Play To Z: 1977 to 8701

Random Observations

  I've heard some recent commentary on The-Dream AKA Terius Nash's career, claiming that 1977, the album length free EP he put out in 2011, was half-baked and thrown out to keep his name afloat in critical circles. I haven't listened to half as much of his earlier stuff as I'd like to, but if there's any truth in that it must be some of the best music out there, because I love 1977. Songs like "Used To Be", "Ghetto" and "Wish You Were Mine" are all astonishing works of confessional RnB, with the infectious "Wedding Crasher" serving as a centrepiece to the album, all wounded pride and self-conscious self-destruction.

  When I was young and ignorant, I was clueless about a lot of music, but even though I only knew their poppier stuff, I was aware that The Beatles had transformed modern music and were incredibly innovative. When I finally made the effort to listen to their discography, it's clear how truly groundbreaking they were. But in terms of their legacy and how they are viewed in modern culture, it feels like the Beach Boys should be spoken of in the same breath. The Beatles have acknowledged how much Pet Sounds impacted their own music, and Brian Wilson is often held up as a tragic genius figure. Still, listening to 20 Golden Greats, the Beach Boys compilation that is the sole piece of music I've taken from my father's meager collection, it seems like the minds behind such complex, multi-levelled songs as "Help Me, Rhonda" and "Good Vibrations" showed be treated with the same regard.

  I'm going to need some more time with Justin Timberlake's newest album. JT is one of the finest contemporary purveyors of danceable, disposable pop music, so his decision to fill his latest album with slower songs that average out at six and a half minutes is a puzzling one. It's a sign that he didn't just return to music to shoot out a barely-considered album on autopilot, but it's still a curious choice. Still, with songs like "Mirrors" and "Strawberry Bubblegum", I'm happy to give it time to grow on me.

  It's a couple of years old now, but Azealia Banks' "212" remains electric. So far, she's shown no signs of being able to move beyond it's eclipse, but it's a hell of an act to follow.

  If you've enjoyed reading these blogs and you haven't seen 24 Hour Party People, Michael Winterbottom's biopic of Factory Records, stop reading now and go find a copy. The soundtrack alone is worth your effort and time, even without the fantastic performances and thrilling portrait of England in the 70s, 80s and 90s.

  Listening to 4, Beyoncé's most recent album, it feels like she's moving closer and closer to her own genre-defining work. Like the aforementioned Pet Sounds, Revolver, Nevermind or My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (to name but a few), Beyoncé's next album could well be one that will truly stand the test of time. Every album she's produced has pushed her sound further and harder, and brought with it singles that will help define this time period, musically. It will be harder for her, of course, because she is a woman, an unapologetically commercial pop artist and co-writer at best on most of her songs, but looking at where she stands right now in the cultural landscape, she absolutely deserves to be remembered alongside the great artists of our time. Listen to songs like "Countdown", "End Of Time" and "Run The World (Girls)" and tell me she doesn't.

  It feels somehow appropriate that my last few songs should include John Cage's "4'33". You better believe I listened to the whole damn thing.

  Kanye West's 808s & Heartbreaks was obviously divisive, but it feels like the step he needed to take, both as a producer and a lyricist. He never exactly shied away from speaking his mind, but this album strips away a lot of the bombast and reveals a more intimate portrait of West, just in time for the surge in confessional hip-hop he helped start to reach its crest. Musically, it takes him into a new direction, again stripping back and finding his core, ready for the next album to build layer upon layer on that core. It's got less hits that the previous three albums, but it was a shock of honesty at a time when his own myth was threatening to swallow him whole.

  And what was the final song of this whole endeavour?



Rediscovered Gem

"Heroes and Villains" by The Beach Boys



What Now?

I'll be back shortly with a directory post that makes it easy to chart this whole project from start to finish, plus a conclusion post where I sum up whether I actually learned anything from doing this. I hope I did, otherwise it's been a hell of a way to waste 10 months...

Play To Z: What's Poppin' Vol 1 to 1972

Random Observations

  Being a teenager is an awful, horrible experience. It's tortures are innumerable, but large among them is the weight of peer pressure. I am only thankful that I was out of my high school years by the time social networking truly exploded - I cannot imagine the experience magnified through the privacy-denying world of Facebook and Twitter. Anyway, as I've written previously, I didn't really forge any kind of musical taste or identity for myself until I hit 18, so high school consisted largely of agreeing with whatever my friends liked.
  I can remember sneering in adolescent derision at Girls Aloud as they emerged from Popstars: The Rivals. I can remember seeing Cheryl Cole (then Tweedy) arrested for her racist assault in a night club and making what I thought was an oh-so-zeitgeisty observation that with accelerated stardom came an accelerated decline. I can remember deriding their songs and going back to listen to Tenacious D.
  But all the time, a little voice in the back of my head was saying "But their first single...it was really catchy...it was doing interesting things..." When What Will The Neighbours Say came out I was out of high school's pressure cooker and growing into myself. The videos for "The Show" and "Love Machine" were on regular rotation on the two Freeview music channels, and by then, I was willing to accept the irresistible lure of Xenomania's dancefloor ready beats and clever, subversive lyrics, channeled through Girls Aloud's obvious talent.

  Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not would be an impressive album even stripped of context. Knowing that it was a debut album written by a band when most of the members hadn't turned 20 makes it a marvel. It carries such assurance, in both the instrumentation and the songwriting. There is no sloppiness disguised as punk-rock intention - this is a precise beast, stopping and starting and turning on a dime, humming along with a well-engineered purr. The topics of the lyrics may not vary, but Alex Turner engages them with such fine observation that it doesn't wear. In fact, by taking a universe and exploring it so thoroughly from multiple viewpoints and with a true sense of place, it could almost be a concept album. The fact that the Arctic Monkeys didn't rest on their laurels and simply try to recreate this album, musically or thematically, is the cherry on the already delicious cake.

  "Wichita Lineman" by Glen Campbell is one of the songs I want played at my funeral. His voice is beautiful - rich and simple, carrying loneliness and longing. The song balances a sort of country/Americana aesthetic with a sweet, Burt Bacharach kind of melody, and there's that iconic synthesizer Morse Code tapping out into the night. It's been called "the first existential country song" and there are many who proclaim it one of the best pop songs ever. Listening to it now, it's easy to see how.

  Witching Hour by Ladytron is like carving a passage into a glacier only to discover that it's got the world's coolest nightclub inside.

  As I mentioned near the beginning of this whole escapade (sometime in October I believe), We Are Scientists are one of those straightforward bands that aren't trying to reinvent the wheel, they're just trying to make some great pop music. With Love And Squalor, their first album, is a blueprint for their subsequent ones, producing song after song that you want to be hearing in the slightly dive-y back room of a bar in New York as you dance with your friends at 3am.

  I have no idea what "Lisztomania" by Phoenix is actually about (I'm pretty sure it's not actually about Franz Liszt) but I don't particularly care. I just wanna dance to it.

  Whenever I hear "Joker & The Thief" by Wolfmother, I feel sad that it wasn't around in the late 80s and early 90s, so it could inevitably be used in a Schwarzenegger vehicle. Imagine that spiraling guitar riff being played over the gearing up sequence in Commando and you will share my pain.

  Yeah So by Slow Club is a great album, topped off by a truly amazing song. "Our Most Brilliant Friends" became a touchstone of mine a couple of years ago when it felt like every friend of mine was lurching from tragedy to tragedy. It's hard to watch those you care about dealing with things that they have little control over, and the only help you can really offer is a shoulder to cry on and the distracting power of alcohol. To me, this song will always be about the strength my friends have, strength I didn't even know about, to endure and to triumph even when life is shitting on them from the greatest of heights.

  Broken Social Scene's You Forgot It In People moved them beyond the ambient sounds of their first record into the expansive post-rock collectivism that would come to define them. Released in 2002, it was bought in 2007 at Amoeba Records in San Francisco by Tim Maytom, who proclaimed it "the tits".

  I have 100 songs left to listen to. The next post will talk about them, and the post after will look back at this whole glorious endeavor.

Rediscovered Gem

"Tapas" by Action Bronson

Play To Z: Under The Blacklight to What's Going On

Random Observations

A lot of people don't like Rilo Kiley's Under The Blacklight. I get it, I really do. Simultaneously their major label debut and final album, it's a departure from their previous sound towards a more commercially viable one, after a three year wait for a new album, and was followed by the band's split. But that's all tied in with following the band as that all unfolded. As someone who came to the band late and discovered all their material more or less at the same time, songs like "Breakin' Up" and "The Angels Hung Around" still stand out as fantastic songwriting, and great showcases for Jenny Lewis' wonderfully smoky voice.
 

I hadn't heard any Vampire Weekend before I bought their eponymous first album; I did so on a recommendation from some website or magazine so glowing that I felt fairly confident I wasn't wasting my money. I remember placing the CD into the stereo, pressing play and within about 30 seconds thinking "Oh, well I've found the album I'm going to be listening to all summer". The rest of it didn't disappoint, with barely a misstep and a fully formed voice that felt different to anything I was listening to at the time.

The terrible local radio station I listened to as a kid was the sort that still played Sting's "Englishman In New York" every couple of days, even though at that point it was already 10 years old. I'm not saying it's a bad song - far from it. I'm just saying, listening to it now, I wonder how much of my own image of manhood was influenced by Sting telling me that "a gentleman will walk but never run". That said, I don't like tea and love coffee, so maybe I'm talking nonsense.

At this point, we had reached the "Very Best of..." section of the alphabet, so I got to listened to a selection of The Jam, The Smiths and The Stone Roses in short succession. That was a good day.

My very good friend Jason (whose music taste I trust wholeheartedly) and I have a running joke/argument about which is the better Stone Roses song. I say "I Am The Resurrection", he says "Fools Gold", and whenever we happen to be at a 90s night and either of them is played, we will stand there shouting the song titles at each other until we get bored and start dancing instead.

I'm pretty sure Brian Ritchie, the bassist for the Violent Femmes, has extra fingers, or possibly some kind of telekinetic power over his guitar. Listen to the bass line on half of their songs and you'll be left wondering "How the hell did he do that?"

Cibo Matto's "Birthday Cake", an insane slice of Japanese mash-up hip-hop, will forever remind me of being 18 years old, of house parties and watching borderline incomprehensible anime while hungover.

"U-Mass" by the Pixies is possibly the best advert for a university that exists or ever will exist.

I've already written extensively about why "We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed" is my favourite song here, so I'll just say that nothing has changed, and it remains, to me, perfect.

Tim Fact of the Day:We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions, Bruce Springsteen's album of American folksong covers, includes his version of "John Henry", who was one of the folk heroes I wrote my dissertation about. Enjoy that little morsel, fact fans.

When I was a kid, I used to get these weird...attacks, I guess? Looking back now, I'd say they were some form of panic attack, or at least some kind of anxiety, but back then I didn't know what they were. They were never serious enough to warrant mentioning them to anyone, and seemed to only happen when I was trying to get to sleep. It felt like the world had been slowed down, but I was processing it at double speed, like I was being overwhelmed by the wealth of information inherent in everything. I was clearly a very existential child. I mention all of this because there is something about "Impacilla Carpisung" by The Tings Tings that harkens back to that feeling - the way the vocals layer in the chorus, the slightly off persussion, the lyrics that linger on the border of nonsense. It's an uncomfortable song for me to listen to, and I somehow doubt it's the emotional resonance that the band was going for when they wrote it.

I suck at video games. I never played enough as a kid to develop the right mindset, mainly because my dad was convinced that plugging a Megadrive into the television would somehow destroy it, despite the fact it was DESIGNED FOR THAT VERY PURPOSE (I'm not bitter). Even games like Guitar Hero, which don't use a conventional controller, I struggle with. That said, I can rock "My Name Is Jonas" by Weezer flawlessly on Medium difficulty. Be impressed.

Rediscovered Gem

"Slick" by Chew Lips

Play To Z: Them Crooked Vultures to Under Construction

Random Observations

  They might have found their sound with The Color And The Shape, but There Is Nothing Left To Lose was where the Foo Fighters truly locked in onto what they wanted their albums to sound like. There's the obvious single "Learn To Fly", a couple of rockier songs, a couple of softer ones, and the rest is just a bland soup for the ears. The whole album slips by like a dull afternoon or a midseason episode of a crime procedural. It is a Sonic Tuesday.

  This Is Happening arrived like a balm after a long period of not very good albums. They weren't bad. They just were just unmemorable. This Is Happening is memorable. It is memories. Places and time layered upon each other. Amongst James Murphy's wide-ranging and impressive skill set is an ability to balance a very specific sense of location with a universal accessibility. Each song creates a small world that feels real and familiar, like visiting an old haunt. It's a talent you find in the best novelists (and holy shit, take a moment to consider how great a novel by James Murphy would inevitably be) and a few great musicians.

  Ahh...The Three EPs. The Beta Band's first album, constructed from three previous EPs (as you might gather from the name). I got into The Beta Band because of that scene in High Fidelity where Rob says he will sell five copies of The Three EPs, puts on "Dry The Rain" and watches the customers in the store groove along to the emerging melody. I'd estimate that that scene sold a hell of a lot more than five copies of that particular album. I can remember buying it alongside some other records and while everything else got played upstairs on my shitty little Asda stereo while I studied or read, I somehow knew to wait for The Three EPs. I put aside time to listen to it. I played it on the good stereo downstairs in the living room. And it rewarded it me immensely.

  Oh hey, Thriller is still a great album.

  I've written in previous posts about my unending affection for The Go! Team, but it's worth drawing your attention to "Junior Kickstart" from Thunder, Lightning, Strike as quite possibly the best chase music ever, as evidenced by this video.



  Being an old country, England has a lot of odd laws that remain in force from earlier generations. Many of these are completely redundant and woefully out of date (things like all men having to practice archery on a Sunday) but I think it's safe to say the legislation that states that no couple are truly married until "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners is played at their reception is still relevant.

  To my future biopic's director - please soundtrack any fight scenes with "Crown On The Ground" by Sleigh Bells.

Eli's Coming

  I have written in the past, in various places across the Internet, of my long-standing affection for Sports Night, Aaron Sorkin's first venture into television before The West Wing. It's not a perfect beast, hampered as it was by network intervention and Sorkin's sometimes ham-fisted politicking, but it still holds a myriad of pleasures. One of these was introducing me to "Eli's Coming" by Three Dog Night, which serves as both the title and a recurring idea for the 19th episode of the first season.

(SPOILERS FOR SPORTS NIGHT AND THE WEST WING FOLLOW)

  Dan Rydell, one of the lead characters and one my all-time favourite fictional characters, uses the phrase to mean "something bad" is approaching, "a darkness", having misunderstood the song when he first heard it. Even when corrected (the song is actually about a scoundrel and a womaniser), he continues to mutter it throughout the episode, as omens of tragedy appear. When, in the closing moments and in the middle of a live broadcast, they find out Isaac, the show's Managing Editor, has suffered a stroke, the song plays as they are forced to hide their concerns and carry on with the show.

Robert Guillaume as Isaac Jaffe

  The plot of the show mirrored real life - Robert Guillaume, who played Isaac Jaffe, had himself suffered a minor stroke and the show had to find a way to write him out for a period. Isaac's return and rehabilitation on the show all played out as Robert himself was undergoing the same thing, and watching as the cast reacts to this fictional news, one can only think that they must have reacted similarly in real life. It is a situation that tragically repeated itself on The West Wing when, in the final season, founding cast member John Spencer died of a heart attack and his character, Leo McGarry, is killed off in the same way. If you want to watch me cry like a baby, show me the episode "Requiem", revolving around his funeral. I will blub like an infant.

  The use of "Eli's Coming" in the episode is perfect. By foreshadowing not just Isaac's stroke but the song's significance so boldly, viewers are already set for something terrible happening. When it appears at the episode's close, it's like a well-executed reveal of a monster that has before simply hidden in the shadows. The song starts sparse, with little more than the wailed warning of "Eli's coming...girl you better hide you heart" before the instrumentation kicks in after 30 seconds, the song suddenly exploding with pace and life. It serves as a perfect auditory recreation of that stomach-dropping moment of bad news, followed by life rushing back in and reminding you that you are still here, in this moment, with things to do. It's an unconventional song to use, but it does a magnificent job.

Rediscovered Gem

"Get Off" by The Dandy Warhols

Play To Z: Standing In The Way Of Control to Their Satanic Majesties Request

Random Observations

  I've always struggled with OutKast. I know they're great. I can listen to them and appreciate the skill of their arrangements, the way they flawlessly blend styles and genres, their incisive, creative lyrics. But it's always been an intellectual connection, rather than an emotional one. Listening to Stankonia, the singles stand out, as does "Bombs Over Baghdad", but everything else sort of blurs together.

  Hey, Solange's version of "Stillness Is The Move" is pretty much amazing, isn't it?

  Strange Mercy, St. Vincent's latest album, is a glorious thing, a crystalline construction that's both delicate and strong. It makes sense that Annie Clark and David Byrne ended up working together, because they have a similar talent for building whole worlds within one song. Also, she gets sounds out of a guitar that few other people can.

  It took me a while to get a grip on The Suburbs, Arcade Fire's third album. It was released in August 2010 and I excitedly purchased it, but on first listen, something didn't click. There were great songs, but the album as a whole didn't slot into place in the way previous ones did. I put it aside for a while, and came back to it in November, when it suddenly all made sense. I was walking through the city listening to it and I literally said out loud "Oh...it's a winter album" because it totally is. Something about it works so well with walking around in the darkness, pulling yourself close inside your coat.

  Perhaps the iconic record of my high school years, Take Off Your Pants And Jacket by Blink 182 still has a direct line to certain areas of my brain. I was a pretty sedate teenager, so songs like "Roller Coaster" and "Reckless Abandon" conjured images of a world of carefree adventure and freedom that was beyond my anxious, shy reach. Listening back to it now, it makes me nostalgic for a past I never had, an odd experience that probably doesn't do my maturity level any good, but who needs maturity when you have pop-punk guitars?

  I was late coming to The Mountain Goats, only discovering them about two years ago. My discography is scattered, with chunks from various albums and only Transcendental Youth as a complete record. At some point when I am less broke, I will trawl through Amazon completing my collection. Until then, I will console myself with the fact that my sporadic assortment includes "No Children". I know it's everyone's favourite Mountain Goats song, but there's a reason for that. It's a beautifully simple expression of a seldom recognised emotion with a nice line in iconic lyrics.

  I mentioned the doldrums I found myself in when listening to this particular patch of albums, and no section represents it better than listening to Temple Of The Dog's self-titled album followed by Pearl Jam's Ten. I would have been around at exactly the right time for grunge, had I listened to anything beyond local radio at that time, which wasn't known for it's "alternative" bent. Listening to these albums now, I'm glad they hold no nostalgic affection for me, because they're awful. Self-indulgent, monotonous and glum, there's no albums that have made me ask myself "Why do I own this?" more.

Rediscovered Gem

"Wires and Waves" by Rilo Kiley

Play To Z: Shut Up, You F*cking Baby to The Stage Names

Random Observations

"Signs" by Justin Timberlake, Snoop Dogg and Charlie Wilson is one of those perfect party songs. The opening is just spot on, Timberlake's falsetto sliding in before the playful drum beat begins and the horns start to bubble underneath. Plus listening to Snoop Dogg rhyme "Venus and Serena" with "Wimbledon arena" is just a juicy pop pleasure.

  Bloc Party's Silent Alarm and The Knife's Silent Shout make wonderful neighbours,with Bloc Party's spiky, angular, pulsing rock giving way effortlessly to The Knife's vocal-driven, otherworldly electronica. Listening to these two albums back-to-back was a dream.

  If you ever want a group of people of our generation (mid-Eighties to early-Nineties) to drunkenly sing along to something, you could do a lot worse than "Don't Speak" by No Doubt.

  People don't give The Buzzcocks enough love. They were huge influences on the British punk scene (and therefore the British indie scene) from the very beginning of the movement (if you haven't already, go watch 24 Hour Party People) and they produced iconic, masterful, insightful songs, most of which came in under the magic 4 minute mark.

  It's a shame I didn't manage to tackle both of Das Racist's mixtapes, Shut Up, Man and Sit Down, Dude, in one blogging session. I still haven't gotten around to their album, Relax, but frankly the two mixtapes are 37 tracks between them, longer than most full albums. The fact that they won't be making music together anymore is such a shame - there was so much truth and humour in their rhymes, and we need more of that, in music and in life.

  The Social Network soundtrack is a great, atmospheric piece. It matches the tone of the film so perfectly without resorting to any of the cliches of film scoring. There are no sweeping overtures, no hushed variations for emotional scenes. Instead, there are a series of intricate, well-constructed pieces that fit together like elaborate clockwork, a machine designed to build dread and tension.

  Someone To Drive You Home by The Long Blondes is one of those albums that can take over your life. I discovered it at a point in my life when I was particularly open to that kind of infectious worldview and for two or three months, that album owned me. Like a sermon, like a manifesto, it constructs a perspective on life and romance that you can't help but pour yourself into. The characters in the songs are so well drawn, so true to life that you connect with them as well as you might with any protagonist from a novel or hero in a film. Kate Jackson's voice is a siren song, pulling you into the cynical, wearied waters of her world. From that place, all romance is a power game, a maneuvering of players where the men are selfish predators and the women are cruel and tragic. It's a dangerous world, filled with the allure of old films and danger of illicit liaisons. If you let it, it will take you over, and never let you go.

  Eels' Souljacker, like Shootenanny after it, bridges the gap between Daisies of the Galaxy's optimism and Blinking Lights and Other Revelations' ambitious melancholy with a harder, rougher sound. Where earlier records were like an open wound, this is the scab - toughened skin that tells a tale of an earlier injury. Mark Everett steps outside his own head a little, with tales of circus freaks and ghosts, but the evidence of his heartbreak is still there, in the anger of "Bus Stop Boxer" and the bruised vulnerability of "That's Not Really Funny". The ramshackle production matches the tone of the songs perfectly, and like all Eels albums it creates a wonderfully complete package.

  I know I'm meant to be sticking to the whole "each song gets one listen" rule, but I may have cheated a little when it comes to "All My Friends" by LCD Soundsystem. You know why? Because it's the best song this millennium has produced so far. Because it's a perfect cocktail of triumph and loss. Because it makes me want to run from door to door, pulling people out on to the street to scream into the sky. Because it makes me want to see all my friends tonight.

  The Stage Names was one of those albums I mentioned rediscovering in my last post. If you'd have asked me before this listen through what I could remember from it, I would have been able to talk about the spot on homage/sampling of The Beach Boys "Sloop John B" in "John Allyn Smith Sails" and nothing much beyond that. Now, I could talk about the building wail of "Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe", the pulsing thrum of the guitar hook on "Unless It's Kicks" and the oh-so-clever workplay of "Plus Ones" that manages to add, rather than detract, from the song.

  It was about this time in proceedings that I was gifted a selection of music by my friend Georgie, mostly new stuff that I hadn't got my hands on yet. Chief among the pleasures were Haim's Forever EP and Holy Fire, the new album from Foals. Forever is like a delicious slice of cake; sweet, tantalizing and leaves you aching for more. Holy Fire is filled with leap-out-of-speakers energy and brings together so much of Foals' earlier sounds into one cohesive whole.

Rediscovered Gem

"In The Mouth A Desert" by Pavement

Play To Z: Hitting The Wall

Two months is a long time between posts; long in normal time and even longer in Internet Time. Whole memes have been born, bloomed, withered and died in that time. The blog has rested, untouched while Margaret Thatcher jokes pinged back and forth across Twitter and people on Facebook spoiled Game of Thrones twists for their less up-to-date friends.

  So why so long without a post? Well, because now, as I near the end of the project (less than 1000 songs to go at current count), I hit the wall. Like a marathon runner in the final third of the race, I suddenly slacked, and listening to music became an effort. So many great albums lay behind me, now unlistenable until I had reached my finish line. So many new releases floated out there on Spotify and YouTube, tempting me. And worse of all, I hit a fallow patch in my album collection, with long stretches of albums that I had little passion for, with those that I did serving as only brief oases in a desert of mediocrity.

What This Is Happening looks like after 200 songs worth of "eh"

  It is, of course, my own fault. If I kept my music collection trimmed of any fat, this project would have been absent these sort of patches and noticeably shorter. I'd probably even be done by now. But I can't beat myself up too much - every album I own is a window into a period of my life, even the bad ones. It could be a band I once loved who I have now turned sour on, an album I bought out of curiousity and never listened to again, or something lent to me by a friend on the promise that I would love it that I now keep only as evidence that, yes I have listened to it.

  The whole point of this project was to both reconnect with these albums that had fallen to the wayside and to challenge the memories I had of them. In pushing through the wall, I've discovered some albums that I had cast aside prematurely. Coming back to listen to them, I've found new depths to their sound, new meaning in their lyrics. Certain songs have popped in ways they never did before. It's a nice way to measure myself as a person, knowing that I can come to the same song I merely tolerated two or three years ago and now find deeper purpose to it.

  All that said, there's a hell of a lot of material to cover here - over a thousand songs, more than three days of music. I'm going to parcel the random observations out between a few posts in the next couple of days, sometimes going into more depth where something merits a closer look.