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For your safety, all references to Alanis Morissette's Under Rug Swept have been quarantined here.
Just before the end of 2002, Joe Strummer, most notably of the Clash but also of the Mescaleros, died at the age of 50. His untimely death, following the heels of the similarly untimely deaths of Joey and Dee Dee Ramone, unleashed a critical mass of eulogies for punk and, indeed, rock as a whole. If rock continued to matter after the Clash broke up, and the reasoning insinuated that it didn't, it certainly no longer mattered now. For Christ's sake. The people preaching that rock died with Strummer are in many cases the same people scoffing at the debut record from Avril Lavigne. Let Go has been a fixture in the top ten since its release half a year ago; its first single, "Complicated," was a #1 pop hit. Avril dresses up in second-hand clothes and has a bunch of skater freaks in her videos. Those who breathe street cred feel it's a pose. They see the ready-for-MTV look and roll their eyes, cranking up the new Bad Religion record. They're missing the point. That fight is over. There is no longer Influenced By MTV vs. Not Influenced By MTV, there is only On MTV vs. Not On MTV. MTV won. It's no longer worthwhile to judge artists based on their artistic or distributive connections to MTV. If that's too complex to understand, look at it this way. If you were to head down to your local rock show -- last May, let's say -- and found Avril Lavigne up on stage, belting out "Losing Grip," angry and trenchant, you would be in fucking awe. No, wait, let's break that down some. You get there and she's already into her set. She's tiny but her melodic, tuneful yelling somehow pushes her out from her backing band. Her obviously Canadian inflection reminds you of the parts of Jagged Little Pill you still like. A lot of people aren't paying attention and you find yourself wondering why. You find your friend Matt near the bar and ask him who this is. "April something," he says, because he's stoned, like always. "She's fucking 15." And now you can't believe it (and you shouldn't; she's just turned 17). A few more songs go by and the awe diminishes a little. She does some kind of ill-advised rap thing on a song called "Nobody's Fool," though you do kind of believe her when she says she flows. When she closes the set with "Sk8er Boi" -- you somehow know it's spelled like that, even though you've yet to see the song's title written -- you're not sure what to think. A part of you is thinking, Jesus, it's like a 16-year-old wrote that stuff; another part is thinking, wow, a 16-year-old wrote that stuff. And that has to be where it begins and ends. This is music about the inside of a 16-year-old girl's head, soaked in peers and suffocating in small town Canada. How dare we ask it to be not-16 when it's 16-ness is so vital and crisp? Were we never 16? Did we never invest ourselves in crushes and warn the world we were coming so watch the fuck out? There are problems here, certainly. This is probably a record that shouldn't have been made, at least not in this way. Its success is in many ways predicated on its production and success like this is rarely good for an artist coming right out of the gate. When she sings, "It may take all friggin' day," on "My World," you know that's not what she wants to say. You know L.A. Reid or one of the producers at the Matrix said let's change that or worse, she's internalized the business so much that they didn't have to. The Arista marketeers slapped a skate-punk label on her that she's been trying to shake off in interviews but that's not too likely to work and thus, the people most likely to dis marketing are the people most likely not to look past it. But this is a capable and worthy debut, a strong piece of work in a year dominated by fluff and indifference. Whether liking the material or not, people should be able to understand that and I pity those who can't.
Something like a million years ago, Pearl Jam signed a seven-album contract with Epic Records. Riot Act is the seventh album; PJ are free agents now. Listening to this album, I have absolutely no idea what they're going to do. They've made consecutive mediocre records for the first time and the fervor that kept 1998's Yield from being similarly mediocre appears to be a thing of the past. In the collapsed-timeline way the 90's correspond to the 60's, this might be where Pearl Jam becomes strictly a touring act, reliving their glory in front of county fair audiences from Spokane to Valdosta. And it's so sad. Eddie the introspective howler has become Eddie the clichéd social commentator. Stone Gossard is writing the lazy, back porch tunes that I'd hoped would be for his solo material only. Jeff Ament is probably still wearing that hat. Even at that, though, it's not bad. It's not Creed or anything so unthinkable; it far outpaces the various rock bands that are making a living aping Ten. But the meandering, organated "Love Boat Captain" shouldn't be the record's high point; it should be serving the purpose here that "Nothingman" served on Vitalogy. When the band tries to win back some of the standing they lost in the Nader debacle, "Bushleaguer" is what happens. Now, it's no secret that I am as anti-Bush as they come, but come on. Thematically, they're treading three-year-old ground -- Bush is the sleepy-eyed son of privilege? Alert the press! -- and musically, well, musically they try to let the theme speak for itself. The lead single, "I Am Mine," is lilting and sweet and would be a great start if there was anything behind it. So now I don't know what to think. Pearl Jam is part of my memory of youth, a band I would take to that desert island. But if they don't care anymore, can I?
I saw Johnny Cash on Larry King Live a few weeks ago and to be honest, I can't believe he's still alive. He spent an hour or so just rambling, answering questions that were clearly unrelated to what King had asked. His face has the look of abandoned pottery; his hair, perhaps appropriately, is little more than a ripe cotton boll. I was surprised when I read that he and producer Rick Rubin would be making a fourth in their series of collaborations. I mean, everybody loves a trilogy, right? Not to mention the guy'd just had a stroke -- could he, should he try to do it again? The choice of material was certainly going to be a key factor in the record's success or failure, moreso than previously because of Cash's frailty. One way or another, the late desperation in his voice was going to effect the album. The point song on the album -- a thematic follow-up to covers of Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage" and U2's "One" on previous outings -- is Cash's version of nine inch nails' "hurt." The inclusion of these songs is a move that borders on cynical but it works because it's reasonable to believe Cash is actually into the material and because he really pours himself into it. "hurt" works here, as do "The Man Comes Around," "Sam Hall" and "Hung My Head." But "Danny Boy" is a bit of a misstep and the duet with Fiona Apple on "Bridge Over Troubled Water" is a colossal disaster. This record probably isn't the best way to end a career but it is probably the best chance Johnny Cash will have to go out on top. As hit-or-miss as it is, it makes for a fine swan song.
nine inch nails / still Considering they've only put out three proper albums, nine inch nails have managed to maintain a remarkably high release profile for over a decade. Factor in singles, EP's, remix projects, soundtrack appearances and videos and they've never quite gone away. This year's big release was the and all that could have been live project. It was released in four versions: double DVD, double VHS, stand-alone CD and deluxe CD, which included the nine-track still CD. I went to the tour that was the basis for the project and jumped on the DVD when it came out. All things considered, the Fragility 2.0 tour was fairly restrained. Beyond standard stage lights, the only set decoration was a trio of enormous video screens which displayed, during a section of the show, a video art piece by Bill Viola. The DVD includes a commentary from Viola and some behind the scenes information on his work. I found the piece very interesting when I saw it live, so getting some explanation for it was nice. For its part, the concert footage looks great and sounds better than the live CD. I would've liked to have seen some of the band's videos included, at least those to come out since 1997's closure home video, but whatcha gonna do? Also on the DVD is some studio footage from the recording of still. still is, for my money, probably the most interesting record of the year; it's the closest thing NIN is likely to make to an acoustic record. It includes severely stripped-down versions of "something i can never have," "the fragile," "the becoming" and "the day the world went away," as well as five new tracks. Those who eschewed the live CD for the DVD (or for nothing, for that matter) could order still seperately from nin.com. Perhaps the best thing still does is showcase Trent Reznor's musical ability. He's on the piano for all these songs, with most of the bleep and blip devices left on the shelf. Strangely, what it reminds me most of is Jay-Z's Unplugged appearance with the Roots, except really, really cold. The old songs, especially "the becoming," are full of warmth and vitality; the new material is icy. It's a great listen for late, winter nights but I'm not sure what it says about NIN's musical future. I'm pretty sure it won't be terribly commercial, though. |
Avril Lavigne / 
Pearl Jam / Riot Act
Johnny Cash / American IV: The Man Comes Around
nine inch nails / and all that could have been