I’ll admit I never got around to doing an end of year review for 2023 for varying reasons — mainly a major PC issue and some personal stuff going on — and when I finally had the time to focus, it was already late January and I felt it was better to just move on. Embrace the new year and see where it took me.
This past year has been one of dusting out the cobwebs, raising the windows and letting fresh air in, so to speak. I’ve spoken about the various personal choices and journeys over the last few years, making peace with some things, moving on, and looking forward. The resultant clarity has been much needed and welcomed.
So on that note, I’ll be revisiting some of this year’s releases over the next several weeks here at Walk in Silence. Some of these albums were merely entertainment, but some resonated deeply enough to become heavy rotation favorites. Which albums and singles will we see? Stay tuned!
I never got around to creating an end of year mixtape for 2023 — or a best-of list, come to think of it — and to be honest, I had good reason for it. While it was a good year for the most part, there were other personal things going on that took precedence, and it just fell by the wayside. I just didn’t have the spoons for it. It is what it is, though. It’s not the end of the world.
Now that we’re a month and a half away from the end of 2024, I’m pretty sure I’ll have something to go in the last week of December. I caught up on mixtape-making this year by reviving the Re:Defined series that I’d created back in the early 00s for similar reasons: changes in music tastes, changes in personal life, changes in outlook.
And there’s definitely been a lot of good stuff out there this year. I don’t always get to listen to it as frequently as I’d like (and I’d like to change that habit in the new year), but on the other hand there were quite a few albums I’ve been returning to on a consistent basis. Songs that get stuck in my head for days at a time.
We’ll see where this all leads in the coming weeks!
I don’t listen to George’s solo work nearly as much as I should, as I keep forgetting that 1973’s Living in the Material World is definitely my second-favorite of his albums (just behind All Things Must Pass). Even though he leans a bit heavy on the spirituality here, such as with the teaser single “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)”, there are some absolutely lovely tracks like the above one on it as well, not to mention his smartass response to the dissolution of The Beatles and Apple with “Sue Me Sue You Blues”. It’s a fun album worth checking out, especially now that the slightly-delayed 50th anniversary deluxe edition will be coming out on 15 November.
Kinda like a cloud I was up way up in the sky And I was feeling some feelings you wouldn’t believe Sometimes I don’t believe them myself And I decided I was never coming down Just then a tiny little dot caught my eye It was just about too small to see But I watched it way too long It was pulling me down
I knew where Trent Reznor was going with these lyrics, but my interpretation in the autumn of 1989 when I first heard it was personal: it was a parallel to the past two years of my life, when I’d finally found my own close circle of friends, only to have them leave upon graduation. See, back then there were two things I had to deal with as a teenager: one, the lack of any kind of social media or easy (and inexpensive) way to remain in contact with them…and two, undiagnosed ADHD that had me hyperfocusing on all the wrong things. “Down In It” encapsulated what I felt at the time: having lost what had been a really great thing followed by the triple-punch of maintaining a long-distance relationship, the inability to find my place at college, and my inability to properly focus on schoolwork. Most of that first year in college was spent in a slow but constant spiral.
I mean, I was also drawn to the band’s unique sound, a mix between the grooving EBM beats of Front 242, the heavy anger of Ministry’s distorted industrial metal, the sterile synthetics of mid-80s Depeche Mode, the clinical experimentation of Severed Heads, the atmospherics of 4AD, and the goth doom of Skinny Puppy. [Reznor admits this song was definitely a riff on their single “Dig It” from 1986.] It was an album that bridged the sounds and lyrics of 80s and 90s electronic music, taking the listener towards a kind of darkness they might not be prepared for. It was the perfect soundtrack to what was going on in my head at the time.
I wasn’t the biggest fan of the second single and album opener “Head Like a Hole” — I felt it didn’t quite capture the tense desperation of “Down In It” — but it certainly worked as a big fuck you to my roommate, who I should not have been roommates with. But the second track, “Terrible Lie”…
…that was an even bigger and more violent fuck you to the world in general. I was not a happy person then, obviously.
Side-closer “Something I Can Never Have” was part of that. I’d been put through so many emotional wringers over the last several months and saddled with so many stressful situations I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared for that this song was the closest to how I felt at the time: exhausted, lost, and numb. I knew I had to deal with these spirals, not to mention having to figure out workarounds that would help me academically, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I had the strength to keep it up. I kept feeling like I was heading in a direction I didn’t want to go in.
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.
I’ve said plenty of times that I used to listen to my copy of this on my Walkman on train rides home for the weekend during those first few college years. Friday nights on the Leominster-Fitchburg line, having escaped the stress of school and looking forward to a few all-too-quick hours with my girlfriend T. A day or so to recharge before I headed back into Boston on Sunday afternoon, ready for another go. Pretty Hate Machine was a reminder of where I was at that point in time, a way of prepping myself for the inevitable facing of another day in a situation I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in.
Which is why I loved that “Kinda I Want To” opened side two. It was a complete change of direction: you know what? Fuck it. Let’s do this. Let’s see where this all goes, good or bad. As much as I thought I needed emotional and mental stability at the time, I also knew I needed to BREAK THE CYCLE.
Nothing quite like the feel of something new…
“The Only Time” was part of that as well. After the chaos of the track (and third single) “Sin” and the pain of “That’s What I Get”, we’re finally at the point where I want to say enough is fucking ENOUGH already. In my head I had to break so many cycles: my Catholic upbringing, my small-town mindset, my pleasing others often to the detriment of my own happiness. I had to cut ties somehow. Or at least ride it all out until I could escape.
Ending the album with “Ringfinger” may not have helped matters, because to me it was a reminder that change could not and would not happen overnight, and not without my needing to take the necessary steps first. Some of those steps would be immediate, others would take a few more years. But I had to make that move. Emotionally exhausted or not, there was no other direction I could move at that point.
*
This album popped into my Threads feed the other day, as it had celebrated its 35th anniversary on Sunday. “Down In It” had also popped up on KEXP the morning I’d had to drive A down to SFO for one of her business trips, and it got me thinking about just how close I’d gotten to this album back in 1989 and into 1990. My cassette copy of the album had been played so often that most of the lettering had worn off it. It got a major amount of play throughout the years (except for a few where The Downward Spiral took its place in the mid-90s) and resurfaced again during the Belfry years. I still equate it to that time in my life where I felt like I was on a precipice. Decades have passed and I’ve figured out mental workarounds and achieved emotional stability. I never thought of that time as “just being a fucked-up kid”, to be honest, because I was trying not to be. I just had a lot of growing up to do and had to do it with little to no guidance, and I had to do it without help or influence, one way or another.
I’ve remained a Nine Inch Nails fan, though I don’t think I’ve ever resonated so deeply with an album as I did with Pretty Hate Machine. It’s an album that came out at a specific point in time, provided a life soundtrack, and kept me balanced in its own unique way.
…I realize I haven’t done a ‘what I’ve been listening to’ post in ages! Not sure why I let that fall by the wayside, but maybe it’s time to pick it up again. I’ll probably create a few posts this weekend for that.
In the meantime, right now I’m listening to Public Service Broadcasting’s latest, The Last Flight, which is an album about Amelia Earhart’s final flight and disappearance. Which, I should add, is not the first time this year she’s the subject of an album! [Laurie Anderson released Amelia just a month and a half ago, her first album in over a decade.]
…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!
…it looks like it’s finally a reality that The Cure will drop their newest album, Songs of a Lost World, on 1 November, and the teaser single “Alone” should drop…today?
I’m writing this post a few days ahead of time (on the 24th, due to a busy Day Job schedule) so there might actually be a full video by the time this entry pops up, but for now here’s the YouTube Short that’s been doing the internet rounds the last couple of days!
If anything, I’m purposely not expecting the new album to be Disintegration levels of perfection. After all, they haven’t had any new albums out since 2008’s 4:13 Dream (not including the new remixes of Torn Down: Mixed Up Extras 2018). However, they’ve been touring off and on in the interim, and they’ve been playing many of these new songs live during the recent shows.
Still, I’m looking forward to the album. Whether it’ll be the ‘doom and gloom’ album Robert Smith has been hinting at or a mix of the two separate albums that were supposedly complete (he’s also hinted that the other album is poppier), who knows? But I’m sure I’ll love it!
[EDIT: Yep, looks like the full version of “Alone” dropped this morning!]
…it’s been far too long since I’ve sat down and let myself get lost in this stuff. I mean, considering I’ve been working on reviving the Walk in Silence book, I think it’s fair to say that a lot of these albums were a huge influence on my high school years, and would fit nicely with the current iteration of this project.
I always call this era of the label’s output autumnal, because a lot of it, at least for me, evokes the feeling of an impending change of seasons near the end of the year. The air growing colder, the sounds of nature growing quieter, the sky greyer. Many of these albums — most of which I had on cassette and played incessantly at night as I went to sleep — might not always invoke a darkness, but more of a sense of desolation and breakdown, and even abandonment at times. You can hear the dust being kicked up as you walk through the wide emptiness of this music.
That, now that I understand music a lot more, was the key to 4AD’s signature sound then. A clever mix of heavy reverberation with sparse instrumentation gives it that same sound that Cowboy Junkies achieved with The Trinity Session when they recorded inside an empty church. Listening to these albums with my Walkman, volume set high and bedroom darkened, I entered another world, sometimes an escape but often times a safe place. I could let my mind and creativity get lost within the music, letting it take me on a metaphysical trip somewhere.
The collection Lonely Is an Eyesore is a great place to start. I listened to this one just a few days ago. Several of its accompanying grainy 8mm and 16mm videos were shown on MTV’s 120 Minutes, which in turn inspired me later on during my college years for my film production classes.
This Mortal Coil was a huge favorite of mine, especially after hearing a few tracks from their second album Filigree & Shadow on college radio in late 1986. That particular album was one of my top favorites in 1987-88 and inspired a lot of story ideas.
Dead Can Dance was a band I’d heard of in passing but it was 1987’s Within the Realm of a Dying Sun that became my all-time favorite of theirs. Not quite chamber music, not quite alternative rock, not quite current orchestral music, this album wasn’t just one that I’d lose myself in at night, it helped me find a Zen calm right when I was at my most anxious.
Cocteau Twins was of course a major influence on my bass playing, thanks to the Blue Bell Knoll album. By late 1988 I had a good portion of their discography on cassette (and a few on vinyl) and I was constantly listening to it. The twin 1985 EPs, Tiny Dynamine and Echoes in a Shallow Bay, remain in heavy rotation after all these years alongside their project with Harold Budd, The Moon and the Melodies.
And of course, let’s not forget the surprise hit by MARRS, a one-off project between 4AD label mates Colourbox and AR Kane. While this one goes against the grain of the typical autumnal sound of the label, it’s so damn catchy and inventive that you can’t help but love it.
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 think it was around this time that I started running out of gas while writing The Balance of Light. [For those playing along, I’d stalled right about where Poe follows Denni and Amna up to Trisanda in Act 3. I knew how to end the book…I think I was just afraid of it this huge years-long project finally coming to an end and doing a crap job of it.] To clear my head I’d started working on the vampire novel more often.
Weirdly enough, I think I was just running out of things to listen to…? There’s this strange era between 2004 and 2007 where I’d lost interest in indie radio. It could be that I was stuck between the lingering effects of alternative metal on one end of the spectrum and indie folk that was a little too esoteric on the other, and neither were really resonating with me. That, and a lot of my favorite bands were in between albums so I wouldn’t hear from them for a while longer.
Danger Mouse & Jay-Z, The Grey Album, early April 2004. Looking at my mp3 collection, 2004 was the peak of the initial mash-up wave, and this one is bonkers fun: DM’s decision to take Jay-Z’s The Black Album and The Beatles’ white album and create something new could have been terrible but instead it’s surprisingly enjoyable and highly amusing. Allegedly both Jay-Z and Paul McCartney thought it was great!
Ambulance LTD, LP, 6 April 2004. This band sadly came and went too quickly, releasing only two EPs and a single album, but it’s all worth checking out. I played the hell out of this record in the Belfry at the time, especially the great opener “Yoga Means Union”.
tweaker, 2am wakeup call, 20 April 2004. Chris Vrenna’s second album remains one of my favorite albums of that year, and it got all sorts of play the entire summer. It features vocals from Robert Smith, Hamilton Leithauser and David Sylvian, and a hauntingly gorgeous instrumental track featuring Johnny Marr that I’ve embedded above. Highly recommended.
Prince, Musicology, 20 April 2004. In between all the funk-heavy NPG Music Club albums he’d dropped for the last couple of years, this was a surprise mainstream hit that got considerable airplay both with the title track and “Cinnamon Girl”. It felt like a record on par musically with Sign ‘o’ the Times for me.
The Beta Band, Heroes to Zeros, 4 May 2004. Their last record’s title may have hit a bit too close to home considering they were no longer indie critic darlings at the time, but that didn’t seem to bother them any with this oddball collection.
The Magnetic Fields, i, 4 May 2004. The fun thing about Stephin Merritt and his many projects is that you can never really take him all that seriously, even when he’s writing breakup songs. Between his basso profundo voice and his quirky and self-effacing lyrics, you can’t help but like him. “I Thought You Were My Boyfriend” was a college radio favorite.
Mission of Burma, ONoffON, 4 May 2004. Their first new album in multiple decades, three of the four original members come back with a loud and blistering record that successfully captures their chaotic post-punk sound that influenced so many others. The fascinating thing is that there’s also an element of quietness here as well, inspired by the members’ time in much calmer bands.
Secret Machines, Now Here Is Nowhere, 18 May 2004. This was another favorite of the year, and an album that got a ton of play during my writing sessions for its deep dive into hard rock tinged with eclectic prog and maybe even a bit of psychedelia. This one earned them a small but highly loyal fanbase that remains to this day and even spread to the side project School of Seven Bells. Highly recommended.
The Fall, 50,000 Fall Fans can’t Be Wrong: 39 Golden Greats, 8 June 2004. A near-perfect sampler of a band with a convoluted discography on several different labels and an always-shifting membership. It’s oddly missing songs from I Am Kurious Oranj however, the 1988 album that helped them gain considerably more popularity in indie circles.
My Chemical Romance, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, 8 June 2004. You either love this band or you hate them. For me, they were a band I disliked at first but heard “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” and “Helena” so much on WHMP that they grew on me. Not quite goth, not quite alternative metal, not quite emo, but somewhere in between.
The Killers, Hot Fuss, 15 June 2004. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t the biggest fan of this band at first, and the breakthrough single “Somebody Told Me” just kind of bounced right off of me as too glam and too alt-rock-goes-disco for my tastes, but the more I heard the other singles the more I liked them, and finally bought it when I heard “All The Things That I’ve Done” which remains one of my favorite songs of theirs.
The Cure, The Cure, 29 June 2004. I’d mentioned this one earlier when I blogged about the band’s 2000s-era releases, and at the time I really wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I liked it, especially the darker-edged songs like “Lost” and “The End of the World”, but its sound was just so unlike them that it was a bit of a hard listen.
Walk In Silence 