Did I say the 90s weren't mine?
Beck maybe (no, absolutely) and the the 80s' leftovers (NIN, Pumpkins); the
rest was promise that didn't pay off (still waiting for the 2nd album we should
have had from Pearl Jam). Once again it was the way left of center that saved
the 90s from themselves. That year I threw in the towel (ditched the girl,
bought a fast car) there were two albums meant for the up close and the really
loud, Fugazi's In On the Kill Taker and Faith No More's Angel Dust. I was
living with my grandmother, so to speak – it was where I kept my boxes – and when
I was home (rarely), I'd turn on these LPs, volume low, yes low, and just
listen; it was an odd paradox, like everything else in my life at the time:
loud softly; Fugazi way down low. And yet,
1. In On the Killer Take was their angriest, noisiest record
yet, like a really bitter, p-o'd Nevermind. At first I hated it. After the
dazzling mellow bellows of Steady Diet, I was irritated and bored by the
blatant Fugazi-isms blasting out all over the dang living room at my
grandmother’s. Not to mention that Ian MacKaye appeared to have lost his voice,
his visceral scream reduced to a muppet-esque scraggly belch.
Then I set it aside and hit the road; came back to realize
that every song was killer. It may have been noisy (especially the extended
double-feedback drum-click coda to "23 Beats Off"), but there were
great hooks everywhere, both musically and vocally. For great punk-influenced
smash-em-up, "Great Cop." For the dark moody feel of old, "Last
Chance For A Slow Dance" or "Sweet And Low." IDK, I tend to
assume that Fugazi just happened to be in a loud mood the day they went into the
studio, and for me, In On the Killer Take, lights off, feet hanging over the side of a too small
sofa, was one step away from the heavenly Loveless; me, quiet and angry. If
there was a singular LP that most blatantly changed the way I listened to
music, this was it.
2. Serendipity. I like words that when spoken aloud roll from
the tongue with an almost magical resonance. I also like words that obfuscate
(oh yes!) the simplest of statements and cause the recipient to believe there
are hidden meanings and even spiritual guidance to be found within, if only
they could decipher the truth. Because, to those looking for reasons,
serendipity is karma, or destiny, or fate. To me, with little romance in my
soul, it’s sheer bloody luck! I bought a 12" Faith No More single because
the B-side was "Midnight Cowboy." From there I bought Angel Dust. I’d been
looking for theme music for a long time, and the fact that FMN stayed true to
the original whilst adding atypical harsh flourishes is a fuck-yeah bonus. It's
late now, twenty years hence and it's way too late to play music loudly or even
loud music softly and I'm tired and I'd like to go to bed and I will, leaving
you hanging on Angel Dust with this: Angel Dust is so emphatic and all over the
place that it's exhausting, yet it's also obviously inspired, somehow coherent
and free of filler. Tomorrow I will listen to it again real loud. Tonight instead I
will put on "Midnight Cowboy" and close my eyes.
These are the albums that kicked off NuMetal (from this writer’s vantage point), the most lifeless and insipid movement from an anemic decade, but take them away from that pigeonhole and I’m set.
These are the albums that kicked off NuMetal (from this writer’s vantage point), the most lifeless and insipid movement from an anemic decade, but take them away from that pigeonhole and I’m set.
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