My talented brother Brendan O’Malley is an amazing writer and actor. He’s wonderful in the recent You & Me, directed by Alexander Baack. (I interviewed Baack about the film here.) His most recent gig was story editor/writer on the hit series Survivor’s Remorse. Brendan hasn’t blogged in years, but the “content” (dreaded word) is so good I asked if I could import some of it to my blog. He did series on books he loved, and albums he loved. I thought it would be fun to put up some of the stuff here. So we’ll start with his list of 50 Best Albums. I’ll put up one every Monday.
Brendan’s list of 50 Best Albums is part music-critique and part memoir and part cultural snapshot.
I have always loved these essays, because I love to hear my brother talk. I am happy to share them with you!
50 Best Albums, by Brendan O’Malley
6. Green Day – American Idiot
Calling this album a shock is an understatement of the highest order. By the time September 2004 rolled around, Green Day had become an after-thought, at best. Fans of the band will dispute this but those are true-believers. If you had said that Green Day’s next album would be a blockbuster along the lines of The Police’s Synchronicity or Michael Jackson’s Thriller, you would have been laughed out of the room.
But that is just what happened and more. Somehow these bratty snot-nosed punks pulled a rock opera out of their collective ass that perfectly encapsulated the malaise of Post 9/11 American consciousness. They did wha????
I will again use my son as a barometer. Cashel is not huge into music. He has always loved The Beatles, he loves the music of John Williams from Star Wars fame, and he champions the music that I make out of love. As far as modern music goes, he doesn’t care, and doesn’t even want to. This will probably change once he hits puberty and then he’ll start bringing home crazy new stuff but as of now he is in that pre-pubescent state where music just isn’t all that important.
But American Idiot struck a major chord with him. He wanted to read the lyrics. He wanted to talk about the meanings behind the songs. He was impressed by the longer epic tunes and equated them favorably to the longer orchestral pieces that he loves so much by Williams and other classical composers. He was/is in AWE of this album.
Now I’m not saying that because my son likes it it is great. But it pierced the dreamworld of a child and touched the part of his brain that is already an adult. And kids resist that stuff when you try to impose it on them. To me that says that the content of this album is so perfectly achieved that it rids him of the anxiety that contemplating adult questions naturally elicits in an 11-year-old. Of course, he was 6 or 7 when it came out and that quality was even more pronounced back then. He didn’t want to listen to music in the car; he wanted to talk to me about Star Wars, or Kermit, or spaceships.
For a modern punk rock opera to grab his attention so forcefully that he stopped that kid-like stream of consciousness and TOOK IT IN is a testament to the clarity and force of the songs.
We’re both psyched to pick up 21st Century Breakdown and talk about it in the car. He’s almost old enough to sit up front with me.
Well, this was a fortuitous assignment. I knew nothing about this documentary. It has so much to say and is also – implicitly – a tribute to librarians, the librarian’s need to catalog, save, organize. Highly recommended. My review is up on Ebert.
I’ve been away from this place for 2 weeks – so sorry – I miss you all! I have many thoughts about last week’s episode – Becky!! – just haven’t had time to comment.
On a side note: Here is Jensen playing his Fender Telecaster, because of COURSE he owns the coolest badass-est guitar on the planet.
So, I’ll catch up with tonight’s episode this weekend. In the meantime, here’s an open thread.
I hadn’t seen this picture before. I’m staring at it, agog. It captures such a huge moment. This was taken the morning I left Chicago, packing up my car (and my cat Sammy) to drive back East to go to grad school. I have so many mixed feelings. I have so many mixed feelings about my choice to move. I made it in haste and – as they say – have “repented at leisure.” Rachel was there that morning to send me off (this photo is from her photo album). She was also there to be there for Mitchell, once I was gone. She knew he would need her, it was upsetting all around. There was a lot of emotion.
I am wearing a “Pat McCurdy T-shirt” and anyone who knows me will know that this was a deliberate clothing choice. Again, so many mixed feelings.
The night before, a bunch of us had all gone out to dinner – a big group of friends – my farewell dinner. I had invited Michael to come. He didn’t show. I hate it when other people do this but I will just say that this was before cell phones. (The reason I hate it is that the majority of human history “was before cell phones”). So, if you didn’t show up to something, if you got delayed, then, oh well, you just didn’t show up and nobody would know what had happened because nobody could call anybody. I was a little sad about Michael not being there. I was leaving early the next morning. It meant I might not see him again. Ever. Something important had happened with him, I felt that saying goodbye to it and him was important. Goodbyes had way more finality in those days.
Anyway, after the dinner, Mitchell and I came home. It was about 11 o’clock at night. I sat out on our front steps. I was drinking grape ginger ale. Why do I remember these things? It was a quiet night. I loved that neighborhood. We lived right behind the Music Box Theatre in Chicago. So I just sat there for about an hour, not saying anything, taking it all in for the last time. Facing an unknown future. At some point, I became aware of a man walking down the sidewalk approaching our house. It was so dark, with the night, and the tree shadows, I couldn’t see his face, but I’d recognize that walk anywhere. it was Michael. Come to say goodbye. He was smarter than I was in a lot of ways. In so many ways. He knew our goodbye had to be private.
There’s a scene in Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite (which you must see: still out in theatres) where the hired-help family hides under the table and the rich dude talks to his wife about how bad his chauffeur smells (unaware that said chauffeur is under the table, hearing every word). And rich dude goes on … and on … getting more detailed about the KIND of bad smell it is, its shadings, its specificity, iwhat it reminds him of, he smells kind of like a turnip, maybe … no, not a turnip … more like … The camera goes back and forth: from the man speaking, to the man underneath the table, listening.
When I saw it in the theatre, at first the audience started laughing. The scene is a real cliffhanger, and the cuts back and forth from the rich dude to the chauffeur under the table, creates the comedic tension, the event of the scene. But eventually, the laughter of the audience faded, and it became this whole other kind of scene, with gigantic and urgent class/political implications, the contempt of the rich for the poor, bristling with a sense of unfairness, of outrage (how are you supposed to smell like roses when the sewer floods into your basement apartment? when you can’t ever bathe?), the hurt that comes with that unfairness, the shame of smelling bad … and it was wild, the experience, because I could feel the audience ride that wave together. It was like Bong Joon-ho set us up. He knew we would find the sequence funny. He means us to. It IS funny. But the longer you think about it and sit in it, the less funny it becomes. And you really REALLY have to trust an audience to build a sequence like that. Because maybe some audiences WOULDN’T stop laughing. Maybe some audiences would continue to laugh, not caring about the pain on the chauffeur’s face, not picking up on the critique. It’s a possibility, a risk, and Bong Joon-ho takes that risk.
The whole thing represents such mastery on the part of Bong Joon-ho: he understood the event he wanted to portray, and he knew he needed to control it so that it moved from funny to awful. This amazes me even more since film directors work in a vacuum (no audience present as you’re filming), and so the director has to know what he wants and make every choice with meticulous care.
Ask any actor who’s acted in a comedic play for a live audience: It’s hard to make an audience start laughing and then stop laughing and segue into a whole different kind of experience, at the exact moment when you need them to.
“Family Tradition” – Hank Williams, Jr. Bitter! It’s such a great “fuck you” to Nashville country-music prudes and a great wielding of his autobiography as a weapon: “If I get stoned and sing all night long, it’s a family tradition.”
“Empty Man” – Pat McCurdy. An old friend. This is his “Nowhere Man.”
“I Can Still Hear the Music in the Restroom” – Jerry Lee Lewis. Woozy boozy sad sad tale, from his appropriately titled album Boogie Woogie Country Man. When he yodels … he’s so FREE when he’s performing. This is the thing about him. There’s no hesitation. He THROWS himself around, he THROWS his voice up, down, around … and we, the audience, are enriched by such freedom. Freedom like that makes things possible.
“Bitch” – The Rolling Stones. Dirrrrty and mean.
“Red Hot and Blue Love” – Rick Springfield. This was off his big album. The song didn’t get as much traction as “Jessie’s Girl”, of course, but I thought it was great (still think it’s really good).
“Alone in the Universe” – ELO. I don’t know why certain chord changes pierce my soul. I’m sure a musicologist could weigh in. But ELO’S chord changes and harmonies just FLATTEN me. Every. Time. (Same with the Beach Boys’ chord changes and harmonies). I don’t know: there’s something transcendent there, it’s like they tap into some Platonic Ideal of loneliness, yearning, sadness … and all of that is IN the chord. I don’t even know the lyrics. I don’t have to. I have felt this way about ELO since the first time I heard one of their songs (when my friend Meredith played me the Time album. It blew me away. It was the first album I bought on my own, with my own hard-earned cash.)
“Smoke a Little Smoke” – Eric Church. Kind of a companion piece to the song that opens this shuffle. Eric Church, noted stoner and so-called “bad boy,” who didn’t get radio play at first because of songs like this one. Who’s got the last laugh now. I love him so much.
“Turn Me Loose” – Eminem [featuring Fred Durst] … or maybe it’s the other way around? Limp Bizkit featuring Eminem? Either way. It’s great and … very very weird. Durst rapping alongside Eminem does not really show off Durst well – because, how can you even compete? Of course Eminem name-checked “Fred Durst” numerous times in his songs, and there was some super bad blood between them (Eminem had bad blood with everyone). But here they are together. It’s 1999! Ancient Times. There’s a New Wave vibe to the sound.
“You’ll Be Back” – Jonathan Groff, aka King George III, in Hamilton. It feels like a million years ago that Mum, Ben and I went to go see that show. We saw it during previews, before all HELL broke loose and you couldn’t get tickets for years to come. Hamilton had been on my radar ever since the show at the Public, because – old-timers know – I have written more about Alexander Hamilton here than I ever wrote about any actor I love. Seriously. To those of who have just discovered Hamilton: welcome. Many of us have been here all along, and it’s been a lonely road to hoe. Lin Manuel Miranda’s conception of King George is HILARIOUS. “I wasn’t aware that was a thing that a person could do.”
“Random Acts of Kindness” – Robbie Williams. I love him. I am so excited for his upcoming DOUBLE Christmas album. I can’t believe he hasn’t done a Christmas album yet, and I can’t wait to hear it.
“Fighter” – Christina Aguilera. Speaking of Fred Durst and Eminem … This is a RAGER.
“Burning Love” – Elvis Presley. One of the show-stoppers of his live performances in the 1970s. A couple years ago, an Elvis album was released, with Elvis’ performances put to a backdrop of new arrangements by the Royal Philharmonic. I listened to one of the tracks, and forget it, I bought the whole thing. Normally I don’t like projects like this, but this one is special.
“America the Beautiful” – Nathan East. Nathan East is one of the most sought-after session musicians working today. He’s played with everyone. He was the special guest at the Albuquerque Film & Music Experience, where my short film played. The first day of the fest, we all got the news Prince died. On the night the festival paid tribute to Nathan East (who was in attendance, with his whole family), a kind of extraordinary and moving thing happened.
“Candles” – the Glee cast version. This is so beautiful!
“Old Master Painter / You Are My Sunshine” – Brian Wilson. I think of that beautiful moment in Love & Mercy, when the session musician says to Brian Wilson when they’re on a break: “We’ve played with everyone. But you? Kid, you’re touched.”
“Polk Salad Annie” – Elvis Presley. Talk about dirty. This is naaaaaaaasssteeeee. Classic Elvis.
“Ol’ Man River” – Judy Garland. Live on her television show. This is one of the greatest live performances of the 20th century.
“Break of Dawn” – Stevie Wonder. Just soooooo groovy. You MUST move to this.
“Hair of the Dog” – Mike Viola. One of my favorite singer-songwriters working today. I must admit, I am slightly concerned about him right now. His last album was a howl of despair. I hope he is okay. Talk about chord changes piercing your soul … Mike Viola, man.
“Everybody Knows” – Charlie Rich. This is early Charlie Rich, from his Sun Records years. He is so funky, so sexy, so soulful. Voice like molasses. Hot molasses.
“Is It So Strange” (take 12) – Elvis Presley. One of my favorites of his earlier years. It’s so pure. And I felt that way even before I read June Juanico’s book and realized the significance the song had to them as a couple.
“Nowhere Fast” – Eminem (feat. Kehlani). To everyone who was like “Hey check out Eminem’s Trump rap! Who knew he was political??” I say: where the fuck have you BEEN? This is what happens when you don’t pay attention to things. When you decide to not engage with something and yet continue to have opinions about it. You’re starting from a place of ignorance. You’re surprised when there should be no surprise at all.
“Cradle Baby” – Eddie Cochran. To have him die the following year after Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper must have made the world seem like a howling wilderness to the kids. Why are these amazing idols dying young, violently, and through no fault of their own? It’s just tragic. I love Eddie Cochran.
“The Way You Make Me Feel” – Michael Jackson. Michael at his most ebullient, fiery, joyous, free. My cab driver in Utah, a Muslim woman named Kate who talked my ear off on the drive from the airport, had a lot to say about Michael Jackson. I can’t even remember how it came up. You know me and cab drivers. (And if you don’t? You’re new round these here parts, aren’t you.) So anyway, Kate said sadly, “He never had a childhood.” Just reporting the facts.
“The Lamb’s Book of Life” – Sinéad O’Connor. Starting off with a quote from Yeats. She is not messing around.
“Arose” – Eminem. Another from Revival. Sampling Bette Midler’s “The Rose” underneath his rap is a brilliant touch in this song about drug addiction and fame. It’s haunting.
“Magic Man” – Heart. This is pure sex.
“Old Dan Tucker” – Bruce Springsteen, from his exhilarating and exhilarated We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.
“Shake Rattle and Roll” – Huey Lewis & the News. From their awesome album Four Chords and Several Years Ago. I was an extra in a TV special with Huey performing songs from this album with local Chicago blues legends. It shows up on Youtube from time to time.
“Juanita” – Charlie Rich. What IS it about him? It’s EVERYthing. The VOICE, the tone of the voice, its richness, its lived-in feeling, and the sense you get of his freedom, his talent, its flow.
“Cheek to Cheek” – the Glee cast. These people are all so talented. Some of the hardest working people in show business at that time. And yes, I’m biased.
“In My Arms” – Rufus Wainwright. I’ll never forget the excitement when I first discovered him. I really did feel like, “Where have you been all my life?”
“I Shall Not Be Moved” – Johnny Cash. He was so AUTHENTIC. No bullshit. You can FEEL it, you can FEEL him. Nothing between us and how he feels. There it is.
“It Hurts Me” – Elvis Presley. He did this in his ’68 “comeback special.” He sings the BEJESUS out of it. I love when his voice gets thick, rough, when he’s really feeling it. Nobody like him.
“Mohair Sam” – Charlie Rich. So much Charlie in this shuffle! Again: SEXXXXY. He gets my motor runnin’, boy.
“78 Stimulator” – Stimulator. I am fairly certain that this band came to my attention because of their cover of Olivia Newton-John’s “Magic,” which was featured in a national commercial. (I’ve discovered a lot of cool artists that way, Brendan Benson being the main one). Anyway, they’re great!
“In the Cold Cold Night” – The White Stripes. They were so … hip. So steeped in irony. I don’t think I really got the irony, initially, but I was into them. I’m more into Jack White in terms of who he is in his producing of the Grand Divas of Country/Rockabilly as a producer … but whatever, it’s all good.
“I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight” – Bob Dylan. I love this album. Pete Drake’s pedal steel guitar is to DIE FOR. It’s doing its own thing throughout, commenting on the main thruline, sometimes agreeing, sometimes counterpointing … it’s beautiful.
“My Babe” – The Everly Brothers. It seems to me that their reputation is for their harmonies, mainly, highlighted in their beautiful ballads. But I love it when they get a little bit ROUGH, when they get sexy, when there’s a little bit of anger and aggression. Then their harmonies ratchet up to a whole NOTHER LEVEL. I mean, LISTEN. Thrilling.
“I Got a Woman” – Elvis Presley. Live. I think this is in 1956. When Elvis is causing riots up and down the Eastern Seaboard, and every point in between. The girls are OUT OF CONTROL in this clip. He doesn’t even have to DO anything. It’s a rough live clip, the sound isn’t great, but boy does it give you at least a tiny glimpse of what he was like live in those early years, and the FRENZY of those shows. And good old Scotty Moore: keeping it together, keeping them all together, as all HELL BREAKS LOOSE.
“Lucky You” – Eminem [featuring Joyner Lucas]. This is from Kamikaze, an album Eminem released without warning. Eminem’s baseline is rage, of course, and this album is very pissed off at the critics who think he might be losing his touch (after Revival). Joyner Lucas starts it off and then Eminem takes over, and it’s one of his double-time extravaganzas. You can’t keep up. “Y’all gotta move.” “Yeah.”
“Somebody to Love” – Queen. Classic. And this gives me an opportunity to share my newest discovery: this adorable kid on YouTube, who listens to music for the first time and films his reactions. I am going to write something about this kid, what he is doing, and who he is BEING, and why I think it’s so important and, yes, profound. Be open to new stuff like this kid is. Don’t think you know everything. Don’t judge things without seeing it, listening to it, reading it. You don’t know everything. Time did not start with you. People have been doing cool shit for centuries. Be open to ALL of it. There’s a reason certain things withstand the test of time. I went down a rabbit hole with his videos, and this one – where he watches a live performance of “Somebody to Love” (one of the greatest live performances ever) – and watch where he goes, watch how much it moves him, the levels he goes to, until finally he is in tears. This is the real deal. Through watching him discover new music (he loves all kinds), it helps me re-discover it, see it with fresh eyes. The clip of him listening to Elvis for the first time brought me to tears.
“Make You Feel My Love” – Bob Dylan. It’s too sad for me. I’ve been lonely all my life.
“Feeling Good” – Michael Buble. I like his version. It’s MELO-DRAMATIC.
“Katmandu” – Bob Seger. Every time I listen to this, I feel like saying, “You keep telling me you want to go to Katmandu. Stop TALKING about it. Just DO it.” Try it for yourself. It gets funnier and funnier the longer the song goes on. “Are you GOING to Katmandu? Or are you just talking about it?” “Did you buy your ticket to Katmandu yet, Bob?” “Katmandu Katmandu Katmandu that’s all I ever hear.” “You’re all talk no action as far as Katmandu is concerned, Bob.”
“Mrs. Robinson” – Simon & Garfunkel. Classic guitar. I was so into them in high school (my parents had all their albums). I can still appreciate it, although I’ve moved past it a little bit.
“Shitloads of Money” – Liz Phair. From Whitechocolatespaceegg. I love that album. Exile in Guyville was such an EVENT … what could possibly come next? Was there going to be more? Please God let there be more. I still feel that way about her. I haven’t read her memoir yet, but I can’t wait. Long live Gen-X women. Proud to be one.
“Overrated New Year” – Sarah Donner. I can’t remember how I encountered this woman’s music, but I am so glad I did! I have a bunch of her stuff: not one boring or “stock” track. She’s fantastic.
“The One On the Right Is On the Left” – Johnny Cash. Political divisions drove them apart. “And the guy in the rear …. was a Methodist.”
“Before the Night Is Over” – Jerry Lee Lewis and B.B. King. Oh YES. JLL’s piano … BB King’s guitar … You just want to get up and dance. Groooovy. From Last Man Standing in 2006.
“I Think It’s Going to Rain Today” – Randy Newman. HEART. CRACK.
“Christmas Is the Time to Say I Love You” – SR-71. See, this is the value of the iPod Shuffle. I don’t want all music at my fingertips. I want my completely bizarre and eclectic music collection – gathered together over literally decades, since I was a teenager – at my fingertips. It’s MINE. I am a COLLECTOR. Like … this song. WTF. But it’s great!
“It’s a Hang Up Baby” – Jerry Lee Lewis. After destroying his career by marrying his 13-year-old cousin (Colonel Parker would have known how to handle THAT), JLL kept going, of course, but without industry support. He toured Europe (he was more welcome there). He signed with a label in the early 60s, but people didn’t seem to know what to do with him. Should we just let him do whatever the fuck he wants? It was the 60s … rockabilly felt like it happened lifetimes ago. The Beatles had arrived, changing the game. At any rate, before Jerry Lee Lewis’ rise to the top of the country charts in the 70s, came Soul My Way, which doesn’t have a guiding focus – it feels thrown together. It shows the confusion of the industry, in general – not just regarding Jerry Lee Lewis – but popular music in general. Who are we? How do we keep up? But the album has a lot of good songs: there’s very little “filler” in Lewis’ lengthy career.
“Heaven on their Minds” – the phenomenally talented Carl Anderson as Judas in the movie of Jesus Christ Superstar. I always wished that Chris Cornell had recorded this. I have goosebumps just thinking about it.
“Sitting, Waiting, Wishing” – Jack Johnson. It’s not really my thing, to be honest.
“Purely Automatic” – Brendan Benson. I mentioned him above. He’s part of my Trifecta of Favorite Singer-Songwriters right now – along with Mike Viola and Bleu (and they all have collaborated with each other on various side projects). Benson’s to die for, his songwriting is just perfection – he writes hits, which aren’t hits. But that’s okay. Those of us who know feel like we’re in a cool secret club.
“Love Revolution” – Lenny Kravitz. I agree with you, Lenny, but I feel like that time may have passed.
“Reaching” – the great Wanda Jackson, in 1958. Feel so grateful I saw her play twice before she retired. I love her so much.
“It’s a Beautiful Day” – Michael Buble. It’s so catchy I almost hate myself for succumbing to it. I’m a simple creature. Catchy is catchy.
“Over the Rainbow” – Jerry Lee Lewis. If you haven’t heard his version, run, don’t walk towards it.
“I Wouldn’t Dream Of It” – Split Enz. This album was so HUGE in college. There’s not a bad track on it. Every time I hear one of the songs, I am right back in the girls’ dorm where I lived my freshman year. The whole time comes back. I still love this album.
“Sunnyside” – Leftover Cuties. My favorite recent discovery. I can’t remember how I found them, but I am so glad I did! They’re magical.
“Workin’ Man Blues” – Merle Haggard. The voice. So lowwwww so smooth with a perfectly clear tone. A beautiful manly voice. “I want to throw my bills out the window, catch a train to another town …” You and me both, Merle.
“Elvis, the Last Ten Days” – The Nightingales. I have Greil Marcus to think for bringing this to my attention in his great book Dead Elvis.
“Blue Christmas” – Leftover Cuties. Speak of the devil! I love them and not just because they’ve covered a couple of Elvis songs (and beautifully). They turn this into a … what would you call it? It almost sounds like a funeral march in New Orleans. Or Mexico City. I love it.
“Raw-Hide” – Link-Wray. His live performance on TV in 1959. It’s … I mean, it’s unlike anything else. The sound of his guitar is frightening. It just won’t let up. Way WAY ahead of his time. How often is an INSTRUMENTAL banned from radio play because it is deemed too dangerous for the kids to hear (i.e. “Rumble”)? Extraordinary.
“Khyber Pass” – Ministry. An absolute EPIC.
“It’s Money That I Love” – Randy Newman. The man is a weirdo. I cannot live without him. He’s a genius.
“Man of Constant Sorrow” – Bob Dylan. Don’t get too comfortable, first-wave Dylan fans, don’t get too attached. Shit’s about to get crazy.
“Am I the Man” – Jackie Wilson. He is breath-taking. No wonder women used to faint in the aisles. Literally. You can’t freakin’ BREATHE listening to him. Mind-blowing talent.
“I Have to Have You” – Bleu. A fantastic song of erotic obsession: creepy as hell. “If I can’t have you, then no one can.” I mentioned him above as one of my Trifecta of singer-songerwriters I love today. I went to go see him in 2012, in the wake of Hurricane Sandy, when I was openly suicidal. Writing this post made me put off killing myself, for at least another day. I’m not exaggerating. I came out of that concert and was completely dissociated from reality. I have no memory of the commute home. I was completely unhinged. I woke up the next day and wrote about Bleu for hours. Crisis deferred.
“Baby What You Want Me To Do” – Elvis Presley, from the “sit down” part of the 68 comeback special. One of the sexiest performances ever captured. It’s almost … embarrassing. He’s so in the zone with it.
“I’m Beginning to See the Light” – Michael Buble. I’ve said some rude-ish things about him in the past even though, hey, lookee here, I buy his albums and I like him. I’m very glad to hear his son is better now, and I’m very glad he’s recording again. No more rude-ish comments. I’m “in”.
“I’m Still Jealous of You” – Jerry Lee Lewis. From the great Boogie Woogie Country Man. Amazing to think that Nashville was so resistant to the “outlaw” thing while it was embracing the real deal in HIM. “You’re a GOOOOOOOOOOD LOOKIN’ WOMAN” … it gives me chills. He goes somewhere in notes like that. Nick Tosches would know how to describe it. (RIP.)
“I’m a Believer” – Lenny Kravitz. Whaddya want a medal.
“Can I Run” – L7. These girls are so freakin’ TOUGH. Hard hard sound. I really responded to it then, and I still respond to it. Crank that shit up.
“Cold Cold Heart” – The Quebe Sisters. Can’t remember how I tripped over them. They are a trio of violin-playing sisters, who cover old bluegrass and country classics, with a nice Western Swing rhythm. They have beautiful voices too, beautiful old-school harmonies. I just Googled them and turns out they just came out with a new album.
“Tunnel of Love” – Doris Day. This SWINGS.
“Little Lovin'” – Lissie. I have no idea where I heard this song first (maybe on a movie soundtrack?) but every time it comes up, I think, “God, this is fantastic” followed by “I need to get more of her stuff.”
“Going Home Tomorrow” – Little Richard. Slow sloww slowwwwwwwww blues.
“Rodeo” – Garth Brooks. I appreciate him but he is very slick. I went to see his concert in Central Park. I appreciate him being open about his influences (he brought Don McLean onstage with him at that concert – !!!). And name-checking Elvis when he played the Opry (the Opry rejected Elvis, so it was nice “You fucked up, Nashville” moment).
“Memphis Tennessee” – Elvis Presley. Covering Chuck Berry. This song is a masterpiece. It’s a whole NOVEL.
“Forever” – Drake, Kanye West, Lil Wayne, Eminem – from that More Than a Game-inspired album. A stand-out song with a murderer’s row of talent. Oh, Kanye. WTF. Eminem put this on Relapse too, IIRC. It’s good.
“Sweet-Rockin’ Mama” – The Hi-Tombs. What on earth is this. It’s amazing. Listen to this SOUND. It’s so PURE.
“Frenzy” – Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. If a martian from outer space landed on Earth, and you played him a Screamin’ Jay Hawkins song upon arrival, he would not understand one thing about our culture. Or … he would think that someone like Screamin’ Jay Hawkins was representative, as opposed to being a brilliant outlaw, unexplainable, unpredictable, unprecedented.
“Walk Like an Egyptian” – The Puppini Sisters. I absolutely love these women, this Andrews-sister inspired trio, who do all kinds of innovative covers (plus originals), like this one. Tight three-part harmonies. I’m a huge fan.
“Black Hole Sun” – Haley Reinhart. I think she was a contestant on American Idol. But she’s really found her stride post-show. She has this scratchy jazz-y blues-y voice, and has done a lot of covers of American standards, but also her own versions of classics like this Soundgarden song. I love what she’s up to.
“In Bloom” – Nirvana. It still gets to me. I don’t care how many times I’ve heard it. Their stuff makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“End of My Journey” – Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers. How I love his gospel stuff. I love his pop stuff too. Huge fan, in general. But his gospel stuff has a special spark. One of the things I love so much about their gospel performances is the journey each song goes on: it starts at a certain point, and then each singer who jumps in takes it to another level, which is then a rally for the NEXT singer, who brings it even higher. It’s exhilarating. Like: just listen to this. Listen to where it starts and then look where it GOES.
“Drain You” – Nirvana, live in California. Why didn’t I ever go see them? Did I think I’d have plenty of time for that in the future? NOTE TO SELF …
“Collins” – Mike Viola. Member how I said I was concerned about him? I understand the catharsis of art, of an artist putting stuff into his music as a catharsis … or to try to work something out … But you can tell when someone is struggling. I love him. I’ve been a fan for 20 years … longer, really. He wrote the songs for Tom Hanks’ film That Thing You Do, but I was a fan before that, of his band Candy Butchers. Check him out. Insane songwriter.
“Crazy People” – The Wreckers. Like a lot of the songs on here, I only have one from this band – must have heard this song in passing and snagged it, without investigating further. Both of these women – Michelle Branch and Jessica Harp – are solo artists, too, with gorgeous voices, and it’s so beautiful to hear them harmonizing.
“Pontoon” – Little Big Town. Another contemporary country group, relatively new to me. I’ve loved everything I’ve heard so far.
“If I Can’t Have You” – Etta James and Harvey Fuqua. They blow the roof off.
“Hallelujah I Love Her So” – Ray Charles. If you don’t bounce around when you listen to this, then there’s something seriously wrong with you.
“Everybody Loves Somebody” – Dean Martin. You can hear him smiling when he sings. I swoon.
“No Surprises” – Radiohead. I associate this song – and this album – with a very specific time in my life. A lot of dreams were dying then and I didn’t know how to stop it. I thought they’d come to life again. I thought it was a phase. It wasn’t. So I’m not really inclined to re-visit this album. It hurts to listen to it.
“A Letter to Heaven” – Wynona Carr. She’s so fantastic, and unfortunately we just don’t have all that much of her. She didn’t record much. She came up on the gospel circuit with Sam Cooke, and – following his example – she recorded a pop album, hoping to “cross over.” (That album, Jump, is SO GOOD, but it failed to really land. At least not in any way that would make a difference for her.) She lapsed into obscurity, which is hurtful to think about. Such a talented woman with a rough-hewed voice you could pick out of a lineup as: “Yes. That’s her.” A collection of her gospel stuff was compiled – some of it quite rough – clearly recorded in a church – not very good sound quality – but ALL of it worth it. One of her gospel songs – with a baseball metaphor – played over the end credits of 42, the movie about Jackie Robinson, and I was so thrilled. Maybe it would lead people to her music!
“Talkin’ Bout You” – Brenda Lee. She was such a huge huge huge star, who set records that weren’t broken until a little-known girl named Madonna from Detroit came along. But has her reputation transferred down over the years? I feel like she’s just not … known. Kinda like the huge-ness of Ricky Nelson. Clearly people who know about music still know about Brenda Lee. She rose in this weird in-between time – post-Elvis – and before everything fell apart in the late 60s – but nobody was bigger than her at the time. Sometimes it feels like the wildness of Elvis – the TRUE wildness – the SOUTHERN BOY wildness – of Elvis – was not sustainable – our culture was not set up to incorporate it (even though it was forced to try). And so a little girl in a poodle skirt with a big rough belting voice was somehow more socially acceptable? I don’t know. I’m open to persuasion. Not that it has to be either/or. And I love Brenda Lee. I am sure people have “written on this” so I’ll do some research.
“16 Tons” – Robbie Williams. See this is why I love him. He covers Tennessee Ernie Ford. (The best cover, of course, is Jeff Beck and ZZ Top’s version). But still. This is a lot of fun. When is his Christmas album coming out again? Why isn’t it right now?
My talented brother Brendan O’Malley is an amazing writer and actor. He’s wonderful in the recent You & Me, directed by Alexander Baack. (I interviewed Baack about the film here.) His most recent gig was story editor/writer on the hit series Survivor’s Remorse. Brendan hasn’t blogged in years, but the “content” (dreaded word) is so good I asked if I could import some of it to my blog. He did series on books he loved, and albums he loved. I thought it would be fun to put up some of the stuff here. So we’ll start with his list of 50 Best Albums. I’ll put up one every Monday.
Brendan’s list of 50 Best Albums is part music-critique and part memoir and part cultural snapshot.
I have always loved these essays, because I love to hear my brother talk. I am happy to share them with you!
50 Best Albums, by Brendan O’Malley
7. The Streets – Original Pirate Material
London is fucked for me now. All my friends are wankers who owe me money or won’t give me a break on the money I owe them. My girl is fucking some other guy and I saw them eating fish and chips out of tiny cardboard containers at some outdoor shop and laughing. Pretty much all I do is drink and smoke and play video games.
The weed seems like it’ll help but then I just get all paranoid and creepy. The gray of the city seems to come from inside of me when I’m stoned when what I want is to add some fucking color to shit. The World Cup is going on and I could give two shits. Unless they lose and then I’ll probably start a fight with the next Spaniard I see.
See, the trouble is, I blame myself that she’s fucking this geezer. I snapped on her about something trite like where she put my hand-held TV after she borrowed it. Don’t know why I got so angry but things were never the same after that. I begged her for another chance and she gave it to me but when she started working at that bar in Chelsea I barely saw her. I got a sneaky feeling so I followed her one night after she got out of work and she met this fucking bastard and they smoked up in his car and then she went up into his place. Now when I’m not at darts with my geezers I’m traipsing around SoHo letting them put daggers in me every time they kiss.
Plus I owe a guy a whole lotta cake from this deal I tried to pull off last monf. I bought a bunch of brown (not using that shit yet but you fucking never well know) and passed it on to this numbskull who was trying to get it over to Paris through the Chunnel. Of course he got pinched and now I have to pay up and worry about Scotland Yard all at fuck once.
But, yeah, I still have a good time with my geezers down the pub when I can relax and balance the beer and weed just right. Without them I’d be noffing.
And yeah, this music might be something if I could get some time to work on it. The 808 is busted though. And all I want to write about is how I want to kill the motherfucker who is probably out with my girl right now. Not that I blame her. I did a number on her in the beginning and she just can’t let it go.
Memory is a bitch.
I am the last/latest in a long line of outsider philosophers. While I’m scraping along these dirty London streets I am high above it all, staring down at the slate rooftops and pointed steeple spires, and you all seem absurd, rushing about as if your every move mattered past the edge of your molecules. And it don’t, homie. It simply don’t. All that does matter is a vision of the world that you’ll never have, the singular vision, the one that includes all of us, but by very definition this vision is unreachable to any one of us, it cannot be attained. But our belief in that vision while being unable to perceive it is maddening to us so we transfer the intent of thought into meaningless things hoping to infuse them with meaning…a bird, some weed, a football match, a brick of cash. And you’ll never see it for what it really is.
Take my word for it. ‘Cuz I see it all from up here above all you petty little bitches. Don’t stop me from crying over her though.
I loved Honey Boy, with screenplay by Shia LaBeouf, who based it on his childhood. He plays his own father in the film. It’s painful. Very good all around. My review gave me the chance to bitch about that John Mayer song and its terrible terrible advice for “fathers.” My review on Ebert.
I saw this film in the theatres in 1995 and was haunted by it. It was out on VHS, and I think DVD too, but it’s been very difficult to find. It is now on a streaming service so I watched it again. I was bowled over by it AGAIN.
