The Beatles - "Now and Then," my dad, and me

As you may have heard by now, there’s a “new” Beatles track out in the wild. It is supposed to be the final Beatles song, the last of three John Lennon demo songs originally given by Yoko Ono to Paul McCartney to finish up as Beatles songs for the Beatles Anthology documentary. 

I’ve listened to it several times now. I’ve watched the making-of mini-documentary and the official music video. And though I have opinions on all of that, the reason I’m writing any of this is because it all made me think of my dad. 

You may not know this about me, but I’m a huge Beatles dork. My dad loved the Beatles, and is absolutely the reason I fell in love with their music. When Beatles Anthology first aired on ABC back in ‘95 it was appointment viewing (remember that?). I remember being very excited to watch it; I was a burgeoning fan at the time and couldn’t wait to devour all of this new information. I remember we watched all three episodes as a family. Watching television with your family. What a concept!

Furthermore, there was a CD soundtrack tie-in (because of course there was) for each episode, filled with never-before-heard outtakes… and not one but two new Beatles songs. I was hyped. 

This is where my dad comes into the story. My dad was always a fan, but I don’t think he was ever a fanatic. He certainly had his likes and dislikes, whether Beatles or otherwise, but I don’t think he really listened to music with a critical ear. So I truly don’t know whether or not he ever really wanted to listen to demos and outtakes. But I know that he went out of his way so that I could listen to them. He worked second shift at the time, so when those Anthology discs went on sale at midnight, he was there. For me. 

He liked the new tracks “Free As A Bird” and “Real Love” just fine, as did I. But I got way more out of the rest of those albums. At some point our tastes in Beatles music diverged; I gravitated towards later-period songs while he still preferred the early stuff. (We did both agree that Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was the greatest album of all time, for what it’s worth.) We may not have agreed on much – even within our fandom of the band – but we always had The Beatles.

I thought about all of this as I was listening to “Now and Then,” all of the memories flooding back. 

“Now and Then” isn’t in the upper echelon of Beatles songs, but it also isn’t “Revolution #9” or “Mr. Moonlight.” It manages to hit all of the wistful and melancholy notes that a final track of one of the most beloved bands of all time ought to. Is it a thing that really needs to exist? Not really. But I’m kind of glad it does. I may not put it on any Beatles playlists. But if I get the 1967-1970 compilation to complete my collection, I’m not going to turn the song off.

In the making-of doc, Sean Ono Lennon says his dad would have loved what the surviving Beatles did with the song. (Paul, Ringo, and George’s son Dhani echo this sentiment) I think John would have been absolutely tickled by what is possible in 2023 with regards to sound and how it can be manipulated.  (This is the man who wanted to sound like 1000 chanting Tibetan monks on “Tomorrow Never Knows,” after all) I also think he would have dismissed the song as rubbish, probably exclaiming there was a reason the song languished on a cassette for 40-plus years. 

It is somewhere between all of this that I find myself and my dad. Either “Now and Then” is the perfect capstone for the best, most creative pop band to ever walk the earth, or it’s a gussied-up Lennon demo that should have been left on the tape. Perhaps its appeal lies in the unknown. Sean can’t ask his dad about the song. I can’t ask my dad what he thinks about it, even if I already know the answer. (“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”) 

In a way, this kind of makes it the perfect final Beatles track and a fitting metaphor for the relationship I had with my dad.. It just kind of is what it is; it’s there whether you want it to be or not. I listened to the other “new” (at the time) Beatles tracks “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love” while writing this, and they also reminded me of my dad. They’re not the best or the worst, but I remember them all fondly. These days, that's all I can ask for. 

Listen to the new track
Watch the mini-doc

Watch the official music video, which is a bit much and not good

Bummery Essay/Concert Review: Tool - 11/1/23 at Fiserv Forum

Call this the “You’re Getting Old” show. 

In Season 15, Episode 7 of South Park, Stan turns 10, and suddenly views the world through cynical eyes. Everything that used to give him joy – television shows, new music, etc. – is now just “shit.” At the end of the episode, Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” plays over a montage of Stan’s parents growing apart and eventually getting divorced.

My experience with concerts over the past 5 years or so has been somewhere between those two extremes. Once upon a time I used to get really excited to see bands that I loved or to see one I had just discovered. Now everything is just sort of blah. This isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy those shows, because I did. But the anticipation is all but gone. The soaring highs of screaming along in unison with 2 or 20 thousand fellow believers is gone, replaced with a middling contentment. Tool’s sold-out show at Fiserv Forum on Wednesday night was no different.

Before the show, my best friend and concert-going buddy of the past 25+ years confided in me that he had an anxiety attack on his way to my house. This is just what happens now. Instead of getting fucked up on cheap beer and Jagermeister and letting the night take us where it will, we now tamp down our alcohol consumption and watch our heart rates.

The show kicked off with “Fear Inoculum,” and for the moment all that other stuff faded away. “Jambi” was absolutely punishing, even more so than on record. “The Pot” was next, which is where Maynard James Keenan got in on my own personal theme for the night: his voice cracked during the first line of the song. He was getting older too. (Of course, he recovered to deliver a vocal performance with more clarity and force than the album version, so joke’s on me for even noticing that minor flub.)

All of the hallmarks of a Tool show were present, from the snarling noise of “Rosetta Stoned” to the hypnotic grooves of “Pneuma.” Trippy visuals played on the screen and a laser show shot out from the stage during the middle third of the set. The band played with both a stunning brutality and breathtaking precision, all while Maynard James Keenan stalked and swayed in the background.

This may be the first and only time Tool and “Weird Al” Yankovic are compared, and perhaps it’s a stretch, but I’m going to do it anyways. For both acts, the concept of a concert as a living, breathing thing designed to be experienced in the moment is exchanged for something with a more precise execution. It’s almost as if the soul of a live show is choreographed out of existence. “Weird Al” has already delivered on a more concert-like experience; I will continue to wonder what it would be like if Tool loosened up even just a little bit.

It was at this point that my friend tapped me on the shoulder and said he had to leave; the anxiety had been too much to overcome.*

Apropos, I guess, because Tool’s music – particularly on the latest album – has a creeping sense of dread and unease that you just can’t shake. So there I sat, both consumed by the crowd full of righteous headbangers and fist-pumpers and all alone with my thoughts.

Maybe in my younger days I would’ve doubled down on long swigs of whiskey-and-Cokes, attempting to parse Keenan’s dense lyrics; instead I just let the noise wash over me while wondering if my friend was going to be all right or if my son went to bed without much fussing for my wife.

The set was largely bereft of Tool’s biggest radio hits, which sounds like a dream come true until the deep cuts played weren’t my absolute favorite deep cuts. (That’s a me problem, not a Tool one) Whatever the case, they played “Forty Six & 2” last. It seemed like it got the biggest reaction of the night, and rightfully so. It managed to drag me out of the reality in my own head and into the show that was taking place in front of me. My hands suddenly wanted to play a bit of air guitar, my voice wanted to sing along. For six minutes, it was bliss.

Despite all the bummery nonsense written above, it was a good show. I’ve seen Tool four times now, and they have yet to disappoint. 

Whether it’s on record or live, Tool’s music is a grueling exercise in persistence. You gut it out and make it through to the other side. It is also a lot like life in that there’s no reward at the end; the act itself is its own reward (or not, if you choose to make it unrewarding). 

I chose not to take part in the chaos of an Uber line, so I walked alone in the cold to the bus stop. I had to wake up early to take my son to school; I was to receive an infusion of new medication later that day. It was like the lyrics of a song they didn’t play: “keep going, spiral out…”

*I made sure he got home safely. I confessed that I felt horrible for not leaving with him in solidarity; he said he would’ve felt horrible if I had left and missed the show. This is how grown men exchange feelings – well, that and depression memes. 

Concert Review: Death Cab for Cutie/The Postal Service, 9/23/23, The Salt Shed, Chicago

The records TRANSATLANTICISM by Death Cab for Cutie and GIVE UP by The Postal Service both turn 20 this year, so Ben Gibbard is taking both bands on the road to perform both albums front-to-back. This tour came to The Salt Shed in Chicago on Saturday night for a sold-out performance. 

To be honest, these are records that I like but don’t love. 

I was aware of Death Cab for Cutie in 2003 due to working at my college radio station, but at that point I was doing my own show and wasn’t terribly interested in the indie rock favored by the station. It wouldn’t be until after I graduated that I got into that sort of music. Death Cab was definitely one of those bands, but TRANSATLANTICISM wasn’t on my radar until well afterwards. Ditto for The Postal Service. It’s entirely possible that I didn’t check their sole album out until I heard one of their songs covered (!) in an M&Ms commercial (!!).

The crowd was about what you would expect – receding hairlines and love handles galore. Parents with their children (both young and teenaged). Gen Z was there too, because Spotify and such has made generational demarcations of music meaningless. There were some old dudes there too. I am not sure if they were super hip or thought they were going to a combination Magical Mystery Tour/U.S. Mail convention. Whatever the case, everyone was definitely there to see the show. Death Cab songs are notoriously quiet, but talking over the slow stuff was kept to a minimum.

The Death Cab portion of the show took place first. Now, I have no particular nostalgia for the album so I wasn’t tempted to text an ex-girlfriend. What was I supposed to do here, be wistful for all the sex I wasn’t having at the time? So, I didn’t have any intensely emotional responses to the songs. The irony of couples mostly, presumably in long-term relationships here to see a performance of 20-year-old songs about longing, lost love, and meaningless sex wasn’t lost on me. 

Either I haven’t paid close attention to a DCfC show in a while, or Ben Gibbard was trying to channel a youthful energy from 20 years ago, because he was bounding about the stage during the entire set. Album opener “The New Year” absolutely cooked. The other rocking – and I mean that term relatively to other Death Cab songs – did what they were supposed to do: “The Sound of Settling” got the crowd involved with its “buh-BAH!” call-and-response refrain; “We Looked Like Giants” – TRANSATLANTICISM’s best song – was superb, even if it lacked the extended, jammy outro present on some live versions of the song.

For all the things that make Ben Gibbard seem bookish and beta – the wan vocals, his collegiate phrasing (“The glove compartment is inaccurately named / And everybody knows it / So I'm proposing a swift, orderly change” from “Title and Registration,” and also the name of the album they were here to celebrate), the man can be devastatingly mean when he wants to be. When he sang (multiple times) “You were beautiful, but you don’t mean a thing to me” on “Tiny Vessels,” all I could think was “the chutzpah on this guy!” Quite frankly I’ve never had the opportunity to say that to a woman, which is just as well because I wouldn’t have the confidence to say it anyways.

The emotional centerpiece of the night was the title track. The refrain of “I need you so much closer” was sung by both singer and crowd, over and over again, building like waves threatening to overcome the breakwater. It felt almost as if it represented the conversion of one’s exciting and terrifying twenties to a (hopefully) more stable and mundane thirties (or, yes, fine, for those of us who are elder millennials, forties).

The band seemed to sprint through the album, not because the songs were faster but because there was hardly any space between the songs. No banter or breaks. After closing track “A Lack of Color,” Ben Gibbard said “thank you, we’ll reset and be back in 15 minutes with the Postal Service,” and that was it.

The TRANSATLANTICISM set got plenty of applause, and it was certainly deserved. But the introspective indie rock was no match for the Technicolor electronics and guitar pop of The Postal Service.

From the opener “The District Sleeps Tonight” on, it was a combination dance party and Dashboard Confessional show, with the crowd both hanging onto and singing along to every word. Every song was met with raucous applause. “Such Great Heights” was an all-time arena rocker for just one night. Every time Jenny Lewis did… pretty much anything, the crowd roared its approval. And it was warranted: her duet with Ben Gibbard on “Nothing Better” was awesome; it was also the only text-your-ex temptation of the night. (It’s a break-up song where both people agree to say goodbye in the end. I think that means I’ve grown as a person or something.) She also added a menacing guitar solo to the end of a song that wasn’t there on record, which brought some rawk to the proceedings. (Like I said I like this album, not love it. I do not have the names of the songs memorized and I sadly did not write it down.)

Just as Ben Gibbard said a mean thing in a song a few paragraphs ago, I had a mean thought as this set was going on, and that is that I think the girls he was singing about over the course of TRANSATLANTICISM in a negative light are the same girls that were eating this songs up with a fork and spoon, only they don’t have the self-awareness to know it’s them. It was sort of like that Chris Rock bit (link EXTREMELY NSFW) about meeting a girl at a club to Lil’ Jon’s eternal crunk hit “Get Low.” If that sounds a little resentful and misogynistic, well, to quote Tammy Wynette, “I’m just a man.” But I didn’t begrudge them a good time; the intoxicating blend of Jimmy Tamborello’s glitchy, off-kilter beats and Gibbard’s sturdy songwriting was a winning combination and probably ahead of its time for 2003. If GIVE UP came out today I think it would be a #1 smash hit. 

(To make up for the previous paragraph I will admit that I held my wife’s hand during “We Will Become Silhouettes”, because what is more romantic than a song about nuclear apocalypse?)

Album closer “Natural Anthem” was probably the most welcome surprise of the night. The beginning of the song was noisier and glitchier and more blissed out than the studio cut. It added some balance to the delectable pop of the past 40 minutes, while building and building to something terrifying and wonderful until it folded in on itself, a dying star imploding to an abrupt end. To say it was a metaphor for life is probably a stretch, but it felt like it meant something more than just being some noise.

Of course, that wasn’t the end. They came on for two more songs: an acoustic rendition of “Such Great Heights” (which proved what a great song it was, stripped down to just a guitar and the vocals of Ben Gibbard and Jenny Lewis) and a cover of Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy The Silence,” for which the dance party started anew.

The Millennial Nostalgia Tour may not have hit me the same way it did for some of those in attendance. I didn’t wallow in a breakup to TRANSATLANTICISM and GIVE UP didn’t soundtrack makeout sessions in my parents’ basement or in a darkened dorm room. (In fact, most of my experiences with that album are as naptime music for my now five-year-old son.) But it was still good music performed with an unmistakable joy that was infectious. The fact that the songs mostly sounded like their studio counterparts didn’t hurt either. I won’t lie, it was kind of a costly trip for one night in Chicago, but I don’t regret it one bit. It was an excellent show.

If anything, both during the concert and while writing this, I thought an awful lot about the people I’ve been and the person I’ve become. If there’s a higher compliment you can pay a moderately successful indie rock LP and a one-off collaboration that was intended as a labor of love, I’d sure like to hear it.

Concert Review: Smashing Pumpkins at Fiserv Forum 10/30/22

I had the beginning and the ending of this review mostly written in my head days before the show was going to take place. The reason for this is that when it comes to bands/artists I’ve seen multiple times – particularly legacy acts – is that I mostly know what to expect. They’re going to play mostly hits, maybe a few deep cuts, some new songs that no one cares about – and it will all be delivered in a perfectly competent package. 

There is nothing wrong with this in and of itself, But it is a little bit – and neither of these two adjectives completely describe the experience for me, but they are the two that keep coming to mind – boring and disappointing. It is a pattern that has kept repeating itself for most of my adult life, whether we’re talking about Paul McCartney, Tool, or in this case Smashing Pumpkins. Nothing has ever been able to match the anticipation of seeing a band for the first time, not knowing entirely how it was going to go, and then being completely blown away by it all.

Of course, this isn’t the fault of Smashing Pumpkins, it is my own. This, friends, is why it’s a bad idea to live too much inside your own head. It becomes very easy to be let down when you think too much about things.

Fortunately for those of you that don’t want to read a total bummer, Smashing Pumpkins still know how to put on a stellar rock show. James Iha was dressed for the occasion(the concert took place on the day before Halloween) in a full mummy costume; Billy Corgan looked exactly like you’d expect him to look; Jimmy Chamberlin let his excellent drumming do the talking. 

They started with a new tune, “Empires,” that was appropriately noisy, but otherwise forgettable. “Bullet With Butterfly Wings” was next, and the real rocking commenced. Did I sing/scream along to all the words I knew? Of course I did. Was there righteous air guitar soloing? You know it.

We were treated to an excellent and apt deep cut, “We Only Come Out At Night,” from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. There was also a sweet moment when Billy and James performed “Tonight, Tonight” together on acoustic guitars. For about 4 minutes they had me believing they were buds, belting out some of the most enduring music of the 1990s. 

The last third of the show was probably the most enjoyable for me. “Cherub Rock” featured some excellent guitar work by everyone involved. “Zero” scorched like it always has. “1979” filled the arena with a warm sense of nostalgia that only a song like “1979” can. Finally, the last number, “Silverfuck,” was all gnarled and screechy guitars – a shredfest that built and built until the whole thing boiled over. And then just like that it collapsed in on itself and it was over. No encore. Just the house music and eventually the lights telling us to go home.

I suspect both band and fans – at least those of my generation – have now settled into a comfortable middle age. They’ll play the hits, which will make them boatloads of cash (and for Billy Corgan, the ability to make self-indulgent triple albums that no one will care about). In exchange we get to see and listen to the music of our youth. It will be solid but unspectacular.

I was looking forward to this concert for months. I thought I was looking forward to the music, man, but I think in the end I was actually just excited to hang out with my friends for a couple of hours. In a world that looks more and more like it’s diminishing returns all the way down, I think I’ll take it.

Notes from a novice: The National at the Riverside, 9/16/22

A view from the last possible seat in the balcony.

  

The National, one of the daddiest of the dad-rock bands going today*, played to a sold-out Riverside Theater on Friday night. 

All of The National’s best songs have a feeling of calm with a sense of danger lurking underneath, like a plane drifting through the sky about to hit some turbulence. Aided by Bryan Devendorf’s propulsive drumming, the songs were taken from mere mid-tempo indie rock to something bigger and better.

The National frontloaded their set with some of their best tunes. ”Mistaken for Strangers” took on a different meaning as a middle-aged dad, but still hits hard. High Violet cut “Bloodbuzz Ohio” had the largely millennial crowd’s attention early on, with Matt Berninger crooning its entirely-too-appropriate chorus of “I still owe money, to the money, to the money I owe.” “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness,” perhaps the rockingest song in their catalog, brought the entire crowd to its feet for the first time. Aaron Dessner’s gnarly, squiggly lead guitar brought some much-needed color to the muted greys and browns that The National usually traffic in. 

I called The National “dad rock” in the opening, and though I stand by that, in truth there were more women in the crowd than men. I think that at least begins with Matt Berninger’s rich baritone voice. He’s part mumbly crooner, part rambling drunk. Whatever you want to call it, he had complete control of the crowd. He ventured into the pit a handful of times throughout the nearly two-hour set, and one imagines it was sort of like a religious experience for those lucky enough to get close to him. 

It would be fair to think of the crowd at a The National show to be one that stands in the back, arms folded, too cool to show any sense of enjoyment. (I say this because I am one of those insufferable people.) This would be absolutely wrong, however. There was dancing in the aisles. There was fist pumping. As someone who is very self-conscious of going to shows alone, it was a relief to see there were fans of all levels (superfan, casual, etc.). 

Ultimately, I think the appeal of The National lies in the sense of togetherness that underpins the music. The lyrics may be sometimes mopey or sad sack, but that didn’t stop anyone from singing along. When Berninger shouted the chorus to crowd favorite “Mr. November,” I wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a plea, but the crowd screamed “I won’t fuck us over!” right along with him. 

That sense of community lasted right through the last song of the encore. The band gathered in a semi-circle at the front of the stage. They started to play gentle High Violet closer “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks.” Matt Berninger played conductor in lieu of having a microphone, but that didn’t matter as a Dashboard Confessional show broke out right then and there as the crowd sang every line of the song back at the band. Perhaps that is a traditional closer because everyone seemed to know exactly what to do. But it was stunning nonetheless. On a night where, as a first-timer, I didn’t know what to expect, the vibes – as the kids say – were immaculate. There is no higher compliment that I can pay, all things considered.

* I think the top five, in some order or another, is The War on Drugs, Spoon, Wilco, The National, and Foo Fighters.

Anti-Now Volume 1: A track-by-track review

This compilation album came together for two reasons: 1) I got a CD burner for my 18th birthday and 2) The NOW That’s What I Call Music! compilation albums were a thing, so this was a response to that. Ken and I collaborated on the tracklist. Though I’m sure you’ll be able to guess which songs were suggested by whom, in the end we agreed on all of them. (At the same time, it was my CD burner, so I got the final say.)

Upon listening to this mix for the first time in 20 years, I was struck by the fact that for the most part, the songs still hold up. It is true that some bands and sounds have fallen out of fashion. But radio-friendly rock music is inoffensive and inconsequential at worst. It remains infinitely listenable, at least in part due to the fact that these particular songs came out during our formative years. 

For this track-by-track review, I wanted to do my best to remember what made these songs notable in the first place, and also explain why they do (or don’t) resonate today. I ended up coming to the conclusion after writing this that there was no point in looking at these songs critically; you’re more likely to hear these songs in a Target or grocery store than you are on a radio station or a Spotify playlist. That does not mean songs are bad. It means they just sort of are. 

So put on your Old Navy fleece, or Jncos, or in my case a ratty band t-shirt, turn up the volume on your 3-CD bookshelf system, and play these tracks while reading along. 

Spotify YouTube

Everclear - “Wonderful”

Songs From An American Movie, Vol. 1 LP

This song probably led off the album because, at the time, it wasn’t exactly easy to edit audio files. The “Hey, ain’t life wonderful?” collage of voices that starts the track didn’t seem to fit anywhere but at the beginning. So at the beginning it went. 

As far as the actual song goes, it’s fine. I love the album it’s from, even though it’s a departure from the slick post-grunge of their first two major-label discs. The skepticism of the lyrics is what drew me in then and still makes sense to me now. “I don’t want to hear you tell me everything is wonderful now” is a pretty apt rebuke to the Republican bullshit nonsense going on in our nation at the moment. Someone get Joe Biden on the phone…

Vertical Horizon - “Everything You Want”

Everything You Want LP

It’s kind of funny that Ken and I got all bent out of shape over a pop music compilation album but then used all singles for our response. This track is the epitome of that mindset. When I said radio rock was inoffensive and inconsequential, this is what I was talking about. I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it. I’m not going to seek it out, but I also will not turn it off if it comes on.

On a side note, Anti-Now Volume 1 was made before Napster was a thing, so each and every song featured here came from an actual CD that was purchased. Yes, even this one. The only other good song on the album is “You’re A God,” and in hindsight it may have been a better choice to be featured here. 

Rage Against The Machine - “Sleep Now In The Fire”

The Battle of Los Angeles LP

Ken is fond of reminding me “Rage Against The Machine are capitalist phonies!”, which is a sentiment stolen from the title of a song by grindcore band Anal Cunt. Yes, they espouse leftist and sometimes straight-up communist politics while still selling their music for profit. That doesn’t mean they don’t know what they’re talking about. “Some of those that work forces / Are the same that burn crosses” from “Killing in the Name” from their debut album is relevant today in the wake of the murder of George Floyd, just as it was back in ‘92. 

“Sleep Now In The Fire,” like the other singles on the album, is a lot slicker than tracks from their previous two albums. The rough edges -- musically and vocally -- are smoothed out; the music fits into a nice little 3 ½ minute shell. It’s still a jolt of righteous energy, but this time around the fury of the lyrics is more abstract. That doesn’t necessarily work against them, though, because you can still rock out to it without being weighed down by politics. (In other words, when former congressman Paul Ryan said RATM was one of his favorite bands, he was probably talking about this album.)

Metallica - “I Disappear”

Mission Impossible 2 soundtrack LP

The actual CD-R of this compilation only played until about track 10. When this song came on, I was certain that this song was a poorly transcoded mp3. But then, while writing this, I listened to it on YouTube Music on my stereo… and it still sounded bad. So, the production was shitty. Maybe it was one of the first victims of the loudness wars. 

But that riff, man. For all that was said about Metallica moving away from thrash metal and selling out and all that other nonsense, Hetfield and Co. could still write a song that was catchy and also fucking rocked. I still get that riff stuck in my head, and the song as a whole still absolutely holds up today.

3 Doors Down - “Kryptonite”

The Better Life LP

 

The Onion AV Club (print edition!) described this single as “primo Kiss” and I didn’t know what that meant beyond “maybe both jocks AND stoners can appreciate this music.” I was on the right path, I think, as it is accessible radio rock. It is also kind of dumb and not particularly deep. That said, it is an expertly crafted hard rock song that I won’t turn off if it comes on. Nickelback made an entire career out of this type of song. (They deserve their scorn because they make no bones about doing just that, over and over again)

Nine Days - “Absolutely (“Story of a Girl”)

The Madding Crowd LP

Pop-rock has always gone in and out of fashion throughout the decades, and “Story of a Girl” came along when bro-y aggro rock like Korn and Limp Bizkit were kings. Perhaps the rise of boy bands and Britney Spears at the dawn of the new millennium helped songs like this attain some mainstream success.

If I have a criticism of this song, it is that it sounds rushed. Like it’s too fast, and not in a good way. Other pop rock contemporaries like Counting Crows, The Wallflowers, or Soul Asylum all were perfectly fine with mid-tempo rockers, but Nine Days sound like they couldn’t wait to get out of the studio. Whatever the case, I think it sounded like a breath of fresh air amongst all the aforementioned bro rock -- a lot of which I liked at the time -- and that is probably why it is here. 

Smashing Pumpkins - “Stand Inside Your Love”

Machina / The Machines of God LP

Musically speaking, this is probably where it all went south between Ken and I. It was 20 years ago, so I don’t actually remember, but I think there is zero chance that he didn’t lobby for the aggressive, angsty single “The Everlasting Gaze.” I went with the somewhat-tender ballad “Stand Inside Your Love.”

They’re both fine songs. ‘Gaze’ is more immediate, so that one probably gets on more playlists today. “Stand Inside Your Love” is more interesting musically, but Billy Corgan’s vocals are kind of annoying, so maybe that’s a wash. Whatever, fuck Ken.

Static-X - “Bled For Days”

Wisconsin Death Trip LP

I won’t beat around the bush - I don’t particularly care for hard rock or nu-metal any more. It would be easy to blame this all on Ken and move on, but I’m the one who bought the CD, so there must have been something I liked about it at the time.

Relistening to it now, “Bled For Days” has an interesting if not particularly good sound. In a way, it was at the forefront of hard rock with its use of electronics in the mix. If the bass and drums weren’t percussive enough on their own, the guitars are tuned all the way down for most of the song, further muddling an already muddled sound. Wayne Static’s aren’t sung nor screamed, but vomited out -- particularly when singing the title line “bled for days.” Despite all that ugliness, the guitar line during the “I don’t believe it, fuck me, read me…” chorus (or is it a bridge?) is kind of pretty in a shoegaze-y sort of way. (For a modern take on that, listen to some Deafheaven.) I don’t think I’ll be queueing up any Static-X anytime soon, but it is a thing that existed and was fine at the time.

Stone Temple Pilots - “Sour Girl”

No. 4 LP

Halfway through the disc, a couple of things have become apparent: 1) If there are two contending singles from an album and one is a rocker and one isn’t, I almost always chose the more ballad-y type song. This definitely applies to “Sour Girl,” and I think it is still the correct choice because Stone Temple Pilots are far better at this type of song than the truly hard rockers. (“Dead and Bloated” is great, but “Interstate Love Song” is better.)  2) My opinion of most of these songs is that they’re “fine” and I’ve got not much more to say then that. I suppose that is bound to happen when we’re talking about radio-friendly rock music. The vast majority of it doesn’t go beyond that, and that is kind of by design.

I will say that single for single, STP can hang with just about any 90s band. “Sour Girl” is a good entry into that canon with its hazy, laid back vibe and interesting guitar tone. 

Blink-182 - “Adam’s Song”

Enema of the State LP

At first glance, you (Okay, Ken, and no one else) may be saying “oh look, another mid-tempo song by a band not really known for them [eye roll emoji]” and you (even those who aren’t Ken) would be correct. However, I have some valid reasons for picking this song. 

One, their most well-known song both then and now, “All The Small Things,” was a giant crossover hit. It reached #6 on the Billboard Hot 100, and much more importantly also was featured on a Now That’s What I Call Music! compilation. This is the Anti-Now Album, see?

Two, I absolutely felt this song in my guts. Those years at the end of high school were not good years. I fantasized about putting a gun to my head and ending it all. So when Mark Hoppus sang “Please tell mom this is not her fault” it hit pretty close to home. I assure you that I had thought a lot about this sort of thing. 

So, maybe “All The Small Things” and “What’s My Age Again?” were superior pop songs (they were and are) but “Adam’s Song” felt like it had true depth at a time when a lot of music on the radio didn’t. I won’t go so far as to say that song saved my life, but listening to it now brings me back to a time that my life needed saving. Which is not an easy thing to admit or to go back to. But Blink-182, of all bands, helped me do it.

Foo Fighters - “Breakout”

There Is Nothing Left to Lose LP

Of all the radio-rock bands on this album, Foo Fighters is the radio-rockingest. I do not say that to denigrate them; they have been a solid band since day one.

But, there’s really nothing to say about them either. They’re just kind of...there? (“Everlong” is in the Top Ten 90’s rock songs, full stop, but everything else is just sort of OK.) Perhaps as a counter to all the slowish songs the hardest-rocking single from the album got the nod here. 

I’ve got nothing more to say on this track, so let’s get on with it.

Buckcherry - “For The Movies”

Buckcherry LP

Ah, yes, Buckcherry. The band that the Onion AV Club said was at the forefront of “the great cock-rock revolution of 1999.” (This was not a compliment. There may have been no other bands in the so-called revolution)

In a way, they were Nickelback before Nickelback: critical punching bags that made simple party rock for meatheads, dullards, leathery wannabe MILFs, and white trash of all sorts. In what should be no surprise, I chose the sappy ballad instead of the single explicitly about cocaine (“Lit Up”) and the single that might as well be about cocaine (“Dead Again”). 

You would be forgiven if you thought they burned out after their debut album. But they did not. In fact, they had another smash hit that gets played on rock radio to this day. Is there a completely ridiculous 13-minute live version of it floating out there? Fuck yeah there is. Did Ken and I witness some trashy, slightly overweight and very intoxicated young women booty dance to the song once upon a time? Did I kind of enjoy it? I am not permitted to confirm nor deny that.

In short, I hate Buckcherry. But I also kind of like them.

Creed - “With Arms Wide Open”

Human Clay LP

It’s easy to shit all over Creed for being awful and histrionic. This song doesn’t really change that. 

I’ll go to bat for Creed’s first album because it’s really not all that bad. It may not be my thing anymore, but it’s not as bad as a lot of folks make it out to be.

But after that success, Scott Stapp got full of himself, and what we got was treacly bullshit like this. I’m not that far removed from being a new father, but I listened to this and was like “really, dude?”

I will admit that when this came out I bought the limited edition CD single. I have no clue what I was thinking then, and I will not attempt to justify that now. 

“Weird Al” Yankovic - “It’s All About The Pentiums”

Running With Scissors LP

“Weird Al” Yankovic is a national treasure. If you disagree, you are wrong. 

His Star Wars themed parody from the same LP is probably more famous, but ‘Pentiums’ had the cooler video, and being a budding computer nerd at the time meant that I actually got all the jokes from the song. In fact, it inspired me to name the message board on a web site that I maintained at the time after a line in the song (Ctrl.Alt.Delete, if you were wondering)

What strikes me now is that Yankovic was a pretty good rapper even then. The jokes are dated now -- though that was also kind of the point -- but the attention to detail and overall ability shine through even today.

Overall, I think if I were to make a Weird Al greatest hits disc, this song would be on it. Make of that what you will.

Nine Inch Nails - “Starfuckers Inc.”

The Fragile LP

The Fragile is an album that I didn’t much appreciate at the time it came out. I remember that teenage me thought it was “thought-provoking” but I also remember teenage me didn’t actually listen to the whole thing all that much.

“Starfuckers Inc.” is both super-accessible and superficial. It is a diss track about Marilyn Manson, and nothing more. I don’t hate it, and I won’t skip it if I’m listening to The Fragile. But if I were to go back and change the tracklisting of Anti-Now Vol. 1, I would probably go with either of the other singles, “The Day The World Went Away,” or “Into The Void.”

A Perfect Circle - “Judith”

Mer de Noms LP

For my money, A Perfect Circle’s debut effort is the last great radio hard rock album. (TOOL, as much as their songs get played on the radio, is not radio rock) To this day, I still enjoy it front to back. Is it Maynard James Keenan’s vocals? Is it because, unlike Keenan’s other band Tool, the songs are over before the five minute mark? I don’t know. It just works. 

“Judith” was the first single, and it still hits hard. Its anti-religious bent -- “Fuck your lord, your God, and your Christ!” -- rings true today just as it did 20 years ago. 

Papa Roach - “Last Resort”

Infest LP

I am honestly trying really hard not to be pithy about any of these songs. “Last Resort” makes that kind of difficult. It is more or less a macho, mookish version of “Adam’s Song” by Blink-182.

I did not abandon that song in 2000, however. During the Green Bay Packers’ run to the Super Bowl in 2010, “Last Resort” was part of a playlist that got me hyped up before their playoff games. The playlist was titled “Songs That Make Me Want To Punch People In The Face.” So there’s that, I guess. 

Stir - “New Beginning”

Holy Dogs LP

I’m not sure where I actually first heard this song. Maybe radio, maybe on a DirecTV music channel. I bought the CD on the strength of this single, and was mostly disappointed. (Upon a second listening a few weeks ago… I was still disappointed.)

But this song… this song is actually still legit good. It somehow manages to sound both of its time (record scratching!) and timeless (quiet-loud dynamics, na-na-na choruses!). I’m sure I put it at the end because I thought it was funny to make the last song one named “New Beginning,” but it ended up being rather fitting.

Despite being from a band that is mostly forgettable and being a song that was probably not that well known to begin with, it is (at least to me) actually the freshest sounding track of the 18 that made it on to the compilation. If I want to listen to a random-ass song from that era, I think I’d be more likely to queue up “New Beginning” than I would, say, “Everything You Want” or “For The Movies.” That may sound like faint praise, and it probably is. But when we’re talking about radio-friendly music from 20 years ago… that’s probably the best you can ask for.