Thursday, March 5, 2009

MAGAZINE - BACK TO NATURE: BOSTON '79 (CENTRIFUGAL 12CENT-10C, 1979)




"I'm not stupid and I refuse to pretend to be," Howard Devoto explained to the NME in 1977, as to why he left the Buzzcocks. It probably seemed to be a pretentious declaration from an asshole at the time, but listening to what Devoto went on to create with Magazine, it's clear that he was meant for more than just punk: Devoto's lyrics are highly literate, and his delivery is so idiosyncratic and so nuanced that I'd be hard-pressed to compare him to any other vocalist.

"This is a...simple...request. A song called 'Give Me Everything'," Devoto tells the audience on this out of print live album. Few people could pull off that line (only Devoto's friend and fan Morrissey comes to mind right now), but Devoto completely owns it. "We love you, Howard," audience members scream in a kind of response later in the set, to which Devoto simply says, "Oh, shut your traps."

Although Devoto's strange, enigmatic persona can sometimes make me forget it, Magazine is not all about him; it is the music that elevates what Devoto does and makes it work. The guitar playing of John McGeoch (who later played for Siouxsie and the Banshees) is especially notable: dramatic, experimental, and sadly underrated.

When I first got my hands on this album, I played it so loud that a glass on my desk got shaken to the edge, fell off, and broke.

To Download (via MediaFire):

Magazine - Back To Nature: Boston '79.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

HUM : YOU'D PREFER AN ASTRONAUT (RCA, 1995)




It was the summer of '95. I had just finished 8th grade. Grunge was on its way out. Kurt Cobain was long dead. The Foo Fighters first album was released. I was addicted to alternative rock radio; 95.5 WBRU.

There was this great song I'd occasionally hear; "She thinks she missed the train to Mars, she's out back counting stars."

After the first listen, I was hooked. I'd keep the dial at 95.5 all the time in hopes to hear it again. The plays were few and far between; the bigger problem being that I never caught it at a time when the DJ implemented the "Whey you play it, SAY IT!" rule. I'd lay awake at night in fear that this mysterious song would disappear from the playlists before I learned the artist or the name.

Around my birthday, my aunt, uncle, and cousins were visiting from Oregon. As a sort of early birthday present, my uncle brought my cousin Anna and I to the Hard Rock Cafe in Boston. Through out the long ride there (my uncle always insisted on the scenic route) the radio dial was locked on WBCN. As we were approaching the city, I heard the opening chords of my song. I expressed my excitement and love for the song to my less enthusiastic uncle and cousin; but the real treat came at the end of the song, when the DJ told us "That was Hum, with 'Stars'". I was ecstatic.

We made a stop at Tower Records on Newbury St. before the Hard Rock. Naturally, the first thing I looked for was a CD by a band called Hum. It didn't take long to find. Green cover, zebra, "You'd Prefer An Astronaut?" weird title.

"What's that?" my cousin asked when she saw me walking around with it.

I explained, and she remembered the song. She took it from me and brought it to my uncle, telling him that he had to buy it for her. She said that she liked the song from the radio; but I knew she only wanted it because of the zebra on the cover. He agreed to buy it, and in turn told me that I could pick something out for myself, it being close to my birthday and all.

Shit.

What a predicament. The one CD that I wanted the most, was the one that my cousin was having purchased for her. It would have been completely foolish to get the same one. I had to settle for Bjork's latest, "Post".

Naturally, I made a cassette copy of the CD when we got home, only to find out after it was much too late that the tape had miraculously recorded only one of the two stereo channels (the only time in my life that this had ever happened). I listened nonetheless though, and I liked it... a lot. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard before.

There was still that whole "loud-contrasting-with-not-so-loud" thing going on that was quite popular at the time; but there was more than just that. The lyrics were more poetic than what I had been previously exposed to. Sadness had never been this anthemic.

The next summer when my family came to visit, I made sure that my cousin brought the CD with her so that I could make a proper copy (keep in mind that this was back in the days that you had to save up your allowance if you wanted to listen to something) and she did. The tape stayed in heavy rotation through out my high school years, and was a staple in my car once I started driving, even though none of my friends seemed to like it all that much.
It wasn't until my second year at UML (2001-2002) that I surprisingly stumbled across fellow Hum fans. Coincidentally, I would sing in a band that year that would be compared to Hum. I could never hear where that comparison came from. Maybe I was just too modest.

I found her out back sitting naked looking up and looking dead