Culture Greyhound

Today I continue a series of posts dedicated to the best albums of the last decade, posting analysis of one album at a time.

48. The Bloodhound Gang – Hooray For Boobies

Part of making a personal list of your favorite albums of an entire decade requires you to realize that you were younger and more juvenile once.  And I suppose that’s all I can say to my 2010 friends, the ones that know me now in all my present music snob glory.  That’s the only defense I have for putting this album on my list of my favorite albums of the 2000s.  Those who have known me since grade school, however, would not be a bit surprised.  They heard me blare it constantly long after the novelty wore off – they saw me slowly learn all the words to the whole damn thing.  I imagine I could have put something more in the “critical darling” category in this spot, but I opted to put something I actually listened to incessantly, as opposed to a summer fling album (it was either this or Hybrid Theory, though I’m sure some of you wouldn’t have minded).  I suppose this album represents the nostalgic part of this list – a time when life was simpler, making Mom mad with “parental advisory” stickers on CDs was a thrill, and I was easily amused by witty fart joke raps.

Released at the turn of the century, Bloodhound Gang’s third (but really second) album Hooray For Boobies continues the crew’s brand of now-cringe-worthy middle school humor delivered in generic rap-rock fashion.  While it didn’t have the immediate hilarity or major success of 1996’s One Fierce Beer Coaster, the disc spawned the major novelty hit “The Bad Touch,” featuring the most memorable line of BHG’s career (“you and me baby, ain’t nothing but mammals….” you know it when you hear it).  After a massive tour, they released the disappointing Hefty Fine in 2005 and made random appearances on the Bam Margera show.  Haven’t heard from them since.  Not surprised.  When you make music like this, you’re bound to embody the epitome of your core fanbase (privileged, slacker, stoner, white kid, et al).

In my defense, the melodies are catchy and radio-ready – the guys were good at coming up with hooks, and Jimmy Pop’s rapping is clever and at times laugh-out-loud hilarious, the best it’s ever been.  In “Three Point One Four,” witty remarks are delivered at rapid-fire pace, as are the dick jokes littered in the fellatio ode “Yummy Down On This.”  The whole album features Pop’s ability to take a taboo subject and litter it with metaphors, puns, similes, and random musings; it makes the disc (or at least portions of it) worthy of multiple listens.  Another appreciative aspect is the diverse use of electronic instrumentation (especially drum machines) and liberal, appealing sampling (Falco, Metallica, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and Homer Simpson are all heard in “Mope”).  For such a dumb album, these guys sure spent a long time putting it all together.

At age 24, I’m not going to pretend that this album is awesome, or defend its musicality, or say it changed my life, or even make false claims that I listen to it today.  I guess it’s just here to remind myself that I’ve come a long way from 8th grade.  And that I used to enjoy life more. And I used to have a lot more fun.  To everything there is a season….

Bloodhound Gang – Three Point One Four

Bloodhound Gang – The Ballad Of Chasey Lain

Bloodhound Gang – The Bad Touch

Today I continue a series of posts dedicated to the best albums of the last decade, posting analysis of one album at a time.

49. The Flaming Lips – Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots

There’s plenty of works to choose from, and yes, there are die-hards who would claim several alternatives, but for many Flaming Lips fans, the “favorite album” answer is more or less split right down the middle between 1999’s masterpiece The Soft Bulletin and the 2002 follow-up Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. And while the former isn’t eligible for this list (check the release date, yo!), I still am partial to the latter, which was, at the prime age of 16, my first introduction to these Oklahoma City darlings.

I suppose you could say the two go hand in hand – Bulletin being the Rubber Soul to Yoshimi‘s Revolver.  But the comparison kind of ends there.  Because while the Liverpool lads went from Dylan-esque to full-on studio experimentation and reinvention, the Lips took the celestial sounds of their newfound popcraft to a more consistent level.  Sure, the experimentation is all here, the sonic whooshes and blips and beeps and crunchy electronic noises found on previous works, but here Wayne Coyne’s earnestness is at the forefront, and usually accompanied by a solid backing of beautiful sounds.

Take the acoustic foundation of the album’s highlights (of which there are many) – “Ego Tripping At the Gates of Hell,” “Do You Realize,” and the title track all have memorable strumming to provide a background for Coyne’s honest, revealing croon.  He takes the topics discussed previously to a deeper level, as heard on the classic aforementioned tearjerker “Do You Realize.”  Love, life, and the universe are all taken to task here with sentimental, trademark sonic flourishes to bask in while you ponder.

Upon its release, much like the Soft Bulletin, Yoshimi was compared to the latest effort from Radiohead.  Much of the comparison was the electronic experimentation used, and the stark differences in mood; one reviewer even described the album as music that Radiohead would make if “Thom Yorke believed in God.”  In retrospect, these comparisons seem apt for the time, but no more, because the brilliance that is Yoshimi, made by a band who had already been blowing minds for two decades, is in a league of its own.

The Flaming Lips – Fight Test

The Flaming Lips – Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt.1

The Flaming Lips – Do You Realize?

Today I begin a new series of posts dedicated to the best albums of the last decade, posting analysis of one album at a time.

50. The New Pornographers – Electric Version

While Mass Romantic introduced the world to a phenomenal Canadian supergroup, Electric Version transformed the New Pornographers into a solid band all on their own, never mind that the crew consists of some of indie rock’s finest.  Carl Newman’s and Neko Case’s vocal trade-offs provide the highlights for this unforgettable 2003 disc, mostly written by Newman, though Dan Bejar contributed a few memorable nuggets of his own, particularly “Testament to Youth In Verse.”  Still, the gems here are both Newman-penned and Case-sung, including the masterpiece “The Laws Have Changed” and the single “All For Swinging You Around,” which featured an incredible jump-rope music video.

Electric Version gave the already-superb pop craftsmanship of Carl Newman a new standard to beat, and he would rise to the challenge and come close to matching his best with 2005’s Twin Cinema.  Still, this, the New Pornographers’ sophomore effort, is their finest, an earnest, hook-laden, beautiful album that is impossible to stop listening to.

The New Pornographers – The Electric Version

The New Pornographers – The Laws Have Changed

The New Pornographers – All For Swinging You Around