After several years, I have picked up this series where I left off, with some speculation of the role that Andy Sturmer played on Puffy Ami Yumi's Nice (2003).
To go back for a refresher, the first post is here.
The previous entry is here.
It’s probably not a surprise that a significant gap has emerged since I posted celebrating the birth of O, our third child. My output became similarly sparse after EJ was born last year, but I was hoping that my discovery of voice-to-text dictation would have granted me a little more productivity. I admit, though, that I spent what little quiet time I had watching and speculating on the new Twin Peaks season, and my thoughts on that experience could be its own post, if not its own blog. So in this time, of course, much has happened. Little O is fine, and much cheerier than his colicky older sister was at this same stage in her development. These days, however, EJ is a super happy-go-lucky kid and is part-timing in the toddler program at a local Montessori school. P has finally settled into a life in Denton, starting first grade at the local neighborhood school which is literally around the corner from our house. Marching season has started, so my days start early and end late. I still have not given up on reinventing Ethnos and pursuing a musical outlet for myself, but this endeavor is on hold, at least until the end of marching season. I am, however, still trying to make it to the dojo a couple of times a week to train and teach. Additionally, my wife has begun pursuing a long-time goal of attaining her PhD, and I am very proud of her being brave enough to step into this endeavor. If all this sounds busy and demanding, it is, but we have surrounded ourselves with an interesting and diverse village of people to act as extra hands when needed. Although I am usually apologetic when the busyness of life causes gaps in my blogging to arise, this time I feel more forgiving of myself. Still, it is also important to me to capture and document this time and its associated music. This summary is particularly long this time because it includes the music I purchased with my Father’s Day gift cards, way back around the time when Little O was born, so push play below, read on, and minimize to hear the whole list.
Xylorous White - Goats: An interesting intercultural lute/drumset project that ended up being far more improvisational than I had anticipated. The jury is still out on whether White’s restless drumming is a boon or a bane. Roger Waters - Is This the World We Really Want?: Despite being largely up to his old tricks, Waters makes a surprisingly respectable stab at remaining relevant. Ever tenacious, he downplays melody for subversive lyrics and bleak soundscapes. Rupert Gregson-Williams - Wonder Woman OST: A few years ago, I adopted Paledouris’ theme from Conan the Barbarian Cas Wonder Woman’s theme song. Gregson-Williams’ score for the 2017 movie features the same melodic strengths and warlike drumming that inspired that choice. Talking Heads - Speaking in Tongues: While I experience most Talking Heads albums relatively free of nostalgia, Burning Down the House is very securely set in my middle school years. Although I think it's safe to say that I would not have connected with the album back then, I find it quite an enjoyable listen now. Anathema - The Optimist: This album’s predecessor was a strong favorite in 2015. There is a lot to like on The Optimist, but it hasn’t gripped me in nearly the same way. Tim Bowness - Lost in the Ghost Light: Stylistically, Tim Bowness owes a lot to mid-period Genesis, and his penchant for storytelling and syrupy voice brings to mind Fish’s softer moments. There is a sense, however, that his melodic approach is limited. TV Eyes: A great send-up of 80’s era synth-pop by Jellyfish alumni Jason Falkner and Roger Joseph Manning Jr. This American release has a few remixes on the album, however, that bring the whole experience down a notch. Accordo del Contrari - Violatto Intatto: This band is nostalgic towards Italian progressive rock in the same way that Tame Impala is to 70’s psychedelia and M83 is to 80s new romanticism. Violatto Intatto is a nostalgic distillation of all that was great about that very distinct branch of prog rock. The Fleet Foxes - Crack-Up: While Crack-Up undoubtedly recaptures the open ambience that The Fleet Foxes have come to be known for, it also broadens the band’s scope into nonstandard songwriting. Its an album that rewards patience and attention. Tom Waits - Swordfishtrombones: Every few years, I get another Tom Waits album, and rarely am I disappointed. He was, and is, a musical mad scientist that can take the ugliest sounds and make them beautiful. Contact - Zero Moment: An amazing synth-rock project that features the drummer from 2016 favorite Zombi. The melodic material on Zero Moment is incredibly strong and executed with no small amount of intensity. The Amazing - Gentle Stream: This album also has a noticeable nostalgic sound, no surprise due to the presence of the guitarist from Dungen. The Amazing is more straightforward than Dungen, but are no less entertaining. Shearwater - Jet Plane and Oxbow: This album came on the tails of a top twenty album from 2013. Again, it hits a lot of the same marks but falls short of recapturing what I loved about its predecessor. There is much more to say about these albums, but as is usually the case when I get backed up, it is hard to know where to start. If any of my readership is interested in seeing a more focused look at any of the above albums, please let me know.
Jason Falkner’s solo debut solidified him as a power pop icon in my book, and his relatively marginal status turned me into a staunch advocate of his work. It’s worth mentioning here that Falkner was also a contributing member of The Grays, and it was around this point in the timeline that I obtained my first copy of their singular release Ro Sham Bo. Creating a family tree based on the comings and goings of this power pop supergroup would also have some interesting results, but it would prohibitively widen the scope of this particular project. I have already dedicated a post to Ro Sham Bo that I am still quite fond of, but I think it would be irresponsible not to directly mention The Grays in any discussion related to Jellyfish and Jason Falkner. .
Jason Falkner released his second solo album Can You Still Feel? in 1999. The album boasted a step forward in terms of production, undoubtedly due to the presence of Nigel Godrich. His production made the entire experience far more textured than its predecessor, perhaps overly so. I think that the effort to polish these tracks buffed out some of the grit that made Presents Author Unknown so engaging. In any case, Can You Still Feel? still retained the vast array of musical nuance that is Falkner’s stylistic trademark. At times, the wider production expands his work to nearly symphonic proportions.
As was the unfortunate trend among Jellyfish-related projects, Can You Still Feel? did not get much push from the record company. Like many artists in the late 90s, Falkner lost his recording contract due to weak sales which, like many artists, were the result of poor record label promotion - the most common and infuriating catch-22 from that era! Probably discouraged (speculation, of course), he faded a bit into the background as a solo artist. The astute, however, could catch his name popping up on various projects as a producer and performer. Despite taking a step back from the spotlight, he did have a short-form solo release in 2004 in the form of the Bliss Descending EP.
At that point, I don’t think that Falkner was trying too hard to break into a larger audience. Bliss Descending was quietly released to those that were paying attention. Where Can You Still Feel? was Falkner’s most overt attempt at a big studio record, Bliss Descending was quite its opposite. The songs were not lacking in their usual level of detail, but Falkner’s performances were more casual than they had been, and the production was somewhat informal. This laid-back, relaxed approach opened up an introspective side of Falkner that actually served Bliss Descending rather well.
The woes and disappointments of being an immensely talented and hardworking musician during the late 90s and early 00's were undoubtedly very frustrating for Falkner. This was a transitory time in popular music, when record company dominance was slowly giving way to the more recent independent artist models that we see today. For Falkner, the future probably seemed very unclear, if not bleak. He would not release another full-length album for awhile, and his strategy for keeping himself afloat in this chaotic period would make it even longer for that record to become readily available in the States. I tried to stay aware of Falkner's career, but there was activity amongst other branches in the Jellyfish family tree that would garner my attention.
To refresh yourself on where we have come from, click here.
To go on to the next post, head here.
I posted last year about my history with Brendan Benson’s catalog, but I left out a tidbit of information that only now, within the context of this Jellyfish project, gains relevance. It is true that I discovered his debut quite accidentally and purchased it sight on scene, but here's the "LOST" flashback: When I cracked it open and began checking out the liner notes, I was stunned to find that several of the songs were co-written with Jason Falkner. By 1997, Presents Author Unknown had already earned Falkner a spot in my all-time greats list, and listening to One Mississippi with an ear for his influence undoubtedly contributed to my adoration of that album. Benson became another of my power pop favorites, and I have loyally followed him ever since.
As far as continuity, that criminally underviewed post on Benson would probably make more sense as the next entry in this Jellyfish-related series, but I'm addressing his most recent release in its stead. In truth, it’s been awhile since Falkner’s name has appeared in Benson’s liner notes, and his most recent release What Kind of World does bear Falkner’s influence, but not so much his direct input. I still hearits traces floating around in Benson’s songcraft, but the album’s darker setting evokes Benson’s interactions with Jack White more readily than Falkner’s vivacious energy. Regardless, Benson does have ties to Jellyfish through Falkner, and as such, deserves a dedicated branch on the their Family Tree.
Virtually every release from Benson since One Mississippi has been immediately rock-solid for me, but my experience with What Kind of World has been a bit different. Although it exhibits the same great songwriting and slick wordplay found on all of Benson’s releases, its relatively somber approach was a bit perplexing, and not just initially. It was a while before I became comfortable letting go of the carefree aesthetic of his past work. Certainly, the video for Pretty Baby reveals a very dark, and somewhat disturbing, interpretation of the song’s lyrics that did not fit with my preconceptions of Benson’s work.
Still, I never quite closed the door on What Kind of World. It kept finding its way back into the player, and I began to notice traces of Benson's freewheeling past in several songs - instances that were somehow eclipsed by the album’s more solemn moments. It took a little adjustment to smooth over these extremes. As always, however, Benson proves to be quite adept at infusing each of his albums with a definitive, unifying character. The disposition of that character is a bit more moody on What Kind of World, but it is still defined enough to bring the album together as a singular experience.
Because it follows My Old, Familiar Friend, which might be my favorite album from Benson to date, What Kind of World has a lot to live up to. In the end, however, like all of Benson’s releases, it is a phenomenal entry into the power pop canon. It is also a very recent manifestation of the long-term influence that Jellyfish continues to have in that genre, as well as my own listening interests.
The previous post in the Jellyfish Family Tree is here.
To skip to the next one, you have but to click here.
Although the sign on my door said “Assistant Band Director,” I was taking an indulgent moment to cling to my past career as a rock star, and for that fleeting moment, I was feeling pretty confident. The refrain from Radiohead’sStreet Spirit (Fade Out)was dying away in the speakers, and I had nailed it on piano by ear in the first run-though. I was actually quite impressed with the elegant simplicity of the song and, emboldened, I put in another favorite:Follow Me from Jason Falkner’s 1996 release Presents Author Unknown. As seemingly simple and catchy as the song was, I thought that I might have similar success.
I was dead wrong.
Within the first twenty seconds, Falkner left me and my remedial harmonic piano vocabulary in the dust. I fumbled helplessly as it fiendishly twisted and turned through inversions and secondary dominants, and I simply could not keep up. By the song’s end, I wasn't even convinced I knew what key it was in, and what little confidence Radiohead had granted me had been shattered.
Falkner came to my attention on the suggestion of my friend Paul, the drummer for The Days, when I was playing with Fletcher. I was not teaching regularly until after my stint as a semi-professional musician had ended, though, so I must have had the album for quite awhile before this episode made me realize just how sophisticated it was. It ended up becoming an album that easily rivals Jellyfish’s original releases in terms of my esteem.
After this humbling piano encounter, I decided that I needed to examine the album further on a more familiar instrument, so I began to run through its tracklist on bass. This still took a little bit of note-taking. I began to realize that, despite being quite accessible, all of Falkner’s songs simmer with vast nuance just below the surface. Additionally, like on almost all of his solo work, Falkner plays virtually every instrument on Presents Author Unknown. The dedicated listener can find dozens and dozens of incredible compositional twists and masterful performances littered across the album’s short span.
There were lots of rumors in the Jellyfish fan base as to the details of Falkner’s split from Jellyfish, but they all seem to agree that, despite contributing an irreplaceable guitar voice to the group, he was an underutilized talent. In retrospect, I don't know that there was a good solution for incorporating him into the band. With a little imagination, I could imagine a couple of songs from Presents Author Unknown reinterpreted within the strict structures of Jellyfish’s identity, but overall, Falkner’s work has too much personality on its own to fit into Jellyfish’s retro-pop mission statement. Listening to Presents Author Unknown, it’s quite obvious to me that that he was that band’s George Harrison: a sparkling, innovative songwriter in his own right that simply did not have the space to shine between the interpersonal pressure of his bandmates.
Like many of these albums on the Jellyfish Family Tree, I have not listened to Presents Author Unknown in several years, and its exuberant energy and impossibly sophisticated songcraft still
blows me away. It is a criminally underrated power pop masterpiece
that I would gladly put on my short list of desert island albums.
To go to the previous post in the project, click here
To jump ahead, click here.
Jason Falkner’s solo debut solidified him as a power pop icon in my book, and his relatively marginal status turned me into a staunch advocate of his work. It’s worth mentioning here that Falkner was also a contributing member of The Grays, and it was around this point in the timeline that I obtained my first copy of their singular release Ro Sham Bo. Creating a family tree based on the comings and goings of this power pop supergroup would also have some interesting results, but it would prohibitively widen the scope of this particular project. I have already dedicated a post to Ro Sham Bo that I am still quite fond of, but I think it would be irresponsible not to directly mention The Grays in any discussion related to Jellyfish and Jason Falkner. .
Jason Falkner released his second solo album Can You Still Feel? in 1999. The album boasted a step forward in terms of production, undoubtedly due to the presence of Nigel Godrich. His production made the entire experience far more textured than its predecessor, perhaps overly so. I think that the effort to polish these tracks buffed out some of the grit that made Presents Author Unknown so engaging. In any case, Can You Still Feel? still retained the vast array of musical nuance that is Falkner’s stylistic trademark. At times, the wider production expands his work to nearly symphonic proportions. 
At that point, I don’t think that Falkner was trying too hard to break into a larger audience. Bliss Descending was quietly released to those that were paying attention. Where Can You Still Feel? was Falkner’s most overt attempt at a big studio record, Bliss Descending was quite its opposite. The songs were not lacking in their usual level of detail, but Falkner’s performances were more casual than they had been, and the production was somewhat informal. This laid-back, relaxed approach opened up an introspective side of Falkner that actually served Bliss Descending rather well. 
As far as continuity, that criminally underviewed post on Benson would probably make more sense as the next entry in this Jellyfish-related series, but I'm addressing his most recent release in its stead. In truth, it’s been awhile since Falkner’s name has appeared in Benson’s liner notes, and his most recent release What Kind of World does bear Falkner’s influence, but not so much his direct input. I still hear its traces floating around in Benson’s songcraft, but the album’s darker setting evokes Benson’s interactions with Jack White more readily than Falkner’s vivacious energy. Regardless, Benson does have ties to Jellyfish through Falkner, and as such, deserves a dedicated branch on the their Family Tree. 
Although the sign on my door said “Assistant Band Director,” I was taking an indulgent moment to cling to my past career as a rock star, and for that fleeting moment, I was feeling pretty confident. The refrain from Radiohead’s Street Spirit (Fade Out) was dying away in the speakers, and I had nailed it on piano by ear in the first run-though. I was actually quite impressed with the elegant simplicity of the song and, emboldened, I put in another favorite: Follow Me from Jason Falkner’s 1996 release Presents Author Unknown. As seemingly simple and catchy as the song was, I thought that I might have similar success.
I was dead wrong.