marc pietrzykowski

A common enough refrain in most people’s lives, yes? As in, “what was I thinking when I decided to listen to all my cds, on at a time, and write about each one?” or “alexandrine couplets? What was I thinking?” or “renting Kazaam, dear god what possessed me?” This phrase is triggered by something beyond regret, a sense of bafflement, as though you cannot recognize the person that would make such a choice. So, couplets:

112) Beta Band: Heroes to Zeros

Do I really own ev’ry CD by this band?
Apparently so, but this last one’s pretty bland.

113) Omar: Best by far

The lyrics are just to keep the ass in motion,
and “Be Thankful” is there to rub it with lotion:

114) Scissor Sisters: Scissor Sisters

Elton John never moved me, but this CD’s great,
queer snot-nosed ass-shakin’, though the ballads do grate.

Ok, enough of that. Next: A brief fairy tale inspired by each CD. Or maybe one big fairy tale inspired by several…

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O analogies abound, connections proliferate, webs are spun and then unwind… were this the second century a.d., or c.e., which stands for “common era” and is at least as patronizing as using “anno domine” (“The Year of our Lord” in latin), or a.h., for that matter (“anno hegirae,” the year Muhammed left Mecca for Yathrib), but anyway, were this 2 a.d., my computer would not work, and I would probably be banging some Ivernic characters into a stone pillar to be erected in commemoration of the chief’s annual public copulation with a ewe. I would have no teeth, and my cocktail would taste very unpleasant, and would likely contain some relative of witch’s cap. So, lucky me. But really “Second Century” means the next 100 CDs, and in commemoration of that milestone I will… announce my intent to try and experiment more with the postings. No ewe, sorry. There are plenty of other sites for that.

For the next few CDs, I will try and invent Hollywood Blockbuster catchphrases that evoke the experience of listening to the songs therein.

103) Jimi Hendrix: Kiss the Sky

–”Yeah, it’s the same old shit, but it’s hot shit, baby!”

104) David Bowie: hours…

–”If that man was any prettier, I’d get bored.”

105) Los Lobos: Collosal Head

–”It’s hot in here. It’s dark. It smells like old photo albums. Let’s have a party!”

106) Iris Dement: My Life

–”Well, I never did see a chicken walk that way before, good for you, hon.”

107) Cowboy Junkies: The Trinity Sessions

–”What if I don’t want to kiss you? Oh, never mind…”

108) Louis Armstrong: What a Wonderful World

–”10 bad men and one beautiful women. Sounds like the jury’s out to me.”

109) Inspiral Carpets: life

–”Eh, so I’m flying. Have any more of those kippers?”

110) Magazine: Magic, Murder, and the Weather

–”Yes, they must die, and yes, they must suffer, but surely not all at once…”

111) My Bloody Valentine: Loveless

–”Red, man, blue is for chimps!”

(next: Alexandrine couplets)

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Civil society, that is. I bet there is some direct correlation between the various plummeting indicies of our economic and social well-being and the number of times people say “sort of” and “kind of.” Not saying there’s a causal relationship, mind you, just that the phenomena seem to be commenting on one another. Marty to the rescue!

102-103) In 1998, I was working on the last paper I had to complete for my BA degree in Rochester, NY. The paper was on Oswald Spengler, and about his cyclical theory of history being aesthetically pleasing, if not “right” the way most historians would prefer history to be. I was nearly finished, had only a few paragraphs left, and was feeling bit wistful, which I think accounts for a sudden, urgent need to hear “El Paso,” by Marty Robbins. I fired up the old Compaq and found a greatest hits CD at one of the local public library branches, so I went there (bittorrent and last fm and such not having been invented yet), listened to the CD on my state-of-the-art CD walkman, and finished my career as an undergraduate. To celebrate, I went next door for a beer or three, and lo, the sister of one of my oldest friends–and great unrequited loves–was working the bar. After my second beer, Courtney (the sister) gave me a shot and said “Ashley is here for Christmas, she says don’t move.” Ashley had left for Atlanta a few months prior, which made me sad, as I loved her, and glad too, since she hadn’t evinced any interest in smooching me during the previous 15 years, so when I saw her walk by the window of the bar on her way to meet me, my wistfulness inflated like a pan of Jiffy Pop. We drank, we went to a party, we went to a different bar and played pool, and then, as I was driving her back to her car, I pulled over to the side of the rode and kissed her, and she kissed me back. We’ve been married going on 10 years now, and I believe I owe Marty Robbins and Oswald Spengler, at least a little bit, a hearty thank you for my present and enduring happiness. And Courtney too, of course. (bonus: Marty wrote some fine pop songs, and managed to combine the dusty western opera sound with rockabilly slap and twang better than anyone who ever tried–though I’m not sure anyone else ever tried, come to think of it.)

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Wow, this year does seem new, much more fresh than than the last one, and maybe a little spicier. Now, if I could just squelch the newest annoying discourse marker that has grown like algae on the surface of American English: “sort of,” and its more roughneck cousin, “kind of.” People who want to sound like they are too smart to say “like” say “sort of,” and not when they mean that their comparison is imprecise, or even that it is a comparison. Once you notice it, you will see that this phrase MUST BE STOPPED…

98) Joy Division: Permanent: Joy Division 1995

How better to celebrate the promise of a new year than 80+ minutes of Joy Division? I’m not being sarcastic, actually; as I mentioned in the post below, I believe holidays are meant to focus and intensify all emotions, not just the happy happy joy joy bits but the sad, the scary, the sublime, the foolish, the absurd… and lo, Joy DIvision might be bleak, but bleak is comforting the way recognizing your puniness in the full scope of the universe and time is conforting. Depressing, to me, is watching 30 seconds of MTV at any given moment of the day. (bonus: you aren’t being forced, a la Clockwork Orange, to watch MTV right now. That’s a pretty fucking huge bonus, no?)

99) The Ramones: Mania

Not the best compilation of Ramones stuff ever, but you really only need 1 Ramones CD, right? The boys are rightly celebrated for making some good records, playing a ton of great live shows, and most importantly, for doing punk first, but man, they sure did make a lot of shit recordings too, and while they played that one note to perfection, it was, in the end, one note. Still, hard not to sing along with an number of these ditties. (bonus: well, a bonus complaint: this CD is missing one of my favorite Ramones songs, “Babysitter,” which was a B side to “Somebody Put Something in my Drink,” a crap song that is included here. Who put this damn thing together? Some dude named Kevin Laffey. If you meet him, tell him he’s lost…)

100-101) Roni Size/Reprazent: new forms

A double CD of drum-n-bass (remember drum-n-bass? No? Cheap speed floods the UK dance scene, causing DJs to double BPM random-ish drum tracks and layer heavy dub basslines and such over the top? Oh well. I didn’t remember grebo, either), so, there are 5 songs here, and then 15 or so interesting pieces of sparse, jittery sonic wallpaper, great for dancing, not as great for driving to the laundromat. (bonus: apparently, Roni re-released this CD last year, newly mixed and tricked out for the ’00s. He also has booking info on his Myspace page, which is never a good sign.)

Woo-hoo! I passed 100! That means I get to listen to a box set, and I will start them from the bottom of the stack, which means next up is… Marty Robbins.

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Farewell, holidays, farewell, cats eating pine needles, farewell, mountains of cookies, farewall, xmas musics, see you next year. Here are some of the holiday CDs I listened to:

93-94) That Christmas Feeling: 50 Original Recordings

Hmmm, not sure about the title of this collection, “original” is not the adjective I would apply to any collection of Christmas songs; I have heard many original interpretations of Christmas songs, and every once in a while a song gets added to the xmas canon, but Christmas is a tradition, duh. And, most of these songs are the canonical versions of the canonical songs: Bing Crosby doing “White Christmas,” for example. So, not I guess what Prism Leisure, producers of this collection, meant by “original recordings” is that these are digital transfers of recordings from the 1920’s-50’s, recordings that we hear in stores that purchase the upper tier muzak feeds. No sacred music, just pop songs; yes, “Come All Ye Faithful” and stuff like that is on hear, but even the “sacred” songs are done big band orchestra style. Perfectly adequate for filling in the cracks in your brain made by repetitive seasonal listening of these same songs since you were in the womb. Or before. (bonus: A lot of songs get repeated, so the discriminating listener can compare, say, Woddy Herman’s “Let it Snow” with Vaughn Monroe’s version. I, however, am not that discriminating.)

95) Christmas Cocktails: Hi-Fi Holiday Cheer From Santa’s Pad

Not nearly as sleazy as it should be, but that pretty much sums up the whole retro-lounge phenomenon. Fun for a minute, then you forget it’s on, like a goofy party cocktail that’s blue and tastes like pledge mixed with deer urine and pop rocks–laugh at it, take a sip, put on the coffee table, look around 2 hours later and wonder what happened to it. (bonus: The “Ultra-Lounge” series, of which this CD is a chapter, led to the founding of Coolsville Records, and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, and helped market the swing revival to impressionable starving actors everywhere. Remember the swing revival? Vaguely? Like the time you had chinese food once, at that place? You know the one? Next to the gas station? The fortune cookies were broken?)

96) Aimee Mann: One More Drifter in the Snow

Hell yeah, one of the most dour singers around putting her melancholy touch to the holiday song book. These songs help underscore the fact that the Christmas season, and holidays in general, are not simply about celebrating, good cheer, giving thanks, and so forth, but are also a time to be reflective, lonely, and sad–and that these are all important things to feel. And don’t give me any of that “xmas is about Jesus” crap either, that just underscores my point. (bonus: “Whatever Happened to Christmas,” written by Jimmy Webb, definitely deserves a more prominent place in the canon.)

97) Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus: Vol 1

I don’t have vol 2, for some reason, but so what. As one of the interchangeable groups on here says, “you know, christmas ain’t very punk.” Then they launch into a punky version of some chestnut or other, yeah contradiction! Contradictions, however, are very punk. Punk is a marketing demographic, sorry guys, and things like “Little Drummer Bitch” and “Merry Christmas, Fuck You” are just ways of filling the order, so thanks, that’s just what I wanted, slide it in the CD changer with the other xmas CDs, put it on Full Random mode, and wait for people to exchange uncomfortable glances. (bonus: no idea what became of the Phenobarbidols, but what a great name…)

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