Every year since I started this blog, I put myself through a soul-wrenching struggle to create a satisfying “best-of” list. I don’t have too much trouble coming up with representative entries. That aspect is mostly a matter of record-keeping, which kind of takes care of itself in the process of writing. Ordering these titles in a way that will stand the test of time, however, is a bit more difficult. Occasionally, some albums that I have ranked very highly in their respective years have not come off of the shelf much since, while other lower ranked entries and honorable mentions have proven to be more durable.
Creating a “best-of” list retroactively for a year gone by is no less problematic, but the issues of accuracy and durability seem to be inverted. This is especially the case in the early oughts, as record stores were still kind of a thing. If I did not purchase an album on Amazon back then, I have few definitive calendrical references for what I was listening to and when. The slippery nature of memory resists definitive sequencing, making accuracy a primary concern. Once I can sketch out a clear picture of what was in rotation during a given year, however, hindsight allows these selections to fall into order relatively easily.
The list for 2005, however, has been probably the biggest struggle yet. The records from that year hang in between online purchases and record store walk-ins. Stitching these together with my memory episodes was particularly difficult because I was existing at the crossroads between being a band director, a graduate student in ethnomusicology, and being increasingly involved in my "significant other's" world.
10. Green Carnation - Light of Day, Day of Darkness: I listened to this hour-long track a whole lot in 2005 on my old Zen player as I walked to Cross-Cultural Ensemble rehearsal with my Stick strapped across my back. Although I have not listened to it much since, upon revision I found it pleasantly familiar, if a bit thin in the production department.
9. Porcupine Tree - Deadwing: Although it may not be apparent from Lazarus, which is included above, Deadwing was Porcupine Tree’s heaviest album to date. It also followed their most commercially successful album and I have always felt that the writing, which is still more nuanced than most, suffered a bit under the burden of following its standard.
8. Panjabi MC - Beware: By 2005, my ethnomusicological studies had given me a deepened appreciation for intercultural popular music and a growing interest in the music of India. Not only did Beware sit at the intersection of these two fields, it was catchy enough to win over my significant other.
7. The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema: Although I had been introduced to The New Pornographers during my late 90's power pop jag, it was 2005 before I wandered into a record store in Massachusetts and picked up Twin Cinema. I have been a staunch advocate ever since.
6. Frank Zappa - Studio Tan: Zappa’s music was always finding its way from used CD bins into my collection during the oughts, so although his music was ever-present, it is nearly impossible to unravel specific dates. I do know for certain, however, that I took a Summer class on the music of Frank Zappa in 2005 and Studio Tan was in heavy rotation during that time, along with Broadway the Hard Way and several volumes of the You Can’t Do That on Stage Anymore series.
5. Fountains of Wayne - Utopia Parkway: Perhaps one of the best post-Jellyfish power pop albums in my collection, mostly because it is stylistically distinct. For the most part, Fountains of Wayne relies on outstanding songwriting more than overt semiotic nostalgia for their success.
4. Ramnad Krishnan - Vidwan: Music of South India: Songs of the Carnatic Tradition: On the suggestion of my Indian music teacher, this was the first album of Indian classical music that I ever purchased. Although I started unpacking it in 2005, I am still unraveling its nuances.
3. Rumah Sakit - Rumah Sakit: To this day, the details about Rumah Sakit remain vague - they are references to them everywhere, but it is difficult to pin down their origins and history. Nevertheless, my expanding appreciation for rhythmic complexity in Indian music allowed this album to spark my interest in so-called "math rock."
2. The White Stripes - Elephant: In direct contrast to all of the deeply complex stuff I was into in 2005, Elephant's focus on low-technique rock songwriting rose to the top of the heap. Pardon the video in the playlist, by the way - I will always remember showing that to the Pop Music and American Culture class I was TA for a couple of years later.
I did not expect the Little One to connect so strongly with theBatman score when I reviewed it earlier this month, but she surely did. She got some exposure to Batman and the whole DC pantheon through the
animated Justice League series this summer on Netflix, and it seems to have provided her with enough context to give Elfman’s
relatively complex orchestral compositions some meaning. Once I told her that we were “listening to Batman” in the car, she grinned and wiggled, cheering on his imaginary exploits. After that, Batman became a repeated request. Excited and intrigued by her interest, I wanted to see if I could stretch it further. The next logical step was Superman, who has always been her favorite. John Williams’ Superman March signifies as much about that character to me as Elfman’s theme does about Batman. With very little introduction, she immediately took to this composition – in fact, it seems to have deepened her interest in the Superman character.
Superhero themes seemed to be her "way in" for orchestral music. Most of the other characters that she knows well have not been well-developed in the cinema, however, and therefore do not have a definitive theme attached to them – certainly not one that could exist in the same “world” as the work of Williams or Elfman. Even Spider-man, who does have well-developed movies, is not associated with any particularly memorable themes.
I decided to take it upon myself to “create” some great superhero themes for her by recontextualizing music from orchestral literature and soundtracks. This would be a somewhat sneaky way to get her listening to good examples of the style while enriching her expanding superhero world.
Some rules began to emerge:
The composition had to have a clear melody that she could identify out of context.
It would need to be between two and five minutes long to satisfy her attention span.
I did not want to take it upon myself to edit down great works, so I felt like any composition would have to be self-encapsulated, although a movement from a larger work would still be acceptable.
Using theme music from already existing sources would be acceptable as long as it was from a work that would most likely not play a big role in her childhood (which immediately ruled out Star Wars).
The music had to co-exist in the same “world” as the Williams and Elfman compositions, which ruled out the dated 70’s Wonder Woman theme or the campy theme from the late 60’s Spider-Man cartoon.
I wanted to avoid playing musical “favorites” if I could, which meant that I couldn’t just give in to my temptation to run to John Williams for everything.
Finally, it had to be something that I could take listening to repeatedly, perhaps even endlessly, because I most assuredly would.
I plunged into my own library, pulling out everything that I could that might fit these constraints, while simultaneously taking informal polls through social media. I was listening for themes that might fit well with the superheroes that she currently knows by name: Spider-Man, Wonder Woman, The Flash, and Green Lantern. Very early on, I thought I had a lock on Spider-Man with Havendance by David Holsinger.
I have had lots of music education experiences with this song, and it seemed to capture lots of aspects of the character. It has both heroic themes and sneaky, quiet sections that dance nimbly through jarring, arrhythmic time signatures. Part of me felt that it might be a bit too long to hold her attention as a singular composition, though, and perhaps a bit too bombastic for the character. Still, I clung to the song.
As I was searching for fast, driving songs for The Flash, however, I decided that Frank Zappa’s orchestral rendition of G-Spot Tornadofrom The Yellow Shark sessions was the one. Admittedly, the track pushes the length barrier to its limits, but it is also exciting, agile, and angular enough to represent the “Spiderness” of Peter Parker’s alter ego. Plus, how many other opportunities would I get to expose her to Zappa that wouldn’t require an in-depth discussion of his usually outrageous and sometimes offensive satire?
Despite the somewhat shocking video (which she will not see for many, many years) it was too good a musical match to pass up, so I planted the seed. One evening I asked her “how Spider-man went” and she looked at me quizzically. I sang the first couple of riffs from G-Spot Tornado (with a little quirky dance to drive it home) and she smiled. I left it at that. Next time we were in the car during our usual Superman and Batman playlist, I suggested we “listen to Spider-man.” She really, really liked it, dancing uncontrollably in her car seat and giggling. When I looked over my shoulder, she excitedly exclaimed “this is Spider-man!”
Success.
To see the origin story of this project, click HERE.
To go to the next post, click HERE.
Traditionally, I am not possessed by school spirit, but I do like playing drums. Who doesn't? Last year, at the school district's annual "employee pep rally," I hid in plain sight by beating the skins like a rabid gorilla. This maneuver was so successful that I received several requests from my campus coworkers for repeat performance at this year’s pep rally. Sounds easy enough - I show up at 8:30 am to make my contribution to the school by playing drums really, really loud. Everybody wins.
The evening previous, however, my wife’s obstetrician had set up an ominous sonogram appointment with our perinatalist at 7:30 am. With our daughter’s due date just ten days away, an early call like that rang with a bit of urgency. There was the possibility that it was nothing, but it was enough to ensure a bit of a sleepless night.
That morning, I set up a pretty rickety set of last-second arrangements with some staff members and, perhaps naively, envisioned myself beating the odds by walking into the gym and playing the part of the dutiful school band director at the last possible minute. For this to pass, my wife and I went early and in separate cars to the appointment. When she pulled up beside me in the empty parking lot, I grinned and rolled down the window with this blasting through the speakers. .
Her perplexed reaction was pretty much what you think it might have been, and, as you might suspect, it was particularly satisfying.
This track is from Tyondai Braxton’s 2009 album Central Market, which I have had on the radar since I heard he left Battles. As much as I have been shaking my fist at the sky over his departure, I have also been keen to extract and isolate the role that Braxton played in the group. It seemed totally insane to me that anyone who is interested in producing contemporary avant garde music would walk away from the experimental success of Mirrored.
Central Market, however, seems to go much further than mere experimentalism. It blurs the traditionally Euclidean division between chamber music and rock in a way that was simply not possible within the confines of Braxton’s previous project. When I began spinning it at the beginning it this month, the album’s playful energy and symphonic palate immediately brought Zappa’s orchestral work to mind: an oeuvre that is a source of constant inspiration to me. I can't help but post this amazing piece as an example.
Although Zappa’s background and subsequent “day job” was as a rock musician, his passion was the orchestra. Through little more than a few trips to the library and a whole lot of creativity, he created a unique style that, I thought, might have been more of an aberration in the chamber music repertoire than a new postmodern direction. Braxton’s Central Market confounds this assumption by harnessing a similar, but distinctive, conceptual vitality.
It’s not all strings, kazoos, and sixteenth note triplets, though. Additionally, Central Market sometimes bears a striking sonic resemblance the second side of King Crimson’s Three of a Perfect Pair from 1984, a distinctively noisy part of the 80s Crimson repertoire. This live performance of Dead Strings, Central Market’s closing track, shows Braxton looping up a cacophonous cyborg storm.
I think that many solo careers are supported more by the ego of the artist than true creative vision. A few artists, though, seem to be justified in going solo, simply because their musical concept spills beyond the possibilities of their originating projects. Although his track record is pretty short as of now, Central Market might indicate that Braxton fits into this category.
Dead Strings was playing as I pulled into the hospital’s parking garage at 8:45. Needless to say, I never made it to the pep rally. The perinatalist immediately sent us to the hospital, where, for the next eighteen hours, selections from Central Market danced through my head. The next day, still dressed in my band t-shirt and khakis, I was the proud first-time father of a healthy baby girl.
What happened at the hospital is another story.....