I get a lot of music these days. A lot. Upwards of 10 - 14 physical promo CDs in the mail each week. Hundreds of e-mails in my inbox offering up single track or full album downloads/streams. And all the vinyl I buy as an inveterate junkie for sounds.
And I do my level best to listen to it all. It's my job, after all, to keep up on what's going on in the music world, from bands/artists big and small. Most things get one spin; others that actually capture me in some way will get more; things that I have to review get even more spins. But everything get's listened to at least once.
That said, it's not often that something bursts through my critical skein and brings me back to it in a slightly obsessive fashion. Not since the days of my youthful cassette/CD buying when something new would live in my home and portable players for months on end.
Imagine my surprise then when a single song stuck with me for a full week, warranting repeated listens on Spotify. To the point that my son was singing the chorus to himself absentmindedly as he played with his train set. And just as quickly, my fascination completely disappeared and I moved forward.
When I was stuck on it, I didn't think about it critically at all. I just wanted to hear that amazing chorus hook spun into falsetto glory by vocalist Inara George, with the melody of that hook echoed in the electric piano intro and a bridge that sounds like it's played on wine glasses. The verses and jumpy little beat to get me to those choruses were to be tolerated and stumbled through until George could once more sing, "Again and again and again and again..."
Because what soured me on the song eventually were those idiot verses. Perhaps there's some inherent meaning to those lyrics for George and her bandmate Greg Kurstin, some inside joke or reference to a personal event that only they would get. But it is impossible for me to parse out, particularly when all George wants to do is repeat the word "creepy" 12 times over. Even they want to hurry themselves to that glorious chorus. The verses are an afterthought.
As much as I've moved on from this song, it was rather nice to be obsessed with a single piece of music again. Even the stuff I love throughout the year gets short shrift as I wade through everything else that I get sent. I keep track of the stuff that I return to throughout the year so I can make my end of year best of list, but even then I don't listen to it as egregiously as I once used to. My passion is still there, mind you, but my time with things is more and more limited.
I'm almost hoping that this dalliance with the bird & the bee will inspire more obsessive listening. I miss getting to know an album inside and out like I used to and wearing out tapes and scratching up CDs and vinyl with overuse. The value of the physical object may depreciate but not its inherent value with me, the #1 fan.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Urban Dance Squad - Life 'n Perspectives of a Genuine Crossover
I'm glad that I'm still striving to hear new and interesting musics and am overwhelmed on a daily basis with the amount of new music that my weary ears has access to. An embarrassment of riches. Which is why I grabbed a hold of Spotify so firmly. Here was instant access to new records by artists whose PR companies haven't added me to their mailing lists. And I can be assuaged of a little bit of the guilt that would accompany me illegally downloading it.
With that, though, Spotify has encouraged me to get nostalgic, dipping into the catalogs of bands that I used to adore when I was a teen whose only exposure to new music was via 120 Minutes and the amazing mix tapes my older brother would make for me. So it is that I've been revisiting the work of artists like Jesus Jones, Ned's Atomic Dustbin, The Wonder Stuff, and a rap-rock outfit from Holland called Urban Dance Squad.
If you have any "Best of the '90s" compilations lying around, their semi-success from 1990 "Deeper Shade of Soul" is likely on there. And if that's all you know of the band, you'd start plotting out the through line that connects them to late '90s pop hits by folks like Sugar Ray and Smashmouth. Gratefully for my conscience, the band was a lot more complicated than that.
The two albums of UDS that I'm most familiar with are the band's first releases: their debut Mental Floss For The Globe and Life 'n Perspectives of a Genuine Crossover. To a young man living in a small town with little access to the underground music scene, though with a huge love of both hip-hop and indie pop, these two cassettes that I had were the height of musical brilliance. The fact that the band got a stamp of approval from Henry Rollins only helped solidify my interest.
Listening to them now with the hindsight of almost 20 years behind me, I can hear all the little things that had me patting myself on the back about being a fan. For one, no one else I knew at the time had heard or cared about these guys. And my favorite of the two albums Crossover justified my close listening of it: with humorous and knowing samples (the little Public Enemy and Musical Youth drops in "Mr Ezway" were particular favorites), stickin' to the man references to their earlier successes, and a surprisingly loamy sonic underpinning. Plus music like this made it safe for me to rebel against my otherwise pleasant family life. My parents hated these and so many of the other albums I had on repeat in my teen years.
Hindsight has also proven that this music is absolutely lightweight, especially in comparison with the heavy stuff from that same time period that I'm much more attracted to now. UDS were pop artists masking themselves as tough, borderline avant garde musicians. Even in the '90s, mixing hip-hop and other elements of the musical world was happening all over the place and in much more dangerous and brilliant ways than these cute little Dutchmen.
Hearing it now, Crossover seems completely leaden and overstuffed, the byproduct of a band with a lot of buzz and likely label money hoping for another "Deeper Shade of Soul." I admire the chutzpah of a band willing to throw that entire pop playbook out in exchange for a bluesier and at times more experimental approach. But at least eight of the songs on this disc could have been shaved off with no ill effects to the full album experience.
It is at this point that I need to remind myself, "Of course it's going to sound dated. The thing came out in 1992. Most of the tracks on here sound like RHCP demos and b-sides." So, so true. But then again I was a big Chili Peppers fan at the time, too. Listening to both groups in 2012 makes me wince. For all the little details that still work, there are dozens more that are rooted in a '90s aesthetic and production style.
I also have to admit to myself that I wouldn't have gotten here without going through that period as well. Albums like Crossover led me into an exploration of UDS's influences - hip-hop, reggae/ska/dub, electronic - that were far more rewarding. And to those groups that use those same influences in much more inventive ways.
For that, I thank you Urban Dance Squad. But it's time for us to go our separate ways. It was fun while it lasted, but we've grown apart. Maybe we'll see each other again at some point down the road.
The two albums of UDS that I'm most familiar with are the band's first releases: their debut Mental Floss For The Globe and Life 'n Perspectives of a Genuine Crossover. To a young man living in a small town with little access to the underground music scene, though with a huge love of both hip-hop and indie pop, these two cassettes that I had were the height of musical brilliance. The fact that the band got a stamp of approval from Henry Rollins only helped solidify my interest.
Listening to them now with the hindsight of almost 20 years behind me, I can hear all the little things that had me patting myself on the back about being a fan. For one, no one else I knew at the time had heard or cared about these guys. And my favorite of the two albums Crossover justified my close listening of it: with humorous and knowing samples (the little Public Enemy and Musical Youth drops in "Mr Ezway" were particular favorites), stickin' to the man references to their earlier successes, and a surprisingly loamy sonic underpinning. Plus music like this made it safe for me to rebel against my otherwise pleasant family life. My parents hated these and so many of the other albums I had on repeat in my teen years.
Hindsight has also proven that this music is absolutely lightweight, especially in comparison with the heavy stuff from that same time period that I'm much more attracted to now. UDS were pop artists masking themselves as tough, borderline avant garde musicians. Even in the '90s, mixing hip-hop and other elements of the musical world was happening all over the place and in much more dangerous and brilliant ways than these cute little Dutchmen.
Hearing it now, Crossover seems completely leaden and overstuffed, the byproduct of a band with a lot of buzz and likely label money hoping for another "Deeper Shade of Soul." I admire the chutzpah of a band willing to throw that entire pop playbook out in exchange for a bluesier and at times more experimental approach. But at least eight of the songs on this disc could have been shaved off with no ill effects to the full album experience.
It is at this point that I need to remind myself, "Of course it's going to sound dated. The thing came out in 1992. Most of the tracks on here sound like RHCP demos and b-sides." So, so true. But then again I was a big Chili Peppers fan at the time, too. Listening to both groups in 2012 makes me wince. For all the little details that still work, there are dozens more that are rooted in a '90s aesthetic and production style.
I also have to admit to myself that I wouldn't have gotten here without going through that period as well. Albums like Crossover led me into an exploration of UDS's influences - hip-hop, reggae/ska/dub, electronic - that were far more rewarding. And to those groups that use those same influences in much more inventive ways.
For that, I thank you Urban Dance Squad. But it's time for us to go our separate ways. It was fun while it lasted, but we've grown apart. Maybe we'll see each other again at some point down the road.
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