Yoggoth's Top 5 Albums Of The '90s

Number Five: DJ Shadow's Endtroducing... (1996)

I usually find most electronica/hip-hop/'90s dance music really boring and monotonous but this guy's OK because he's white and he's from Davis like me. According to Wikipedia, this is the first album to be constructed entirely out of samples, which might explain why it has absolutely no individual personality at all. This album is so relaxing. I love to just put this album on and sit in my room and drink Jagermeister and download child porn all day. That is the life, let me tell you.

Number Four: Belle & Sebastian's If You're Feeling Sinister (1996)

This band has violins and xylophones and stuff, and I can't really understand what they're saying half the time because they're Scottish and I haven't read the lyric sheet because it takes too much effort, so I like the songs for arbitrary reasons. For example, I don't know what "Stars of Track and Field" is about but I used to have a crush on this girl on the track team and she said hi to me once, which was the highlight of my year, so I like that song. I also really relate to that song "Judy and the Dream of Horses," except instead of horses I dream of little girls - but not all of them are named Judy.

Number Three: The Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs (1999)

This guy is really clever and he actually takes the time to write stuff and publish it eventually; I can't really relate to that approach but I admire it nonetheless. I borrowed this album from a blogger friend of mine two years ago and I still have it, and every now and then I take out the devilishly witty booklet and rub it all over myself in feverish agony. There are songs about almost every aspect of love you could think of, but the absence of any songs about pedophilia is a bit of a disappointment.

Number Two: My Bloody Valentine's Loveless (1991)

This album sounds like whales. The album cover is all blurry and pink and it makes me think of the mystery of the universe. I listen to that song "Only Shallow" and I imagine I'm a cool space wanderer in a superhero outfit. The guy took three years to record it, and he keeps saying that the follow-up album is "almost ready" and that he'll release it "any time now" but he's said that for about twenty years, so I can really relate to his style of saying he's going to do something but never actually doing it.

Number One: Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994)

Stephen Malkmus is my sex idol. I have a big poster of him in my room and I lay back and stare up at his sexy indie-rock body and I think happy thoughts. Every time he sings "When they pull out the plugs and they snort up the drugs" I get a little tingly feeling in my nether-regions, and when he declares "Say goodnight to the last psychedelic band" I have to be restrained by the police because otherwise I would engage in lewd acts with anything that walked. It's too bad Malkmus is over 18 though; otherwise it would simply be perfect.

Number Six: Yo La Tengo's I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One (1997)

I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One. The title alone divides us. Is this a heartfelt paean to common human experience or an ivory tower, indier than thou fuck off? Well you know which side of the divide I come down on. Ira Kaplan, the singer and guitarist, wrote rock criticism before forming Yo La Tengo. He had an idea of what rock should be before becoming a rock star (or what passes for one in indie rock). There have been other rock critics-turned-rockers before and most of them have been the worse for it, betraying a self awareness that detracts from the genre's necessary emotion. Yo La Tengo avoid this pitfall out of sheer earnestness. I read an interview with Carl Newman, songwriter for the New Pornographers, in which he explained that he wasn't a great musician, he just had good taste in music so he knew what to copy. This approach resulted in satisfying, if uninspiring, power-pop for the New Pornos. For Yo La Tengo it resulted in a masterpiece.

As is only befitting to a band that always seemed happy just to be around, the album is overtly introspective. The songs are mostly about relationships, but not the usual stuff of rock n' roll. They take place in the difficult pauses in between happiness, filled with anticipation or dread. Often they record the unspoken thoughts of one person about another. I love Brown Sugar and Blitzkrieg Bop as much as anybody, but sometimes I want something more in line with my own experiences. I can be cynical and pragmatic about human relationships, yet like Ira and Georgia, there's a foundation of romanticism at the bottom of my personality that hasn't diminished. I jokingly refer to my philosophy as "optimistic nihilism" but it's not really nihilistic. It's more the realization that life is fucked up in many ways, and that people can no more transcend this fucked-upedness than a rock can float. But you can't act that way. Sometimes beautiful things happen. I know, they've happened to me.

It helps that I Can Hear includes two of Yo La Tengo's best singles, "Sugarcube" and "Autumn Sweater." In "Sugarcube," Ira sings of his desire to "try to be more assured, try to be more right there/try to be less uptight, try to be more aware." There's no rock swagger there, but just before this he said, "Whatever you want from me, whatever you want I'll do/try to squeeze a drop of blood from a sugar cube." Now that's classic rock braggadocio followed by conciliation rather than conquest. "Autumn Sweater" never made much sense to me, but the melody is great and so is the two line chorus: " We could slip away, wouldn't that be better/Me with nothing to say, and you in your autumn sweater."

In "Damage" Ira sings about meeting an old crush on a Saturday night. "I used to think about you all the time, I would think about you all the time/Now it just feels weird, that there you are/ The damage is done." There are no Dylanesque insults, jokes, or wordplay to embellish the scene. Most songs need a little something else to keep them interesting but here simplicity works. The music deserves much of the credit for that. The songs are built on simple sweet pop melodies accompanied by distorted guitar, catchy thick bass lines, and various drones. Think Jesus & Mary Chain's "Psychocandy" with more than just treble.

I can't end this without mentioning the final track, "My Little Corner of the World." This is a cover of a song originally sung by "former beauty queen, orange juice pitchwoman, and anti-gay advocate Anita Bryant," as the All Music Guide puts it. Well I didn't know that when I first heard it, and now that I do know I'm glad Yo La Tengo rescued the song from obscure infamy because it's a great tune. In her quiet but appealing voice, Georgia sings "Come along with me to my little corner of the world/Dream a little dream in my little corner of the world/You'll soon forget that there's any other place/Tonight, my love, we'll share a sweet embrace." Since elementary school I've been day dreaming about a girl approaching me and saying just this. And then we get married and live forever in bliss. What? I told you I was a romantic.

So the album will annoy some. The singing isn't much above the "Grateful Dead" we-sang-because-we-were-there level. There is some free jazz/Velvets inspired instrumental noise. The ending track may threaten your masculinity. But don't call them pretentious. This is real, honest emotion. And after reading all the lyrics again and humming the songs in my head I wish I'd put this higher on my list of 90's albums. Ah, well. What's a number when you've got romantic daydreaming to do...

Number Seven: Pulp's This is Hardcore (1998)

This is Hardcore was one of those great art surprises. I read about it in Spin, Rolling Stone, and maybe on Pitchforkmedia.com (although if I did it wouldn't have helped much; the review is in the form of a fake consumer analysis). At least half the albums I buy based upon reading articles turn out to be disappointments. Some of them are only slight disappointments that grow on me over time. Others are crap from the start. My exposure to Britpop before this was limited to Oasis and Blur singles on Fresno's New Rock 104. Maybe this is why I never cared much for Blur. Or maybe Pulp is simply the better band. I'll leave that discussion to the comments.

So what makes This is Hardcore great? Let's start with the obvious - the songs are great. Jarvis Cocker mixes the R&B groove that's sadly missing from 99% of R&B today with great sing-along choruses that are sadly missing from 99% of rock today. Some Nigel Godrichean bells and whistles are thrown in, but they never overwhelm the melodies. If you're familiar with David Bowie, imagine if Brian Eno had produced Let's Dance. Think of it as artsy music you can dance to. "Glory Days" mixes buzzing pop-punk guitars with nostalgia worthy of Springsteen. "Dishes", "Help the Aged", and "A Little Soul" slow the tempo and break up the crimson-tinged clouds of doom hanging over "The Fear", "This Is Hardcore", and "Seductive Barry". This album has a reputation as the bleak nadir in Pulp's oeuvre but it really only fits that bill in few songs. Rather than feeling inconsistent, these shifts in tone lend a narrative drive to the album that justifies its 70 minute running time and keeps me coming back on those days when a quick bit of indie rock wit or jazzy pleasantness just won't do the trick.

Another thing This is Hardcore has going for it is singer Jarvis Cocker himself. His voice is low and smooth. His lyrics are full of references to sex and drugs but they still manage to be endearing because they seem so honest. When he sings, "I did what was wrong though I knew what was right/I've got no wisdom that I want to pass on" a little shiver runs up my spine. Like a noir private eye pointing out the corruption of a system he remains a part of, his admission and even just his ability to see the world for what it is, distinguishes him from the bad guys.

I can't write about this album without also mentioning the cover art. I think it's one of the best album covers of all time. The artist, John Currin, does a lot of odd looking nudes. Seen from afar the picture looks like standard pornography. But as you get closer it looks less and less arousing until you pick up the CD and notice the brush strokes. Is this art? Is this sex? Both, and neither. This is hardcore.

I'll end this with a quote from the last song on the album, "The Day After the Revolution": "Why did it seem so difficult to realise a simple truth?/The revolution begins and ends with you/Now all the breakdowns and nightmares look small/Now we decided not to die after all." I've heard it said that no one makes big social statements in pop music anymore. Well, Pulp did - you just weren't paying attention.

Number Eight: Radiohead's OK Computer (1997)

I purchased OK Computer a little bit after the hype began. I don't know if anyone else remembers this, but OK Computer was huge in the music press. Everyone talks about Nevermind like it was a revolutionary album but I don't remember feeling that way at the time. OK Computer did seem revolutionary.

I first listened to the album while on a family road trip from Modesto to Vancouver. I remember putting on my headphones and getting more and more excited by what I was listening to. I think the other two albums that were on heavy walkman rotation for me at this time were The Smiths' Louder Than Bombs and The Smashing Pumpkins' Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I had recently purchased The Pixies' Surfer Rosa and loved it as well. Then came OK Computer. It's the first album I remember being present for, in a general sense, at release. I felt like part of something bigger and more important. Exciting things were happening and I was listening to them! This was the CD equivalent of driving to Fresno with my Dad to see Pulp Fiction before it hit wide release.

The video for "Paranoid Android" was odd and captured your attention, but the music was more interesting. Thom Yorke has repudiated comparisons to "Bohemian Rhapsody", noting that his song isn't as musically complex as Queen's. That may be true, but to this music theory neophyte it sounds comparable and I vote it as the "Bohemian Rhapsody" of the 90's. (If you're keeping track, Belle & Sebastian's "Your Cover's Blown" is the "Bohemian Rhapsody" of the 00's.) "Paranoid Android" has an amazing slow build that's like 10 seconds of a Pixies song stretched to 6 minutes. Then there's the amazing payoff--"Off with his head man!"

"Electioneering" is the other stand out track - a catchy rock single with a beat you could dance around to and enough Radiohead weirdness to make you feel superior to Nirvana fans at school. "Karma Police" is good, but doesn't have the energy or surprise of my two favorites. Overall though, there are no bad moments - you can skip the computer voice if it really bugs you - and that consistency is something I value. Even one misstep can throw you out of the groove of an album and ruin the feel.

OK Computer marked the end of mainstream innovation in rock. It was the last great album that meant something beyond the pages of Rolling Stone and Pitchfork.com. Sure, we've still got Jack White but he seems more like that last Roman in Britain, lingering behind to pay homage or just because he likes the place so much.

Number Nine: Ride's Nowhere (1990)

Have you heard of this album? I hadn't until a few years ago. Apparently it was big in England, but then kidney pie is big in England...Let's start with the cover: it's one of my favorites of all time. At first it looked like a photograph of a giant worm trail under blue sand. Then I read the back and found out it's a painting by Warren Bolster called "Wave". The painting suggests immense ego-defying power within utter stillness. Such is the power of Nowhere.

The album sounds a lot like other shoegazing bands. If you're not familiar with that term, it basically means that the songs have almost constant electric guitar distortion, sometimes in chorus with the melodic lead and sometimes as the sole melodic element. Ride are less extreme in their love of distortion than some, but Nowhere is pretty noisy. I once played some Stereolab for a friend who likes contemporary jazz. His response was, "This is decent but it's all crescendo." You could say that about Nowhere and if you don't like that sort of song then this album isn't for you.

I, however, love that endless crescendo. It makes me feel like a superhero. The songs give a sense of incredible power and energy without being forced. Punk and heavy metal, the two "power" genres, rely on literal energy to achieve their sound. The singers yell, the guitarists play really fast, and the drummer smashes his drums. The best shoegazing doesn't have to do that. The music exudes confidence, and the arrogant lyrics often reflect this. The wall of distortion makes everything seem interconnected, with my observant ego validating it all. The closest comparison I can think of is Exile on Main Street by the Rolling Stones. The muddy production, horns, and overdubbing on that album achieve much the same effect.

"Vapour Trail" sticks out as a track worth special attention. The melody is simple but the guitar keeps shifting slightly in volume, stereo panning, and level of distortion. It's a love song but the lyrical focus is on observation rather than emotion and even starts with a vague insult:

First you look so strong
Then you fade away
The sun will blind my eyes
I love you anyway
Thirsty for your smile
I watch you for a while
You are a vapour trail
In a deep blue sky

Love is linked to disappointment; beauty will let you down. It's just a vapour trail after all, but if the sun shines through it in just the right way, and you're in just the right spot, it's everything.

Nowhere was Ride's first album and their only great album. They're one of those bands that had one good idea (not an original idea, but still a good one) and milked it for all it was worth. Unfortunately, the members of the band thought that their album was good because they were inherently talented people. They were wrong. I listen to Nowhere and lament the fact that there can be no sequel because nothing else quite matches it. My Bloody Valentine can sometimes feel formless. Oasis can often seem too melodically formulaic. With Nowhere, Ride struck the perfect balance between the two.

Number Ten: Nirvana's Nevermind (1991)

Why is Nevermind at the bottom of my list? It's a safe choice. I've seen it on lists in many publications. Half of these people haven't listened to it in 10 years, but it's the pick that gives you "cred." I come from the opposite angle. I didn't buy Nevermind when it came out. For me, Nevermind was the album that the assholes in high school listened to. I had my Velvet Underground, Smiths, and...Smashing Pumpkins.

I didn't give Nevermind a full listen to until sometime in '98. I was surprised by how catchy the songs were. Just like when I listened to London Calling and thought to myself, "this is punk?", I listened to Nevermind and thought, "this is grunge?" Of course, by now Grunge is next to meaningless. No other grunge band stood the test of time, or even the test of 5-years-later. The alternative-rock revolution is only the latest and weakest "Louder is Better" revolution that comes around every decade. Critics moan over it for a while and it ends up just sounding like rock has always sounded. It'll probably happen again. Or maybe rock is dead. Hard to tell.

Back to the album. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is a great punk single. Cobain claimed that he didn't know it was a brand of deodorant at the time he chose the title. Who knows if it's true - I certainly knew it was a brand of deodorant. The song was released at just the time my peers and myself were starting to worry about whether or not we should be wearing deodorant. Of course, no one wanted to wear a deodorant specifically marketed for teenagers. Thus the terrific "cool by being uncool" title resonated strongly inside this Reagan baby. (What happened to that cool/uncool spirit? Even rap had its Flava Flav. Did rock die the moment it couldn't laugh at itself?)

The rest of the songs are great. To be honest I'd have to listen to the album again to tell you more about them. "Drain You" is my second favorite, but the others tend to blend together and it's hard to tell if I'm humming along to the Unplugged versions instead when they run through my head. Hence the #10 spot for an album that everyone else either leaves off or puts at #1. It's a great album, but it wasn't my album when it came out, and it changed MTV a lot more than it changed the artistic direction of pop music. And we all know how MTV turned out...

Best Albums of the '90s -- aka Internet Killed the MTV Star

Originally we intended to follow the Best Movies of the '80s with the Best Albums of the '80s. But after dwelling for so long in that dank, fetid decade, we decided to crack open the skylight a little bit and give the Best Albums of the '90s a try (besides, the '80s aren't going anywhere; we can always work our way back, right?).

I'd say that artistically, the '90s were an improvement over the '80s. I have more enthusiasm for my ten best albums of the '90s list than I would over a ten best albums of the '80s list, just as I would have more enthusiasm for a ten best movies of the '90s list than I had for my ten best movies of the '80s list. Artists just seemed to be a little more into it in the '90s. Since the '80s had created a bit of a vacuum, musicians and filmmakers were able to reach back to the '70s, and even the '60s, for a re-kindling of that original passion. Ultimately it looks like that new fire hasn't burned quite as hotly and for quite as long, but in a way the '00s are still in the process of distinquishing themselves from the '90s. Well, at least cinematically. Musically, I feel that the '90s ultimately created a closed narrative of its own - one that probably ended in the final last gasp of popular music as we know it (or so I controversially propose).

However, a few words of warning. Our faithful readers might assume that, since you've all lived so recently through the '90s, you would find the entries in our Best Albums of the '90s list much more familiar. Although I hesitate to predict anyone's reaction, my hunch is that this will not be so. No grunge, for example, has made my list. Hip-hop will not be making an appearance. In some ways, the '90s represented the largest split between American and British tastes. Although I have never even visited England, my list will make it appear as though I have been raised in a flat in Chelsea. In short, keep an open mind and you might learn about some of Britpop's finest moments. Yoggoth, in turn, will be broadcasting his list "live from the bowels" of his old college radio station. Stay tuned and have fun.