Bollocks! Staffers Pick Their Favorites of 2010 (Part 1)

Well, folks, the Bollocks! Awards are over for another year, but that doesn’t mean we’ve run out of ways to endlessly wax nostalgic about a year that’s not even over yet. I thought it would be nice to open up the floor a bit to a couple of people who have helped me over the last couple of years by allowing them to write about their favorite musical things of 2010. So today, you can read what our resident musical pathologist, Dr. Rebecca Mellor, has to say about the last year in music and tomorrow, you’ll be treated to Jesus Christ’s thoughts on the same topic. Enjoy!

Hello again. I am Dr. Rebecca Mellor (no relation). I have known Chorpenning for a few years now and have occasionally, against my better judgment, offered to help him in the running of his little music blog. In exchange for this, Chorpenning pesters me about my last name (he believes I am some how related to a certain punk icon, though I have assured him literally a thousand times that I am not) and makes fun of me for only using contractions while under the influence of intoxicants. At any rate, Chorpenning has asked me to write a few words about my favorite music from 2010 and I have agreed to do so, in the hopes of improving the musical health of Bollocks! readers (I would also like to apologize for Chorpenning’s insistence on putting the name of the blog in bold type with that annoying exclamation point. Though he welcomes the occasional contribution from people like myself and Jesus Christ, he seems ill-inclined to take advice on professional writing conventions).

My favorite album of the year (I also refuse to engage in the sort of random boldfacing that marred the otherwise enjoyable Bollocks! Awards) was Castle Talk by the Screaming Females. By my calculation, this album rocks at least three times harder than any other rock album released this year. In fact, when compared to all of Nickelback’s albums combined, Castle Talk still out-rocks Nickelback by a factor of one thousand to one.

Though Ms. Marissa Paternoster is given (justifiable) praise for her guitar and singing capabilities, I find that the Screaming Females have an almost perfect balance of immense talent. King Mike’s bass lines are among the most exciting I have heard all year (especially his intro to “Normal”) and Jarrett Dougherty’s drums crash, pound, and propel the proceedings along at a satisfying pace.  If Castle Talk should prove to be some kind of breakthrough album for the Screaming Females, I can objectively tell you that no current band is more deserving of a wider audience. There has been growing concern in my field lately that rock ‘n’ roll is a dying art form, suffering the slings and arrows of overwrought emo and outrageous rap/rock hybrids; the Screaming Females (and a few – very few – of their peers) have put those concerns to rest.

This might seem controversial, but I honestly think that The Suburbs, the third Arcade Fire album, is one of the more underrated albums of 2010 (but not the most underrated. I will render my verdict on that topic shortly). I know the album has received widespread acclaim, but in my estimation, it is deserving of even more. If Castle Talk was my favorite album of this year, The Suburbs was a close second. Like their debut, Funeral, the Arcade Fire’s latest offering is an album that almost sneaks up on you with its majesty and depth. And, unlike many more popular albums (I’m thinking of Ke$ha, whose name is not even a word) of the current moment, The Suburbs will be considered great by astute listeners ten and twenty years from now.

2010 featured several songs that I would count among my favorites, not least of which is the song “All We Make is Entertainment” by the Manic Street Preachers. It opens with a slight nod to Queen’s “Radio GaGa” before lifting off into indelible guitar riffs and James Dean Bradfield’s soaring vocal lines about “a sad indictment/ of what we’re good at.” As an album, Postcards from a Young Man is uneven, ambitious, pretentious, and wonderful; “All We Make is Entertainment” is its finest moment (followed closely by “Don’t Be Evil”).

I was also quite taken with the song “The Numbers Don’t Lie” by the Mynabirds. As a scientist, I tend to agree with that assertion, but as a piece of music, “The Numbers Don’t Lie” is lovely, gospel-tinged pop. Laura Burhenn, along with Laura Veirs, might be one of the most underrated vocalists of this year (perhaps a study is in order: The Collective Consumer Tendency to Ignore Beautiful Music by Women Named Laura). I certainly have not seen enough written praise of either woman and both have crafted subtle, beautiful albums. The Mynabirds’ What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood was at least critically well-received but I am not sure that many people outside of Pitchfork and Veirs’ home state of Oregon gave July Flame much notice, so I would argue that it is 2010′s most underrated album.

Speaking of Oregon, it is interesting to note just how much truly wonderful music came from that state this year – the aforementioned Mynabirds album was recorded there, Laura Veirs is from there, as are Menomena (whose Mines is exquisite), the Thermals, Corin Tucker, and M. Ward of She & Him. New Jersey, perhaps surprisingly, was also a source of incredible music in 2010: the Screaming Females, Titus Andronicus, and Ted Leo & the Pharmacists all hail from the Garden State. I have calculated that a national tour featuring all three of those acts would provide maximum entertainment for fans of punkish rock and would go a long way toward repairing the immense damage Jersey Shore has done to New Jersey’s cultural reputation.

I am asked, more often than I am comfortable admitting, what music creates the best atmosphere for sexual intercourse. Depending on the type of intercourse you prefer and the amount of time you have to perform the act, I would recommend the following albums: Esperanza Spalding’s Chamber Music Society is an excellent album for tender, anniversary or holiday lovemaking. Grinderman 2 is among the best albums I have heard (probably since Iggy and the Stooges’ Raw Power) for aggressive, animalistic sex. If you are in a hurry, perhaps one or two tracks off of Grinderman 2 will make the perfect soundtrack to a backseat “quickie.” For long, slow, passionate, possibly wine-fueled sex, I recommend a mix of Menomena’s Mines, Atmosphere’s To All My Friends, Blood Makes the Blade Holy: The Atmosphere EPs, and the Screaming Females’ Castle Talk. But maybe I am only speaking for myself on that one.

 

Ask A Musical Pathologist: Steel Panther and Genre Exceptionalism

Earlier this year, I brought Dr. Rebecca Mellor (no relation) on as part of the Bollocks! team to answer your questions regarding music and your mental health. Dr. Mellor is a well-established and respected musical pathologist and she’s helped me a lot over the last year and a half or so. Recently, we received the comment and accompanying video you can see here (update: I guess Universal Music Group posted the video to You Tube and doesn’t want it embedded here; if you click the video anyway, it’ll take you to You Tube and you can watch it in all its “butt metal” glory) about the band Steel Panther.Will asks us, “How much long term damage to my brain am I doing by listening to Steel Panther?” Well, Will, I ran your question and the video by Dr. Mellor, and she wrote the following response:

“Hello Will. Let me congratulate you on being the first submitter to the Bollocks! ‘Ask a Musical Pathologist’ page. Though I’m very busy with my normal work, I’m always happy to stop by and help my friend Chorpenning with his musical issues (or those of his 10 to 14 – on average – readers). It’s much easier to do this on a volunteer basis than it is to have him call or – much worse -barge into my house at three in the morning.

“In trying to determine how much long-term damage you’re doing to your brain by listening to Steel Panther, we must first determine both your reasons for listening to them and, in the case of the video for ‘Death to All but Metal’, the extent to which you agree with the sentiments expressed in the song.

“There is a certain amount of ironic enjoyment to be had from listening to bands like Steel Panther because, much like the fictional band Spinal Tap, they remind us how flagrantly silly and musically unbearable the 1980s were. Now, there are many high-functioning American adults who listen to the broad genre known as ‘Metal’ music, but Steel Panther quite clearly traffic in what some pejoratively refer to as ‘Hair Metal’ or ‘cock rock’ (my friend Mr. Chorpenning calls it ‘alcoholic stepdad music’ which tells you more about Chorpenning’s sordid past than it does about the music itself). This style is not the same as, say, the darker, more aggressive musical stylings of Mastodon or Disfear or even early Black Sabbath. ‘Hair Metal’ is more melodic (‘radio-friendly’ is a term that comes to mind, though it’s less applicable today than it was in the ‘Hair Metal’ heyday of the Reagan era) and the subject matter tends to be about one of two things: women (particularly their breasts) and/or how awesome metal is. All this is to suggest, Will, that rational human beings would not form strong attachments to the music of a Steel Panther when vastly superior forms of that kind of metal exist (Chorpenning will even grudgingly allow that the first Guns ‘n’ Roses record, Appetite for Destruction, is not only an iconic ‘Hair Metal’ album, but it actually contains some pretty good songs). Let me give you an analogy that might clear things up: some people believe that playing violent video games causes kids to become violent. People blame games like Grand Theft Auto for school shootings, often in a misguided attempt to blame somebody for a situation that is hard to comprehend on its own. In reality, video games can only inspire violent behavior in people who are already of unsound mind and have trouble distinguishing the real world from the video game world that allows them free reign to destabilize society to their heart’s content. Many of the most peaceful, nonviolent people I know play exceedingly violent video games and have no trouble functioning in society. So listening to Steel Panther, for someone who cannot recognize how clearly absurd their music is (that is,  someone of unsound mind – and, as perhaps the only articulate Guns ‘n’ Roses fan to respond to Chorpenning’s review of Chinese Democracy, Will, it is my professional opinion that you can count yourself of very sound mind indeed), could lead to long-term brain damage. But the upshot is, if you’re not brain-damaged to begin with, you can listen to Steel Panther as much as you’d like. After viewing their video for ‘Community Property,’ I was quickly able to ascertain that Steel Panther is not a band that takes itself too seriously. Therefore, we’d be doing them a disservice if we took them too seriously ourselves.

“I do have some concern, however, regarding the sentiments expressed in the video for ‘Death to All But Metal’. Any musical pathologist worth their salt must keep their mind open to the positive possibilities in any musical genre. There is even hope (though little evidence, in my opinion. And not to brag, but I am one of the most highly regarded musical pathologists in the United States, if not in the entire world) in the musical pathologist community that, one day, a ‘good’ emo song will appear and become the exception that proves the rule of that otherwise insipid genre. Steel Panther’s assertion (I’m paraphrasing here, so bear with me) that every non-metal genre is worthless, if treated as some sort of moral imperative, could cause severe damage to your psyche in the long run. Our minds like variety and truly healthy human beings allow their assumptions to be challenged. It’s easy to hate mainstream hip-hop (we in the musical pathology world have long treated President Obama’s off-the-cuff remark that Kanye West is a jackass as an objective medical fact), but mainstream hip-hop is not representative of all that hip-hop has to offer. As I write this, I have the new Brother Ali album playing on my stereo and it is very satisfying indeed. Again, though, this has to do with the state of the listener’s mind when they hear the song. If you’re a generally open-minded music fan, you can listen to ‘Death to All But Metal’ all day long without treating its main thesis as some kind of gospel. However, an already brain-damaged individual could hear this song and think that metal is the only decent genre of music.

“The belief that there is only one right genre of music and that all other genres are inferior and/or completely worthless is a disorder I call Genre Exceptionalism. It amounts to musical tunnel vision and stems directly from the same sort of utterly failed logic and probable insanity that led Adolf Hitler to articulate his theory of the Aryan ‘Master Race’. In effect, if you truly believe that one and only one genre of music is good and all others are bad, you are behaving like a musical Hitler. And no rational person would want that. Now, there are some interesting clues to me within the song ‘Death to All But Metal’; primarily, I’m fascinated by the musical performers that Steel Panther chose to call out by name. They list the Goo Goo Dolls, Blink-182, Papa Roach, Eminem, and Mariah Carey among the musicians who should die or, as I believe the singer points out, ‘can lick a sack.’ While explicitly decreeing death to all but metal, the band only really names some of the worst offenders in modern music. Your mental health will suffer much more from listening to Mariah Carey than it will from Steel Panther, regardless of the content. And, some in the musical pathology field even blame the rise of ‘pop-punk’ bands like Blink-182 for the death of Joe Strummer (I cannot entirely embrace this rather extreme theory, yet I cannot entirely dismiss it either).

“So at the end of the day, Will, Steel Panther is not the worst thing you can do for your musical mental health. It is far worse to close you mind to the wide variety of music available today than it is to listen to a hair metal band that clearly has fun doing what they’re doing and obviously does not take themselves very seriously.”

That’s the word from Dr. Mellor, Will. I think it’s pretty good advice. If anyone else out there has a question for the good doctor, you can email her at askdoctormellor@gmail.com

I Don’t Like Phoenix. What’s Wrong with Me?

Despite being named one of Spin magazine’s 20 best albums of 2009 so far, Phoenix’s Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix has not made a favorable impression upon yours truly. I know the album now comes floating in its own jar of critical jizz, but I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I get that it’s catchy, but that’s not a defense for repetitive songs that say exactly jack shit about fuckall.

But hold on: the wise people at Pitchfork.com had this to say about Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix: “It’s truly universal– everybody live, love, and die.” I’m with ya on the “die” part, Pitchfork. But I’m trying to keep an open mind here. I’ll allow that maybe, just maybe the fact that I don’t like an album that every-fucking-body else seems to like might suggest that I am either 1) wrong this time and/or 2) in need of help.

So I got help. From my good friend and resident musical pathologist Rebecca Mellor (no relation). We sat down over coffee (I wanted booze, but she suggested that drinking makes conversation with me somehow less productive and two or three times as vulgar. Since I’m seeking help here, I decided to trust the professional). I recorded our conversation and transcribed it below; you can judge for yourself if it’s me or the world that’s fucked up here.

Me: Thanks for meeting with me on the weekend.

Dr. M: You’re welcome. Thanks for showing up sober.

Me: No problem. So, have you listened to Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix?

Dr. M: I have. I’m pleased – and somewhat surprised – to report that you are perfectly justified in your contempt for this album.

Me: I am?

Dr. M: Certainly. Let me tell you what’s going on here: every year, sometimes twice a year, an album comes along that is just so outrageously catchy that it seduces a significant portion of the population. You might put MGMT and Vampire Weekend in this category, for instance.

Me: Those records were mostly okay.

Dr. M: Sure they were. But they weren’t great, were they?

Me: Definitely not. They were exactly okay. But this one dude swore to me that MGMT’s record was the album of the year last  year, despite the fact that it actually came out in 2007.

Dr. M: Exactly. People get so caught up in how catchy these kind of albums are that they experience something akin to a mild psychotic break and engage in acts of tragic – though sometimes hilarious – hyperbole in their rush to praise the album in question. The Phoenix album is no different. Pitchfork said Phoenix “discards anything– an outro, a bridge, an extra hi-hat hit– that could be deemed superfluous”, displaying a stunning and willful lack of awareness that the entire five and a half minutes of  “Love Like A Sunset Part I” is musically masturbatory bullshit.

Me: Wow. You sounded like me there for a second.

Dr. M: I’m sorry. But seeing people attribute near Christ-like healing powers to albums of the fluffiest musical stuff – the lyrics on this album aren’t “cryptic,” they’re just awful – provokes a strong reaction in me. Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix represents a disturbing trend among these over-praised pop albums. MGMT had some songs that were a little ridiculous, but they were catchy and still somewhat coherent.

Me: “Time to Pretend” is a great song.

Dr. M: Exactly. MGMT and Vampire Weekend both snuck bits of real high quality music into their albums. Phoenix is cutting and pasting nonsense together into something that is melodically catchy but otherwise entirely meaningless.

Me: So let me play devil’s advocate here. The counterargument you’ll probably get is “What’s wrong with a good melody? The Beatles had melody. Kurt Cobain wrote good melodies. Why do you hate America?”

Dr. M: I’m not sure my patriotism will be questioned for not liking Phoenix, especially since they’re apparently French.

Me: You underestimate the stupid-power of internet comments.

Dr. M: Perhaps. But to address your counterargument, there’s nothing wrong with melody in and of itself. But catchy melodies can be used to make you nod your head to songs that can actually make you a stupider person. Great music, generally, requires a strong sense of melody, but if you’re singing words over that melody, you have to be careful what you’re planting in people’s brains. Consider Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musicals, for instance. While there’s no denying that “Music of the Night” is a melodically lovely tune, there is also no denying that Phantom of the Opera is a puffed up, plotless spectacle designed to rake in the disposable income of middle-aged white women.

Me: So you think Phoenix is trying to use their melodic powers to get people to buy and rave over a completely bullshit album?

Dr. M: That’s my professional opinion, yes. The lyrics on Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix might as well be gibberish – they make Anthony Keidis and Axl Rose look like Allen Ginsberg and John Berryman by comparison. At the end of the day, because there are only so many musical notes at any given musician’s disposal, it is not enough to suggest that the mere arrangement of those notes into a pleasing  – or not pleasing but simply memorable – pattern is some kind of high artistic achievement. On a long enough timeline, any idiot could slap together a catchy melody entirely by accident. You could write a computer program that would make Phoenix songs and, while I don’t want to tell people what they should and should not listen to, I would suggest to you that understanding this album as anything other than a sugary pop confection might be a sign of brain damage.

Me: So, just so we’re clear here: I am not only correct in disliking Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, but it’s a sign that I’m of sound mind?

Dr. M: Yes, though you shouldn’t ignore the many other signs that you, specifically, are not of sound mind.

Me: Such as?

Dr. M: You work in an invisible office with an Imaginary Secretary.

Me: Right. But I don’t like Phoenix. So I’m okay, right?

Dr. M: (long sigh) Yes. Sure. You’re fine. Can I go now?

Me: Yeah. You sure you don’t to come back to the Imaginary Office, maybe have a beer and listen to Captain Beefheart?

Dr. M: I’m sure.

Me: Suit yourself.

And that’s how it went down, folks. You heard it from my own resident musical pathologist: the people at Pitchfork are officially brain-damaged.

Send hatemail and/or questions for the good doctor to askdoctormellor@gmail.com.