SMASHING PUMPKINS Pt 1

[NOTE: I now subscribe to Rhapsody, which means I now have the ability to suffer through a band's entire catalogue, not just the albums I own. Since the SP discography contains quite a bit, I'm splitting this blog into two parts.]



BACKDROP:
I think that just by writing this, Billy Corgan’s ego will increase by +2 points. That might not be a bad RPG game. Though the word “game” in the phrase “RPG game” is redundant if you think about it. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, Billy Corgan. I picture Billy googling himself and finding this blog on page 927. Then after reading it, he writes me an angry email calling me a douchebag. Far-fetched? Probably, but hey, it could happen. Erik Estrada once wrote me an email saying that I had a unique writing style and that I better not make any more jokes involving his wife.



GISH:
This is THE album for cool, hip indie kids. Being neither cool nor hip or even all that particularly indie for that matter, I can be the one to admit the truth about GISH. It’s a fucking boring album. Now, I’m not saying it’s a bad album. It’s definitely good, great even, at times brilliant. But it’s also tedious. Sort of the 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY of alternative rock. Incidentally, I still can’t get through either one. Corgan shows talent for creating textures, but his songwriting is just not quite there yet.



SIAMESE DREAM:
There’s really no reason I like this album so much when I dislike GISH. And it’s not warm, fuzzy nostalgia. I hated SIAMESE DREAM in high school. I even gave my copy to a friend in exchange for a Morphine CD. I have never for a moment regretted the move. But I don’t know. It seems as if Corgan took his ethereal textures and grafted them onto actual songs. “Today,” “Disarm,” “Quiet,” “Geek USA,” “Mayonnaise.” All superb enough to make up for any deficiencies (of which there really aren’t many).



PISCES ISCARIOT:
I once read a review of this that read “Billy Corgan’s funky leftovers taste better than most bands’ main courses.” It is pretty amazing that after just two albums, the Pumpkins had enough material left over to craft a third album with “B” material that’s on par with their “A” material. There’s no surprises lurking, no peak at a different facet of the band. Just more quality material from a quality band at their quality peak. And the best version of “Landslide” to boot. Funny story, I used to think that “Landslide” was a Corgan original (yes, despite the booklet crediting Stevie Nicks). The first time I heard the Fleetwood Mac version, I thought to myself, “Why would anyone want to do a crappy adult contemporary version of a Smashing Pumpkins B-side?”



MELLON COLLIE AND THE INFINITE SADNESS:
I used to think that this would be better as a single-disc album, but now I’m not so sure. For starters, distilling this into a single disc would still leave plenty of filler. Let’s just say it couldn’t have been very difficult to pick the singles. Corgan’s prolific writing seems to have caught up with him. He does not have enough steam to pull of such a grandiose effort. Hell, he even allows James Iha to sing a song. Pace yourself, Billy. Your career should be a marathon not a sprint. Yet there’s something hypnotic about the indulgence of this being a double album, particularly because so much of it is simply mediocre. The bright spots shine brighter amidst all the muck (perhaps that’s why these songs work so well on the radio). The grandeur and pomposity is fragilely held together by Billy Corgan’s bald-headed ego. This is a smattering patchwork of songs with no cohesive flow. PISCES sounds more like a well-plotted album than this. Somehow, MELLON COLLIE manages to be good by not being all that good.



ADORE:
Wow, what an incredibly boring album. This is my first time listening to this, and I realize why. To be fair, it does sound pretty. There’s just nothing underneath the gloss. Has there ever been such a chasm between style and substance? Even the high points, if you want to call them that, feel little more than rehashes. “Perfect” desperately wants to be “1979,” does it not?



[To be continued next week, don't get your panties up in a bunch, Billy.]

HOLE

BACKDROP:
I love Courtney Love. Love, love, love her. She came to prominence as Kurt Cobain’s widow. She quickly became a magnet for controversy and outrageousness. Somewhere amidst all the craziness, she had a recording career, as well as an acting one. The latter produced nothing of interest except for a brilliant turn in “The People Vs Larry Flynt.” Didn’t hurt that she got naked in that one. I think Courtney Love may have been my first rock star crush. And as much of a mess as she is these days, I’d still hit it.



PRETTY ON THE INSIDE:
Nothing much on this that hasn’t been done better on a Babes In Toyland or L7 record. Interesting side note, Courtney Love has been in bands with both Kat Bjelland and Jennifer Finch. Hmmm. Still, it’s hard not to get sucked into the cult of Courtney. This is one of those albums that gets by on pure attitude. The punky-metal riffs tend to blend together and nothing stands out, but it all moves by quickly enough so as not to wear out its welcome.



LIVE THROUGH THIS:
Rumors abound that Kurt Cobain actually wrote this album. I could see that. “Gutless” is pretty obvious, don’t you think? And the music here is vastly superior to that found on PRETTY. Then again, maybe Courtney Love has improved as a songwriter. I don’t know if the mighty KC had anything like “Softer, Softest” in him. And the lyrics on this album make more sense than your typical Nirvana song. So let’s say the truth lies in the middle and this was a collaborative effort. Incidentally, I don’t buy the theory that Courtney killed Kurt, unless you count the fact that living with Courtney could drive a man to kill himself. But why would she want to slaughter that cash cow? And no, El Duce is not a reliable source. But I digress. Now that time has separated LIVE THROUGH THIS from the surrounding tragedies that proved the title ironic (Kurt’s suicide, the fatal overdose of bassist Kristin Pfaff), the album stands stronger than before. Okay, there are some flaws. The false starts in “Rock Star” are a forced attempt at sounding spontaneous. The “Old Age” excerpt at the beginning of “Credit In The Straight World” really makes no sense. (By the way, Wikipedia and Allmusic tell me that "Old Age" is a reworking of a rare Nirvana song.) But that’s minor quibbling for an album that rocks this hard. Courtney Love shows some nice range, from the aching tenderness of “Doll Parts’ to the vicious sneer of “Jennifer’s Body.” Guitarist Eric Erlandson—one of the most underappreciated musicians around, even his own band hates him—adds some nice textures, but make no mistake about it. This is Courtney Love’s show. And I, for one, wouldn’t have it any other way.



MY BODY THE HAND GRENADE:
This is a collection of, as the Who would say, odds and sods. It’s ironic that I’d say that because, as anyone who knows me can attest to, I hate the Who. Nothing too amazing or revelatory here. It is interesting to hear the demo of “Miss World,” and it’s nice to finally have the full version of “Old Age.” It would’ve been nice to have some more selections from their Unplugged session, particularly “You Know You’re Right.” I think this release is out of print, or maybe only available as an import. Either way, only hardcore Hole fans should seek it out.



CELEBRITY SKIN:
Let’s see. PRETTY ON THE INSIDE was L7-esque. LIVE THROUGH THIS was Nirvana-esque. CELEBRITY SKIN is Smashing Pumpkins-esque. Nope, don’t see a pattern here. Billy Corgan takes songwriting credit, but only on a third of the songs. Judging by how I perceive Corgan’s ego to work, he either wrote none of the songs but wished he did, or he wrote all of the songs but was ashamed he did. Interestingly, Corgan also worked on Marilyn Manson’s MECHANICAL ANIMALS, released around the same time. Both records are ruminations on the shallowness of celebrity. And the theme suits Manson’s limited (and somewhat fake) delivery better. Courtney Love holds back too much here, and restraint is not one of her assets. She’s a powerhouse personality and should be tearing the place up. For example, take “Malibu.” It strives to be like “Doll Parts,” but without the ragged emotionally hoarse vocals, it falls flat. The songcraft is arguably the best the band has produced yet the production polishes the rough edges, leaving everything castrated. Only in “Northern Star” does the band truly deliver, creating the majestic epic the bands has been building up to all these years. It’s quite unfortunate that the rest of the album does not mine a similar vein. Still, it’s a lot more entertaining than most albums released after a talent band has hit their creative peak.



FINAL THOUGHTS:
Since the breakup of Hole, Courtney Love has done some solo albums. She’s also done a lot of drugs. Guess which has been better for her career. But still, I love Courtney, as well as we all should. But where is her reality show? So many boring semi-celebrities get their lives documented (I think E! and VH-1 send television applications in the mail with free samples of Tide). How ‘bout this trainwreck? That’s one show I wouldn’t mind being on my television incessantly. And believe me, I’d watch it each time.

BLOODHOUND GANG

BACKDROP:
White boys delivering humorous insult raps. Clearly, they set the stage and made the world safe for Eminem. Okay, not really. Well before I learned how annoying frat boys are and how much they over-love stuff like this, I was grooving to the BHG. It’s easy to dismiss the band as sophomoric, but think about this. An ultrafeminist I knew in college that hated me for being misogynistic thought they were the funniest thing ever. What point this proves I don’t know. I like stories.



USE YOUR FINGERS:
I’ve forgotten how good this album is. Actually, good’s not the right term to use. Fun would be more apropos. I also forgot how much Daddy Long Legs owns this record. Sure, his mic battles with Jimmy Pop won’t rival Sugarhill Gang vs Furious Five. But look at Jonathan Davis and Fred Durst on Korn’s “All In The Family” to see just how terrible these things can get. This album runs about five songs too long and there’s nothing terribly original about it. It’s definitely no IT TAKES A NATION OF MILLIONS. Hell, it ain’t even PLEASE HAMMER DON’T HURT ‘EM. But come on, there’s a cover of the K.I.D.S. Incorporated theme song. Dumb fun, but Bloodhound Gang never aims to be more than that. That’s admirable, I think.



ONE FIERCE BEER COASTER:
Jimmy Pop is en fuego here, spitfiring one-liners left and right. Okay, some jokes are recycled from USE YOUR FINGERS and some jokes fall flat, but for the most part, this album elicits, perhaps a few guffaws, even after multiple listens. And how many pro-cunnilingus are out there anyway? On the downside, the music gets quite annoying, courtesy of one DJ Q-Ball. Okay, I get that having a DJ was the cool thing to do in the late 90s, but what purpose does Q-Ball serve other than providing annoying scratches?



HOORAY FOR BOOBIES:
Great title. Let’s get this out of the way. “The Bad Touch” is not a good song. Yeah, yeah, everyone loves singing the chorus, but the best joke in the song, the only good joke, really, is the dead-on synth pop parody. This album’s a mixed bag. Musically, the band has gotten better and finally learned to bury the DJ in the mix. On the other hand, the lyrics—the true attraction in BHG—just don’t pack much of a punch. I’m sure Jimmy Pop thinks he’s being clever but at times, even he sounds bored. Example? Okay, here’s one. Chasey Lain was the first pornstar I got into (figuratively, not literally) so I definitely can relate to Jimmy Pop’s desire to eat her ass. But the lyrics are the laziest piece of writing this side of any given Gary Glitter song. Though I must give props for “Mope.” Sampling Falco, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Metallica and Homer Simpson? That takes talent.



FINAL THOUGHTS:
Holy shit, these guys are still putting out records! Just kidding, I know they had a fourth release, HEFTY FINE. I’m just exaggerating to illustrate the fact that no one really cared. And keep in mind, the title of their song “Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo” is nowhere near as clever as Britney Spears’ “If You Seek Amy.” ‘Nuff said.

ALICE IN CHAINS

BACKDROP:
Back in ’90, ’91, somewhere around there, a fledgling new music genre that would become known as grunge burst out of the Pacific Northwest to change the musical landscape forever. Alice In Chains was part of the Seattle Four (AIC, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Nirvana), though if there was justice in the world, it would’ve been the Seattle Six (Mudhoney, Screaming Trees). Actually, I don’t know if either of those terms have been coined, but if not, I’m trademarking them.



FACELIFT:
One of the cornerstones of alternative music and also a turning point in metal. This is the point the two truly converge. Not AIC’s best effort but perhaps their purest. The band rocks with power and fury. “Sea of Sorrow,” “Man In The Box,” “We Die Young,” hell, the entire album is a headbanger’s delight. The talent is clearly on display here. The pieces are already in place, and AIC could (and would) only build upon it from here.



SAP:
Out of all the 90s bands secretly (or not so secretly) trying to claim the throne of Led Zeppelin, Alice In Chains were the true heirs, and this EP proves it. Moving from the heavy rock of FACELIFT and into a calmer, acoustic-tinged sound, the band is comfortable and confident. No awkward experimentation here. I think out of all of AIC’s releases, this one makes me miss Layne Staley the most. The way his voice sounds so powerful yet so vulnerable. Jokey hidden track aside, the EP’s short length is its best asset. This feels like an intimate set, like watching your favorite band play at the local record store.



DIRT:
A milestone and a high school favorite. But seventeen-odd years later (and they were some pretty odd years, let me tell you), DIRT stands as somewhat of a mixed bag. While the band takes some strides forward, they also take some strides backwards. PRO: Jerry Cantrell’s vocals have gotten stronger. CON: Layne Staley’s voice has gotten weaker. PRO: The riffs have gotten grittier and meatier. CON: The production and mix is somewhat muddled. PRO: Individually, each track is killer. CON: The song order just doesn’t feel right. At track three, the sludgy “Rain When I Die” kills the momentum built by opening rockers “Them Bones” and “Dam That River.” And yes, the 1-2 punch of “Angry Chair” and “Would?” make a great closer. But at the same time, I can’t help but wonder if the album might not be better served if they were placed elsewhere. Okay, so time may have revealed the (kind of nitpicky) weaknesses of the album. But the album does contain “Angry Chair” and “Would?” Is that not enough?



JAR OF FLIES:
Continuing the pattern of following dick-flopping rock with mellow introspection. Sort of like Neil Young. Though “I Stay Away” is a rockin’ rocker. Really, this isn’t that much different from DIRT. Not much to say about this one. Continued progression from the band as they stretch out some more. If anything, the shorter run time is a bit of a detriment. Whereas SAP was perfect at EP length, JAR OF FLIES feels like it should’ve been fleshed out with a few more songs.



ALICE IN CHAINS:
I listened to this incessantly in high school, though most people seemed to hate it. Looking back at it now, through the prism of 14 years without the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia, yeah, my love for it has diminished somewhat. Their darkest yet weakest effort, both the result of Layne Staley’s crippling heroin addiction. His voice is completely gone, propped up by layers of effects. It’s a shame, really, because the songs are better than people are willing to give credit for. Okay, the songs do have a tendency to drag on quite a bit, but keep in mind, this is a sludge album (the track “Sludge Factory” should tip you off). These songs are not meant to be succinct. Check out the riffs on “Grind” and “Again” and tell me your face is not melted. And the lyrics are at their most confessional, given extra weight and poignancy by Staley’s death. Unfortunately, this is the sound of a band—and a man in particular—self-destructing, and that’s not always a good thing. If we had the Layne Staley from SAP on “Shame In You” or the Staley from DIRT on “Nothing Song,” we’d have bonafide masterpieces. And that’s why this album is a failure: not because of what the songs are but because of what they could’ve been. A band as talented as AIC deserves a better swan song.



MUSIC BANK:
Box sets are generally good way to cash in on the gullible hardcore fan. Enticing us with those rare, previously unreleased tracks and, in some cases, wicked cool box art, those evil record companies manage to get us to shell out cash for stuff we mostly already own. The ideal market for a box set is a peculiar one: someone into the band enough to want more than what a greatest hits album can offer yet not into the band enough to buy all the actual albums. That’s what makes MUSIC BANK so frustrating. The demos and outtakes are great. The alternate takes are generally better than the officially released takes. But these are too few and far between. If you own the five studio releases, you already own 80% of what’s on here. There’s other headscratchers. Like why did they go with a remix of “Again” that dilutes the original’s strengths. And why did they place new track “Get Born Again” at the beginning of what is a more or less chronological set? For that matter, why is “Get Born Again” listed as taken from NOTHING SAFE: BEST OF THE BOX when that release is a sampler of MUSIC BANK? As for the multimedia fourth disc, I remember it containing a game that wasn’t very good. But I can’t verify that as my new computer won’t allow me to play it. Damn you, Vista!






FINAL THOUGHTS:
I think we all know how this one ends. If not, Wikipedia it. The rest of the group has recently reformed under the Alice In Chains moniker, which seems disrespectful, especially since it’s obviously being used for name recognition. In all fairness, the new guy might be an awesome singer, but without Layne Staley, it’s not really AIC, is it? Then again, AC/DC managed just fine after Bon Scott died.