and love this temptress. “Holy Roller Novocaine” is probably the track most straightforwardly about drugs — and also sex, of course, likely the result of many days spent in the Followill’s basement, jamming and drugging, (just like all great rock and roll, right?) The closing track ends with “Talihina Sky,” a rare, slower track for this album. The song is a homage to their hometown in Tennessee and explores the theme of leaving. Beautiful both sonically and conceptually, it is the track that they later used as the name of their documentary and is probably one of their best overall. It’s relatable in the sense of wanting to leave home, and offers a serious note regarding the themes of drugs and sex, pervasive throughout the album.

Youth and Young Manhood set Kings of Leon up on their path to stardom. It’s interesting to think that before Caleb penned 2008’s “Use Somebody,” a commercial hit, he and his family were producing music of this nature. But it’s some of their best work. The brothers and cousin revisited some of their roots with Mechanical Bull‘s “Don’t Matter,” paying homage to some of the rock that influenced them early on. Though they’ve evolved in their sound — some say “selling out” into the mainstream — they will always maintain that southern rock and roll ethos they developed in the beginning.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Burzum “Aske”

Scandinavian black metal began as direct descendant of English heavy metal acts like Venom and Bathory, the morbid younger sister of death metal and the spacey, supernatural cousin of hardcore punk. It’s a young subgenre—Mayhem’s 1987 Deathcrush EP sparked the scene in Norway in the late eighties and early nineties, and by the end of that decade, black metal had largely self-destructed. The movement adopted heavy metal lyrical styles towards darker, more occult themes, emphasizing a theatrical live show style in which musicians would perform wearing corpse paint—a more realistic take on Kiss-style stage makeup—and sometimes cut themselves on stage, carrying animal heads on sticks or flinging meat and blood into the audience. Many bands identified as Satanist, either symbolically or in practice, for shock value or in response to the mildly Lutheran Scandinavian norm. This led to a series of church burnings throughout the nineties, many of them nominally in protest of Christian churches built on top of ancient Pagan burial grounds. What began as a game of one-upmanship amongst the heavy hitters of the scene spiraled symbolic Satanism into real acts, and several of the genre’s most talented musicians’ careers were cut short by suicide, murder, prison, or alienation from the ever-increasingly extreme ideology of the movement.

No black metal bands were more prolific than Burzum, a band that put out two albums a year in 1991, 1992, and 1993, and then incrementally slowed its releases(to one every other year or so) after sole member Varg Vikernes was convicted of murdering Mayhem’s frontman, Øystein Aarseth, and incarcerated. Burzum’s Aske album, a three-track mini-LP that clocks in at a scant twenty minutes and came out in 1993, was the last Burzum release before Vikernes’ arrest. Though Aske, in typical nineties metal style, uses thick distortion and rough-edged recording techniques, it also incorporates aggressive bass lines and eighties-influenced power chords that suppress the kind of crackling, rhythmless chaos common in black metal. This actually makes the album accessible, even catchy, compared with contemporaneous releases and Burzum’s later work, which turned ambient and fully electronic while he was in jail and, not having access to an electric guitar, switched to recording on a synthesizer.

Despite strong riffs and an instrumental balance that, although too polished for purists, lent complexity and depth to the record, Aske was underwhelming. This was partially due to its length—the three songs felt like build-up; were it a standard-length album, things would have had plenty of time to get interesting—and partially due to the fact that Burzum valued shock value over musical integrity on this LP. Early in his career, Vikernes expressed his world views in a general sort of way (“Only Transylvanian pussy will do!” reads a Burzum interview conducted by an unknown metal zine, sometime in 1993. “Hail Saddam Hussein! Hail Hitler! Make war, not love!”) However, when the epidemic of church burnings in Norway, beginning around 1992, came to be attributed to Satanist black metal musicians, Varg Vikernes seemed to begin to consider himself more activist than musician. Around the time the Aske album was released, Vikernes was busy giving newspapers anonymous interviews and fending off an arrest for his alleged burning of the Fantoft Stave Church, a prominent, nearly-nine-hundred-year-old cathedral in Bergen, Norway. Vikernes was ultimately found not guilty of that crime, though he was convicted in two other church burning cases, and the album cover for Aske pictured the Fantoft Stave church in flames. Burzum extolled the church burnings in songs and distributed Aske merch, with the same image that appears on the album cover, like t shirts, poster and—you guessed it—lighters.

It’s possible to talk about Burzum’s first two albums without getting into their attending politics. In later releases, Burzum proved more true to political themes than to genre, and has recently released only totally electronic albums. Vikernes divorced himself from black metal long ago, though he helped create it. “Yet again I have left behind the metal genre and have chosen a different path—but for no other reason than me following my Pagan spirit willingly to wherever it takes me,” Vikernes wrote this year in his blog, which I don’t recommend reading unless you want to be deeply offended from about six different angles. Aske follows the musical trajectory laid out by Burzum’s releases, but the shift is clear: this LP is the first of many, many albums the band put out in which the music falls secondary to the message.

Tag: flashback friday