1) A Tribe Called Quest -Low End Theory
2) Black Star -Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star
3) Hieroglyphics -Third Eye Vision
3a) Souls of Mischief -93 ‘Til Infinity
4) Common Sense -Resurrection
5) Notorious B.I.G. - Ready to Die
I have a confession to make. I fucking love Tom Petty.
I know I shouldn’t say that because I’m a Pretentious Record Store Guy and Tom Petty should be enjoyed only in an ironic way that trivializes the mainstream and uses the false facade of irony as a substitute for nostalgic appreciation for the things that our parents loved and held dear, but that’s not the case. What I should really say is that Nick Cave is the greatest songwriter in the world not named Bob Dylan and that Dylan peaked in the late 60s, but honestly I’ve been thinking about it long and hard and I can’t come to any other conclusion except that Tom Petty is a genius.
Every one of Tom Petty’s songs is filled to the brim with California surfer zen nuggets of wisdom. Petty just drops these little gems of goodness as an aside so you don’t even realize how utterly brilliant he is until you one day your car gets rear ended and the rental they give you only has a radio in it and silence gets old after a while so you pop on the radio and Tom Petty comes on and whispers to you that:
“The waiting is the hardest part.”
or what about:
“Even the losers get lucky sometime”
and
“Running down a dream is sometimes further than it seems.”
And these are only a few of the gems I’m referring to. In life, everyone throws the word genius around like every little creative endeavor is a work of art, but the Prententious Record Store Guy thinks that most art is shit, and is undeserving of the title of “Art” and that real genius is hardly ever appreciated in it’s time, so for the PRSG to deem Petty a genius and at the same time make a complete about face from his pretentious tendencies to do so, well that is an act that should go noticed. And since Pretentious Record Store Guy is a self appointed expert, his advice is that of a sage and could even be considered an act of genius.
If youre like me then youre 510, rail thin, ridiculously good looking and your hair is the elixir from which dreams are made. Youre also a pretentious music fan, an aficionado of the underground, the litmus test by which any band who is anyone will be judged and blogged by before their fist single even makes it to a mall to be sold at Sam Goody and purchased by know-nothings who will only buy whatever Rolling Stone, Spin or A.P. advertisers steer them towards. We are the taste makers that serve up our sacrificial lambs to the mainstream so that they can die and be be resurrected in the temple of rock.
You might even watch The O.C., which brings me to my point or rather to the question which I pose herein:
If an Indie band sold out on The O.C. would there be any hipsters left to watch?
More and more every concert I go to is being populated by a litany of teens and preteens. I now find myself having to navigate the narrows of the pit with sinewy, gawky, thirteen year olds who are all elbows, while their parents stand three feet behind me staring at me, silently judging me, while I drink my intoxicants and smoke my Camel lights. This has seriously begun to dampen my joy for the live show, a staple of my pretentious existence.
While I cannot hold this against the young, for we were all once preteen unpretentious music lovers at one time or another before we became schooled in rock, I do hold one man personally responsible. That man is Seth Cohen.
Fuck Seth Cohen!
Seth Cohen has ruined my life! He has taken the one thing in the world that I hold dear and prostituted it for the world to take turns with and discard after their momentary desire is satisfied. He has taken a great many of my favorite Indie bands and served them up for the mainstream masses to suckle upon their teat. And, oh how every band is lining up for their turn to bare their breasts!
Now I am all for spreading the word and getting great music heard, but at the same time music is the one thing, the only thing that I care about. Discovering a band is a very special thing. Getting in on the ground floor, being one of the first people at the concert who knows all the songs, meeting the band after the show and helping spread the word through the underground is an unequaled experience. When a band finally breaks the mainstream you feel some sort of satisfaction in knowing that you did your part to help them along the way; they will always be your own little special band.
Not anymore. Every Thursday Seth Cohen and The O.C. would break my heart each week while serving up another one of my favorite bands to be gorged and devoured by mainstream America, a trend that has been taken up by Grey’s Anatomy, Gossip Girl and a plethora of other shows. I for one am glad that The O.C. was canceled because it serves as proof that there is a higher intelligence out there in the universe.
And each passing week I feel a little bit sadder and a little bit older and a little bit more meaningless.
Thanks, Seth Cohen.
If I could ever meet Seth Cohen this is what I would say, “Go fuck yourself very much. Douche.”
So the other day I finally got a chance to see one of my all time favorite bands, Radiohead, live and in concert. I was a little hesitant because they were playing at the crappy Verizon Amphitheater which has the lovely benefit of making all bands sound like crap, and as a bonus you get stuck in a two hour traffic jam on your way out. Thank you Maryland Heights for thinking things out in advance. Jerks.
After raining for three straight days and most of the morning, the skies parted and a cool summer breeze blew off the banks of the mighty Missouri as the sun began to set and Thom Yorke and company took the stage. It was a beautiful night indeed. Radiohead sounded pitch perfect, defying the Verizon Amphitheater’s gods of bad acoustics, and put on a stellar performance.
Sticking mainly to the newer material, Radiohead put on an interactive performance that fits in nicely with their recent aesthetics. The five cameras focused on each band member and projected onto the screen a quasi multi-paneled presentation that would have been quite a trip under certain substances but was nonetheless impressive on a fairly clear head. Playing two encores, Radiohead closed with some classic materials and left all those in attendance absolutely mesmerized.
I can’t wait until my hookup gets me the soundboard recording of the show. That’s how Pretentious Record Store Guy rolls, fool!
Rhino just keeps doing it. A few weeks ago they re-released all The Replacements Twin Tone albums as remastered editions with b-sides, outtakes, and in depth liner notes. What else could any hipster alt rock fan dream of?
So, on order of release there was Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out the Trash, Stink, Hootenanny and then their Twin Tone apex of Let It Be. Who else would dare to blatantly ape The Beatles title but Paul Westerberg and company? Those Minnesota boys have some bravado, and with due reason: Youth never sounded more beautiful as when captured by Paul Westerberg, Chris Mars, Bob Stinson, and Tommy Stinson.
Do you doubt the wisdom of Pretentious Record Store Guy? Then pop in Let It Be and be instantaneously mesmerized by “I Will Dare” and continues all the way through to “Answering Machine”. In between are gems of “Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out”, “Androgynous”, and “Unsatisfied” maybe the best answer to Mick and Kieth’s opus to Satisfaction.
How do you say I love you to an answering machine?
How do you say I need you to an answering maching?
Often considered either the best band or worst band ever based solely on their live shows, The Mats live were either an exercise in organized chaos coming together in unified excellence or simply mass chaos. Unfortunately, Pretentious Record Store Guy was too young to ever see the The Mats live and in person, but he has caught Westerberg on tour with Grandpaboy and it was amazing.
Now if they’d only get to the Warner Bros. records and get Pleased to Meet Me and Don’t Tell A Soul…
Trent Reznor is a really nice guy. He just made a new Nine Inch Nails album called The Slip and he likes his fans so much that he decided to give it to them for free! That’s right, Trent Reznor is giving away the new album digitally, 100% free, with physical copies coming out in July. Unlike the free Radiohead, which was encoded in a low quality bitrate which kind of made you have to buy the actual CD on top of any donations you might have given for the free one, it’s actually excellent quality in multiple formats, with no option for spending money on it. Plus there is a downloadable PDF that contains all the artwork so you can print off a cover for your CD.
Here is what he says on his site: “Thank you for your continued and loyal support over the years - this one’s on me.”
How nice it that? So what are you waiting for? Go download it now:
http://dl.nin.com/theslip/signup
Enjoy.
From the very moment it starts, It’s a Shame About Ray transfixes and mesmerizes me like maybe no other record before or since. Beautiful and serene while at the same time completely lonely and bittersweet, Evan Dando’s melancholy voice shines through pitch perfectly in his magnum opus. Luckily for all of us mere mortals, Rhino decided to release a deluxe version of this 30 minute marvel of a modern masterpiece with outtakes, b-sides and a full concert DVD as well as a smörgåsbord of liner notes and interview snippets.
She takes me on a rocking stroll
If you won’t wave guess I won’t know
As by I roll I hope you’ll throw a smile at me
At the time of it’s release, the It’s a Shame About Ray was initially overlooked. Although extremely well lauded and well reviewed, especially in Europe and with the British Press, it wasn’t until their throwaway cover of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson” helped break The Lemonheads into the mainstream and into the arms of both MTV and the zeitgeist.
Unfortunately, Dando and company were immediately derided by long time fans for taking a turn from their Bostonian punk roots and into the public spotlight. People should have seen it coming. What was Lovey if not the perfect bridge of a punk past to a perfect pop future? They already had the songs down, they just needed to evolve a little bit, thrown some polish on it and let them shine. It’s A Shame is that resulting shine.
A ship without a rudder is like a ship without a rudder is like a ship without a rudder
With his perfect cheekbones plastered all over seemingly every magazine cover, Evan Dando became an unwitting product that was being force fed to America. Fanzines like Die Evan Dando Die sprung up posting venomous hate towards Evan. The constant scrutiny and negative reaction forced Dando away from the spotlight and helped produce an equally stellar follow up Come on Feel the Lemonheads.
In the mix tape soundtrack of my life, It’s a Shame About Ray is Side A to Come On Feel’s Side B and you can simply rewind the tape and play it again, Sam.
Happy 4-20! To celebrate you should go to a record store. And you shouldn’t go to any old record store, but an independent record store filled with Pretentious Record Store Guys like me. 
Seriously, why go to a mall and pay $20 to buy from a pimple faced high schooler with a smock when you can go to an indy record store and pick up something for $18 from a 34 year old college dropout.
Yesterday wasn’t just a song by The Beatles, but it was also Record Store Day (4-19). Even though you’re a day late and a dollar short, you should follow the most pretentious of pretentious music magazines guide to celebrating the festivities. So, without further ado, here is Pitchfork’s Guide to Record Store Day.
You have to love Adam Duritz and the Counting Crows. Listening to August and Everything After as well as Recovering the Satellites and you can’t help but feel their pain. A lot of people can sing, but very few people can make you feel when the do it. Duritz and the Crows do both with panache. Their newest disc, Saturday Night and Sundays Mornings is their best album this century and very much follows in the footsteps of the first two. I was excited when I heard the Crows perform on Sirius Radio via the Howard Stern Show. Many bands put out good CDs but then disappoint when you go see them live. The Counting Crows put out really good CDs and then put on an excellent live show. If you haven’t seen them, I encourage you to buy a ticket and take the ride when they come through your town.
How to Write a Counting Crows Song in 5 Steps:
Step One: Pick a Girl: Elizabeth, Maria, Ms. Potter, etc.
Step Two: Pick a City: Baltimore, Los Angeles, New York, etc.
Step Three: Add some weather, usually rain.
Step Four: Add a line about the circus
Step Five: Reference Dylan or the Dead
Shake it up, throw in some melody and then you’ll have a Crows song. Of course selling it like Duritz and company do is another thing entirely.
Looking back on all the great music of the 1990s, I’m stunned at how much truly great stuff was put out and also at the amount of crap that was allowed to be produced as well. This isn’t a Best of the 90s list, only my favorite records of the 90s; albums that I keep coming back to time after time because I love them so much. Maybe you like these and maybe you don’t. Either way, this is my list and these are my faves. Enjoy.
The Bends
It’s A Shame About Ray
Mother Love Bone
Low End Theory
Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Urban Hymns
Use Your Illusion 1 & 2
Slanted and Enchanted
Ten
Regretfully Yours
Ill Communication
The Lonesome Crowded West
Orange
Come On Feel The Lemonheads
Ready to Die
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