Day 25: Sleater-Kinney, “The Woods”

When: Released May 24, 2005

Why? Just about anywhere that indie bands are seriously discussed (particularly within the pages of Tape Op magazine), Sleater-Kinney’s name comes up. I have never heard a Sleater-Kinney song, and I know nothing about the band or their music.

What? Ten songs, just over 48 minutes.

First Impressions: While this album was critically praised when released—it apparently signaled a new direction for the band—the fan response was mixed. The most negative review I found gave “The Woods” a rating of 0 on a scale of 1 to 10, calling it “scalding, abrasive, and chaotic.” I agree that all of those words apply. Nevertheless, I found this album a powerful—if exhausting—listen. Your mileage may vary.

The problem—or feature, depending on your perspective—is the way the band have completely embraced the sound of digital distortion/clipping here, working with Producer, Engineer, and Mixer Dave Fridmann. Digital distortion—produced when a recording computer (or peripheral) is unable to adequately process an overly hot signal, and so information from that signal is “clipped” or removed—is typically something to be avoided; it is harsh, brittle, and lacking the musical warmth and pleasing harmonics that come with analog distortion. Here, the harshness of a clipped signal is being celebrated (along with extreme amounts of compression), and the results are often hard to listen to.

Nowhere is harshness more evident than in the first moments of opener “The Fox,” which, on paper, reads like something out of Beatrix Potter: “On the day the duck was born / The fox was watching all along / He said, ‘Land ho!’ when he saw the duck / ‘Land Ho!’ and the duck saw him too.” In reality, “It’s loud and it thrashes and [vocalist Corin] Tucker shouts to be heard over the din. It’s ferociously uninviting, but it works both as a context-providing preface to the nine songs that follow and as a deterrent for weak-eared listeners,” wrote Stephen M. Deusner in a Pitchfork.com review. “Those who make it to ‘Wilderness’ [the second track] will have passed a test of sorts,” he says.

That was my experience in a nutshell. There was nothing about “The Fox” that encouraged me to keep listening. And I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t already committed to “The Woods” as my next album. Thankfully, things improved after this first track (with one exception).

Here, Sleater-Kinney—Corin Tucker on vocals and guitar, Carrie Brownstein on guitars and vocals, and Janet Weiss on drums—brings a very punk sensibility to hard-hitting lyrics that touch on politics, consumerism, the music industry, modern relationships, and a culture where entertainment trumps all.

Despite subsequent occasional, but brief, aural onslaughts, I actually enjoyed hearing what the band had to say. The tracks feature incisive lyrics with engaging imagery and powerful vocals from both Tucker and Brownstein. I most enjoyed “Wilderness,” “Jumpers” (despite the subject matter), the satiric bite of “Modern Girl” (set against a perfectly realized musical backdrop), and “Night Light.”

“Let’s Call It Love” is the one exception I alluded to above. At 11 minutes long, it is the longest track on the album and the hardest to endure. The off-kilter timing of the verses is engaging, but the chorus vocals come close to being little more than shrieking. Once the lyrics end, at about the halfway point, the song turns into tuneless noise for the remainder of its running time, broken only by a return to melody in its final seconds as it segues into “Night Light.” (Admittedly, at this point in my 1-a-Day project, I’ve lost patience for this kind of “song.”)

So? I found much to like here during my listen. But nothing is calling me back. I think that’s due to a sparsity of memorable melodies, along with arrangements that seem to favor noise over interesting variety or engagement. Add in the band’s off-putting recording/mixing choices, and it makes a second listen feel more and more like a slog. While I’m curious to hear how this album compares to others in Sleater-Kinney’s discography, I will not go out of my way to venture back into “The Woods.”

Day 24: Rush, “Moving Pictures”

When: Released February 12, 1981

Why? I’ve never heard a Rush album and am only familiar with some of the radio singles.

What? Seven songs, 40 minutes. This is Rush’s 8th studio album, and it is consistently ranked among the top five of all Rush albums. It includes two hit singles, “Tom Sawyer” and “Limelight.”

First Impressions: This was a really enjoyable—and surprising—listen. Enjoyable because the musicianship on display here is next-level and the lyrics are thoughtful and evocative. Surprising because I thought I could peg the band after the first two tracks, “Tom Sawyer” and “Red Barchetta”—jazz-tinged progressive rock built on science-fiction themes—only to have them move on to the challenges of fame, a street-level (and perfectly realized) portrait of two contrasting cities, the terrifying power of people who are “confident their ways are best,” and a reggae-influenced take on conformity and individuality. Add to that an instrumental dedicated to their home airport in Canada, and you have a decidely varied album of songs.

I liked every song here. The one I think I liked the least, though, is the album’s most popular track, “Tom Sawyer.” It’s well-written, and it’s no surprise that it has become the band’s signature song. I just don’t believe it works well within the context of this album. For me, the lyrics in “Tom Sawyer,” the only co-write here between drummer Neil Peart and nonmember Pye Dubois, stand out as too different in style from the other Peart- and band-written songs on the album. That said, it would be fair to point out that the subject matter of “Tom Sawyer,” with its focus on individualism and noncomformity, perfectly bookends the album with closer “Vital Signs.” So maybe that’s reason enough for its inclusion…?

Setting aside “Tom Sawyer,” each of the tracks here pulls its weight, delivering intriguing story-based or slice-of-life lyrics along with inventive musical arrangements, punctuated by tasteful synthesizer work. I was happily caught off-guard by the reggae influences on “Vital Signs.”

Vocalist and bassist Geddy Lee has said in at least one interview that the band gets bored sticking to one time signature for more than a couple of measures, and that’s certainly on display here; while the constant time changes help to keep things fresh, sometimes they do feel like they’re being done just to be done, that they don’t necessarily serve the song.

After hearing Rush singles for decades, Geddy Lee’s high-pitched vocals no longer annoy me (and I was glad to hear him drop down into a more normal vocal range for most of the album), his bass work is enthusiastic, Alex Lifeson’s guitars can go from understated to soaring, and I generally appreciated Neil Peart’s drumming (although, by the end of the album, his frequent tom rolls felt overly repetitive and predictable).

Favorite tracks include “YYZ,” “Limelight,” The Camera Eye,” and “Vital Signs.” Despite “The Camera Eye” being the longest track here, at just over 10 minutes, it never felt bloated or excessive to me; I was invested in its journey.

So? I knew Rush could play—and play well; a life spent reading music magazines has made that clear. But I was heartened to discover that Rush is not just about futuristic science fiction and that their songs are so thoughtfully constructed. I will certainly be spending more time with this album.

Day 23: The Velvet Underground & Nico, “The Velvet Underground & Nico”

When: Released March 12, 1967

Why? Other than having seen its iconic sleeve, this album is completely unfamiliar to me. Regarding its impact, music producer Brian Eno told Billboard magazine in 1997: “I was talking to [Velvet Underground member] Lou Reed the other day, and he said that the first Velvet Underground record sold only 30,000 copies in its first five years. Yet, that was an enormously important record for so many people. I think everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band!” I’m eager to see if I can hear why that might be the case.

What? Eleven songs, 49 minutes. This is the first album by the Andy Warhol-managed Velvet Underground, with three songs featuring vocals by German singer and actress Nico (born Christa Päffgen).

First Impressions: Given what little I knew about the Velvet Underground and Warhol’s artistic aesthetic, I expected this to be a challenging listen, weird and off-putting. So I was pleasantly surprised when “Sunday Morning” began. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t help writing down that this song felt like a warm embrace. It was an utterly unexpected opener which, along with the next two tracks, “I’m Waiting for the Man” and “Femme Fatale,” gives a pretty good summation of this album: well-crafted, slice-of-life pop alongside often grittier, lo-fi songs focusing on drugs, sex/relationships, and New York City’s late-Sixties downtown club scene.

Warhol funded the recording of this album but put surprisingly little money into it. It shows. The recording/production quality varies markedly throughout the album. Most songs were recorded in what has been described as a run-down studio in Manhattan. Three were rerecorded later—“I’m Waiting for the Man,” “Venus in Furs,” and “Heroin”—apparently under better conditions (although there are still guitar-tuning issues on “I’m Waiting…”). “Sunday Morning” was recorded even later, a last-minute addition. Those four songs sound better than anything else on the album.

On “Venus in Furs,” a song about S&M that was one of the more controversial tracks when the album was released, Indian-like drones, out-of-tune electric guitars, and John Cale’s strings underscore songwriter Lou Reed’s veiled lyrics.

“Heroin” is simply Reed’s description of taking the drug and its effects on him: “I don’t know just where I’m going / But I’m gonna try for the kingdom if I can / ’Cause it makes me feel like I’m a man / When I put a spike into my vein.” (The narrator describes the resulting high as “rushing on my run,” which echoes an earlier song, “Run, Run, Run,” suggesting that it too is about a desire for the drug. “I’m Waiting…” is about meeting a drug dealer.)

Nico’s voice caught me off-guard. Expecting a higher-pitched female voice, I got almost all the way through the album before I realized that she had been the singer of “Femme Fatale,” “All Tomorrow’s Parties,” and the haunting “I’ll Be Your Mirror.” (She also provides backing vocals on “Sunday Morning.”) I don’t dislike Lou Reed’s voice in any way, but it’s interesting to me that Nico sings on my three favorite tracks on the album.

Along with the traditional songcraft on display, there are experimental moments. Cale’s strings provide tension and accents as well as drones that sometimes mimic Indian instruments, sometimes shriek and wail like nothing else. They are just as likely to provide the instrumental breaks between song sections as the electric guitars—played by Reed and Sterling Morrison—which can go from melodic and rhythmic to “I’m going to randomly hit every possible string and fret until I find the note I’m looking for” time-wasting nonsense. Closer “European Son” offers a short lyrical passage before descending into perhaps six full minutes of sonic chaos.

So? I didn’t really vibe with the unintentionally poor quality of some of the recording here. Morrison’s bass playing and Maureen Tucker’s drumming provide a rhythmic foundation but not much more. And I believe Reed’s observational lyrics are so specific to his experiences and his environment at the time that they don’t lend themselves well to broader interpretations, making them difficult to relate to beyond mere travelogue. So I don’t see myself revisiting this album in its entirety. I will, however, be adding all of Nico’s songs to my playlists, along with “Sunday Morning.”

Day 22: Iron Maiden, “The Number of the Beast”

When: Released March 22, 1982

Why? This album is consistently ranked among the top heavy-metal albums of all time. To my knowledge, I’ve never heard an Iron Maiden song.

What? Eight songs, 40 minutes. This is the first Iron Maiden album to feature new lead vocalist Bruce Dickinson.

First Impressions: OMG: The melodies! The guitar and (occasionally) vocal harmonies! Add them to the thrashing drums and wide-ranging lyrics—written by bassist Steve Harris and inspired by everything from the Viking raids on Saxon England to suspense movies/TV shows, biblical prophecy, the plight of Native Americans, gangsters, and prostitutes—and you get a wholly enjoyable album that is consistently entertaining.

A quick aside: Iron Maiden was one of the early inspirations for Metallica. (Metallica released their first album, “Kill ’em All,” in 1983.) I consider myself a Metallica fan. But one major drawback (for me) of much of Metallica’s output is their penchant for repetition to the point of boredom/exhaustion, evident on most albums up through 2003’s “St. Anger”—a notable exception being 1991’s “Metallica,” AKA “The Black Album”: If a riff is good enough to be played once, it’s good enough to be repeated, unchanged, a dozen times. Refreshingly, Iron Maiden never falls into that trap here. Their songs are economical. They deliver the goods but always leave you wanting more.

Of the eight songs here, six of them are straight-up winners to me, blending tight guitar harmonies, propulsive drumming, sometimes thrilling vocals from Dickinson, and lyrics that, while not always poetic, avoid clichés while developing evocative imagery. Highlights for me include the title track (easily my favorite here), “Run to the Hills” (with vocal harmonies that would fit perfectly on a late-1970s Styx track), and “Hallowed Be Thy Name,” which follows a criminal’s thoughts as he makes his way to the gallows.

“22 Acacia Avenue,” about a real-life prostitute the band knew and about whom they have written several songs, is less successful. The narrator begins by suggesting his friends visit his acquaintance, Charlotte, at the address of the title if they’re “feeling down, depressed, and lonely.” But then he tells Charlotte herself: “Can’t you get out from all this madness? / Can’t you see it only brings you sadness?” So, he’s sending her business even as he pleads with her to abandon this lifestyle. That seems problematic. After more of this back and forth, the song ends with: “All the men that are constantly drooling / It’s no life for you, stop all that screwing / You’re packing your bags, you’re coming with me.” Given the tone of the song, it’s unclear whether Charlotte is being truly rescued and liberated by the narrator at this point…or just going from serving multiple clients to being the servant of one. Ultimately, the song seems less about Charlotte and more about the will of the narrator. I get the sense that when he and his friends are in Charlotte’s company, her occupation isn’t an issue.

The least successful song, though, is “Gangland,” which, while energetic, just doesn’t seem to hold together as well as the other material. Lyrically and musically, it feels unfocused. (Apparently, songwriter Harris felt so too, saying later that they should have chosen another track, “Total Eclipse,” for the album and relegated “Gangland” to a B-side. Having now listened to “Total Eclipse,” I agree. It’s a much stronger song than “Gangland.”)

So? I really liked this album and will listen again.

Day 21: Roxy Music, “Roxy Music”

When: Released June 16, 1972

Why? I have been seeing Roxy Music album covers in the racks for as long as I’ve been buying albums, but I’ve never heard a single song.

What? Ten songs, 46 minutes, that have been described as art rock, glam rock, prog rock, cosmic rock, “eclectic” and “very peculiar.” This is Roxy Music’s debut album. (Although the song “Virginia Plain” did not appear on the original LP, it has been included on a number of rereleases and was included during this listen.)

First Impressions: This isn’t the kind of album you casually listen to in the background. Synthesized soundscapes, background saxophones and oboes that sound like animals unleashed, drumming of a proficiency rarely heard in pop/rock music these days, and lead singer Bryan Ferry’s over-the-top delivery (and vibrato) combine to deliver songs that flow like prose poems and reward attention—even if you have no idea what they mean.

After one listen, I understand why all of the descriptors above have been used to describe Roxy Music. In fact, there are individual songs here where every single one of them would apply (“The Bob”). Despite the eclecticism and peculiarities—or maybe because of them—I really enjoyed the journey this album presented.

That surprised me a bit because this album shares similarities with King Crimson’s “In the Court of the Crimson King,” which I did not enjoy—particularly, a fondness for extended instrumentals and strange soundscapes. (There is another connection: This album was produced by former King Crimson lyricist Peter Sinfield.) The difference for me was that these experiences were much more focused here, more musical to my ears, and delivered with humor, which—far as I could tell—was completely absent from “Court.” Consider opener “Re-Make/Re-Model.” Not only does Ferry’s exaggerated vibrato suggest that he’s (over)playing a role, but the main chorus hook is a license-plate number. As a song, it seems to have its tongue firmly planted in one cheek. That doesn’t stop with the lyrics. During the extended instrumental outro, we get musical breaks punctuated with quick riffs from familiar songs—for example, a line from The Beatles’ “Day Tripper”—as if Roxy is nodding to some of their heroes. Or maybe just having a laugh.

Despite the knowing humor that glam represents (and without the visual of the band this doesn’t always feel like a glam-rock record to me), the lyrics are grounded and meaningful with only an occasional bit of wordplay or frivolity. (Closer “Bitters End” is a lighthearted pun- and allusion-filled exception.) The musicianship is stellar, with particularly standout performances by Andy Mackay on sax and oboe, Paul Thompson on drums, Brian Eno on synthesizers, and Ferry himself on piano. While not showy, Graham Simpson’s bass work is foundational and tasteful.

Equally important is the stereo mix. There are moments when synthesized chaos is occurring in the right channel while a simple melody is offering counterpoint in the left, with both underscoring what’s happening lyrically.

I don’t think there was a weak track here. Among those I most enjoyed, though, “Sea Breezes” may be my favorite. It’s a beautiful, well-crafted song raised to another level through its inventive production and arrangement.

So? I found something to like in every track here. I will definitely continue to listen to this.