52 Albums That Shaped My Life - A Special Addition - Skeleton Tree - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

 

Skeleton Tree – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds 

Years ago I wrote about the 52 albums that shaped my life. Now that my life has been reshaped so drastically, it has become a necessity to add one album to that discussion.  

There is a physical sensation of emotional exchange for me listening to this album. An electricity that feels biological, like it’s been quietly generating inside and simply needed a circuit to be able to travel. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds did that for me.  It is a circuit of grief, and the electricity causes immense pain to enter previously numb parts of my body, while also sparking dazzling beauty, the blinding light of being able to see someone else's soul, and the desire to hold and be held by your loves. Your loves. Your loves that will never let go. In trying to write about this album in the way I have about others, I’m inclined to talk about individual songs and how I feel they work. I was never good at that musical analysis and it feels even more out of place here. A piece of music that has such wholeness to it, such a force of emotion behind it, somewhat defies deconstruction or magnification of its elements. It travels over the terrain in front of it, leaving its tread and never losing anything of itself.  

That said, “I Need You” calls out to be considered as a standalone song with its direct lyrics and the devastating fragility of Nick’s voice, but it’s really its place between “Anthrocene” and “Distant Sky”, where it’s able to take the global scope of the grief and slowly, quietly, beautifully draw us back to something more personal, perhaps even manageable, that holds its power. A power flowing back and forth among us all.  

For me, a huge portion of this impact I’m trying to describe comes from me travelling back and forth between the album and the beautiful documentary “One More Time With Feeling”. It simultaneously illuminates and darkens the album but is its own document with a depth of emotion that steps beyond film or music into something more experiential and spiritual.  

This is what I wrote about the viewing experience the last time I watched it.  

"Things continue..." 

 

Lying in indecision. Do I let this sobbing escalate to unavoidably distracting levels, stopping the film, allowing me to dry the tears on my face and refocus, or do I continue to clench my jaw merely holding back the flood enough for us to continue? 

 

My beautiful wife interrupts the struggle of that indecision, cradling my head, stroking the brain surgery scar that is the only visible reminder that I will likely die in the near future, and I feel a peace. A peace for I am protected and loved, and that no matter how dark things get there is a light in my life every day. 

 

"Things continue... 

Streaming Anxiety

Streaming Anxiety

 

by Steven McCready (20/4/20)

 

Anxiety is a bastard. I’m sure for many of us, the lockdown has brought about periods of heightened stress, and I know friends whose mental health has been more challenging in these strange times. However, I feel lucky right now because, despite being told by the NHS to self-isolate for 12 weeks because I’m “at risk”, everything that normally gives me anxiety in life has been stepped down. Getting to work, being at work, having work to do, and doing work all make my body tense up with anxiety… so the news that I would be furloughed from work for two months on 80% salary was not difficult to hear. Not being allowed to go to the shops, no social commitments, and having time to do all the things I normally just dream of doing has felt like a weight being lifted from my chest. I mean, I do miss lifting weights from my chest, but press-ups will do for the time being. But it’s not all plain sailing for me and my anxiety in lockdown.

 

For years I thought I might have depression because of my struggle to find positivity in anything and the black hopelessness I saw in front of me, but it never quite seemed to fit. Unlike many friends who have opened up about depression in person, through blogs, or via their art, I have never found it difficult to motivate myself out of bed, and a lot of the symptoms they described seemed fundamentally different from my mental health experience. Still, I knew my mind was fighting something, and I eventually spoke to three different types of therapist. While all of them were helpful (I mean it really, really helps just to talk while someone listens), I took the most from Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT). Hopefully, the fact my therapist was Graham from The Jeremy Kyle Show had little to do with that, but he said things that clicked and even stay with me now, over 10 years later. I still wonder if some of the horrific stories he told about his behaviour with colleagues were real or just expertly designed to bring about a certain response from me. I mean, he was either AWFUL to work with or he was such a good therapist that he was willing for me to think poorly of him if it helped me get better. I guess I should make it clear that I didn’t appear on the Jeremy Kyle Show – I’m not one of the poor souls whose mental health issues have been exploited by that unforgivably horrible programme – but I worked for ITV who provided in-house staff services, including 6 hours of CBT with the inimitable Graham where appropriate. The coping strategies that he helped me learn made me stronger and far more capable of finding a way through hopelessness.

 

But life didn’t suddenly become the bouncing ball of dancing joy I had envisioned. I still felt like I was constantly fighting, defending myself from hidden enemies and poisonous environments, and I wondered where that fear was really coming from. I talked to friends and family, read articles, watched documentaries, but, while I found myself often nodding in recognition or solidarity, nothing convinced me that I had found my answer. It took a trip to Sainsbury’s (in simpler times) for me to realise why everything was a fight for me. It was an unexpected day off and I thought getting my shopping done on a quieter weekday would make me hate the experience less. I was wrong. I returned from an objectively uneventful shop with my jaw clenched so hard that I thought my teeth might shatter. That evening I got lockjaw. I was sitting watching a show (probably The Daily Show with Jon Stewart at the time), chewing on some tasty treats when my jaw just got stuck mid-mastication. I couldn’t close my mouth or even bring my teeth together, and as I tried, half choking on partially chewed food, the pain and fear kept escalating. After a mild and lonely panic attack I managed to extricate myself from that sticky mandibular situation with deep breathing and face massage. I lay on my bed wondering what the sweet fuck was going on, and then took to the internet like any modern citizen would. I felt like an enormous idiot. Even a quick search of what just happened to me brought up thousands of results referring to anxiety and the infamous fight or flight response.

 

Everything I read was so familiar that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t found it before. The memory of my first full-blown panic attack jumped into the front of my mind and the pieces of a life lived in anxiety started to fall into place. I remember being 10 years old and trying to pull my hair out while having some sort of anxious breakdown. I remember being 18 and helping my girlfriend at the time through a worrying panic attack, innately understanding what was happening to her but not noting why. I remember being in my late twenties at home for Christmas when crushing anxiety about the future brought about the worst panic attack I’ve ever experienced. I remember lying in my mother’s lap in the wake of that attack, so utterly exhausted and emotionally broken. I remember the faces of my family around me contorted with fear, confusion, and concern. I remember all of this and wonder… How the hell did I not figure this out sooner?

 

I realised I am anxious all the time. There are a few exceptions, but generally speaking I am anxious about everything and I have been since I was 10. I am anxious about my loved ones, money, health, making recipes exactly as instructed, being loved, cleaning my house, the environment, other people, all social gatherings, not being social enough, work, maintaining my bike, contributing to making the world a better place, my partner eating the snacks I bought before I get a chance to have some, going to the shops, and bin day just to offer a few examples…  I think the reason I struggled to identify anxiety as my problem was that it had been my default setting for every situation for so long that I couldn’t consider feeling any other way. Jaw clenched, shallow breathing, muscles tensed, adrenaline pumping at all times. This was life. Surely we all felt this way. I’ve been living in my sympathetic nervous system so consistently for such a long time that my parasympathetic nervous system simply went on extended leave. This was a powerful realisation. I could now start to find the things that helped me reduce or control my anxiety. I knew for a fact that I didn’t feel anxious when I was training so hard that my brain couldn’t think about anything other than the task at hand. Exercise and sports could be my escape. I knew that I didn’t feel anxious when I was lost in live heavy music (seeing High On Fire live at the Underworld in London was maybe the most free I’d ever felt). Music could be another escape. I knew that I didn’t feel anxious when I was watching an engrossing film or a good TV show. Film and television could be a third escape. Or so I thought.

 

Having improved my life with anxiety in so many ways, I didn’t foresee the problem it would manage to create with streaming services. It first started to creep in with Netflix as they slowly improved their film offering - remember when they really didn’t have many films at all… seems like a lifetime ago – and my watchlist began to grow. Initially, just a few things that I knew I would want to watch eventually. Later, all the interesting shows and films I came across. There was a moment when I should have realised that it was unhealthy for me: a film I’d had on my list for a couple of months no longer appeared in my watchlist. I had waited too long and now I couldn’t watch it. This called in to question the safety of all the items still saved to my list, so I anxiously started planning on how I could watch the survivors before it was too late. I knew that the list was growing at an unsustainable rate and I had to find a way of being more efficient. What if I started watching an episode of a show with breakfast? All I had to do was wake up 15 minutes earlier than usual and I could watch an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia with my muesli. What if I watched shows on my phone at lunch? I find socialising with colleagues pretty tough anyway. Maybe watching shows on the bus? But it didn’t work. The list continued to grow, and my free time felt ever fuller. Despite this, I continued to search and add more shows and films, throwing them on top of this teetering mass of entertainment. I had developed Netflix Watchlist Anxiety (NWA) and Compulsive Watchlist Addition (CWA) simultaneously and I saw no way out. My dreams were filled with thumbnails of shows and films I’d added to watch later: Beasts of No Nation, Archer, Breaking Bad, Over The Top. I think I even dreamt of Sly arm-wrestling Walter White at one stage, heavily sardonic commentary from H. Jon Benjamin drifting in from some unseen source. It felt ludicrous, after all I’d been through, that the thing keeping me up at night was whether or not a Jackie Chan film would still be available in the morning. All of the support my friends had offered to help me get through tough times, the incredible surrogate family my housemates in London became to help me deal with panic attacks, and here I was genuinely worried about entertainment for my free time. I had to draw a line and cancel my subscriptions to streaming services of any sort just to get my head right.

 

And life changed in many ways and I grew better at managing my anxiety, so I returned to some streaming services and revelled in being able to watch these shows I loved without anxiety. Bliss.

 

And then along came MUBI.

 

MUBI is a curated film streaming service that adds and removes one film every day. From the day the film is added, you have 1 month to watch. It focuses on arthouse, international, cult, and hidden gem sorts of films and is, on the face of it, what I’ve always wanted: access to challenging films from around the world. In fact, I have MUBI to thank for introducing me to one of my favourite films, Time of the Gypsies. However, and please don’t think I’m ungrateful here as I think it’s been a net positive in my life, MUBI IS A TIME PRESSURE HELL. It’s almost like someone expertly designed the thing that could torment me most. I love film, I am a completist, and I hate missing out. I can just imagine Mr. Mubi sat there, stroking his white pussy, concocting his evil plan: “Yes, yes. It’s perfect. Those faux intellectual not quite Gen X, not quite millennial types will love it and hate it in equal measure. But they won’t be able to stay away! Mwah hah hah. Mwah hahahahaah.” I’m sat here right now writing this nonsense, and all my brain is really thinking is if I should be watching Autumn Sonata by Ingmar Bergman today because it’s my last chance. I go to bed and lay there thinking, “Is that Jean Cocteau film still on MUBI, or have I missed it?”. I anxiously wake in the night wondering if that interesting looking Brazilian film was leaving MUBI on the 22^nd or the 23^rd… Is there still time? I sit down to watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine on Netflix just to relax my mind while I have some tasty treats, and then my brain is like, “You could be watching Coffee and Cigarettes by Jim Jarmusch right now. Stop wasting your time!” WILL IT EVER END?

 

Thankfully, yes. It will end as soon as I cancel my subscription (again). It’s good to know your limits. It’s good to take control even if it seems like something insignificant. I love a lot of the films I’ve watched on MUBI. I would recommend the service to friends. I will probably even subscribe again in the future. But the truth is that I can’t hack the feeling it gives me for long. The clenched jaw, the shallow breathing, the tensed muscles, and the surging adrenaline… all the signs that I’m ready for a fight, but all I’m contemplating is whether or not watching Sun in the Last Days of the Shogunate is how I should spend my afternoon on lockdown. Being stuck at home shouldn’t be so stressful.

Lockdown Lovelies - 8 albums that made things better... and some honourable mentions

Beggar - Compelled to Repeat

APF Records 2020

Dark matter-heavy, groove-focused sludge with expertly deranged, screaming-into-the-void vocals. 

On their first full-length, Beggar’s mastery of the heavy riff is startling. Sure, kicking you in the head is part of it, but on Anaesthete, for example, the main riff just wraps you up in a hug and takes you on the journey, like an extra heavy space rock jam. Similarly, metal drummer extraordinaire, Bertrand Sautier, knows when and when not to go full-on, deploying double kick bass with admirable restraint, and complementing the riff at every turn.

 

Beggar conjures images of some mad street prophet… but one that I’m happy listening to for 40 minutes.

 

Honourable Mention – OHHMS - Close

 

 

Mastodon – Crack The Skye

Reprise 2009

 

If I ever take Mastodon for granted again, please punch me in the head. Not only do they have several great albums, but Crack The Skye is near perfect. Mesmerising, floating-yet-focused, emotional, and cool as fuck heavy, progressive rock with hooks so big you could catch a mythical sea beast. Crackin’ stuff.

 

Listen to The Czar right now!

Honourable Mention – Sail – Slumbersong

 

 

Live Burial - Unending Futility

Transcending Obscurity 2020

 

This UK old school death metal band’s second full length was featured on Bandcamp’s April releases to check out for good reason. It’s a step up in every way. Punchy production, killer riffs, and demented drumming come together with more thoughtful arrangements and atmospherics to create a memorable experience.

 

Listen to Rotting On The Rope right now!

 

Honourable Mention – Bolt Thrower – War Master

 

 

Megadeth - Youthanasia

Capitol Records 1994

 

It’s just one memorable, hard rock/heavy metal tune after another. I know plenty of fans wanted them to be all thrash all the time, but who cares when there’s this much over-enunciated Mustaine goodness here. The heaviness of these mid-tempo (even slow!) tunes is real, and every time I listen to them I’m singing them for days.

 

Honourable Mention – Metallica – Death Magnetic

 

 

Scumpulse - Rotten

Gore House Productions 2018

 

Honestly, this is one of my favourite albums of the last couple of years. Sounds like a bunch of guys from Scotland having a great time. Y’know, like Wet Wet Wet in the smack days.

Scumpulse never seem bothered about trying to fit one mould or another, and the result is infectious, energetic, and addictive blackened crust punk.

 

If that’s not your thing, you probably won’t like the amazing artwork by Kasper Povlsen (@artofsandullos) either.

 

Honourable Mention – Discharge – End of Days

 

 

Carina Round - Tigermending

DEHISCE Records 2012

 

I didn’t really know where I was the first couple of times I listened to this, but it slowly revealed itself as delicately and masterfully written stuff. Hooks are everywhere but never overplayed. Beauty and melody balanced with a certain heaviness that makes this album stand out even after you’ve started to take Round’s voice and overall talent for granted.

 

Honourable Mention – The Mitchell Museum – Skinny Tricks

 

 

Run the Jewels - Run the Jewels 4

Jewel Runners/BMG 2020

 

You probably already know about this one. The most exciting musical moment of lockdown, the release was brought forward as the protests for racial equality escalated following the police killing of George Floyd. Killer Mike and El P articulate the anger, humanity, righteousness, and the intellect of the movement as well as anyone.

 

I don’t know where this one sits among their other albums (I feel like I’m still getting to know it), but this has to be one of the greatest ever four album runs for a new group.

 

Honourable Mention – Abdominal & The Obliques – Gone Fishin’ EP

 

 

Melt Yourself Down - Last Evenings on Earth

The Leaf Label 2016

 

Irresistible Afrobeat, jazz fusion madness.

 

Undeniably fun and catchy with a heavy edge that surely drew me in further. Can’t wait to see them next year.

 

Fingers crossed that all goes ahead.

 

Honourable Mention – The Comet is Coming – Channel the Spirits

Top 13 Releases of 2018

Top 13 Releases of 2018

13

Sleep – The Sciences

Sleep’s Holy Mountain and Dopesmoker are odd albums in my musical experience. My mind knows I’m meant to like them and everything is there to bring that response about, but they’ve never really grabbed me. In some ways, The Sciences is the same, but the parts that work really work. The guitar tone and overall sound are insanely good. Worth the price of admission alone. Just listen to the “Marijuanaut’s Theme” and the way the guitars swirl around each other. Like clouds of smoke spiralling in the air.

Try listening to: Sonic Titan

12

Will Haven - Muerte

As much as anything it’s reassuring that a band that started when I was a teenager, can pretty much disappear, re-form, make new music, and still cut it. Muerte does not strike out in to new territory, but it does what Will Haven did at their very best, and at times does it better. It’s bleak and abrasive like they were on El Diablo, WHVN, and Carpe Diem, but there is a lifting energy that underpins it all creating the feeling of a new beginning. From death, a rebirth.

Try listening to: The Son

11

Ben Harper and Charlie Musselwhite – No Mercy in this Land

Man, I always doubt Ben Harper, and he regularly proves me wrong. I always feel like I’ve heard all I want to hear of what he does, and he finds a vocal hook that I can’t resist. I always think that his collaborations will go places I’m not interested in, and then he pulls out something so full of heart that he could be working with a rock and I wouldn’t care. Luckily, Charlie Musselwhite’s harmonica sound has way more of both subtlety and power than a rock. And when combined with their shared dedication to the blues as an art form and a historical document, you are gifted beautiful music crafted from its own heritage.

Try listening to: No Mercy in this Land

10

Ghost – Prequelle

I don’t like Ghost. Which is a ridiculous thing to say, because this album is an absolute hoot. It’s the party I always wanted but could never have. It’s like watching a cheesy 80s action movie soundtracked by a bonkers metal band. The combination of that bizarrely insistent clean vocal, hard rock riffing and tempos, and the faux religious horror imagery really shouldn’t work for me, but it does. The transition from intro track “Ashes” to “Rats” is a delight. “See The Light” is the best sing-along tune I’ve heard in ages. It’s fucking fun. It’s good to be reminded that this stuff should be fun.

I still don’t like Ghost though.

Try listening to: See the Light

9

At The Gates – To Drink from the Night Itself

Something about the production on this and At The Gates’ previous album, At War with Reality, smooths the edges too much, takes away the kicks of all the explosive moments so many people loved from Slaughter of the Soul, but stick with it long enough, and make sure to see some of these songs played live, and it will jump up in your brain. These are vibrant, kick-ass metal songs. And while it doesn’t stray far from the band’s identifiable style, there are moments of ingenuity and creativity that will surprise long time and brand-new fans alike.

Try listening to: The Colours of the Beast      

8

Obscura - Diluvium

Ah crikey. This is tiring stuff. No time for rest as Obscura lurch and dive from one insane passage to another. Tech death with progressive elements, it sounds like Gorguts and Cynic got locked in a room and the only way out was to write an album. Obscura may actually work in this manner, because much of what they do sounds like the results of a group suffering from cabin fever. It’s unhinged musically, stylistically, and thematically, keeping the listener on their toes long after the album has finished.  

Try listening to: Convergence 

7

Yob – Our Raw Heart

In at number 7 is 7 mammoth tracks of emotional honesty. Fully embracing the fragility that makes Yob stand out from their peers, Our Raw Heart is a near spiritual journey through the dark and light of the human psyche. Mike Scheidt’s crystal clear clean vocal is fantastically forlorn. You could be on a crowded train on a Monday morning and as long as this was in your ears, you could be standing on a rock all alone looking out over the ocean. It’s a work of staggering beauty at times, and it would definitely be higher on this list if it weren’t for “The Screen” – a song that seems so unnecessary on this album, that I’m still sure it was a mistake at the CD pressing factory. Still an amazing album.

Try listening to: Beauty in Falling Leaves

6

Clutch – Book of Bad Decisions

Inevitably Clutch couldn’t continue the outstanding quality of the last two albums, Earth Rocker and Psychic Warfare. This is purely because you cannot make rock’n’roll better than those albums. It’s impossible. Clutch weren’t about to shy away from the challenge though. While things are a little stop-starty overall, and there are a couple of tracks nobody would miss if omitted, tracks like “Weird Times”, “Spirit of ‘76”, and “Lorelei” grab you by the ears and throw you in the air.

Try listening to: Emily Dickinson  

5

Corrosion of Conformity – No Cross No Crown

No Cross No Crown was the album I was hungering for the most in 2018. That fact probably goes some way to explaining why I struggled to enjoy it as much as I thought I would. After waiting 13 years from Pepper Keenan’s apocalyptically good last work with the band, and my favourite C0C album, there was an inevitable period of disappointment. Now that I’ve worked through those complex emotions, I’ve found an album with delicate textures, warmth, density, and great song writing. The production doesn’t have the punch that I needed when I first listened, but it lends itself to more personal and intimate listening sessions, just you and those big overhead earphones that you really shouldn’t wear outdoors. Combining the hook-laden America’s Volume Dealer with the sonic intensity of In The Arms of God, COC’s latest has life well beyond the first listen.

Try listening to: Nothing Left to Say

4

High on Fire – Electric Messiah

This album scared the hell out of me for about a week before I managed to find a way in. I absolutely adore High on Fire, but on the first eight listens it was overwhelmingly heavy. I accept this is a good and necessary thing every now and again though - need to test those boundaries and expand into new territory. After recalibrating, I fully enjoyed being dragged behind the runaway horse that is “Spewn from the Earth” or getting my bones smashed by Des Kensel’s cudgels on the slower “Steps of the Ziggurat/House of Enlil”. But it’s “The Pallid Mask”, bringing back memories of the brilliant “Carcosa” from the previous album, that kickstarts a furious riff-fest that dumps you at the “Snakes of the Divine”-esque closer, “Drowning Dog”. Matt Pike is my electric messiah.

Try listening to: The Pallid Mask  

3

Slugdge – Esoteric Malacology

There is nothing more fun in metal right now than saying “Slugdge” over and over again. I also enjoy correcting people for not pronouncing it properly. But this is not your average metal-band-with-a-funny-name. Textured, vital, and challenging; their progressive, melodic, techy death metal takes formal chances in songs with titles that never stray far from the band’s slug-based theme. Four albums in and hardly anyone speaks about how brilliant they are. Maybe that name, while I love it, wasn’t the best idea they ever had.

Try listening to: Slave Goo World

2

OHHMS – Exist

Listening to OHHMS is personally challenging. There is no softening of their beliefs to make their lyrics more palatable for potential listeners. There is no room for interpretation of the issues and themes presented. This is an album that tells you it’s wrong to kill or mistreat another animal. It’s up to you how you react. If you are willing to accept the challenge or change your views on meat, the album is a stomper. Dominated by the 23-minute contemplation of humans’ treatment of animals that is opener “Subjects”, Exist has a dynamism that allows OHHMS to be equal parts esoteric and catchy beyond belief.  

Try listening to: Subjects

1

Boss Keloid – Melted on the Inch

I love Boss Keloid. A unique sound, a unique approach to heavy music, and a uniquely inspirational madness. The epic, heavy, oddball theatricality of their music somehow brings you closer to the quietly touching personal truths at its heart. Every track displays a willingness to take unexpected turns, but every decision the band makes brings elation to my ears and soul. I feel like I’m being lifted, weightless, above all the unnecessary nonsense around me and in my mind. Alex Hurst’s soaring and beautiful voice is a huge part of that, but every aspect of Boss Keloid’s sound pushes you towards peaks of emotion that will stay with you long after you stop listening. And then, of course, you’ll come back for more.

Try listening to: THE WHOLE DAMN THING. Any track. Any time. Any where.


[Honourable mentions to Emma Ruth Rundle, Alice In Chains, and Pig Destroyer]

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - Reflections

Beneath The Remains…

When I challenged myself to write something and actually publish it online every week for a year, I thought it would be beneficial to write about a topic close to my heart and something of which I have knowledge. I decided to write about 52 of the most influential albums in my musical experience with the intention that I would bring something personal to each “review” and perhaps get some friends excited about music from their pasts or stuff they’d never heard before. Here are some reflections on how it all went:

1.     I did it. I actually wrote something and published it every week for a year for no other reason than I told myself to. This was the first aim: to make me write - to show myself that I could sit down, think, write, and then show people (who were willing to look – thank you!). Pride is too strong a word, but I am heartened that I managed this even during busy times, holidays, and lulls in motivation. This hopefully proves to me that should I decide to write something more focused that I can finish it.

2.     Writing about music is hard. It is especially so when you realise about a twelfth of the way in to the task that you know three technical music terms and you have used them several times already. It was painful to find myself floundering over how to discuss scales or arpeggios without sounding like a try-hard or, even worse, a complete imbecile.

3.     Part of my intent was to avoid the frustrations of the above by just talking about my personal experiences of the albums. On maybe a quarter of the published posts I achieved this, but the rest seemed to take on some sort of commercial review tone or a track-by-track breakdown approach. Neither of these things was what I wanted to do, so I find it hard to read back some of those examples when I know there was a better personal story that I could have told.

4.     It is interesting to realise that the bubbling thoughts and inspiration to write about a topic do not regularly lead to good ideas or worthwhile writing. I could have sworn that I had something interesting to say about every album that appeared on that list. This was not the case. I found myself scratching my head, rereading lyrics, and thrashing my neck to generate insight or jog my memory, and ultimately, I sometimes found myself questioning if I really liked some of these albums as much as I was claiming. But it wasn’t the music. It was the thing that any prospective writer has experienced: the complete disconnect between electrified, excited synapses and the combination of words that will somehow express these thoughts, feelings, and sensations.

5.     I have more respect for people who have dedicated themselves to writing for a living or even a main hobby. It is pretty lonely and, at times, nerve-racking.

6.     I love independent coffee shops. Fair play to any establishment that gives me the feeling of being social while also providing decent WiFi, a quiet-ish place to write, and delicious things to eat and drink.

7.     I love music to an un-nerving degree. During this year of relistening to some of the most influential music in my life I cried, felt homesick, missed friends, thrashed my neck so hard I felt ill for days, punched furniture in gleeful livingroom rebellion, smiled and laughed like a madman while headbanging to joyously heavy music, scared my partner with the ferocity of my metal dancing, and learned about the amazing things my favourite bands and artists did to create these absurd, beautiful, twisted, and moving sounds.

1.     I love my friends. I got drunken texts about blog posts that struck a chord, messages about shared memories of some of the music, excited comments about who would be in upcoming posts, and thanks for introducing people to music they didn’t know. One friend managed to make the whole thing seem worthwhile all by themselves. Thank you.  

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #1

Metallica – Ride The Lightning

(Megaforce, 1984)

Buy the album here

There is no other band that could be at the top of this list. While there has been an ongoing internal struggle throughout this year concerning the album that would represent Metallica, it was always this band that would be written about on 15^th April 2018, which is, incidentally, my birthday. And as I turn 37 years old it is fitting that Metallica have been in existence for nearly every month of that time having been officially formed in October of 1981. Often credited with popularising, or even creating, thrash metal with the 1983 release of their debut Kill ‘Em All, it only took one album for the band’s ambitions to grow. Ride The Lightning stepped beyond the all-out speed, aggression, and self-reflexivity of Metallica’s first album and set a new standard in epic heavy music. The themes of injustice, war, death, and fear were more complex and personal than before. The music was more progressive, diverse in its instrumentation, and lyrically nimble, yet it was exponentially heavier than Kill ‘Em All. Whatever they had given up in overall speed had been substituted with the vicious stomp of a rhythmically pummelling riff like “For Whom The Bell Tolls”. Whatever they had lost in crowd pleasing sing-alongs like “Seek and Destroy” had been made up for by giant metal anthems like “Creeping Death”. And whatever Metallica may have gone on to miss in terms of the pure fun of a song like “Jump In The Fire”, fans of music could console themselves with the almost unbearable beauty of “Fade To Black”.

Perhaps knowing the challenge the album might pose for existing fans or thrash diehards, it opens with its most direct and aggressive song. “Fight Fire With Fire”, after its delightfully medieval acoustic guitar intro, is a furious, burning cauldron of thrash with Hetfield’s verse vocal evoking incantations or satanic rituals while the wrist-wrecking riffage and incessant, thumping drums give you whiplash and dent your skull. The power and speed of the instrumentation is even striking now, and when Kirk Hammett gives fans their first real glimpse of his lead guitar chops on record it does not let up. Title track “Ride The Lightning” continues this heaviness, but introduces more of the dark complexity that the album embraces. An intro of harmonised guitars and pounding toms takes us to the churning, mid-paced verse riff bolstering the lyrics now famous among fans, “Death in the air/Strapped in the electric chair/This can’t be happening to me”. These first two tracks only begin to open the ears of expectant thrash fans, and it is in the iconic bell rings of “For Whom The Bell Tolls” that this album truly takes shape.

The late Cliff Burton’s insane, distorted, and squeezed bass line provides a unique atmosphere to this opening, but it is the stellar interplay between guitar sounds that define this song. The riff that appears at roughly the minute mark is still the heaviest riff I have heard, sounding like concrete strings being played by concrete plectrums by people with concrete hands. Metallica instantly provide balance to this with a wonderfully gentle, guiding lead guitar sound that lands us at the feet of the inspired chorus riff. But half of the genius of this song is that it knows when to back off, giving the vocal as much space as you’ll ever find on a thrash record, and even playing with moments of silence. Metallica’s thematic preoccupation with the damage done to the individual in war, which most will know from the iconic “One”, finds its first true expression in “For Whom The Bell Tolls”, but in “Fade To Black”, a musical and structural precursor to “One”, Metallica and James Hetfield contemplate for the first time the isolation and emotional vulnerability of suicide. This is a huge step for a band who had previously been singing about The Four Horseman of the Apocalypse or other cartoonish imaginings of death or Death, and it results in perhaps Metallica’s most moving song. The Spanish guitar with wailing electric lead behind it cuts through the crushing heaviness off the previous three songs while Lars Ulrich’s thick yet gentle drums display patience in what becomes an ever-steepening climb to an unbelievable climax. “Fade To Black” is a perfect song. In the six times I have been lucky enough to see it performed live I have cried every time, a lot, and I barely manage to make it through a listening of it on CD, vinyl, or mp3 without shedding a tear. The pitch of Hetfield’s voice, the expansiveness of the last big verse riff, and the escalating drama of that interplay between Hetfield’s sorrowful rhythm guitar and Hammett’s high-pitched shredding build until I feel like I’m going to burst. It is everything I could want heavy metal to be.

As if they knew that the heights of “Fade…” would be too much for me, the duo of tracks that follow are a somewhat odd couplet. “Trapped Under Ice” and “Escape” seem to exist in a concept album that did not get made. The former is a furious and lively thrasher with exciting rhythm guitar and vocal parts that set it apart from “Escape” which, aside from the gliding harmonising of the opening and the gently catchy chorus, is a relatively uninspired drudge. Luckily “Creeping Death” comes along to wash away the memory of “Escape”… WITH BLOOD. This is heavy metal. Epic, theatrical, heavy, complex yet direct, filled with opportunities for the crowd to chant, and designed to get people thrashing their necks. It tells the story of Passover from the point of view of the destroying angel, but more importantly has chants of “Die! Die! Die!” which have likely ruined the larynxes of many over-excited teenagers. It was arguably the last time Metallica were this much fun and this good all at the same time. “Creeping Death” will always be one of Metallica’s best songs as it feels so pure, so part of them, and absolutely rips listeners to bits at the same time. To piece listeners back together the album closes with what would become a Metallica staple: an epic instrumental. “The Call of Ktulu” is resplendent in its cyclical building of tension, key changes, and patient leads. It is reminiscent of the skilled escalation found in “Fade To Black” and I find myself rising and falling with the scales and arpeggios of Hammett’s brilliant work. It is one of the many tracks from this era of Metallica that carries the stamp of Cliff Burton’s influence, the desire to branch out and not be constricted by expectations or genre limitations. And that is what Ride The Lightning represents for Metallica and their development of a music that would somehow come to shape the mainstream of rock in the following thirty years.

In recording Ride The Lightning Metallica created a blueprint for themselves that contributed to their rise and rise through their next two acclaimed albums, Master of Puppets and …And Justice For All. And in less musically sure times they would return successfully to that blueprint with 2008’s Death Magnetic. So as I asked myself whether Ride… or …Justice…  would be my choice as most influential album in my musical life, I simply asked myself which was most influential to Metallica. Here is an album that defined what Metallica did for nearly a decade, made them inspirations to legions of new thrash and extreme metal bands, and landed Metallica on a major label following its successful release. Ride The Lightning is Metallica to me. For years I had a long sleeve T-shirt with the album cover on the front and the mantra “Birth – School – Metallica – Death” emblazoned on the back in that unmistakable James Hetfield font. I’ve never felt so at home in a piece of clothing, and while that mantra is becoming worryingly close to truth for me, I’ve never felt so at home with a piece of music. In fact, that understates it. This music feels as if it is an essential part of me, that I could not live without it. As I tried explaining to an equally intrigued and worried friend who is not particularly passionate about music, the sounds of Ride The Lightning do not feel as if they are coming from speakers, but from within my body, as if my organs were vibrating in unison to produce perfect sounds to express my soul. Metallica have been and will always be the music of my soul.  

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #2

The Paper Chase – Hide The Kitchen Knives

(Southern Records, 2002)

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This is somehow the most twisted and the most musical moment in this entire blog. The Paper Chase was a band that revelled in distorting and choking notes until they died in front of you, yet celebrated melody with unbridled joy and delivered perfectly timed hooks as second nature. The domestic darkness at this record’s core is more frightening for all the catchiness and lush instrumentation, but it is the theme pulling the music towards a unifying central line that makes Hide The Kitchen Knives the band’s best work. While other albums, especially the band’s final release Someday This Could All Be Yours, Vol.1, proved their musical ability and their acute vision of everyday demons, none of these works had such focus and single-minded intent. Hide The Kitchen Knives magnifies minute domestic details until they burst through their own cells, splattering the listener with emotional gore and aural distortion that will never wash off.

John Congleton is, simply put, the maestro behind this madness. For most people, he’s more likely to be known to them through his vast catalogue of work as a producer with acts as disparate as Saint Vincent and Baroness. His attention to detail as a producer clearly plays into the flow of this album and the richness of its sounds. Take “A Little Place Called Trust” as an example. Scraping into existence along the sharpening blades of the title’s kitchen knives and bolstered by the mumbles of what sounds like sampled news reports, this song displays all the diverse architecture of a John Congleton song where angles, curves, wood, stone, and glass clash repeatedly but somehow unify to create a powerful yet fragile family home. The distorted guitars jump over and are then swamped by discordant piano and bleating lambs (really). Behind this madness the deep percussion and thick bass provide steadier ground for the overly sweet melodies of Congleton’s voice, allowing their insidious hooks to take hold and making his cries of “you are not the innocent” unavoidable and frightening.

And “frightening” is the word needed to describe the portentous atmosphere and sickening rhythm section of “AliverAlungAkidneyAthumb”. Its opening repetition of a spoken word sample recounts the hypnotic power of cntrl-alt-delete-u but The Paper Chase aren’t hanging around on this one. Even with the gut-churning constancy of those plodding toms and bass, the pace is frantic once Congleton breaks his silence with, “how could you let it in your house and let it in your bed”. The lyrical flow is astounding and takes you on another tour of domestic terror replete with spiritual and physical metaphors yet always grounded in a grim reality. Signing off with the darkest delivery possible of the line, “drive carefully dear” transports us seamlessly into the song of the same name with its jammed out opening and pained vocals. These songs also share the lyrics, “my little nest of vipers”, a recurring technique in The Paper Chase’s songwriting drawing the listener into this dirty world of minute details and gigantic emotions. In fact, while there are amazing standalone songs, the impact of listening to the album as a single entity exponentially magnifies the intensity of each song, so as we drift into album closer “Out come the knives” we are hanging on every single word of the worrying and evocative tale Congleton tells:

did sweet daddy die square on your birthday

in some macabre-ish attempt to see you’d rue the day.

or appear in the end and be happy he made it back,

to be just in time to cut the cake and watch you

boil alive in your own butterscotch

Congleton’s expertise as a producer and performer creates the impression that the band simply stood mic’d up in a room for roughly an hour and just jammed this out in one take. And that’s an incredible feat when you consider the thick layers of instrumentation that make this production so lively and re-listenable. It also makes a mockery of trying to explain the greatness of this record one track at a time. There is only so much we can learn from isolating these tracks when the relationship they have with their neighbouring material is important and strong. I think the best I can do is to describe the sensations I have experienced while sitting/standing/dancing and listening to Hide The Kitchen Knives. Initially I felt the imagery of the lyrics pulling me in to the titular kitchen scene imagining my own stories of familial or romantic turmoil, while the live feeling of the production pulled me to the centre of the band’s rehearsal room. But more recently the record has felt like the soundtrack to Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. I feel myself being drawn near to delicate and detailed characters while the fear of a horrible crime lingers behind me at all times. And much like Capote’s novel, it is the attention paid to the extended reality of these stories that holds this power over the listener and made such an important record in my musical life.