Do you have that one friend who only reads a book every few years, but when they do, they don’t shut their damp, smelly mouth up about it for the next several years? Well, what if that friend was in a famous rock band? What if they owed their label a new record, and hated coming up with their own ideas? In that case you might be subjected to whole songs — hell, sometimes whole albums — about whatever classic they skimmed through but “totally got the gist of.” Here are 5 times a band did read a book, and then made it all our problem.
5. Led Zeppelin, “The Lord of the Rings”
When Robert Plant took a break from singing about the devious and duplicitous nature of women, it was almost always to reflect on the vast and mythical nature of JRR Tolkien’s Middle Earth. Not content to simply steal the blues, Zeppelin also mined Mordor for all it was worth on their eponymous albums II, III, and IV. If you’re thinking “The Lord of the Rings” is such an old book that it’s fair game, keep in mind that the series was only about 15 years old at the time of the band’s heyday — which might explain why the still at large human monster Jimmy Page was interested in them in the first place (look it up.) Eventually the band would get back to more grounded topics like doing drugs and worshiping Satan, but not before they made us all sit through their book reports on “Return of the King.”
4. Neutral Milk Hotel, “The Diary of Anne Frank”
Jeff Mangum was recording Neutral Milk Hotel’s first LP when he picked up “The Diary of Anne Frank,” read it in two days and, according to him, “completely flipped out.” The experience inspired his lo-fi indie rock opus “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea,” which weaves references to Frank throughout the album. Mangum became preoccupied with the young holocaust victim to the point of obsession, the heaviness of which may have contributed to his disappearance from the music industry and public life a few years later. To which we say: please read a second book, Jeff! Maybe one that’s less of a bummer this time? Because as much as we love the radical empathy contained on “Aeroplane,” mostly we’d like some new tunes.
3. The Doors, “The Doors of Perception”
We don’t believe in banning books, but there may have been a case for banning Jim Morrison from reading books — especially the one that would help him start the shittiest band of the 1960s. If Aldous Huxley had known how much keyboard noodling his mescaline scribblings would inspire, he might have gone straight edge.
2. Pixies, “The Bible”
At least the book Frank Black is stealing from is in the public domain, but do we really need another song about Samson and Delilah? Didn’t Leonard Cohen cover this when he did that Shrek song? Pixies’ “Doolittle” contains at least three Sunday School lessons. The aforementioned “Gouge Away” tells the story of Samson’s brutal end. “Dead” warns us all of the possible consequences of being too horny ala David and Bathsheba, and Biblical numerology is used to paint a picture of climate disaster in “Monkey Gone to Heaven.” All three are bangers, but it’s quite a departure from the songs about superheroes and big dicks that populated the band’s previous album “Surfer Rosa.” Church gave us all hang-ups Frank — you don’t have to yell about it!
1. Every Other Band Ever, Anything George Orwell wrote
These days, George Orwell is most recognizable as a reference used by right-wingers to describe any form of tolerance they don’t like, which is all of them. The leftist, anti-authoritarian author is most known for his novels “Animal Farm” and “1984.” Both books are strong warnings about the dangers of fascism, which modern fascists have interpreted to be about how mad it makes them when they are politely asked to use someone’s preferred pronouns. However, before the conservatives stole him, Orwell belonged to rock ‘n’ roll — so much so that it makes you wonder if musicians have read anything else. Most famously, Pink Floyd took “Animal Farm” and made it into a concept album called “Animals,” an LP that serves as the bridge from the band’s good, lean records to their shitty, overstuffed ones. Bowie got in on the fun, too, with “1984” — a song that nods subtly to the author’s most famous book by stealing its title. In the 1900s and early 2000s, Rage Against the Machine and Radiohead quote Big Brother himself — the former in “Testify” and the latter in “2+2=5” (which, for the record, is not true.) Orwell’s two biggest hits are well-trodden territory at this point, which begs the question — can’t these songwriters dig a little deeper? Orwell had non-fiction too! How about a concept album about the essay collection “Shooting the Elephant”? Or a rap-rock recap of “Homage to Catalonia.” Let’s face it, though: musicians are lazy. If most of them read Orwell at all, it was probably on audiobook.
After “Wowee Zowee” perfectly encapsulated everything that made Pavement’s first two albums so great, there had to be a turd in the cereal bowl, and that turd was “Brighten The Corners.” For all intents and purposes, this is essentially the first Stephen Malkmus solo album, (though not the worst…and that’s saying something). This is also where the ideas dried up and things began to feel phoned-in. Plagued with songs so lethargic and uninteresting, even their titles are boring… “Type Slowly?” “Old To Begin?” Yawn! And even if you do dream of owning a Volkswagen Passat and going to IKEA, for god’s sake, don’t write a song about it!
Unless you were already cooler than everyone else and collecting the early, pre-“Slanted & Enchanted” singles and EPs, you likely didn’t hear these tracks until this compilation came out post-“Slanted,” which serves as sort of a “Slanted” origin story. A handful of songs (“My First Mine,” “Mercy: The Laundromat,” and the enduring fan favorite “Debris Slide”) would fit the “Slanted” vibe. However, most of the rest is on the noisier and weirder side, with mixed results. “Maybe Maybe” and “Price Yeah!” are certainly influenced by their respected peers Royal Trux, while songs like “Forklift” surely gave bands like Trumans Water a template to keep on keepin’ it weird.
Recorded a year or so after “Slanted & Enchanted” and featuring the touring band for that album, this EP essentially serves as an addendum to that album that neither bests nor worsts anything on it. Just, you know, more of the same. The only exception is “Shoot The Singer (1 Sick Verse),” which alludes to the more produced sound the band would grow into on “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain.”
After the snooze-fest of “Brighten The Corners,” things couldn’t really get any worse, and on Pavement’s swan song, they actually get a little better, if still sounding like more Malkmus solo fare. The songs are better and more varied. “The Hexx” is spooky and jammy, while “Carrot Rope” is goofy and fun, with everything else being somewhere in between. Had they listened to producer Nigel Godrich’s suggested song sequence, this would have been a bit stronger of a record. And why they relegated “Harness Your Hopes,” which became a hit over 20 years later, and one of their greatest songs, to a B-side, is anyone’s guess, but it was a bad decision.
It’s hard to avoid the sophomore slump. But, if you recruit a hipster bass player and especially a drummer who knows what kind of music you want to play, you trade in your Fall records for some Neil Young and Grateful Dead LPs, and let the singer take the lead, it can be done. For an album recorded in NYC, this sure does sound like California. Warm and fuzzy, but still weird and obtuse when necessary (and don’t forget the amazing Smashing Pumpkins diss!). Great for road trips. By not trying to replicate “Slanted & Enchanted,” they avoided being pigeon-holed, and elevated that album to even higher status. Smart move, dudes.
After early tracks like “Debris Slide” or “From Now On,” it wouldn’t have been impossible to predict what might be next. Regardless, “Slanted & Enchanted” seemed to come out of nowhere as a perfect monolith of indie rock. While it would be lazy to describe Pavement at this stage in their development as a cross between Hex Enduction-era Fall and mid-’80s Sonic Youth, sometimes the Ockham’s Razor approach to lazy comparisons gets the job done. Like Guided By Voices’ “Bee Thousand,” Slanted keeps a perfect balance between the songs teetering on the edge of falling apart and staying together long enough to worm their way into your brain forever.
This record could be described as Slanted and Crooked, but thank god they chose a better name. This is the last great Pavement album, and really, the last album as Pavement the band, as opposed to Pavement the songwriting project of Stephen Malkmus. What makes “Wowee Zowee” the best Pavement album is that it has a little of everything in the Pavement arsenal, and even songs that hint at their later albums. It’s like a best-of, but with new songs. The only downside is that these songs fill up THREE SIDES OF VINYL, LEAVING THE FOURTH SIDE BLANK! What am I supposed to do with a blank side of vinyl?! For all the great outtakes and B-sides from this period at their disposal, this just does not compute. This coulda been their “White Album” for chrissakes!! Nonetheless, this should be the go-to Pavement album for fans and curious onlookers, alike.
Like Swimming is filled with some of Morphine’s hardest moments, and is easily the band’s angriest album thanks to tracks like “Eleven O’Clock” and “I Know You (Pt. III).” Hard and loud is great and welcome, but Morphine thrives in spooky grooves, which aren’t as present here. Some out-of-place synth moments pop up sporadically too, like in “Early To Bed,” that consistently sound like someone covertly mixed in keyboard parts performed by their kid.
Yes is an easy “Yes.” It’s got great songs back to front and rarely misses a step. You know an album is good when it has a track called “Super Sex.” A lesser musician would be given a swirly for trying to mix beat poetry into a song, but Sandman earns it on “Sharks.” Some lingering sameness to what Morphine had done before is there, but it doesn’t detract from an otherwise solid record.
Mark Sandman’s sudden, tragic death in 1999 would spell Morphine’s end. The Night’s sessions ended shortly before Sandman’s death and the album was released posthumously in 2000 Original drummer James Deupree, who had left the band due to health issues, returned for some guest drumming. Ethereal soundscapes and a wider range of instruments demonstrate a band in their prime. Still, Pitchfork gave The Night a 5.7, because it simply was not 5.8 material.
“Buena” is one of a few songs that can stop you dead cold to decipher how the fuck something can sound like that. Grunge meets jazz meets blues meets fuck you, Morphine’s songs are the audio equivalent of sweet talking your way out of a field sobriety test. The band’s most accessible record, Cure For Pain is a rolling thunder sweep of great songs.
Though a close race, Cure for Pain is ultimately a confirmation of Good’s success. Decisively crafted tracks that fully exploit Morphine’s stripped-down “low rock” grooves. Good is fucking ascendant, one of the few perfect first albums, but somehow never pretentious and always approachable. Morphine tracks are closer to seances than songs. Why the fuck is Mark Sandman dead but Kid Rock is still alive?