The "H" Bombs
Hi everybody. This is Ryan Sitzman. I’m sauntering into town with my
saxophone and I’m bringing another one of these long, rambling music reviews
with me. So fathers, you best lock up your daughters, lest they come running
after me like the children of Hamelin, caught in a blind fit of musical ecstasy.
As usual, it’s been a long time since my last review, but the gap between them
is actually narrowing, believe it or not. Still, things have been pretty busy
of late. I’ve just gotten off winter break now, so I’ve been very busy playing
the video game Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, sleeping, reading, and
socializing. On the socializing front, I finally—after 18 months—got a chance
to spend an evening with my next-door neighbors, Ben and Amanda. It was a great
time! We chatted and ate homemade pizza until it started seeping out of our
ears. So if you’re ever in the neighborhood, you should stop by and say hi to
them. You can also say hi to me if I’m here, but those two sure can make a
wicked homemade pizza crust. I got nothing on that.
Alas, the whole break didn’t consist of fun, frivolity, and foreign beer. As
many of you know, my cat Gallagher--aka Foodbag, aka Pussypie, aka Hangbelly,
aka Ol’ Dangly Belly, aka Kitty--recently died. He had a rapid-spreading case
of lymphoma, but he was brave and sweet until the end. A cat with more names
than a member of the Wu-Tang Clan surely deserves a fitting tribute, so I’ve
decided to put up a shrine to him on my website. So, I’ll do that with the next
website update.
Speaking of the website, along with the shrine and this music review, I’ll
also add some more writing, pictures, and other various crap. I’m planning on
adding a story about the time I bought an air conditioner from my coke-head
neighbor, and a photo essay about the time I sold my body to science, but only
ended up with 120 dollars and a bad case of food poisoning. Both of these
stories, plus much more, will be found at the same Sitz time, same Sitz channel:
www.ryansitzman.com . I’ll keep you posted when I actually put these updates on
there, as some of the technology is still new to me. So, check back, and check
back often. It’s cheaper than going out on a date, and it’s always open for you
to visit.
On another administrative note, I’d like to say a word about the profanity in
these emails: “shit.” That—as well as many other classic favorites—can be found
in my emails, as well as on my website. I mentioned that this would be the case
way back when I started sending these emails out, but many of you may have
forgotten this or been added to the list in the meantime. In any case, make
sure your kids don’t read these emails if you don’t want them to hear the same
amount of profanity that they’ll get from watching a random 30-minute block of
television. Still, a few people have mentioned that they were surprised about
the amount of cussing in my emails…after all, isn’t profanity the refuge of
those too ignorant to use enlightened and educated forms of discourse to express
themselves? Well, fuck yeah it is. But it’s called the Lowest Common
Denominator, kids, and it’s what all hacks appeal to in order to get people to
read what they write. Even if I could write flowery prose, no one would read
it, since they’d just be scanning for words like “bastard” and “titties,” and
then read those sections to see if I say anything interesting. So, the
profanity will keep coming, so just be cautious of that. I can say, though,
that even though my emails are sorely lacking in violence and sex, this
paragraph alone would still give it an “R” rating when it’s turned into a movie.
Another random thought (and at least this one is about music): does anybody
else find that when they’ve got Issues on their mind, they start really
overanalyzing and reading deeply into music? Put simply, almost any song seems
deep when you’ve got shit on your mind. Or maybe that’s just me. I suppose
that listening to R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” when you’re sad is one thing, but
when you start believing that your Dido CD is trying to send you secret messages
because, after all, it’s really a disguised rock opera of your life, then,
well…that’s quite another thing altogether. Just a thought.
Especially since I’ll add more ramblings to my website, this is surely enough
rambling for this email. After all, we’ve got some music to talk about, and
these albums aren’t going to review themselves. One final note, though: “H” is
a pretty crappy letter for music. You go try to find some good “H” records
sometime and you’ll see what I mean. It’s not so easy at all, but I’ve still
managed to rustle up a couple of good records for your listening (and now
reading) pleasure. So, without further ado, I present to you the letter “H.”
NINA HAGEN – “NINA HAGEN IN EKSTASY”
First things first: this record pretty much sucks. You shouldn’t buy it,
either. Even if you’re a bit buzzed at the record store and think, “Hey, here’s
a German record!”, you should probably still steer clear. (As a side note, Nina
Hagen is quite different than Nena of “99 Luftballoons” fame). Anyhow, this is
the first record that I’ve ever heard (and keep in mind that I’ve actually heard
David Hasselhof’s record) that made me think, “Is this for real?” And as it
turns out, this record is indeed for real.
See, I did a bit of research for this review (another first). I consulted
various online sources to try to figure out who the hell Nina Hagen was, and why
her record was such crap. It turns out she was an East Berliner that was kicked
out of the country, apparently. She then performed in various punk bands. This
scenario seems like the most promising and coolest one I could imagine for an
aspiring musician, but the album doesn’t reflect this at all.
On the various tracks she squeaks, wails, and screeches her way through the
songs, but not in a cool way at all. Instead, it’s a sort of whiny,
German-accented squeak, and it makes my ears want to bleed (although the phrase
“whiny, German-accented squeak” is somewhat redundant). The lyrics are
appalling, also. It’s hard to choose between them, since they’re universally
bad, but surely one of the worst lines is from “Prima Nina In Ekstasy”: “My name
is Nina ich bin ein Berliner / I’m the mother of punk so what the funk.” And it
just goes downhill from there. A lowlight is certainly “Russian Reggae.” Annie
summed it up best: “Oh my God, please tell me that this isn’t a German woman
singing a reggae song in English, trying to inflect a Russian accent.” Two
other train wrecks are covers of Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit In The Sky” and
Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.” “My Way” doesn’t sound too bad, actually, but that’s
just because Hagen is drowned out by the sound of Sinatra spinning in his grave
at 10,000 RPMs. Fittingly, the album ends with “Gott Im Himmel” (“God In
Heaven”). Gott im Himmel, indeed.
Some of the songs seem to reflect an anti-nuclear theme, which would be
consistent with other songs from the 80s, but if she’s trying to make an overt
political statement, it’s pretty veiled. And although the songs are primarily
in English, there’s also a mish-mash of German and other languages that come up
in some tracks, such as “Atomic Flash Deluxe,” which seems to alternate between
English, German, Sanskrit(?), quasi-French, and absolute fucking gibberish.
After living for two years in Germany I felt that, even if I didn’t like some
German cultural products, I could at least recognize where they came from and
respect the idea that Germans liked them. Nina Hagen just baffles me, though.
If the Germans truly like her, then the situation there is much more dire than
Hasselhof’s popularity portended.
Speaking of German stuff, if you’re bored and feel like learning more about
Nina Hagen for some reason, check out motherofpunk.com. It’s a strange site
that sells Nina Hagen-inspired and designed merchandise. Choose the “Deutsch”
option if you’d especially like to revel in the weirdness. That way, you can
get a bit of the Nina Hagen Experience, without actually having to listen to her
music.
HANDSOME BOY MODELING SCHOOL – “WHITE PEOPLE”
“Beauty is in the eye of the tiger.” This is my favorite phrase from this
eclectic album, for some reason. It may seem odd that a modern hip-hop group is
working with a line from the 80s band Survivor, but there’s quite a few things
about this group that makes them unconventional.
First of all, even though it’s not too rare to find rap artists taking on
alternate egos, the ones that Dan Nakamura and Paul Huston don for Handsome Boy
Modeling School are especially interesting. We hear these two present
themselves as Nathaniel Merriweather and Chest Rockwell, the founders of HBMS.
Their pictures on the album cover tell more than words ever could, but suffice
it to say that a large part of their alter-egos revolves around nice suits,
brandy, and big moustaches. Nakamura and Huston retain these identities
throughout the album, but unfortunately this leads to the prerequisite skits
that are all too common on hip-hop albums. Even though these sketches feature
Saturday Night Live members like Father Guido Sarducci and Tim Meadows telling
about their experiences in the modeling school, after one listen they become
dull, uninteresting, and unfunny.
Fortunately, though, the music more than makes up for what’s lacking in the
skits. Nearly every track features some sort of collaboration with other
artists from across the musical spectrum. One of my favorite songs is
“Breakdown,” which features Jack Johnson. Other standouts are “If It Wasn’t For
You,” featuring De La Soul, and “The World’s Gone Mad,” featuring Del The Funky
Homosapien. The collaborations become even more interesting on the track “A Day
In The Life,” which features not only The Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA, but also The Mars
Volta. Additionally, “Greatest Mistake” features John Oates of Hall and Oates
fame, with surprisingly good results that at times almost sound Prince-like.
The best example of the album’s mixture of styles can be found on “Rock And Roll
(Could Never Hip Hop Like This) Part 2.” That song starts out with spoken-word
interviews with pioneering DJs and proceeds to add in hip-hop beats, modern
alternative rock riffs, and even classical music samples. The result is very
unique and a definite highlight of the record.
Unlike many hip-hop albums, this one seems to eschew any sort of underlying
message, but that’s quite alright. Still, it’s hard to classify this album,
since it lies between the dual realms of empowering and gang-banging hip-hop
styles. Perhaps it is this very defiance of classification that makes this
album great. The beats and music are quite impressive, as well, and the CD
plays especially well while driving around in a car. So if you’re looking for a
quirky album with some solid tracks, perhaps you should look into enrolling at
the Handsome Boy Modeling School.
BILL HICKS – “SALVATION: OXFORD, NOVEMBER 11, 1992”
I received this live comedy double album as a sort of late addition to this
pool, so this review will be a bit shorter than the rest. My young cousin
Kiersten gave me this album for Christmas, which makes me think (and hope) that
she probably didn’t get a chance to really check it out and listen to it before
giving it as a gift.
See, if you know of Bill Hicks, then there’s a good chance that you like him,
and I’m wasting my breath telling you that I think he was a brilliant comedian.
If you don’t know, him, though, he’s definitely someone that you may want to
check out, IF you fulfill a few basic criteria. First of all—and this is a
definite—you should not be opposed to profanity. These CDs are pretty packed
with it. Second, you should not be opposed to hearing someone talk about vulgar
situations, which is different than mere profanity. Again, there’s a lot of
those in here. And finally, you should not be opposed to hearing someone slam
on Republicans from the early 90s, with George Bush senior in particular.
Because there’s a TON of that.
Hicks, who died in 1994, was adamantly against the dumbing down of America,
and his concert CDs are full of rants against consumerism, the first Iraq war,
politicians, and many other juicy topics. His comedy isn’t entirely political,
though, and many of his best themes deal with life in general. However, he
didn’t talk about life in the airline-peanuts sort of way that many comedians
talk about life. His stated mission was to get people to open up their eyes and
understand the true nature of the world around them. His style of comedy isn’t
joke telling, but rather speaking passionately about things he believed in,
which just happen to come out wickedly funny sometimes. This leads to some
interesting situations, and his continual riffing on things like the Kennedy
assassination conspiracy take his comedy to a new strange, sublime level of
hilarity.
This album, as is the case with most comedy albums, suffers a bit with
repeated listenings, but still remains surprisingly funny on the whole even
after a second or third hearing. If it’s your first time hearing it, though,
I’d recommend listening to it in the car while driving along a boring, familiar
route (for me, the Boulder-Fort Collins boogie). That way, you can have the
time to enjoy it all at once, and really enjoy the album’s dark humor and
overall brilliance.
BUDDY HOLLY AND THE CRICKETS – “THE BUDDY HOLLY STORY”
When looking at the cover of this album, or pretty much any picture of Buddy
Holly, for that matter, one quickly notes that Holly is probably the most
dashing nerd ever. For our modern eyes, his trademark thick-rimmed glasses
belie the idea that the rockabilly music that Holly created in the fifties was
at the forefront of a rock revolution, and that he and his music were surely
controversial among the squares of his day.
Accordingly, the music on this compilation of Holly’s hits sounds somewhat
innocent today, but at the same time, it still sounds very good. This album has
the big hits that many people recognize, like “Peggy Sue,” “That’ll Be The Day,”
and “Oh Boy.” But even for a person such as myself, who obviously didn’t live
during the fifties, and who doesn’t know much about the music from that era,
most of the tunes are still recognizable. I’m not sure if they’ve been used in
movies, or if I’ve heard them on the oldies station while delivering flowers, or
if I’m just imagining that I’ve heard them before, but each song on the album
conveys a sense of familiarity. That’s pretty impressive for an artist whose
creative period lasted only a few years in an era that took place over four
decades ago.
Indeed, it’s tempting to wonder what the future would have held for this
influential musician. Unfortunately, he was killed in a plane crash in 1959
with Ritchie “La Bamba” Valens and The Big Bopper (this was “the day the music
died,” which Don McLean sang about in his song “American Pie”). It’s too bad
that the greats like Buddy Holly, Falco, and most of Skynyrd seem to die in
tragic accidents, but Nina Hagen can’t even seem to get a sprained wrist in a
car accident…By the way, on a somewhat tasteless note, which only becomes
marginally less tasteless due to the passage of time, my brother Paul once
introduced the idea of making a mix tape of songs by artists killed in airplane
or helicopter crashes. Like I said, it’s in questionable taste, but it’s still
a great idea, and if anyone ever makes this tape, please send me a copy.
All historical rubbernecking aside, this is a great album, and it’s a solid
listen. Whether it’s to hear the goofy, 50s-documentary opening notes of “It’s
Raining In My Heart,” or whether it’s to appreciate the solid historical rock
and roll clout that “That’ll Be The Day” carries with it, this album is
definitely worth buying. Ideally, you could play it at your next sock hop, but
barring that, side one is great to throw on while making a nice plate of
scrambled eggs and a tall glass of thick, rich Ovaltine.
HEART – “DREAMBOAT ANNIE”
I have a feeling that this will be the longest review of this bunch, so I’ve
decided to save it for last. I was actually very hesitant to review Heart for a
few different reasons. First, I used to hate Heart. Or so I thought. It took
quite a few years of hate to realize that I actually liked some of their songs,
and that I merely hated the song “Barracuda.” That song, along with countless
others, was ruined for me in my early years of driving the bus, when I had to
listen to hours and hours of repetitive classical rock, and Barracuda would
always be a key song in some 40-minute Fox Free Ride. Or some crap like that.
Point is, I hated Barracuda for complicated reasons, but when I saw the movie
The Virgin Suicides a few years ago, the tide turned for me and Heart. That
movie features the songs “Magic Man” and “Crazy On You,” and both songs were so
well placed I just couldn’t say no to them any longer. (Incidentally, that
movie also made me stop hating Josh Hartnett and station wagons).
However, I still doubted the wisdom of reviewing a Heart album. It kind of
seemed like a wussy band, frankly, and although I’ve reviewed wussy bands in the
past, a name like “Heart” is still weaker than a name like “Atomic Kitten”
(although only barely). My old roommate Julien expressed this thought when
talking about Heart once, saying that no matter how scorching of a guitar intro
they had, it was still weird to hear those chicks when they started singing.
And I’ll admit, Ann and Nancy Wilson are no Sabbath. A final doubt was added
when my professor Patrick Greaney outright forbade me to review Heart. It was
only when he later rescinded this order that I felt free to review this album.
The story of how I acquired this album is also worth mentioning. It all came
about when I was hanging out with my friend, office-mate, and fellow Vikings TA
Annie one afternoon. We decided to get a bite of food and a drink, and we came
across an Italian restaurant called Bacaro, which happened to have a sweet happy
hour. So, a couple glasses of wine, a couple of pizzas, and a big-assed tapas
platter later, Annie and I wandered into neighboring Bart’s CD Cellar. I’ve
mentioned this store in a previous review, and it’s still one of the best places
to find used music, especially old vinyl, in Boulder. After lingering in the A
aisle for a while (we were trying to convince ourselves that the Norwegian band
“a-ha” would count for an “H” record if you considered “ha” to be the band’s
last name, and “a-” its first name), we made our way to the H aisle.
It’s hard to describe an epiphany, but you can probably imagine that for two
wine-buzzed Vikings TAs, especially with one of them named Annie, coming across
an H record called “Dreamboat Annie” was pretty mind-blowing. And indeed, the
record was just one of the many gems that I picked up that day (including the
Nina Hagen, Buddy Holly, and a-ha records already mentioned, as well as an ABBA
collection and the Asia record with “Heat of the Moment”). Yeah, a pretty damn
good haul. And the Heart record itself is pretty good.
When I was briefly listening to “Dreamboat Annie” in the record store, I
didn’t listen to “Magic Man,” since I already knew I liked it, but as it turns
out, there’s some kind of warp on the record that affects the first song on each
side of the album. That’s rather unfortunate, since “Magic Man” is one of the
highlights of the album, and the song on the other side, “White Lightning &
Wine” sounds promising, at least until it starts skipping. There are other
solid tracks, though. For those in the mood for a more folk-y, acoustic-y
sound, “(Love Me Like Music) I’ll Be Your Song” is pretty good, and the title
song is pretty good. In fact, it was so good that three out of the ten songs on
the album have “Dreamboat Annie” in their titles. You get “Dreamboat Annie
(Fantasy Child),” “Dreamboat Annie,” and “Dreamboat Annie (Reprise)” all for the
price of one!
The label that released this record in 1976 is Mushroom Records, based in
California, and as you could guess, a few of the songs are kind of druggy and
seventies-y. There are some good lyrics, but there are also some pretty trite
ones. Take “Sing Child” (the weakest song on the album), where they sing: “Holy
Junkie / Funkie monkey / Everybody calls him honey / He gonna sing I know / He
don’t want to play that game / He gotta play that game / Oh honey honey honey /
You got to come down and sing.” Not exactly Shakespeare.
Finally, I’d say that the best song on the album is “Crazy On You.” Even if
some would say it’s hard to take rocking chicks seriously, it’s hard not to pay
attention when Ann Wilson hits the higher registers saying/screaming “…and you
keep me alive with your sweet, flowing love…” So, if you need a couple of songs
to add to your ipod while you jog in the gym wearing your “Canadian Girls Kick
Ass” T-Shirt, this Heart record may be the one for you.
So everyone, that’s about it for this time. I’ll be back sometime soon with
an “I” review, although I’m already imagining that it’ll be a pain in the ass to
find some good albums. In any case, until next time, take care, and listen to
some music for me.
--Ryan