To those of you who actually keep up with this: I thank you. This week’s interview was meant to have a ~secret~ guest, although he was unfortunately unable to make it tonight (therefore, he’ll be making his appearance on a future interview). But more importantly, I sat down with TheLongShot, fellow Beach Boys and Elton John enthusiast and talked for an ungodly amount of time (4hrs, 13mins to be exact). LongShot earned himself a one-way ticket to the frontpage with his stellar review of Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour, which can be read here.
Cocaine is a hell of a drug.
So, with every interview, as redundant as it is, how did you discover Sputnik? Was it the rockin’ Web 2.0 layout or the ghost town-esque comment section at 5 A.M. that attracted you to mx’s humble abode?
Amazingly, the aesthetic was not the main draw. I had known of Sputnik for some time, but I hadn’t bothered to check it out further until about a year ago. I’m the head administrator of this other music-related website called The Range Place, and one of the primary contributors on there is a semi-frequent Sputnik poster (he goes by IhateMana on TRP and Jasdevi087 on Sputnik). After hearing him talk it up on the TRP Discord, I decided to check it out, and within one day I had made an account, posted a review for Queen’s Innuendo, and also posted a…
I must confess that this is not my idea; having recently come across Tom Breihan’s ‘The Number Ones’ column for Stereogum, and in turn, Tom Ewing’s ‘Popular’ column for Freaky Trigger, I felt inspired to approach the format from my own geographical perspective; that is, review every single to reach number 1 on the ARIA Charts/Kent Report, and assign a numerical grade from 1-10. In the interest of brevity (and some pertinence), the column shall begin from July 1974, the date in which the initial Kent Report was first published commercially, and work forwards from there. Dependent upon time constraints and general interest, publishing of these articles will, similar to Ewing and Breihan’s columns, be daily. And now…
Carl Douglas – “Kung Fu Fighting”
16 December – 30 December 1974 (3 Weeks).
Perhaps the best argument against the posterity of the charts and certain song’s placement within them is that they often fete cultural moments that are decidedly one time only. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with the virtue of being inane and mindless; however, when oriental riffs become lodged into critical discussions like this, it’s hard not to condescend to the source material. Which is a literary way of saying: this thing hasn’t aged well.
Having said that, it wouldn’t have aged well even if society decided that the main riff for this song is just slightly offensive retrospectively. Regardless of all of that discussion, it’s a…
I must confess that this is not my idea; having recently come across Tom Breihan’s ‘The Number Ones’ column for Stereogum, and in turn, Tom Ewing’s ‘Popular’ column for Freaky Trigger, I felt inspired to approach the format from my own geographical perspective; that is, review every single to reach number 1 on the ARIA Charts/Kent Report, and assign a numerical grade from 1-10. In the interest of brevity (and some pertinence), the column shall begin from July 1974, the date in which the initial Kent Report was first published commercially, and work forwards from there. Dependent upon time constraints and general interest, publishing of these articles will, similar to Ewing and Breihan’s columns, be daily. And now…
Olivia Newton-John – “I Honestly Love You”
18 November – 9 December 1974 (4 Weeks)
It’s possible that “I Honestly Love You” invented the tired cinematic trope of the ironic soundtrack choice. When it appears in Jaws, Alex and his dog disappear; all the while, Olivia Newton John hums on the radio, soft, lulling, delicate, and unassuming. The song was barely a year old at the time, but its subverted and mismatched application makes it feel as if were always somewhere there, tucked away in the scenery.
In part, that’s because this is the 1970s, and this is Peter Allen, so the nostalgia felt is integral to the composition. Heard as it were, it’s a plainly inoffensive and lilting performance from John, who, removed from Grease…
I must confess that this is not my idea; having recently come across Tom Breihan’s ‘The Number Ones’ column for Stereogum, and in turn, Tom Ewing’s ‘Popular’ column for Freaky Trigger, I felt inspired to approach the format from my own geographical perspective; that is, review every single to reach number 1 on the ARIA Charts/Kent Report, and assign a numerical grade from 1-10. In the interest of brevity (and some pertinence), the column shall begin from July 1974, the date in which the initial Kent Report was first published commercially, and work forwards from there. Dependent upon time constraints and general interest, publishing of these articles will, similar to Ewing and Breihan’s columns, be daily. And now…
Paper Lace – “The Night Chicago Died”
23 September – 11 November 1974 (8 Weeks).
It’s difficult to be enthused about Paper Lace in the retrospective; their other hit, “Billy Don’t Be a Hero,” is a relic, and proof enough that chart success does not always signal timelessness, or any measure of ongoing interest. It’s also not very good, but a lot of that can be attributed to production that has naturally deteriorated over time. You can forgive them, but you can also forget them.
Much like “Billy,” “Chicago” found more fame when Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods’ rendition topped the US charts. However, in doing so, they also managed to piss off Chicago mayor Richard Daley, and make an assortment of geographic and…
I must confess that this is not my idea; having recently come across Tom Breihan’s ‘The Number Ones’ column for Stereogum, and in turn, Tom Ewing’s ‘Popular’ column for Freaky Trigger, I felt inspired to approach the format from my own geographical perspective; that is, review every single to reach number 1 on the ARIA Charts/Kent Report, and assign a numerical grade from 1-10. In the interest of brevity (and some pertinence), the column shall begin from July 1974, the date in which the initial Kent Report was first published commercially, and work forwards from there. Dependent upon time constraints and general interest, publishing of these articles will, similar to Ewing and Breihan’s columns, be daily. And now…
Stevie Wright – “Evie”
12 August – 16 September 1974 (6 Weeks).
I don’t much care for nostalgia; I especially despise nostalgia that puts the burden of ambition on the present because, supposedly, those in the past were the only ones brave enough to pave the way for ill-thought, impulsive, and indulgent expression. In the context of “Evie,” it’s nostalgia for the plodding, mammoth rock songs of yesterday, and the particular way in which extended suites are apparently not attempted in this modern scene (although the success of songs like “Runaway” certainly challenge that notion, but rockism is only a minor point of contention in this dialogue). Rock songs— specifically, ridiculous and unnecessarily long rock songs— have always had an audience, as “Stairway to…
I must confess that this is not my idea; having recently come across Tom Breihan’s ‘The Number Ones’ column for Stereogum, and in turn, Tom Ewing’s ‘Popular’ column for Freaky Trigger, I felt inspired to approach the format from my own geographical perspective; that is, review every single to reach number 1 on the ARIA Charts/Kent Report, and assign a numerical grade from 1-10. In the interest of brevity (and some pertinence), the column shall begin from July 1974, the date in which the initial Kent Report was first published commercially, and work forwards from there. Dependent upon time constraints and general interest, publishing of these articles will, similar to Ewing and Breihan’s columns, be daily. And now…
Paper Lace – “Billy Don’t Be A Hero”
17 June – 5 August 1974 (8 Weeks).
In the heat of Vietnam, “Billy Don’t Be A Hero” became associated with a reflexive opposition to the condemned Indochinese conflict; pop culture had gone to such great heights to illustrate the crude, imperialistic, and toxically masculine overtones of the war, and, at least for Australia who had contributed more than 7000 military men and had approximately half of them return dead or injured in 1971, the opposition resonated. Not least of all because Vietnam vets were soon being spat on and excluded from RSL clubs and parades; hostility toward military presence in Vietnam lingered long after the conflict, as it did in the US and elsewhere.
On the third round of interviews, I’ve received the opportunity to pick at ‘ol Young Bloon, resident Ween fan #2 and devoted Goofcore (what is it???) follower. I proceeded to stuff my face with chinese food as he told me his life story and then some, but when it came down to it, Bloon was just like me: another dude on his computer on a Friday night. How did this turn out? Wonderfully…as wonderful as Billywitchdoctor.com showing up at your front door, perhaps. If you want to know Bloon some more, just peep his stellar review for Deen Ween’s Rock2 here.
You won’t like Bloon when he’s angry…
I’m gonna start this off relatively simple, something everybody’s gotta a story for: how did you find Sputnik? Were you forced to sign up one day at gunpoint or were you feeling ~experimental~ in your teenage curiosity? Although, I could be entirely off the mark and you may be some 40-something roleplaying as a teenage boy on the internet….just like my Dateline VHS!
Well, it’s probably more close to the first one. A very good friend of mine, on Sput as BBGames, called me one day on Skype and told me to make an account, saying we could keep track of the albums we listened to. I joined the same day and started rating my CD collection. I’ve only been on the site for a little bit but I am very glad he told me…
Yet again, the review competition featured some fine entries in which I had to sit for a moment to evaluate my options. This time around, I had the pleasure of chatting it up with granitenotebook, who won the competition with his review of DJ Taye’s Still Trippin’, which you can read here.
(And to anyone interested in future iterations of the competition, I’ll further emphasize this aspect of the game: it’s bi-weekly. The next competition will take place on the week of March 16th. This allows for a week’s time for all entries and for me to not get burnt out on the process. A winning strategy hopefully? Now, on to the interview…)
Look, I could make a shitty joke here but I got nothin’.
…uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so to start things off (along with congrats on winning this review comp) how did you stumble upon the website? Was it by curiosity or was it due to Wikipedia citing some bad 2006 staff review?
Thanks, I actually don’t remember. I got here around 2013, lurked for a while, and then made an account in 2014 when I wrote a review I thought was good enough to publish (a tbt of Since I Left You (Avalanches), which kind of destroyed the point), but I don’t actually remember what led me to finding a website that didn’t even focus on the kind of music I liked at the time. it happened…
So, with the blessing of those who will not be named though know who they are, our lovely expose on the users of Sputnikmusic shall make a bi-weekly return to no remarkable avail; with little haste on my end, the first of the revived series ended in a crossfire of three reviews that all took a trip to the ~features~ queue, but in the end, TheBoneyKing won an all-expense paid trip to meet yours truly for a one-on-one interview that ultimately revealed Boney’s level of thinking to be far superior to my pea-brained self and by proxy, all of Sputnik. In a way, he really made me think! And with such a fierce appetite for knowledge, Boney has an equally voracious hunger for Indie and Americana (or alt-country idk); his review of Brandi Carlile’s By The Way, I Forgive You can be read here.
~Boney’s true form~
Let’s start with the beginning of the user known to all as TheBoneyKing: how did you come to find sputnik in the first place? What drew you to this wonderfully outdated music website and its community?
I remember when I was first falling down the wonderful rabbit hole that is music, I spent a lot of time reading about albums on Wikipedia and Sputnik reviews would often be linked on those pages. Usually these were klap or SowingSeason reviews due to the kind of music I was exploring at the time. So I was aware…
By 1975 in New York City, the first wave of punk had floated to the top of the underground, seeping into pop culture and making small doomed stars of its first insurgents. CBGB in the East Village had become a bastion of young iconoclasts re-shaping rock music into something decidedly more septic. Both the New York Dolls and Detroit’s Iggy Pop (fresh off the Stooges imploding) had become havoc-prone headliners through the city’s club circuit. And Lou Reed and Patti Smith had been flung onto the ambo as gutter sibyls, performance visionaries who seemed to know something most didn’t. Malcom McLaren had taken the bug across the pond and birthed the Sex Pistols and the fever caught. It was all happening, and new eager bands were springing up like lice. By ’77, in the midst of that mass push to forge froth-mouthed, frenetic rock n’ roll, a small seed of a meta-revolt was brewing inside punk’s inherently meat-headed tendencies. Stray architects who were looking to do away with glam-blam flash and the charming lobotomy of Ramones, to make music that was as agile as it was intellectual, all the while avoiding sounding sterile and over-meticulous, a pratfall that occasionally haunted both Television and Talking Heads. These were young kids who loved both the stylish hollowness of the French New Wave and the undiluted freedom that punk was crawling with before its first commercial take-over. Artists like Richard Hell, David Thomas, Lizzy Mercier Descloux and the like, were chasing the…
To be fair to CHVRCHES, I’m not entirely sure what progression for them sounds like. Does it sound like some backwards adoption of analogue synths and sound collage as an experimental form? The alternative to that would be to go bigger, less subtle, and more infectious with their pop songs, and I don’t know if they’re capable of that. They’ve already perfected vague ennui and a handful hooks for a few years now, and so the success of their songs relies almost entirely on their quality, rather than they do the scope or breadth of their ambition.
Which is why it is difficult to assess “Get Out,” because on first listen it’s just not very good. The verses aren’t especially memorable, which automatically robs them of a place to put at least one good hook, and the chorus is only memorable because it’s basic, not because it’s familiar. You’ve heard it before, but it’s not nostalgia; it’s just another pop rock song in a litany of others. But fans of Every Open Eye can make the credible case that, as it became clearer and clearer that CHVRCHES weren’t going to be doing much other than writing a few good songs, it slowly revealed itself as a decent enough album. There exists the possibility that the same might happen for “Get Out,” and so I won’t go too hard into its faults (moreover, it being boring). The fundamentals of the song remain the same, however; its melody isn’t impressive, its instrumentation is lifeless, and…
Are you there? Okay, cool; you managed to cope with the visual documentation of why recorders were, once and for all time, a mistake nobody could compensate nor understand. Better yet, you read two volumes of some guy from the Midwest freaking out over David Bowie. What I lack in professionalism I make up for in enthusiasm, overbearing as it may be, and believe or not, this is end of the first Deep Cuts series – very much a work-in-progress – but not the end of what will become a regular mainstay of the site’s blogs for the time being. With that out of the way, we travel to 1979 to look upon the lonely and absurd Lodger.
The finale of the Berlin Triptych, Lodger already portrayed the Bowie/Eno union coming to an end. Both parties were finally losing interest, with Eno now focusing his attention towards the upstart Talking Heads and Bowie moving towards more commercial aspirations, his three-year long simultaneous detox and Krautrock/Berlin School tribute reaching its conclusion. The second track from the album, “African Night Flight”, is an anomaly even for the Berlin records, all of which featured uncompromising experimentation and challenged Bowie’s audience that had stuck around following his ventures through salacious glam excess and detached cocaine funk — or constantly alienated them and label execs, who pushed hard for more Young Americans.
The ’90s were a dark, dark time, no? Apparently so – with a clip of a sleek rendition of “Fame” and other cuts at Howard Stern’s birthday party in 1998 – and to drive the point home, with Stern’s massive posse swarming the dance floor as Bowie and co. looking not out of place, but uncomfortably dated fashion-wise, even for 1998.
But to delve even deeper into incredibly dated realms we must venture backward once more into 1967. “The Laughing Gnome” is the song David Bowie spent an entire lifetime trying to escape from. No matter how> eclectic his sounds and tastes became, this one song always found its way back to its creator, even being the punchline to a campaign NME led in 1990. Bowie was undertaking preparations for his Sound + Vision tour, with a ballot on which songs were to be included in the setlist – a specially curated “Greatest Hits” tour, but with the incentive that the songs included would then be retired at tour’s end. Of course, hits like “Space Oddity”, “Changes”, and “Blue Jean” made the cut, but one song was out of place: “The Laughing Gnome”, which somehow accumulated enough votes for Bowie to consider a Velvet Underground-influenced arrangement, although this was Bowie most likely taking the piss and making light of the NME’s “Just Say Gnome” campaign to rig the polls, which were immediately scrapped. It also would’ve…
As I see it, over time, the music of The Fall has become the staunchest formative presence in my life. Found out at fourteen, picking up a bootleg cassette of Dragnet at an outdoors market. And all through the years that followed. Blasting ‘Garden’ on long night walks. Drunkenly hopping to ‘The Classical’ at my wedding. ‘Fiery Jack’ on my headphones on repeat as I cowered in a vomit-spackled corner of the main room of that overnight Japan-Korea ferry that spent ten agonizing swinging hours moving through a Pacific tsunami. ‘Totally Wired’ rattling in my brain as I repeatedly walked out of jobs, careers, relationships, lost schmoozing opportunities, ambitions, refusing to yield, however self-effacing. ‘No Bulbs’ becoming the centerpiece of my chemical afflictions. And ‘Fantastic Life’ playing at full tilt in a bar in New Orleans outside which I got into a bloody fight with that Kentucky marine (lost a tooth, broke his jaw). As hokey and idiotically juvenile as it might be, it’s something that helped me zero in on what it meant to preserve a bit of primal soul. I danced to this music in dark rooms, and my guts were on fire.
A small lifetime ago, I worked at a record shop for an old burnt-out Brit who used to say that a proper Englishman listened to Blue Orchids in the summer, Joy Division in the winter, The Damned in autumn, Sex Pistols in spring,…
In keeping with the monthly (bi-monthly, if proper motivation and inspiration manages to come my way) ramblings that I regularly undertake – whether it be by a long-winded review, incoherent comment in some guy’s thread about Sputnik’s flavor-of-the-month album, or the now-immortal quip “list is digs” that is said to be bestowed upon a many lists, threads, and articles – I have seen it appropriate to further expand the ongoing Guides series, starting with a bi-monthly retrospective on the one and only David Bowie: the man of many faces, sounds, and visions.
No introduction is needed for such an astounding artist, but for those who do need a refresher, Bowie did a lot throughout his 54 years in the industry (1962-2016), beginning as a young man heavily influenced by the rhythm and blues very much popular with British youth and emerging decades later weathered through a multitude of personae, fashions, and most importantly, the stardom he desired so greatly and the acclaim that followed. Once a young man who dreamed of being his band’s Mick Jagger and inspired by the whimsical music hall sound of Anthony Newley (who reportedly destroyed his copy of Bowie’s debut in disgust) during his time with Decca (1966-1968), he went out as perhaps the definitive artist of his generation and as one of the most innovative pop artists ever.
Now that we’ve a little context behind the man who wrote classics such as “Heroes”,…
