I was introduced to Too Much Joy by my friend Chris back in 1990 when the major label reissue of their second album Son of Sam I Am dropped, and I was immediately hooked. At that point in time I was still listening to far more doom and gloom music than I really should have been listening to, and TMJ was refreshing, noisy and funny but without being too absurdist or corny. I put this cassette in my Walkman quite a lot near the start of my sophomore year when I needed a pick-me-up. Later on in the summer of ’91 I would see them live at the Hatch Shell, where I very nearly got hit by flying glass. Whee!
It’s not a brilliant album by any means, and they’re firmly entrenched in the ‘punk band that definitely doesn’t take itself seriously at all’ genre, but instead of going the meathead drunk-and-partying route, they took the intellectual Gen-X ennui-and-irony route, which caught the attention of several kids my own age. While it never got enough major airplay, they were a firm favorite on alternative radio and retained a loyal fanbase. Years later in 2020/2021 they reunited and have released two new albums since then.
The album ran the gamut between the ‘bad karma thing to do’ action of making fun of bums, to being traumatized by clowns…
…to singing about reincarnation (a song I still know all the words to!)…
…and not just a cover of an LL Cool J song….
…but a cover of the weird-yet-catchy classic by Terry Jacks.
So why a major reissue of an album from 1988 and reissued in 1990? Simple: after thirty-five years, the rights to their breakthrough album finally reverted back to them. They’d gotten the quite-aged masters back and got them cleaned up, and they sound fresh and vibrant once more.
Pure silliness, but I highly recommend this album because it’s just that much fun.
It’s funny that I remember this song quite well by the time 1995 rolled around. I’d hoped, back in 1991, that I would be better off and in better emotional shape by then, but alas…
It’s been thirty years since I’d moved out of Boston, and I still think about that from time to time. It was one of the rare moments in my life where I’d said “fuck it, I give up” so utterly completely. But even then I knew that it was the best decision in order to fix a terrible situation. Thankfully I’d been able to transfer my job to a different theater, even though I knew I probably wouldn’t be there for long. I just needed some kind of anchor so I wasn’t completely unmoored. I allowed myself the entirety of September to get all the anger and defeat out of my system before I started fixing my situation.
But in a way, being unmoored to that extent wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I knew I had to change a lot of things in my life. Grow up some. Deal with some personal shit that I’d been avoiding for years. Think about who I was, who I hung out with, and what I wanted and needed to change. Living with the family from ’95 onwards certainly had its own ups and downs, but it remained that steady platform I could build something new on. It gave me time and breathing room in order to do better.
Fast forward thirty years, and here I am, twenty years married and owning our own home. I’m still a writer — one who’s self-released seven books, with another one on the way and hopefully many more in the future. I still have a stupidly large music collection that is still expanding (though thankfully taking up much less space these days). Life still has its ups and downs, but for the most part I’m doing okay.
Was it worth staying there for a full decade? Definitely. I probably could have moved on earlier if I’d planned better and saved more. Sure, I still made a few dumbass decisions here and there, but doesn’t everyone?
It’s been a long twenty-four years since their last album, 2001’s We Love Life, though like The Cure they’ve been busy off and on in the interim, doing various tours and shows when they can. I’d been a passing fan during their 90s heyday, aware of the classic “Common People” single but little else until 1998’s This Is Hardcore, one of my favorites from the HMV Years. They were yet another band I’d finally get into just when they’re on the back end of their cycle.
Anyway, it’s great to see them back in the spotlight, with a lovely lead single that feels like they haven’t missed a beat at all. I’m yet to sit down and fully experience the new album More, but I’m looking forward to it!
I mean, yeah, I’m trying not to be overly (or overtly) political here on this site, but sometimes extenuating circumstances call for it. Heard this Beastie Boys track other day on KEXP, one you rarely hear on the radio these days as it’s a rather downbeat track and not one of their Big Hits, but I remember hearing this a ton on WFNX when Check Your Head came out in early 1992. It’s my favorite Beasties album and this is my favorite track of theirs.
Anyway, the KEXP deejay the other day pretty much said what I’ve been thinking lately: this second go-round is mask-off. They’re not even trying to hide it this time. And as A said a few days previous, we knew what happened last time so we’re ready for whatever bullshit he brings along this time out. We’re far more prepared to fight back, and more decisively at that.
They can call us names and spew and inspire hate towards us, and it still hurts just the same. But something’s giving this time. They’re ignoring it at their peril.
I’ve seen better days than this one I’ve seen better nights than this one Tension is rebuilding Something’s got to give Something’s got to give
…has given me a hankering to listen to some tunes from the HMV years when I wrote The Phoenix Effect. I’ve mentioned numerous times before that a lot of the music I listened to around that time heavily influenced and/or inspired many of its scenes. But it was also when I had a lot of positive things going on in my life for the first time in ages.
So now the trick is to find some current tunage that can take its place as the writing soundtrack for MU4….I do have a few in mind that have been on frequent rotation here in Spare Oom!
Every now and again I think about this EP, and how it’s affected me over the years. It’s Mark Pritchard of Global Communication and Kirsty Hawkshaw (formerly of Opus III, you know her from two covers: Jane’s “It’s a Fine Day” King Crimson’s “I Talk to the Wind“). I first discovered them on a quirky seasonal compilation called Invocation — the same album that introduced me to Jocelyn Pook. I listened to that album constantly during the final months of 1997 and into 1998, using it as a soundtrack to my writing at the time.
The song itself (Part 1 lasts a bit over eleven minutes, and Part 2 a bit over eight) is what I imagined as the best example of ambient electronic music: there was melody, but there was also mood and atmosphere. It was like the culmination of everything I loved about 4AD bands like Cocteau Twins and Dead Can Dance. It also felt widescreen in my mind. Cinematic in its own way, telling a story with its weavings of highs, lows, bursts and quietness. There was something about it that somehow hit me viscerally, and it felt almost like…a spiritual leaving.
I used that feeling some years later when I wrote a pivotal scene in The Balance of Light with the final moments between Denni and Saisshalé.
This track was actually what got me into Global Communication soon after, picking up both their brilliant 76:14 (highly recommended) and their album of Chapterhouse remixes, Pentamerous Metamorphosis, both of which had recently been reissued in the US. Those two albums, along with Invocation, became some of my favorite go-to albums when writing the Bridgetown Trilogy, especially when I needed something deeply atmospheric.
…but tomorrow we’ll be heading across The Bridge to Mill Valley to see The Verve Pipe! I’m really looking forward to this as they’ve been one of my favorite bands for ages, and Villains is one of my top favorite albums of the 90s. (And no, not just because of That Hit Song.)
I think the last time I saw them was in 1997 when they played in Boston with Tonic opening up (remember them as well?). They put on a great show then and I’ve heard their current tour is a lot of great fun too. They’ve mellowed out somewhat but Brian Vander Ark is still one of my favorite songwriters. I’m looking forward to this show!
Last month, Seal’s second album was rereleased as a remastered deluxe edition, and thirty years later it remains not only his best and most popular album, but it’s also one of my all-time favorite records of the nineties.
This was an album I bought in the final years of being a Columbia House member, and I’d picked it up more out of curiosity than anything. I still consider his single “Crazy” one of my top favorite songs of all time, and I felt this album was more to his style than the funkier r&b of his first record. It was released during an odd time in my life, right at the end of my stay in Boston and the start of my extended stay back in my old hometown, so I connect this with two things: my job at the movie theater in Somerville, and the long process of restarting my writing career. This was one of the many albums I listened to constantly while attempting to figure my life out.
Sure, everyone remembers the ubiquitous single “Kiss from a Rose”, but it also features the popular ballad “Don’t Cry” and the stunning “Prayer for the Dying”, all songs that got major airplay on pop radio and on MTV and VH1.
“Prayer for the Dying” was the track that initially sold me on this record, even though I hadn’t heard it until after “Kiss from a Rose”, which is interesting considering this was the album’s first single. Like “Crazy” it’s full of emotional turmoil and loss. Unlike that track, however, there is much less hope here. That’s not to say it’s a downer track, however; it’s a song about survival, and that makes all the difference.
The album cut “Dreaming in Metaphors” is a track that gets stuck in my head every now and again with its lopsided beats and swirling melody. Like “Prayer” it too is about turmoil, this time focusing on the frustrations of making life needlessly complicated.
“Don’t Cry” was the last single to drop from this album and it got a fair amount of play on VH1 during the winter of 1995. It’s a counterpoint to the above tracks, an uplifting song of hope during the darkest of times. [Side note: I haven’t seen this video in years, so imagine my surprise when watching it and realizing it was shot at the Palace of Fine Arts here in the city!]
Then of course there’s his most popular single, “Kiss from a Rose”, which didn’t just get played on pop radio, I believe Boston’s WFNX and WBCN gave it a few spins as well! It’s also from possibly my favorite Batman movie — yes, I know, but it’s the only one that doesn’t take itself too seriously and yet isn’t a complete dumpster fire either, and it’s got a banger soundtrack.
A and I went to see him live with the SF Symphony back in 2017 for the tour of his Standards album — singing songs like “My Funny Valentine” and “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” is a surprisingly perfect choice for him. While he did mostly songs from that record, he did pull up several hits from his past, including “Kiss from a Rose”, “Don’t Cry” and “Crazy”. He’s still got the pipes after all these years.
I highly recommend picking this one up. While it’s not as funky and unrestrained as his 1990 debut, it shows a singer already fully in charge of his voice and his style. It’s an amazing record, and the remaster sounds great.
I’ve been going through some music from 1999 the last couple of days and finding a bunch of albums and songs I used to listen to quite a bit then that I haven’t listened to in ages, and some I’ve even completely forgotten about. This was during the back half of my tenure at HMV, and by this time I’d been tasked with ordering the imports and, if I could get away with it, some of the obscure indie titles that I figured someone aside from me might like. A lot of these got considerable play down in the Belfry during my writing sessions.
Medal, Drop Your Weapon, 24 May 1999. This Oxford quintet’s music had that sort of epic moodiness that was at odds with a lot of what was big at the time, but their sound was perfect for my writing sessions, especially the slow groove of “Possibility”. Well worth checking out if you can find it.
Arab Strap, Cherubs EP, 1 September 1999. I kind of liked the lead track off this, but it was the slow and sludgy “Pulled” that drew my interest. Sure, it’s seven-plus minutes long and takes its own sweet time getting somewhere (and even then the tempo subtly shifts all over the place), but it’s the two-minute wall of noise coda that makes the entire song. Considering that I’m a huge fan of the quiet/LOUD style, this fit perfectly in my wheelhouse.
Days of the New, Days of the New II, 31 August 1999. Remember this guy, Travis Meeks? Promising musician with a growly semi-acoustic grunge sound? They had a minor hit with “Touch Peel and Stand” from the first album but the second record kind of got passed over. Thing is, this second record was absolutely amazing. Really tight musicianship and songwriting, and definitely more adventurous. Sadly his group imploded (apparently his backing band quit in frustration and started their own group, Tantric, who had a few minor hits in the early 00s. I listened to this one a hell of a lot that summer.
Tin Star, The Thrill Kisser, 9 February 1999. How the heck did I latch onto this…? I think the BMG rep handed a promo to me and thought I’d like it, and yes, like it I did! Not quite electronica, not quite indie, but a hybrid of both with a heaping dollop of British eccentricity added into the mix, it’s cool, funky, and a really great record. This got a ton of play in the Belfry for a good couple of years.
Kill Holiday, Somewhere Between the Wrong Is Right, 23 February 1999. I’d heard “In Closing (Memorial Day)” on The River one night driving home from work and immediately ordered the album on my following shift! Y’all know how much I do love an epic final track with a slow build (and again with the quiet/LOUD thing). One of my favorite indie releases of that year.
Trashmonk, Mona Lisa Overdrive, 25 March 1999. Ever wonder what Nick Laird-Clowes did after The Dream Academy? Well, he dropped this one really weird album named after a William Gibson book that sounded nothing like his former band. Sometimes experimental, sometimes groovy, sometimes hauntingly beautiful, it’s definitely worth checking out if you can find it.
Lamb, Fear of Fours, 17 May 1999. More experimental and much darker than their debut (and nearly all the songs contain quirky time signatures outside of 4/4), it’s the one that captured my attention to the point that they became one of my favorite bands of the late 90s/early 00s.
Rico, Sanctuary Medicines, 16 August 1999. This Glaswegian industrial musician could probably be compared to Nine Inch Nails but without the dire levels of nihilism. I don’t even remember how I came across this one aside from the fact that I really dug the whole industrial metal sound and that it wasn’t trying so damn hard to fit into the goth stereotypes like some other bands.
Handsome Boy Modeling School, So…How’s Your Girl?, 19 October 1999. Only Prince Paul and Dan the Automator could get away with naming their band after an episode-long joke from Chris Elliott’s bonkers TV show Get a Life…and loosely basing AN ENTIRE ALBUM on said episode. But it’s a damn fine record and one of the best of the year on many critics’ lists. It’s a super fun record worth owning.
The All Seeing I, Pickled Eggs & Sherbet, 20 September 1999. Another ‘where the heck did I hear about this’ import and the only album from this electronica collective, though this sounds more like a quirky British indie band instead if you didn’t know their background. It’s extremely eccentric and I have no idea what they were trying to prove with it, but it’s a fascinating listen.
So what’s one of my favorite love songs? You’d be surprised. It’s actually not a Beatles song!
The first time I heard Alanis Morissette’s “Head Over Feet” I immediately thought wow, yeah, I would love to have that as a song written about/to/for me. It’s simple and yet so heartfelt and kind. It’s not about sex or having a good time or mind-blowing emotion or anything. It just…is. No strings attached. Just one person saying how awesome their lover — and friend — is.
And to me, that’s one of the best kinds of love songs there is.
Walk In Silence 