by Raoul Hernandez
I dreamt that Mick
Jagger died. I was, pardon the pun, shattered. I couldn’t believe it, and Ispent my entire R.E.M. cycle trying to figure out whether this had really
happened or if it was only a dream. In that netherworld of my subconscious, I
searched frantically for a newspaper to confirm or deny my worst fears, but
somehow all the headlines eluded my grasp. By the time I awoke, I wasn’t sure
what was real and what I was leaving behind on my pillow, so I stumbled into
the living room and rifled through a backlog of unread newspapers to see
whether another icon of several generations had passed into legend while I
wasn’t paying attention. To my undying relief, Jagger had not gone the way of
Jerry Garcia, and I sank back into my couch, tired but comforted.
What I did find during that frantic search, however – there on the inside cover of a Chronicle – was a full page ad for new albums by the Rolling Stones and the Beatles.
Side-by-side were pictures of the Liverpool four and the quartet of remaining
Stones, plugging their respective new releases; the Beatles’ Anthology 1 and the Stones’ Stripped. I laughed. Over 30 years after their initial
rise to fame, the two heads of rock & roll state were still competing for
the souls (and shekels) of American children. This year, at least, the Beatles
won.
Despite the fact that John Lennon is 15 years dead, and Paul McCartney, George
Harrison, and Ringo Starr are not considered an active recording group, the
Beatles nevertheless made the biggest musical splash of 1995. Sure, Hootie
& the Blowfish sold more albums (13 million at last count – Cracked Rear View will most likely become Atlantic Records best-selling
album), and Alanis Morissette turned more heads with references to the same,
but the still fab four – with the help of a six-hour, ratings-robbing rockumentary and a 2-CD set of
mostly unreleased rock & roll music – clearly demonstrated that the Beatles continue to embody the great American
rock & roll dream on these shores. Perhaps it was only because there wasn’t
a Nirvana or Public Enemy to fire the first shots of a new musical revolution,
or because like 1975 or 1985, this year bogged down in mid-decade musical
disinterest. Whatever the case, the Beatles’ second coming was not surprising,
really – not in retro nation anyway. Unfortunately, though, the rapture left plenty of
other releases dead before their time. And plenty of releases there were.
According to Soundscan, the music industry has released approximately
18,000 albums over the last three years – or 6,000 a year. The Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) breaks
this figure down even further, estimating that 60,000 single tracks (songs – see sidebar) were released in 1995. From that I’m supposed to choose the 10
best albums of 1995? Okay, fine. Here they are: Emmylou Harris, Wrecking
Ball; Alison Krauss, Now That I’ve Found You; Jo Carol Pierce,
Bad Girls Upset by the Truth; Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little
Pill; The Geraldine Fibbers, Lost Somewhere Between the Earth and My
Home; Sincola, What the Nothinghead Said; Gabrielle Goodman,
Until We Love; Rickie Lee Jones, Naked Songs Live and Acoustic;
Joan Osborne, Relish; Abra Moore, Sing. There, that was easy
enough. Wait. Oh, I’m sorry, that’s my “chick rock” list. Too much estrogen.
Sorry.
Here’s the real list:
John Hiatt, Cry Love; Guy Clark, Dublin Blues; Bruce
Springsteen, The Ghost of Tom Joad; Peter Case, Torn Again; Paul
Kelly, Deeper Water; Jimmy LaFave, Buffalo Return to the Plains;
James McMurtry, Where’d You Hide the Body; Ray Wylie Hubbard, Lost
Train of Thought; Joe Ely, Letter to Laredo; John Prine, Mixed
Blessings & Lost Dogs. Shit. That’s the wrong list also. That’s the
singer-songwriter list (notice how many of ’em have Austin ties). Too much
testosterone. And by the way, aren’t PJ Harvey, and Rickie Lee Jones
“singer-songwriters”? What about Son Volt? Nevermind. This wasn’t “the list”
anyway.
Let’s try this one:
Fat Joe, Jealous One’s Envy; Genius/GZA, Liquid Swords;
Aceyalone, All Balls Don’t Bounce; Prince, The Gold Experience;
Coolio, Gangsta’s Paradise; Pharcyde, Labcabincalifornia; Cypress
Hill, Temples of Boom; Masta Ace Incorporated, Sittin’ on Chrome;
Issac Hayes, Branded/Raw and Refined; Alkaholiks, Coast II Coast.
Hmmm. Do I detect a preponderance of bass? Muthafucka! That’s the dope hip-hop
list. Too black is whack? Christ.
One last time:
Ornette Coleman & Prime Time, Tone Dialing; Terence Blanchard,
Romantic Defiance; Sonny Fortune, A Better Understanding;
Jacky Terrasson; Nicholas Payton, From This Moment; Don Pullen
& The African Brazilian Connection, Live Again; Tim Hagans,
Audible Architecture; James Carter, The Real Quietstorm; Charlie
Haden & Hank Jones, Steal Away; Kip Hanrahan, All Roads Are Made
of Flesh. Homey, that’s the jazz list!
You see the problem? There’s a Top 10 for every genre of music you can think
of – I could even give you 10 great soundtracks: Crumb, Kids, Get Shorty,
Desperado, Strange Days, Blue in the Face, Half-Cocked, Basketball Diaries,
Dead Presidents, and Devil in a Blue Dress. Name the genre, there’s
probably 10 good/great records from it, which is why we’ve once again asked our
staff of regular music writers to give us a top 10 from a category of music
they’re well versed in; to get some perspective. Sure, this results in, well,
categorization that even they’re not entirely comfortable with, but then isn’t
that what music criticism always ends up as? That’s what the critics of the
critics say, anyway.
So we’re right back where we started: trying to select the 10 best albums of
1995 outta the 6,000 released. Should we just pick one album from 10 different
genres? Perhaps. Certainly all the aforementioned records are worthy of
inclusion on such a list. That’s too formulaic, though. Too P.C. Too
analytical. No. When you get right down to it, there’s really only one way to
determine the 10 best records of any year: Personal taste. My Top 10 are nobody
else’s but mine (gee, like every other critic from here to the Village
Voice isn’t gonna name PJ Harvey, or Foo Fighters), and I wouldn’t dream of
saying these are the 10 best records of 1995. What I will say, though, is we
get a lot of CDs coming through the Chronicle mailroom, and as such,
I’ve heard most of the aforementioned records, many of the albums on our
individual writers’ lists, and many more on top of that. These then (in no
particular order) are the albums that stood out for me.
National
1. Foo Fighters (Capitol) Like Hole’s Live Through This last year,Foo Fighters screamed “Album of the Year” from listen one, thanks to the
fact that Dave Grohl’s first solo album (he played nearly every instrument on
the album), is the closest anyone may ever get to Nirvana’s Bleach.
2. Seaweed, Spanaway (Hollywood) This was my favorite record of
the year, and like the Foo Fighters, it came from Seattle. Having signed with
Hollywood Records in the wake of a bidding war that followed their 1994 SXSW
appearance, Seaweed proved they were worth the effort with a raw, in your-face,
post-punk record.
3. Joan Osborne, Relish (Mercury/Blue Gorilla) PJ Harvey got the
critical kudos, while Alanis Morissette got the press, but it was Joan Osborne
who wrote the songs that stick, whether you like ’em or not.
4. PJ Harvey, To Bring You My Love (Island) Ok, ok, it’s as great as
everyone says it is.
5. Chris Isaak, Forever Blue (Reprise) Album after album, Chris Isaak
proves he’s more than just a pretty face and a nose job. He’s a songwriter of
the first order, who makes it look easy.
6. (tie) Friends of Dean Martinez, The Shadow of Your Smile (Sub Pop)/
Pell Mell, Interstate (DGC) Along with Dirty Three’s disturbing suicide
soundtrack, the acid-washed surf-sounds of The Mermen, and the Denison Kimball
Trio’s jazz clang, Giant Sand off-shoot Friends of Dean Martinez and their
tumble-weed ghost rock along with Portland’s Pell Mell and their guitar-driven
highway swerving helped bring instrumental modes of rock alienation into the
mainstream.
7. Rail Road Jerk, One Track Mind (Matador) While folks make a big stink
over four-track music and the faux blues of slackers like G. Love, this NYC
quartet gave herky-jerky new meaning.
8. Ramones, Adios Amigos (Radioactive) Forget Green Day. Forget Rancid.
Forget punk. The Ramones still do it best.
9. Garbage (Almo) With the expertise of its three member producers – most notably Butch Vig (Nirvana, L7) – and the beguiling voice of Shirley Manson, Garbage sports a high studio
gloss that can only be described as industrial disco rawk.
10. Deep Forest, Boheme (550/Epic) World dance music made by a couple of
Parisiane’s sampling the hypnotic Hungarian singing sounds of Marta.
Honorable Mentions: Smashing Pumpkins, Mellon Collie and the Infinite
Sadness; Chris Whitley, Din of Ecstasy; Low, Long Division;
Radiohead, The Bends; Everclear, Sparkle & Fade.
With the exception of
Seaweed’s Spanaway, my entire National Top 10 could easily be replaced
by my Austin Top 10. Unlike the list of National records, a list of local
albums that shone in 1995 is much easier to compile simply because the playing
field was smaller – or so it seems. Between tapes sold at shows, 7-inchers, and indie CDs, there
were more Austin releases available this year than ever before. And while
established local labels flourished (Watermelon, Dejadisc, Trance, Unclean,
etc.), new and fledgling indies (Continental, Only Boy, No Lie) evidenced
growth spurts that promise healthy offspring in the future even as local
fledglings made the jump to Triple-A indies and majors (Hamell and Prescott
Curlywolf to Mercury, Magneto USA to Hollywood, Alejandro Escovedo and Buick
MacKane to Rykodisc), signaling an overall growth in our local scene that is
hopeful even in the face of most performers not being able to make even $50 per
gig in local clubs. Given these 10 albums (in order), it’s hard not to believe
that Austin, Texas, is indeed the musical Mecca of the southwest.
Austin
1. Don Walser, The Archive Series, Vols 1 & 2 (Watermelon)Breathtaking in their beauty, these two CDs which expand Walser’s
now-out-of-print Texas Souvenir album are Austin music in microcosm;
Original, wholly unique, and full of passion and musical precision. Don Walser
is a treasure to be cherished and these albums may be the crown jewels of
Austin now and forever.
2. Abra Moore, Sing (Bohemia Beat) Former Poi Dogger Abra Moore emerged
from Frank Orrall’s kennel in full bloom with songs of delicate grace, and a
voice to melt hearts.
3. Sue Foley, Big City Blues (Antone’s) Sultry and sexy parlor blues.
4. Wayne Hancock, Thunderstorms & Neon Signs (Dejadisc) Hank
Williams revisted and loving it.
5. Wannabes, Popsucker (Dejadisc) So easy to take for granted as just
another sloppy, beer-bust band for the bar set, The Wannabes continue to get
better and better and this collection of songs, expertly produced by John
Croslin, is the ultimate boilermaker of pop and guitar-rock.
6. Meg Hentges, Afterlaugh (Tim/Kerr) On her second solo effort, Meg
Hentges fashioned a studded leather approximation of Lou Reed and Patti Smith:
grit and grimace with a steely-eyed hard/soft heart.
7. 8 1/2 Souvenirs, Happy Feet (Continental) Django gypsy
jazz for all-day feasts and wine making, single-handedly nullifying any need
for a national “lounge movement.”
8. Tomas Ramirez, Tejazz (Vireo) As nascent as Austin’s jazz scene is,
it continues to deliver at least a couple great albums a year. In 1995, Tomas
Ramirez’ bitches brew of mol10 sax, Tejazz, was a welcome addition to
the family.
9. Santiago Jimenez, Jr., Musica de Tiempos Pasados, del Presente, y
Futuro (Watermelon) The Chief continues to bring together Texas, German,
and Mexican cultures with his accordion in a way keeps his father the great Don
Santiago alive and smiling down on his gifted, and ever-beaming son.
10. (tie) Ed Hall, La La Land (Trance)/Sixteen Deluxe, Backfeed
Magnatebabe (Trance)/Starfish, Stellar Sonic Solutions (Trance) All
three of these Trance Syndicate releases are solid three-star albums – each has a handful of terrific songs. Taken collectively, however, they signal
a scene and sound you’re bound to see more of in the pages of Spin.
Honorable Mentions: Dumptruck, Days of Fear; Gary Primich, Mr.
Freeze; Dangerous Toys, The R*Tist 4*rmerly Known As…; Gals Panic,
I Think We Need Helicopters; Various Artists, Only Bowie.
At least in Austin, 1995
was not a hum-drum year for musical releases, nor did the Beatles eclipse
everything else. Oh, that’s right, Austin is a Stones town. Well,
Stripped didn’t exactly lay everything else bare, either. In fact, a few
days before New Year, at 2am one morning, I caught an hour-long VH-1 special on
the making of Stripped. It was infinitely more depressing than
Philadelphia, which was playing on cable at the same time. Tom Hanks’
AIDS-riddled lawyer had nothing on any of the Stones (‘cept maybe, Charlie),
and their music – retreaded oldies – was way past terminal. For the first time in my life – a life that has never experienced a world without the Rolling Stones – I found myself thinking that this seminal band no longer mattered. No one else
in 1995 filled their shoes, but then they couldn’t even get theirs on. That
night, my dreams were laced with a verse from “Slipping Away,” a Keith
Richards’ tune that was re-worked on Stripped.
“Well it’s just another song/But it’s slipping away/Well we didn’t sing it
long/ ‘Cos it’s fading away.”
So’s 1995. Bring on 1996… n
This article appears in January 5 • 1996 and January 5 • 1996 (Cover).