Drewbot

8. Tom Waits, “Goin’ out West.” Glitter and Doom Live.

Now that 2009 is safely behind us, the inevitable top ten lists commence. I’ll start with music, posting a track every day and then a summary. There are certainly a few themes, either in music or myself. Read them collected here.

Tom Wait’s last release, Orphans, was epic. Three discs, all great, a classic summation of Waits’ canon, despite being (mostly) new material. Unlike 2004’s Real Gone, which pushed Waits to his conceptual limit at times, Orphans had one foot in past while still being fresh.

But as good as that material was, it is best heard on Glitter and Doom, where it comes alive. Wait’s raucous bits push the band hard. He seems to be testing every edge of the players, systematically, searching for weak points. Omar Torrez shines on guitar. This is one of the the few Waits albums where a player threatens Waits’ vocal dominance.

I saw Waits live in 1999, before I had heard his name. He was the surprise guest at Neil Young’s Bridge School Benefit Concert that family and friends ritually attended. My friend Andrew happened to go to school with Waits’ kids, up near Santa Rosa. Waits was apparently an active parent, mixing sound for plays on occasion in junior high, attending family functions, etc. Andrew knew of his notoriety, not his music, and thought of him in a way most of us consider our school friends’ parents.

So when waits took the stage––glitter, megaphone and all—Andrew was pretty much in shock. The guy was literally slack-jawed.

I remember Sixteen Shells especially.

9. Japandroids, “Young Hearts Spark Fire.” Post-Nothing.

Now that 2009 is safely behind us, the inevitable top ten lists commence. I’ll start with music, posting a track every day and then a summary. There are certainly a few themes, either in music or myself.

This one almost didn’t make my list. At times it feels too derivative, the sum of what I listed to in late high school. But that’s exactly why it’s notable. Everything about it is a reflection on earlier days. Hell, the fast drums with a single guitar, droning bass notes with full tone is how Ben and I used to play in my parents garage. Post-Nothing is the perfect title. This album highlights the span between those years and now.

I saw Japandroids play with an ex coworker at an over-18 show at Rickshaw Stop. Rail thin teens were not dressed for the cold that night, bumming cigarettes in the wind. But they never shivered while they hung off their girlfriends with Xs on their hands.

Inside, the teens jammed the front ten feet and the lone doorman found himself trying to quell the crowd. We stood behind the fray sipping our beer, watching them jump.

10. Bill Callahan, “Jim Cain.” Sometimes I Wish I Were An Eagle.

Now that 2009 is safely behind us, the inevitable top ten lists commence. I’ll start with music, posting a track every day and then a summary. There are certainly a few themes, either in music or myself.

Smog was an key member of the late 90s indie record store scene. Finding artists was still a challenge and the pursuit of quirk was key. Seriousness seemed taboo. Pavement certainly ran in these circles, but I think this time is better illustrated by an artist like Solex. A record store owner, she collaged samples of unwanted records into pop odes, feeding back her consumption into creation.

Smog* seemed to approach music in a similar fashion. His creations were lo-fi, almost haphazard. Out of tune acoustics were captured on four-track cassettes at home. As he moved forward, his production evolved but his song structure remained minimal, hinting at his past. Knock, Knock is my favorite (its lyrics are smart and wry), but The Doctor Came at Dawn is great as well.

Sometimes I Wish I Were An Eagle is his second album as “Bill Callahan.” Dropping the Smog moniker suggests evolving, or at least growing up. Certainly, this album is a more mature work. It feels more comfortable. The darkness of Doctor and the irony of Knock, Knock is traded for sureness and empathy. Callahan’s newest work brings to light how we’ve evolved: irony certainly isn’t dead, but sincerity is no longer taboo. Emotion isn’t a token, a branded category of “Emo,” but rather something spread over the music catalogue. (In infinitely less cloying and more palatable amounts.)

* Or Bill Callahan. Both Solex and Smog adopted band names despite their solo artist status