Goddamnit Morrissey

Morrissey is again courting charges of racism with his claim that the Chinese are a "subspecies." It’s hardly the first time he’s made such provocations (around the sixth, I believe), and further indication that his admirable sympathy for animals outweighs his respect for people with darker skin than himself. It’s extremely dispiriting that a man of Morrissey’s intellect has learned nothing from previous controversies.

So what now? Morrissey has already released this non-apology

If anyone has seen the horrific and unwatchable footage of the Chinese cat and dog trade – animals skinned alive – then they could not possibly argue in favour of China as a caring nation. There are no animal protection laws in China and this results in the worst animal abuse and cruelty on the planet. It is indefensible.

About which he is largely correct. But his willingness to paint the situation in terms of racial inferiority is at issue, not the live skinning of animals. Even his statement, which deems--I'm moving his words around here, but I think the meaning is present--the Chinese to be uncaring and cruel. As someone who cares about human and animal rights, I'm aware that horrible abuses take place in that country, but I don't think these abuses are due to subhuman characteristics, or that all Chinese people are responsible for what was likely decided by a small coterie of Beijing bureaucrats.

The Guardian’s Tom Clark notes that, as a singer, we can hardly call on Morrissey to resign. As a fan, I don’t even want that; his trio of 00’s releases, Years Of Refusal, Ringleader of the Tormentors, and You Are the Quarry, were all good-to-great, his best album-length product since the 80’s. Questionable lyrics have cropped up throughout his career—why exhort us to anti-DJ violence in “Panic,” and why doesn’t the “Bengali In Platforms” belong “here”? Although I don't many detect nativist sympathies, many hear them in "The National Front Disco."

These lyrics, along with the public statements Morrissey has made, are difficult to square with his embrace of his Hispanic fanbase. He dedicated 1999's Oye Esteban! tour to these fans, and famously procalimed he wished he was born Mexican. His 2004 comeback single, “First Of The Gang To Die,” was about a charming latino gangster.

I find it extremely odd that Morrissey adores the ethnic group who personify immigration in the United States, where he lived for nearly a decade, while vilifying British immigrants, as he did in 2008. Perhaps, as is so often the case with those who loudly denounce immigration, Morrissey simply doesn’t know the Britons of Bengali descent or Chinese people that he denounces. Maybe if, as with Mexican-Americans, large groups of British minorities became Morrissey fans, he might question his prejudices.

Maybe. But if Chinese people--or anyone else--decide they never want to hear from Morrissey again, I can't say I'd blame them.

The Favorite Music of Nathan Sacks, 2009

1. Future Of The Left, Travels With Myself and Another
With harder riffs, a fiercer and more macabre sense of humor, and a singer who possesses the rare gift of turning screams of disgust and anguish into catchy hooks, no album excited or amused me more (check out the conversation about great prison breaks in American film in "Lapsed Catholics"). Funny, provocative and unsettling, this album and its first song, "Arming Eritrea," became the Bible by which I now choose to deal with condescending individuals in D.C.

2. Raekwon, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx II
I've written in-depth about this album before. Suffice to say it more than makes up for its lack of any cohesive musical or narrative structure with sheer artfulness and craftsmanship on the part of Rae, Ghost, Meth, Deck and the rest. Hundreds of beautiful moments, anchored by Rae's streetwise sense of detail and buoyed by the still-fecund mind of the late J. Dilla.

3. Grizzly Bear, Veckatimest
Not a bad song in this collection of sly, virtuosic tone poems, proving that experimental music utilizing devotional church-type harmonies is the kind of gambit that virtually requires repeated listens. Primo art rock, and tuneful, too.

4. Them Crooked Vultures, Them Crooked Vultures
I've written about this album in-depth as well. I can't account for its middling reception from critics, except to note that most of them seem to think that Homme doesn't have the chops or the songwriting skills to merit playing with a rhythm section of Grohl/Jones' caliber. These critics are stupid and completely, 100% wrong about Homme. This album is an intense, enormously rewarding journey in the most classic rock sense.

5. Tyondai Braxton, Central Market
This experimental, orchestral solo work from Battles' leader basically jettisons whatever remote pop instincts that group had in favor of more virtuosic passages of avant-garde noise. I enjoyed it enormously in the same way I enjoy a lot of Frank Zappa's longer fusion works. Not necessarily tunes that are containable in one's head, but eminently listenable if you are in the mood. If you're a fan of 10+ minute songs, this has one very good one.

6. The Almighty Defenders, The Almighty Defenders
What looks to be a one-off collaboration between the Black Lips and the King Khan & BBQ Show has yielded this enormously impressive album. These soul-influenced lo-fi punkers and their songs of heartbreak and transcendence make this album the best of the year to drink alone to.

7. The xx, xx
This band gets my award for "debut album of the year that doesn't sound at all like a debut album." Smartly sequenced and immaculately produced, this album proves that all you need to carry a tune is a boy, a girl, and a bass, and everything else is merely timbre.

8. Passion Pit, Manners
I understand that this album is basically the aural equivalent of high-sugar junk food, and some of the songs are only a few D.O.C. samples away from becoming straight jock jams. Still, as I always say, one can't argue with effectiveness. The opening 25 seconds of "Little Secrets"? There's nothing that came out this year that gets me more pumped.

9. Morrissey, Years Of Refusal
Morrissey's solo work this decade has yielded a lot of quality returns, but a lot of it still has the sort of jangle-by-numbers quality that has marred (heh heh) most of his post-Smiths oeuvre. Though Jeff Beck's work on "Black Cloud" is lax and "I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris" is too damn short, this album may be the best and most creative he's ever made, and the final two tracks in particular may be his best solo songwriting, ever.

10. Wale, Attention Deficit
Not a perfect album, unfortunately, which may make it sound like I am trying to affect some annoying sort of critical hometown boosterism now that I have relocated. I assure you this is not the case. Wale's flow isn't 100% spot-on, but he is one of the most intelligent and likable new rappers out there, and I guarantee you no other rap album sounds like this: if you want to know what D.C. contributes to the rap game sonics-wise, and you need an introduction, best start here. There will be more to come.

Aaron's Favorites, 2009

1. Dinosaur Jr, Farm
At first the songs seemed too long, the lyrics lazy even by Mascis standards. But beneath his slacker veneer, J has always been a perfectionist, a weird visionary for a sugary thrash no other band even dares attempt. Turns out the extended jams and warm production just give Dinosaur--as good a trio as has ever lumbered--more room to soar.

2. The-Dream, Love Vs. Money
An update of Dirty Mind in the post-crunk era. Unlike the Purple One, Dream isn't a game-changer, but he and collaborator Tricky Stewart's lavish, gorgeous songwriting--interlocking beds of synths, loverman coos, gang chants, and elastic rhythms--is miles ahead of the competition.

3. Wye Oak, The Knot
Wye Oak's 2007 debut was an often beautiful, occasionally awkward shotgun marriage of folk and shoegaze. The Baltimore duo's second disc tends towards the latter, and goes places the band simply couldn't two years ago. Jenn Wasner's plaintive vocals still keep both feet on the ground. Her guitar's mournful too, but the fucking thing sounds massive.

4. Morrissey, Years Of Refusal
"All you need is me," our hero intones, brashly. I believe him. As a vocalist, he's untouchable--operatic, masculine, nimble--and his band powers through the album's fantastic rockers and only slightly less-great ballads with aplomb. Oscar Wilde's favorite album of 2009.

5. Amadou and Mariam, Welcome To Mali
Vocalist/guitarist/songwriter Amadou Bagayoko and his vocalist/songwriter wife Mariam write songs completely their own--ringing and clear, with melodies at once accessible and elusive. An all-world set of collaborators help bring their visions to vivid life.

6. Sonic Youth, The Eternal
No new tricks here, but SY sound fiercer than they have in ages. Thurston Moore and Lee Ronaldo's fuzz-squall alchemy continues, with some typically cool-sounding vocals on top.

7. Raekwon, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, Part II
Unlike many of his peers, Rae has never been a natural on the mic. But what he lacks in the agility department he makes up with pure grit. OB4CL2 is miles better than its predecessor, just harder, with better beats, ace guest rappers, and some brutal OG wisdom.

8. Flaming Lips, Embryonic
Mindfuck music, in the form of an unexpected and very welcome left turn. Shit, it's not anthemic even once! While one of your speakers spools out bad-trip synths, the other blasts nightmare bass and spider guitar.

9. The xx, The xx
The sound of slow burn. These absurdly young upstarts make lust music, somehow synthesizing the aims of Sparhawk and Timbaland while infusing their songs with a potent negative space.

10. Camera Obscura, My Maudlin Career
Expert indie-pop. Tracyanne and Co. have spent as much time studying the C86 songbook as their purely heart-pained colleagues, but The Obscura have evolved into a symphonic, even muscular mope-rock outfit.

Feel The Paean

I've been listening to 1993's No Alternative compilation recently. It's hit and miss, and outtakes and live versions make up a third of the comp, but mostly it's pretty sweet: The Smashing Pumpkins' "Glynis" reminds you how actually really talented Billy Corgan used to be, bands I wasn't familiar with like The Verlaines and Barbara Manning and the San Francisco Seals turn in good work, American Music Club further convince me I really need to start listening to them and Nirvana's "Verse Chorus Verse" is Nirvana's "Verse Chorus Verse".

The undisputable highlight, however, is Pavement's "Unseen Power Of The Picket Fence." In an ealier attempt to write about NA from a slightly different angle, I noted that the track

might be the single best song the band ever did, a paean to R.E.M.'s Reckoning so good it bests nearly everything on that album. You haven't lived until you've heard S.M. shout "'Time After Time' was my least favorite song. 'Time After Time' was my least favorite song!"

And I stand behind that. I've listened to a lot of M.B.V., but I don't think I've ever heard guitars woozier than the ones that open "Unseen Power Of The Picket Fence," all metallic clang and hazy swoosh. Malkmus' vocal performance is pretty restrained, really stoned-sounding, and he never really betrays his love of Reckoning in his straight-faced yelps (we know of course that SM adored R.E.M. and especially Reckoning, from the lyrics but also from the fact that his band would cover "Camera" in 1994, albeit somewhat poorly). The song trudges forward, its rhythm section barely discernible as Malkmus narrates the R.E.M. story confusingly, mentioning Chronic Town but omitting Murmur and listing about half the songs on the record. In the next part--you could hardly call them verses and the song's structure eludes me--Malkmus describes the band in a way that does his (and Stipe's) lyrical elusiveness justice while succinctly capturing at least three-fourths of R.E.M.:

The singer, he had long hair
And the drummer he knew restraint
And the bass man he had all the right moves
And the guitar player was no saint

From there, the song evokes William Tecumseh Sherman and launches into a coda featuring what would appear to be Civil War Soldiers shouting to one another about wagons and artillery. At this point the metallic sounds pulsate dissonantly, a weird but convincing evocation of Sothern Gothic. It's its own beast; nothing even Pavement did has ever sounded like "Unseen Power Of The Picket Fence."

I've been thinking about the track recently, partly because I think about it a lot, partly because it was the first Pavement song I ever heard, but mostly because I've been listening to another love letter to an album in song form, The-Dream's "Kelly's 12 Play."

I should say that I think Love Vs. Money, the album which features "Kelly's 12 Play" as its last track, is easily one of the best albums I've heard in 2009. I haven't been obsessing over new releases lately, but the only discs I've heard this calendar year that I've liked as much are Morrissey's pissed yet stately Years Of Refusal and Amadou and Mariam's incredible Welcome To Mali (nerds may quibble that Mali was released in the Old World last year).

The song is a sultry R&B jam about how Dream and his lady enjoy doing the nasty to R. Kelly's much-loved sophomore album 12 Play (the disc features such classily-titled jams as "Freak Dat Booty," "I Like The Crotch On You" and "Sex Me Pts. 1 & 2"). The lyrics are nothing special--the rote loverman persona The-Dream adopts is the most boring thing about his album--but the production buzzes and whirrs magnificently. It sounds sexy and sterile, a thoroughly chopped and screwed affair probably too weird to release as a single. But it's great, and I'm happy to know that the kids are still paying respect to the old masters.

[stream] The-Dream "Kelly's 12 Play"
(I can't find a video or stream of "Unseen Power"; both No Alternative and the much-expanded L.A.'s Desert Origins reissue of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain contain the track)
***
Earlier in the post, I mention that I already tried to write about No Alternative. I was trying to compare the superior NA to 2009's inferior Dark Was The Night. It came of as rambling, but I would still like to make the following point about the latter compilation, lifted from those ramblings:

Pitchfork, among others, has taken pains to stress that the album represents a survey of indie in 2009. I've been offended because the compilation highlights indie's often boring but very popular folk-pop strain. It also hurts that the tracklisting leaves out nearly ever artist I enjoy and respect in the underground. Still, it's weird that nothing even vaguely resembling punk rock, the music that birthed and has often sustained the underground, makes an appearance. That Beach House (covering Queen!), were relegated to the digital-only version of the album is another slap in the face.