Records That Changed My Life, part 2 : Suede - Dog Man Star

I'm fascinated by the idea of partnerships where one complements the other. Taken on their own, they are talented people, and they can produce good work if paired off with another partner, but together they provide a unique magic that is distinctively theirs. So, while Paul McCartney has written good songs with Elvis Costello and Morrissey has released great material with Boz Boorer and Alain Whyte, their works are and will always be judged by their previous partnership (Lennon for the former and Johnny Marr for the latter). I realize that this is not fair to all involved, but to me, that’s the ugly truth. Suede's songwriting core, Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler, also fits that bill. i do not completely understand the circumstances that tore them apart, but in the brief time they were together they managed to release 2 classic albums that heralded (but not part of) the Britpop scene and now have become sadly forgotten by the hip cognoscenti (really, take a look at all the Best Albums lists in the last then years, and none have any Suede in them). Now this is a sad thing. Because Suede released one of the greatest albums of all time in the form of their sophomore effort, “Dog Man Star”.
It’s dark and pretentious, but this is one of those rare instances where it benefited from those traits. If the debut is full of rough’n’ready anthems, then this one is more experimental, with several songs lasting past the 7-minute mark. And for such a gloomy record, its moments of light pack a powerful, energizing punch. The effect is like tasting freedom after a long period in physical captive and mental anguish. Thus after the funereal “Daddy’s Speeding” we have the uplift of “The Power” (“Give me give me give me the power/and I’ll make them bleed”) and the eventual release of “New Generation”. The cumulative effect is, well, you have to experience it yourself. Now when people describe a record as “atmospheric” and “moody”, often that means it has a deficit of tunes. But happily, Anderson and Butler’s pop instincts are still generously employed. Never is a song overwhelmed by its instrumentation, the impressive details never obscured by the overblown production. Producer Ed Buller made sure that beneath the grand gestures are solid, memorable melodies. Aaah, yes, the melodies. This album is rich with them. Sometimes it hit you with obvious hooks (“New Generation”, “The Wild Ones”, still two of their greatest achievements), but sometimes it’s very subtle (the slow-burn of “Asphalt World” and “The 2 Of Us” force us to pay attention, but don’t worry, the reward is well worth it). This album was released in 1994, and its dark, despairing mood is a stark contrast to the burgeoning Britpop scene. Maybe that’s why, along with The Stone Roses’ Second Coming, it’s overlooked amid the chin-jutting sneer of Liam Gallagher and finger-pointing gestures of Jarvis Cocker. When Britons were obsessed with message centers, laddism, class wars and walks in the park, Anderson’s sense of iconography is more old-timey/classic and mostly USA-centric. The spirit of Hollywood legends Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Marlon Brando inhabit these songs. Once Britpop hit big the following year, Suede fell under the shadows of Blur and Oasis, but dark clouds were already gathering even before the album got released. Butler quit/got fired, and many who considered him to be Suede’s chief musical architect talked of an uncertain future for what was once England’s brightest hopes. However, things took a rather interesting turn. Butler hooked up with David McAlmont to produce two sublime slices of indie-soul (later compiled into an LP, The Sound of McAlmont Butler) and Anderson picked up 2 unknown musicians, 18-year old guitar prodigy Richard Oakes and keyboard-player Neil Codling. With them, Suede produced “Coming Up” in 1996, which was praised for its immediacy and largely buoyant mood (almost the opposite of “Dog Man Star”) before calling it quits in 2003. No matter, because once the history books are revised, Suede would surely be reserved a place in the upper echelon, and their crowning achievement would always be their magnificent second album.

Records That Changed My Life, part 1 : The Beatles - Revolver

Revolver was the first Beatles album i bought. Wait, let me correct that. Actually, it was the first full Beatles album I bought. Before that, i had a lot of their compilations on cassettes (which mostly kicked off with "Love Me Do" and ended with either "Let It Be" or "Hey Jude"). So i was aware of their more... accessible material, I guess. But then i saw a documentary called "The Beatles Compleat", which valiantly tried to distill the whole story into two hours, and mostly succeeded (a few years later i discovered the narrator was none other than Malcolm McDowell. Cool). It was then that i noticed that this Revolver album is kind of interesting... there are a lot of songs there that i hadn't discovered.
Well, it was, and still is, a fascinating, diverse and often beautiful piece of work. My favorite Beatles LP will always be Rubber Soul, but this came very close to being its equal. Now, you may ask, why do i prefer its predecessor? Well, i never did understand George Harrison's statement that he considered Rubber Soul and Revolver as the two sides of the same record, because in my opinion, they could not be any more different. Whereas Rubber Soul is seamless, Revolver is more akin to a car crash, where all kinds of musical genres run into each other without any sense of cohesion. I myself prefer records that have a certain common thread on its songs But that doesn’t make it inferior, though. Song-quality wise, it remains every bit as good as Rubber Soul. And what it lacked in flow, it gained in both diversity and fearlessness. Think about it for a minute. This is a record by the most popular band of their time, and instead of sitting back, popping the cork and be pleased with themselves, the Beatles took considerable risks. And their bravery and confidence paid off handsomely, not just in a commercial way, but also in that all the material has inspired and influenced countless other bands. Because, let's be honest. most excursions that happened to rock'n'roll took its idea from Revolver and ran with it, whether it's chamber-pop (Eleanor Rigby, For No one), Raga-rock (Love You To), and jangle-pop (And Your Bird Can Sing, I Want To Tell You).
It also has the distinction of being the first Beatle record where you can tell who contributed what. Paul McCartney's songs are melancholic and meticulously melodic, while John Lennon was more fascinated with atmosphere and "feel". If Rubber Soul presented Lennon and McCartney as separate individuals but equal, then Revolver, as Albert Goldman memorably put it in his John Lennon bio "The Lives of John Lennon", now they're also opposites. There was clear optimism even in the saddest of McCartney tunes, and Lennon's work here all have an undercurrent of resignation and (drug-induced?) confusion. I still have that old, beat-up cassette of Revolver, bought in a small music shop in Ratu Plaza (which gives you a picture of how long ago this was), and though i don’t use it anymore (all the tracks have found permanent residence in my trusty MP3 player), i still find it hard to throw it away, because it meant so much to me, introduced me to music that is far-out, weird, yet somehow accessible.