If I'm going to be doing this blogging thing, there are some things you probably should know right off the bat, so you have some idea what to expect: the two main things that annoy me about the current state of pop music are bands who try so hard to sound like their record collections that they don't actually do anything new or interesting, and bands who take a song that would kick major ass at 2:45 and spin it out over four minutes just by taking the hook line and repeating it OVER and OVER and frickin' OVER again.
Don't get me wrong: repetition can be a very good thing. I own more than my share of Philip Glass records. And just this afternoon as we were on our way out to Framingham on a BJ's run (helpful regional note for non-New Englanders: think Sam's Club or Costco) and Sparks' "Upstairs" came on the XM channel we were listening to, my wife Charity made the entirely spot-on point that the main thing that's so completely awesome about Sparks is that they take the one really cool bit that would happen once or twice in the average pop song and they do it a couple dozen times. (For example, if Sparks had done Minnie Riperton's "Lovin' You," that one freakishly high note that's the climax of the chorus would be sung approximately every 16 bars, slightly different each time so that the fun part becomes waiting for each particular iteration of the note.) But there's something half-assed about songs that simply put the chorus on AutoRun. There are too many examples to mention, so I'll just point out the most egregious offender: "Hold Me Now" by the Thompson Twins. Next time you hear that on the radio -- it still shows up regularly, especially in supermarkets -- make a point to listen closely to the structure of that song: the end chorus goes on for a full minute and a half! That's like one-third of the entire song!
There are also exceptions to that first rule. It's not that I expect every album I hear to sound utterly unique, it's that it's better when your album reminds me of more than one band. For example, there's the record I'm listening to as I write this, Denis James’ Promises. There's a very big '60s-pop feel here, specifically the hits by Dusty Springfield and Francoise Hardy; there are a lot of dramatic choruses and string sections going on here. But many of the songs are built on droning organ lines and acoustic rhythm guitar strumming of a type that reminds me a lot of the New Zealand bands of the '80s and early '90s, like the Clean and the Chills and the Bats, and "You Got Me" has this heavy processed guitar sound that's blatantly psychedelic. Songs that remind me of Francoise Hardy, or the Chills, or "Strawberry Fields Forever" are one thing. When a single album reminds me of all three at once, that's pretty cool.
So those are my big rules. Otherwise, I'm probably regularly going to mention my wife, on account of she's awesome, and I'll talk about food and cooking quite a bit because they're the other things I write about professionally. This summer, for example, I'm purchasing my first backyard smoker, because I'm from Texas and living in Boston has left me distressingly brisket-deprived. There will be passing mentions of the Red Sox, particularly this shit-hot new closer Jonathan Papelbon and my new baseball heroes Coco Crisp and Wily Mo Pena, who between them have the best names in contemporary ball. I'll keep the politics light, except to point out that unlike that utter incompetent George W. Bush, who was born and educated in New Haven, Connecticut, I really AM from Texas. I am also the Amplifier blogger most likely to post photos of his cats, since it's well documented that Buster Kitten, Arthur W. Monkey and Angus "Where the Action Is" McFlea are, in fact, the best lil' kitties ever. (The dog and the birds will make cameo appearances.) Outside links will usually involve one of my other passions, comic strips. For starters, go read Ces Marculiano’s Medium Large and Corey Pandolph’s Barkeater Lake.
Also, the best pop song ever is ABBA's "Dancing Queen."
###
