Canon Fodder #1: Tally Ho!
The Clean - Compilation
A juvenile masterpiece of post-Velvets pastoral garage rock, capturing the giddy, early works of a jangling, droning New Zealand trio years before they got it together to make a whole album. Exuberant, archetypal indie at its earliest. One of two albums on my “100 favorite albums of all time” list that I didn’t own, having fruitlessly searched for an LP with no bonus tracks (and passing on the bloated, if easily found, 2CD Anthology). Between loving “Tally Ho!” and knowing the cover from the SPIN Alternative Record Guide, my kid was very insistent on looking for a copy, with me cautioning that it might be too expensive (used LPs cost over $100 online). A used CD with bonus tracks awaited us at Fingerprints for under 20 bucks - resistible by my lonesome, but not when accompanied by a precocious, enthusiastic sweetheart half my size. While I’d prefer silent afterglow following “Whatever I Do Is Right,” the six slices of live ephemera provided are…tolerable. I’m glad I no longer have to stream this darling nugget of joyful noise, but if it’s ever reissued on vinyl in its original state, this copy is getting replaced.
Bad Brains - Rock For Light
I’d been meaning to pick up a Bad Brains album for a while. Hoping to find the best-of, I almost left Fingerprints with the reissue of the self-titled cassette when my kid protested we should get this slightly redundant follow-up produced by Ric Ocasek, as the cover was familiar from the SPIN Alternative Record Guide (always include cover photos, record guide makers). I’m glad he spoke up, as it does provide a little more bang for your buck, and the re-recorded songs aren’t aggressively polished. The reggae tracks are all that keep this from classic status for me; they weren’t bad at it, just relatively derivative and familiar. Protracted, too - the best of the skanks, “I And I Survive,” is longer than the following three stomps combined. But the manic snarl and authority of their hardcore stuff remains tremendous. Fun fact! Spotify still has the 1991 remixes up (which moved songs around and even sped up the master!), but the 2021 CD I got restores the original tracklisting and pitch. I'm glad!
Alice In Chains - Greatest Hits
A true 90s "Seattle" band (even if the singer truly used to spell it Alice N Chains), AIC represented the worst of “alternative rock” to me as a kid. Nagging trudges infinitely more metal than punk, normalizing humorless yarl in commercial rock - a joyless, unavoidable waste of 4 minutes on the radio. But I always appreciated the atypical beauty & ironic bonhomie of “No Excuses,” and - my stance on metal softened by a Black Sabbath phase - I can now appreciate how lean and direct their bad choice blues could be. This blessedly brief ten-song encapsulation (found cheap at Barnes & Noble) launches with the early swagger of “Man In The Box” and climaxes with “Again,” foretelling Queens of The Stone Age by putting some bubblegum robo-boogie in their nasal whomp. In hindsight, it’s amazing how confident the band was in Layne Staley’s pinched growls, often incorporating this sneering signature into wordless hooks. The queasy prog-pomp of “I Stay Away” still annoys me (I’d love to replace it with “Over Now” from MTV Unplugged), but my inner teen can’t believe I don’t just get through “Heaven Beside You” - I enjoy it. Then again, I always considered them definitive, and with best-ofs that's half the battle.
The Cars - Complete Greatest Hits
The kid gets confused and annoyed when I introduce a song I don’t own by a band I have on the shelf. Knowing he’d love the hooks of The Cars while wanting to avoid their semi-ironic sexual objectification, I got him hooked to “Shake It Up,” forgetting the erotic climax of the video (thankfully he’s primarily fixated on the shaking implements displayed beforehand - dice in a cup! - and thinks the long-legged lady under the car is playing hide and seek). I have the debut on vinyl, but a compilation purchase was clearly in order (plus I might introduce him to “Magic”). He preferred the cover of the 1985 best-of, featuring yet another combination of gams and fender, but I insisted on this meatier 2002 edition. It’s undoubtedly superior in a “stuck with a CD player” car rental situation, where the opening six(!) tracks from the debut won’t be redundant. But “It’s All I Can Do” and “You Are The Girl” might be all I’d miss had I bought the briefer blast. And I hate that I now have the grating "Butt" Lange intro of “Hello Again” on my shelf.