Thursday, March 31, 2011

Birthdays and self-gifts


So it's my birthday, today.
And it's time for a self gift.
Because, you know, the (not-written) rules of this blog are strict and inflexible: "Remember: thou won't write about anything happened before the 1st of January 1990 and after the 31st of December 1999. Rrremember!".
Thus this is one of the rare chances I have to venture out of the 90s.
It's a crime worth committing, I think.
The record is 1988 "Nothing's shocking" by Jane's Addiction.
I'll write an entire post about them sooner or later, that's for sure.
For now, let me just say that: if you want to thoroughly and deeply understand and appreciate the 90s, you definitely shouldn't keep ignoring it.
There are no fillers, no dull songs on that record.
It's so dense, so full of ideas, genres, sheer class and genius.
And there are Perry Farrell and Dave Navarro at their best.
I would have liked to upload "Ocean size" video, but, you know, embedding is not permitted... (however, here's the link)
So here is "Jane says", the most relaxed moment on "Nothing's shocking".
A sublime ballad. With my name in it, too.

Jane's Addiction - Jane says (1988)

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Reissues: "Deserter's songs" by Mercury Rev

Mercury Rev - Goddess on a highway (1998)


For those cold hearted people out there who have never listened to Mercury Rev, this is your chance to make up for this shameful lack.
As Pitchfork reports, the "upstate New York orchestral rockers" reissued fundamental 1998 "Deserter's songs" two weeks ago, their most famous and critically acclaimed album, and everyone's favourite.
The (according to NME) "best album of 1998" features all the elements that have been defining Mercury Rev's peculiar sound since "See you on the other side" (1995): "shimmering psychedelic pop, immersive indie-rock, spectacularly engrossing passages of sumptuous instrumentation"*. Mine definition could be... uhm... "evocative orchestral astro dreamy pop with falsettos"??
Rate your music filed it under "Chamber Pop, Indie Pop, Neo-Psychedelia, Dream Pop, Psychedelic Pop".
I've always loved music genre categories...
Anyway...
I strongly suggest you to provide a copy of this gem, and to listen to it over and over, until your heart and blood are warm again.

(*: by Mike Diver for BBC.co.uk. Full review here)


Mercury Rev - Opus 40 (1998)



Mercury Rev - Holes (1998)

Sunday, March 27, 2011

We are Grandaddy and we play Strokes covers

I just realized, with surprise and shock, that I can't, I won't upload "The crystal lake" by Grandaddy on this blog.
Because that marvellously dreamy song, one of my favourite ever, was released in 2000.
So I won't even write about the magnificent "The Sophtware slump",
the album that contained it.
To (partially) relieve this discomfort, I can't do nothing but watch this:

Grandaddy - Summer here kids (1998)



and, obviuosly, this:

Grandaddy - AM 180 (1998)

Thursday, March 17, 2011

150 years


Today Italy celebrates 150 years of unity.
I however think Italians don't have that much to celebrate these days.
And if you happened to read about Italy politics, you'd agree with me and with a good half of italian citizens.
A-ny-way...
Since I'm Italian and I didn't display a national flag on my window, I want to celebrate somehow.
Is there anything fancier than a 90s video and anything more proper than an italian one?

Viva l'Italia!


(for the record: in 1997 my band opened for them. I stored the event poster somewhere. In case you don't believe it...)

Mao - Satelliti (1997)

Friday, March 11, 2011

The "if I were an astronaut about to launch etc..." list

Nick Hornby, in "High fidelity", showed us the delightful art of compiling lists.
It's more satisfying than what you may think, unless your mind can't go further than a dull "my favourite 10 albums" list.
Along the years I happened to come across intriguing lists like "songs to be heard at my funeral", classics like "songs to shag to" (or "ALBUMS to shag to", in case you were that type) or weird inventories like "most useless member of a band" (uh... if I don't get wrong, I read it on the Melody Maker, and the "winner" was awkward skinny allucinated-eyed Bez of the Happy Mondays. Actually, his role was to play maracas and dance. Although maracas were not hearable and he danced like "a man who needs the bathroom trying to start a fight at a bus stop"*).
Anyway, talking about oddness, here's my "songs I'd listen to if I were an astronaut in the Space Shuttle two minutes before countdown starts" list.
Imagine yourself, sitting stiff and tensed in a Space Shuttle about to lunch, alone in your spacesuit, breathing like Darth Vader, halfway between the warm confidence of your beloved ones, the noise and confusion of your earthly life, and the cold, astonishing silence of the great beyond.
What would it be your soundtrack?
That's my choice:
#5
Foo Fighters - Next year (1999**)
Widely predictable.

#4
Blur - Far out (1994)
Ground control for the Major Damon...

#3
R. Kelly - I believe I ca... no, joking.

#3
Nine Inch Nails - A warm place (1994)
Because I'll need an instrumental


#2
Mansun - Wide Open Space (1996)

(I suggest you to have a listen to the acoustic version here)

#1
Spiritualized - Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space (1997)
Anything to add?


*: by David Pollock in independent.co.uk. Full excellent review here.
**: ok, the single was released in 2000; but I received the album as a Christmas present, in 1999.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

So-called alternative sister

Yesterday* my sister turned 31.
But she still is a 14 years old girl to me, at a time when she was mad about Pearl Jam, Blur and so-called 90s alternative music.
I supposed it's so common for older brothers to see their younger sisters like... they were eternally framed in their teenage years; and I presume I'd feel the same even if she turned 40, or got married or spawned noisy creatures called "nephews".
But I arrogantly think my case is even more serious, and that's because so many memories of my "90s in music" are closely related to her: all those records we listened to together, all those VHS tapes as mementos of all the music videos and TV programmes we watched together, all those gigs of unknown local bands we went to...
We shared happy and unforgettable moments like that festival in 1999 (where Courney Love ordered the security staff to get rid of the "fan" who throwed a bottle on stage during Hole' set, and where Butch Vig had been only a spit's throw from me), as well as dreary ones, like the day Kurt Cobain egoistically resolved he would leave us orphans.
So many things changed since then (and how changed we are...).
(The words "The End" on the screen, melancholic violins, end credits.
This oh-so-personal post is finally over)

Yesterday* I went to my parents' house to celebrate her birthday altogether, and I secretly took a picture (see above) of two records from her collection.
The one on the left is a (rare?) 10inch vinyl copy of Juliana Hatfield's "My sister" I bought ages ago in London and gave to her as a present (one of my favourite song ever, for the record). I thought it couldn't miss from this post.
The CD on the left is 1996 "This world and body" by british band Marion. I remember she loved that album so much.
Pretty nice song indeed.
"Our" song. Sort of.

(*: the 6th)

Marion - Sleep (1995)