I know there are many who revere this band, and I support you loving what you love. Sure. But I love me the nihilistic high-speed reptile brain of Motorhead; the swampy, stinky majesty of Black Sabbath; the operatic high theater of Iron Maiden. And Metallica just isn't fun.
I was a wee sprat when Bruce Springsteen was driving the empty highways in the 70s. I was forced to endure Born in the USA at our big junior high dance, where it was the anthem for all the serious pre-fascist assholes at our high school. So I don't come to Bruce with a whole lot of love.
But listening to Darkness on the Edge of Town and Nebraska, I was moved. His characters are doing the best they can in a period when when "blue collar" spoke of a class divide as big as the Nebraska plains, and carried real struggle, real pride, and real despair as the landscape of regular jobs was deflating like a whoopee cushion, slow and loud and flabby.
The masculinity I inherited from my time and place was toxic as fuck, no doubt about it. But the masculinity of Bruce's characters isn't just that of drunken louts--it was also a manhood of people who love their irredeemable brothers, who try to make intimate relationships work, despite endless problems; who do in fact know love, and uncertainty, and endurance. And in a man, those qualities run alongside the toxicity of the time, strong.
I taught yoga for a good while, and early on in that career, I got into listening to yoga music--ragas and kirtan. That was in the late 90s, when this album debuted. Prior to that I'd been gaga for the trends of my young adulthood, and had felt propelled by the changes in the world of "alternative music." Thanks to A, I got to see Stereolab at their college; I think of Air as part of that world.
When my teaching and asana practice leveled out and matured, I found my way back to the trends and bands of the era--Beck, especially, but also Air. Art rock.
Now I think of this long history and realize all the other moments when I left contemporary rock and electronica slide out of my viewscreen for a couple years.
The Pogue's Christmas song is a part of my circle of friends forever. We grew up drinking a lot, and although I never spent a night in the drunk tank, I did embarrass my friends and piss off my parents. College fixed that, of course!
What I didn't know: the Pogues were a great Irish folk band! Shane must've been so chuffed for his duets with the Dubliners. He had the spirit of his culture in his trampled, shouting heart, and we all recognize it. Salud!
Public Enemy electrified my consciousness in 1989. I was in college. Daniel & I played them at all the Arts House parties.
Note to self: from now on, my numeric rating is just about the importance of the album in my life, not about whether the album is an important cultural artifact or not.
On that level, Astor Piazzolla is very important to me. Well, WAS very important.
Growing up in Lexington, I loved the public libraries there. I remember finding "Juju Root" at 15 in their vinyl collection, which featured lots of "ethnic music" from around the world. I developed a taste for all kinds of things, but especially for stuff on Rhino or Folkways.
First year of college, Daniel and shared a late night radio show. WMFO had a huge collection of music from around the world--including Astor Piazzolla records. I played them regularly on my show, and I played recordings at home. I was entranced by the feeling images I drew from it, of late night sharks in suits and slinky dresses, cigarettes, tenderness, cruelty, caprice.
Some of his songs are etched into my memory forever.
She was a great rock singer, no doubt about it.
I had to grow into Maiden... but I did! I love the maximalism. I love the operatic highs and the growling lows. I love the grit and the glamour. Listening to it is like smelling salts for my mind.
