Dr. Spin's Top 20 for 2018 part 1: Missing the HEEB.

Thanksgiving was a little different this year. In lieu of the annual family trip down to the coast, which has grown prohibitively expensive, we stayed in a historic home in Gonzalez, Texas. The location was not as picturesque, but we were in no way lacking. In addition to the unexpectedly rich history of the town, there was the usual good food and family time, which is the most important aspect of the holiday. During dinner, a relative whom I have not seen in a while asked me what it was I missed most about Austin. I responded, without hesitation: “H.E.B.!”

Of course, the reality is much more complicated than that. There is much that I miss about life in Austin, but is it sometimes hard to tease out whether those things are really about living in Austin or only having one child. Life seemed easier in Austin, but we moved to Denton very shortly after EJ was born, and O surprised us not long after that. I love both of them fiercely, but to be real, having three kids is a exponentially harder than having one, especially when two of them are young. Memories of Austin are bound up with the mobility that having a small family affords. If we had stayed, I think that life would have been even more complex than it is now with a larger family.

Sure, there are things that I objectively miss about Austin, but by and large life has been better since moving to Denton. Our existence here feels permeated by potential for further growth, both for me and the members of my family.

Thanksgiving means one other thing: the first post of my year-end “best albums” list. As usual, I am revealing entries #11-20, with the top 10 showing up before year’s end. Inclusion in the “best albums” list is not dependent on release date - just on the album’s musical merits and its capacity to map to personal events in 2018.

Press "play" and read on.

20. John Powell & John Williams - Solo: A Star Wars Story OST: Powell’s soundtrack singlehandedly inspired me to watch the unfairly criticized Han Solo movie in the first place. In the long term, it actually got more plays than Williams’ masterful but conceptually dense soundtrack to The Last Jedi.

19. Park Jiha - Communion: Jiha’s exploration of the common ground between traditional Korean instruments and ethereal jazz continued to command my attention for a good part of the year. Its mostly soothing, sometimes jarring, but always engaging.

18. Cayucas - Bigfoot: When guests came over in 2018, this was usually the first album I put on. Bigfoot stays light and accessible while frolicking in the joys of songcraft.

17. The Barock Project - Skyline: This album suffered the classic progressive rock arc. At first I was convinced it was a dud, but the amazing musicianship that drives the album reveals itself through many focused listens.

16. Hans Zimmer & Benjamin Wallfisch - Blade Runner 2049 OST: Zimmer and Wallfisch’s vast, arresting soundscapes broadened the scope of this Blade Runner sequel, and it maintains its compelling affect as a free-standing piece. The inclusion of Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley serve as stylistic interludes throughout, but the final end credits “single” Almost Human nearly tanks the whole experience.

15. Shugo Tokumaru - In Focus?: This super-quirky pop album deserves all the listens it can garner. Its twists and turns threaten to derail the whole experience, but its overall vibe is so playful that it holds together in spite of itself.

14. The Knells - Knells II: Employing a classically trained women’s trio as the lead voice in the band may seem like the selling point here, but the careful arrangements sometime threaten to flatten their emotive potential. The Lifeson-inspired guitar playing of Andrew McKenna Lee functions as a compelling counterbalance.

13. The Wagakki Band - Vocaloid Sanmai: Perhaps my interest in the Wagakki Band’s J-rock on the traditional tip is a bit indulgent, but I have developed a genuine appreciation for their arranging skills and melodic approach. In the end, they get my nerd-rock award for the year.

12. Phoenix - Bankrupt!:  As a power pop entity, Phoenix deserves way more credit than I have given them. I have really come to love Bankrupt!'s too-hip synth pop and am looking forward to delving further into their catalog in the near future.

11. Burial - Untrue: Despite its origins as a piece of DIY electronica, Untrue is a deeply enveloping experience. Its time-stretched vocals and stuttering drums seemingly reach into the night and pull in vividly melancholic environments from rainy, neon-lit street corners.

Spring Semester Roundup: Setting Roots in Heavy Weather

A little over a year ago, in the midst of the job search and EJ’s impending birth, I got so far behind on the blog that I finally dedicated one of my quarterly roundups to just catching up.  I have been using the blog to explore my history in recent weeks, which has kept it active, but I am at the point at which all the current events in my life have stacked up.  I am overwhelmed as to where to start. This roundup, then, will not only serve to record the music I've been listening to since spring break, but also the myriad events that have been happening up until now.

I’ll begin with My 94 year old grandmother moving up to Denton.  She found a good independent living facility very close to our house.  It has been very good to see her more regularly, especially with the girls.  My parents were to move up shortly thereafter into a house they were building outside of Aubrey, and in the midst of this move, my grandmother fell and broke her hip.  Mom traveled back and forth between here and Austin help her through this ordeal while my Dad finalized packing and selling the house - a dynamic not unlike that of my wife and I last Summer as I started my new job.

Concurrently, we are mere weeks away from the birth of our third child.  While EJ’s pregnancy was more difficult for my wife in the first trimester, our son has been harder on her in the third.  She has been battling insomnia, sleepwalking, and, more recently, high blood pressure.  Bedrest is in the forecast.  To say that we are ready for him to be born is an understatement.  Even though there will undoubtedly be the usual sleep deprivation and stress that occur with a newborn, the impact that he has had on my wife’s health has been worrying.  I, for one, am ready to see her recovery underway.  

The glue that held this whole crazy situation together has been my parents.  As difficult as our move was last year, their move has been as difficult if not more so.  They have selflessly dealt with my grandmother’s rehabilitation and helped an incredible amount with navigating my wife’s condition.  I can't tell you how fortunate I am to have them.

So clearly, there's a lot going on, with this stuff mostly playing in the background:

Michael Giacchino - Rouge One OST: Giacchino  has the unenviable job of being the first composer score a Star Wars movie other than John Williams. He does a respectable job, and although William’s distinctive touch is noticeably absent, the Rouge One OST checks enough boxes to decently fit into the world’s musical canon.

High Tides - High Tides:  A low-fi sequel to M83’s Dead Cities, Red Seas, & Lost Ghosts.  It is perhaps a testament to the power of suggestion that analog synth music, which was once so closely associated with science fiction themes, could be employed so effectively to evoke a nostalgic Baywatch sunset.

Dungen - Allas Sak:  The biggest fault with Dungen is that they are consistently great, and due to that, paradoxically, I don’t give them enough credit.  I got Allas Sak a couple of years ago on a whim and it didn’t stick, but I revisited it and I think it is something special.

The New Pornographers - Whiteout Conditions:  Also another band that is consistently great and have never really released a bad album.  Although they have an identifiable sound, they are clever with finding new and subtle variations on this formula that make each album distinct from the others.

Mew - Visuals:  As far as the writing goes, Visuals is significantly more consistent than its predecessor +/-.  The distinctive guitar playing of Bo Madsen is noticeably absent, however, and I miss the angular grit that he contributed to the band’s dreamy atmospheres.

Seabuckthorn - Turns. There's something very unique about this album, which I bought with the intention of employing as a late night feeding soundtrack for kid #3.  Turns centers on acoustic guitar, but the environments did it creates reach way beyond any preconceived notions of an acoustic guitar album. .

Johann Johannsson - Orphee: Johannson’s haunting soundtrack for Arrival inspired me to investigate his freestanding works, again with number 3 in mind.  My wife thought it was Sigur Ros, which wasn’t really a bad guess - Orphee captures a similar Icelandic desolation.

Sounds in Between - Identity Crisis. This album includes one of my former bandmates from Ethnos. He plays the oud on the album, which is a beautiful instrument with a distinctive range that is very difficult to balance in a lead role in a more Western setting.

Kayo Dot: Plastic Houses and Empty Rooms

Kayo Dot started showing up on my radar last spring on the casual suggestion of a reader who was a fan of their earlier “avant-metal” work. Then the eye-catching album art for the their upcoming release started inexplicably appearing on my feed, followed by previews that described evocative “Twin Peaks” atmospheres. These and other subtle suggestions continued until eventually, without even hearing a note, Plastic House at Base of Sky superseded Radiohead’s A Moon Shaped Pool as my most anticipated release this summer as we revved up to move out of Austin.

I submitted to the chaos of impenetrable cross-town traffic for the last time, and Plastic House at Base of Sky revealed itself to be an engaging example of what happens when an experimental metal group decides to hang up growling vocals and blast beats in lieu of apocalyptic anime soundscapes. Using synth textures that recall the heyday of the DX-7, it blurs the lines between guitar and keyboard like Beat-era King Crimson while unapologetically bringing contemporary technique to bear on old-school Simmons electric drum sounds.



Unlike the sleek elegance of 80s King Crimson, however, Plastic House at Base of Sky allows the density of Zappa’s synclavier experiments to collide with the chanting, gothic vocal approach of Toby Driver in a shoegazey smog. In its thicker moments, this texture teeters on cacophony, which imbues its more focused moments with meaning and power. While I am not sure if I totally buy into the “Twin Peaks” comparison, there is a dark, haunting quality to the album that might evoke David Lynch’s unsettling visual approach.

While I will not miss the traffic in Austin, I will definitely miss our house on the hill. Although I knew that leaving would be hard, the move out of the house ended up being more haunting and unsettling than I anticipated. After the movers were gone, I became acutely aware that it would be the last day that I will ever see the inside of that house. I felt my gut sink.

P’s room was particularly heartbreaking. EJ’s room had been a guest room since we moved in, and had only recently evolved into “the nursery” since she was born. P’s room, however, had always been just hers. It was the place that she grew from infancy to a full-fledged member of our team and, more recently, into a big sister. It’s pink accent wall, faux chandelier, white furniture, and Minnie Mouse trundle bed came to reflect her emerging personality.

As I stood in the empty room, these hidden memories the came out to play. I realized that I was not only saying goodbye to the space, but also to the infant that she was when we moved in. I had to go outside and I did not go back. That was it.



Then the next day, very quietly so as not to wake her and the rest of my family, I left my parent’s house in Austin at 5:30 AM with the dog as my navigator to embark on our new life in Denton. It seemed like the person who wrote about the events that led to us building and moving into our house on the hill four years ago was very far away, and I was stepping into a haze of uncertainty. Out of all this chaos, however, I am convinced that our new life will emerge with greater power and meaning. As for P, her new room will undoubtedly reflect the young lady she will become as she enters kindergarten - a person that will blossom from the child she was in our the little house on the hill.

Finding a Job: Frost*'s "Falling Satellites"

If you read between the lines on my last couple of posts, it might be apparent as to why I have not posted much in the last few months. I was the one who instigated my family’s move, but as of my last post, I still did not have a job. My lack of success weighed heavily. Despite nearly twenty years of band directing experience, the application process was gruelling, frustrating, and often disheartening. It took precedence over working out, practicing, writing, and almost everything else besides daily family duties.  I felt like any moment I spent away from hammering on applications was a missed opportunity that might have serious repercussions for my family's future.

There were lots of times I wondered if it were the right thing to do. Although my band program was in no way perfect, I was very proud of the successes that we had. Things had changed at my school over the past couple of years, however, and the once positive environment on my campus had devolved. It had become routine for students to disrespect and refuse instruction with very little consequence. I did the best I could to keep that culture out of the band hall, but ultimately I could not fight the tide. I spent a lot of time and energy dealing with behavior issues while good students withered on the vine.  I still felt the conviction to continue shepherding those who sought excellence, but I could not stay in that environment without burning out before retirement. I needed a change

Out of respect for my campus and the good of my kids, though, I had to submit my resignation without actually having any interviews in line. I was committed. I finally landed a very positive interview in a small district within commuting distance of Denton. The program is in need of restructuring, and my previous position allowed me to speak with some experience on the challenges ahead. After the interview, I felt quite confident that I was going to land the job.

I had made plans to go to aikido class in Denton that evening, but I had some free time to kill and I found myself on the square. One of the things I will definitely miss in Austin is going to record stores like Waterloo and End of an Ear to browse the ever-shrinking CD selections, so predictably, I dropped in to Mad World Records. I knew that most of their CD selection is reused, so I was not expecting to find much. I was shocked, however, to find that they had Falling Satellites, the most recent Frost* disc, on the shelf.  Bonus points for them!

I enjoyed Frost*’s debut Milliontown quite a bit several years ago. I always had the sense that, although it would be hard to confuse the two, fans of Morse-era Spock’s Beard would find a lot to like in Frost*. Keyboardist and primary composer Jem Godfrey’s vocals share some timbral similarities with Morse, and the band plays with an energy that recalls the Beard’s driving, rhythmically disorienting instrumental side. In fact, if the Beard had not found success in their current line-up, it’s fun to play “what-if” games with Godfrey leading the band.

Despite my respect and admiration for their work, I did not follow them with much vigor after Milliontown. Falling Satellites received enthusiastic accolades on one of my usual online progressive rock resources, however, and also featured a guest solo by Joe Satriani. These two things earned it a spot on my wish list, and a physical copy sitting on a record store shelf on such a potentially momentous day was just too good to pass up.

>

Falling Satellites is a dense listen, much more so than Milliontown. Like the best progressive rock, it takes time to get familiar enough with its complexity to see the album’s best aspects. It does, however, have plenty of attention-grabbing passages, both in terms of virtuosity and production. If Frost* were not so clearly led by Godfrey’s keyboard playing, they might even border on prog-metal in some sections. Despite its intensity, however, Falling Satellites sounds very clean, perhaps so much that at times, it loses its edge and teeters on sterility. Overall, however, Frost* comes off more like a particularly fleet-fingered Collins-era Genesis.



Joe Satriani’s appearance is, as expected, fleeting, improvised, and probably mailed in. It is but a moment on the album, but it is a joy to hear nonetheless (below at 3:20). That is to take nothing away from the fantastic work of regular Frost* guitarist John Mitchell, who I have followed since Arena’s The Visitor, but Satriani is a phenomenal player that pushes the possibilities of rock guitar into new realms as a matter of course. Like the best jazz musicians, he takes a few very simple musical ideas and expands them into a full solo.


After floating around the square with Falling Satellites in hand, I made my way back to the car to head towards the dojo On the way, I received a message that I would be offered the job. Without question, I accepted the offer and put another piece of the Denton puzzle in place. It still doesn’t seem real - but what is very real is that I have been able to let go of the application nightmare I had been living in for months. That is a true relief.

The Fall of Uber: Paul Simon and Sloan

In my previous post, I alluded to some issues that have arisen surrounding my life in Austin.  A big one is the rising cost of living.  Since we have moved into our house on the hill, my little family has lived just at the edge (if not just a little beyond) our means.  Life in Austin has continued to become more and more expensive, and the climate of the city does not seem in the least bit concerned.  The general public walks around the town with dollar signs in their eyes, constantly jabbering into the air about investments, entrepreneurship, and start-ups.  Meanwhile, we teachers sometimes struggle to find space in our financial plans to get healthy groceries into the fridge.  To try to do something about this latter issue, I spent some of my evenings last summer driving for Uber.  Very often, a late evening spent driving around on the weekend would produce our grocery money for the following week.

There are, of course, tales to tell of my Uber encounters, but by and large the experience was not particularly eventful.  I picked up my passengers, made conversation if it seemed that they were the type, stayed quiet if they were not, and dropped them off as quickly and efficiently as possible.  I maintained good ratings, which is all-important to the Uber driver, but I probably could have had more success if I had added some bells and whistles.  I was not the kind of serious driver that would provide water and gum for their clients - or an auxiliary cable for them to hijack my car stereo.

That just seemed wrong.

Being that I was generally sensitive to the ears of the public, the vast majority of passengers did not care.  In fact, the CD in the player generated conversation and provided the impetus for discussions that I could invest in.  I did find people’s reactions to my selections to be an unending source of interest.  Although I could usually rely on Deadmau5 and other nondescript electronica as my go-to, one evening I was feeling a bit selfish and decided to slip in Paul Simon’s greatest hits compilation Negotiations and Love Songs.  I was pleasantly surprised by the positive feedback.  One particularly silent client even went so far as to thank me for providing a “musical experience” that evening. Negotiations and Love Songs evolved into a consistent crowd pleaser, and reminded me that no matter how much Paul Simon you happen to be listening to, it's probably not enough.  

 

Of course, I was not always so accommodating.  I avoided the avant-garde, but my Uber experiences did give me some space to indulge in lesser known but still accessible artists.  With so much driving time, there were many recordings that came to define "Uber-ing," but none more than Sloan’s The Double Cross.   I was a fan of Sloan’s 1998 release Navy Blues, but it played its role for me back then and I did not follow them further.  I finally followed up with The Double Cross last summer, and it was a constant presence in the player.  Many passengers reacted positively towards it, and the more musically minded of them enjoyed discussing Sloan’s long history and perceived influences.

As the summer drew to a close and the new school year started ramping up, I decided that in the long run, Uber was not really worth it from a financial standpoint.  It could provide some easy cash on a week-to-week basis, but when gas and taxes were figured in it seemed I was barely breaking even.  It was still a nice option to have, however, just in case I did need a little extra cash.

But that is no longer possible.  Earlier this year, fears about passenger safety led the City of Austin to propose required fingerprinting for all Uber drivers. Keep in mind, Uber already had its own background check system in place, and certainly, a few nutjobs could have slipped through.  In my experience, however, the vast majority of Uber drivers were people just like me - hardworking people who were just trying to make ends meet in any way they could.

I personally didn't care about fingerprinting. I have nothing to hide.  Uber, however, did not want to comply with this proposition, stating that such checks would be prohibitively expensive and, perhaps more importantly, an unacceptable government regulation.  When put to a vote, the city’s proposition won and Uber left town rather than complying with the new policy.  Then the whole city started complaining about losing the service.

Sound dumb?  It was.

It is no secret that the cab companies hated the Uber service, and without a doubt it was their lobbying that pushed the image of the sex-crazed Uber felon to the forefront of the argument.  The reality was that negative incidents were extremely few and far between, and generally not any worse than having a bad waiter.  It was yet another example of an uninformed minority making decisions for the majority.  It seemed like there was no way it would pass.

But it did, and I suspect that Uber’s campaign to defeat the proposition was partially its undoing.  I was cold called by the company no less than five times in an attempt to secure my vote.  By the time the polls opened, I was so annoyed by their constant spamming that even I was waffling on my position.  Certainly other less invested people would have been reluctant to support such a pushy company.  If Uber would have saved the money they spent on securing the public and instead just complied with the fingerprinting regulation, we might still be able to use the service to get around.

Now, due to stupidity on all sides, we don’t have it at all - another glaring example of what has gone wrong with Austin.  Don’t misunderstand, I am not leaving Austin because Uber got shut down.  Austin has become the kind of place, however, in which an out-of-touch elite makes decisions that impact the average person in ways that he or she cannot counteract.  That is not the place that I grew up in - or particularly want to live.

Moving, Bobgoblin, and "Denton Escape Velocity"

Many years ago, when I had barely been playing Chapman Stick for a matter of months, a jazz pianist friend of mine (whom we shall refer to as “Breakfast”) was kind enough to invite me out to play in a pizza joint on the square with Paul Slavens. I just barely stumbled through the gig. I am not sure what I played, and in retrospect I am sure there were some embarrassing moments, but I made it, nonetheless. I distinctively remember playing a song called Denton Escape Velocity, which described a fascinating phenomenon: it is possible to leave Denton, but you have to be going REALLY fast. Otherwise, you just get sucked back into orbit. As are many of Slavens’ best songs, it was satirical, funny, and inarguably true. Many people who leave Denton seem to come back.

I moved to Denton in 1989 to go to UNT, and I stayed in the city’s orbit for nearly twenty years. When my wife and I finally left the metroplex in 2008, I thought for sure that I had reached Denton Escape Velocity and that my path would lead me away from my second home. I was wrong.

There have been several issues with our life in Austin that have become impossible to ignore.  I have been increasingly dissatisfied with aspects of my position.  The rising cost of living in the city has made it impossible to subsist on our teacher’s salaries.  We have not found a sustainable plan for getting P into kindergarten that doesn’t turn her into a latchkey kid at age 5. These and other nagging problems made the idea of a change more and more appealing. My wife and I began putting out some feelers in Austin, Houston, and the northern DFW metroplex to see if we could land something that would resolve some of these problems. Being an elementary art teacher, she got the first real bite.

And don’t you know where it was?

Denton.

She was offered a position at a brand new elementary school in a reputable district, and we decided that she should accept. Not only would she take the lead at a new school, but she felt so confident in the school’s philosophy that we both felt comfortable about P attending with her. Additionally, P and EJ could grow up in Denton, which is more like the Austin of my youth than the ridiculously overcrowded, overpriced, self-important, bloated mess that the city has sadly become. I would much rather let my kids make fond memories of dancing the polka to Brave Combo at Denton’s Christmas Tree Lighting on the Square than inhaling car fumes at the Trail of Lights.

Seems oddly fitting, then, that after almost two decades, one of my favorite bands from Denton’s big live music boom of the 90s has released a new album this year. Back when I played with Fletcher, we had a few projects that we openly supported whenever we could, and one of them was Bobgoblin. They had all the accessible punk-pop aesthetic of Green Day, but tempered it firmly with the virtuosity, intensity, and intellect of Rush. Plus, they wore uniforms.



They were a great live act whose musicianship far exceeded any superficial preconceptions surrounding the punky style in which they played. I particularly remember finding it difficult to take my attention away from drummer Rob Avsharian. His playing was always a presence, and often a subtle one. He was Bobgoblin’s spark plug, not unlike Terry Bozzio was when he played with the Missing Persons in the 80s. Avsharian could energize a relatively straightforward rhythm simply by aggressively nailing it deep in the pocket, but he could also throw out highly technical and melodic passages when it served the song.

Bobgoblin had a major release in 1997 called the 12-Point Master Plan that deserves its own dedicated post at some point, but for now let’s suffice it to say that it was and still is personal favorite. Since then, the band has been active at varying levels and in different forms, but no plans for a new full-length Bobgoblin release have ever been announced - until recently.

Several months ago, plans for the release of Love Lost for Blood Lust, the first full Bobgoblin album in nearly twenty years, began to surface. Early recordings were posted and taken down.  Partial digital releases were teased on Amazon and other major outlets.  Finally, earlier this year, the album was released in full form on disc.  I ordered it directly from the Bobgoblin site and amazingly, it picks up right where the band left off. The consistency between it and its predecessor belies the decades-long gap that exists between them – a continuity that stands in tribute to Bobgoblin’s unwavering mission statement.



It is important to note, however, that Love Lost for Blood Lust is not a rework of the 12-Point Master Plan. It is a more mature album, but as with most things Bobgoblin, its maturity is only subtly revealed. Superficially, they still present themselves a purveyors of angular, riff-driven, intensely delivered power pop with a countercultural edge. Inside these infectious tunes, however, hide dense production, complex rhythms, and an almost sarcastic mastery of the power chord’s harmonic ambiguity. None of these features are new to Bobgoblin, of course, but they are expressed on this album in way that suggests decades worth of consideration, rather than a spontaneous rehash.



Love Lost for Blood Lust has the sense that it is a labor of love made for long time fans of the band, with the optimistic undercurrent of raising visibility in the process. It is certainly being released to a much different world than its predecessor. Gone are the days of beating the streets to get a record deal and getting gypped by the company. For better or for worse, artists today have much more creative control over their work and often have a direct line toward their audience. I for one am very grateful to have the opportunity to dip my toe in 90s nostalgia without living in the past as I end one era of my life and usher in another.