3 Minutes, 49 Seconds

I’ve been waiting for something special to occasion my 30th review, and the news that Sammy Hagar and Van Halen are back together is very special indeed. In fact, check out the February archives for some quite detailed expressions of my feelings toward the band. In honor of this long hoped-for development I dusted off my copy of Sammy’s first post-Van Halen solo album and gave it a spin. I was immediately struck by how much the songs have to say about his departure from the band. When the whole debacle went down I tended to side with the VH camp, but time has shown me that maybe Sammy’s side was closer to the truth (consider that VH have now run through three lead singers, two of them twice…they’re like your friend who keeps breaking up with boyfriends and at first you sympathize with her and then you start to realize that she’s more of the problem than she’ll ever admit). Looking at the album with that point of view it becomes that much more interesting. The songs that may or may ...

Listening to music is an obsessive thing. You might get really stuck on an album or an artist, but in my experience the most prevalent objects of obsession are songs. Isn’t your life littered with songs you just couldn’t get enough of, that you played incessantly and got stuck in your head for large portions of the day? Like most obsessions it isn’t necessarily healthy, but it sure feels good. No matter how advanced our methods of experiencing new music become, that obsession will always be one of the primal thrills of music consumption. Honestly, it doesn’t happen to me much anymore. Maybe I don’t listen to the radio enough, or I’m too jaded to open my heart and mind to new sounds. The Darkness have changed that! I Believe In A Thing Called Love is a big old slice of cheese from the U.K. Dressed up in Def Leppard- style guitar bombast and Queen-style vocal bombast, it brings back a time when metal and pop were still together and pop had a little more say in the relationship. I’m...

The summer before I moved to Minneapolis (or even knew I was going to) I listened to a lot of Janet Jackson and Prince. It didn't occur to me until later is that maybe the Minnesota origins of those artists was subconsciously influencing me to relocate. Since the move, I've had an unerring devotion to music that's made in Minnesota. I have savored the music of The Jayhawks, Replacements, Semisonic, and especially Prince with a strong sense of civic pride. (It's sort of like the sports teams. I grew up in a city with no pro sports teams, so the fact that we have the Twins, Vikings, Wild, and Timberwolves right here in the city is wonderful.) And though I've followed a few lesser-known local bands, I haven't given in to every single group. For example, Husker Du's brilliance still escapes me, and I only sort of like Bob Dylan and Soul Asylum. And before I listened to 10,000 Years , I would have lumped The Honeydogs in that same forgettable category. I ne...

I might be risking a cease and desist order by even reviewing this album (my lips are zipped as to how I acquired it; computers were not involved), but how could I resist? If you didn't know this album is a marriage of sorts. It takes the vocals from Jay-Z's recent Black Album (see the November archives for a review) and places them over music samples from The Beatles' White Album . DJ Danger Mouse is the mastermind behind it, and like a lot of brilliant ideas, it was a gamble. The Beatles' publishing is very tight about the use of those songs (except it seems when it comes to selling out for commercials), so you had to know it wouldn't fly. So sadly this is a work of art that will never reach the masses. And have no doubt, this is art. There are those who might find it blasphemous, and those who might simply argue that taking things other people have created and putting them together is not art. But these people would have never had the creative audacity to pu...

It's not the most rock 'n' roll thing to admit, but piano is the instrument that does it for me more than any other. It's percussive and propulsive and yet wistful and thoughtful. It contains multitudes. That's why I like Elton John, Steely Dan, Billy Joel, and Ben Folds so much. In fact, one might argue that this song here embodies everything that's great about the use of piano in rock 'n' roll. (One might also argue that it's the prototype for about 85% of Ben Folds' career.) The song is propelled by a quick-tempo, but the mood is entirely reflective. And though I'd be hard-pressed to tell you what the song is actually about (the title is apropos of nothing), the lyrics certainly project a sense of depth. There are lots of memorable couplets: "They say that these are not the best of times, but they're the only times I've ever known / And I believe there is a time for meditation in cathedrals of our own." "How tho...

In so many ways this album is just as personal and self-absorbed as Hang On Mike , though Courtney never mentions herself by name. Then again, she doesn't really have to; anybody who has even a passing interest in celebrity news is all too familiar: naked cavorting, drug arrests, legal battles over child and music custody, famous boyfriends, etc. In fact, since '98 Courtney has been known for just about everything but music. Actually, that year's Hole album, Celebrity Skin , was a largely (and unjustly) ignored effort. Critics thought it too poppy and fans that wanted their music poppy were already enamored with Britney and Backstreet. I found it to be the perfect balance: a facade of catchy hooks and harmony in front of world-weary and fatalistic lyrics. It's exactly what you'd expect from Courtney, a seriously messed-up woman in a beautiful package. America's Sweetheart is hardly different, though there's definite evidence that the years have worn on Love....

The first thing we need to establish is that the Butchers' lead singer and songwriter is named Mike Viola. The second thing is that two of these 12 songs have that name in the title (with another using it in the lyrics). With even the blandest of songwriters you have to assume they're putting something of themselves into the lyrics, some bit of emotion or life experience. But outside of rap it's rare to find this level of self-reference. And yet, it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it should, probably because this is kind of a concept album. The concept is that Mike is just on the brink of giving up, especially on his music career, and he needs all the encouragement he can get, even if it comes from himself. Hunker Down , Sparkle , and Superkid all deal with this to some degree, but the title track is the clearest statement: "If there's one thing you're good for," Viola tells himself, "it's another song." And he proves it too, with...