Shop our Big Takeover store for back issues, t-shirts & CDs
Follow The Big Takeover
Just for the monumental opener, “Bad Memories Burn,” from 1988’s overwhelming Tilt-a-Whirl, the sardonically but in-truth-accurately-titled Greatest would be a must. That 20 other flavors of its awesome blueprint follow, is enough to crown this collective the great unknown band of their time; that Greatest is fittingly dedicated to my late pal BEN VOSS, whose tragic 1999 loss to leukemia remains haunting, and whose dream it was to release this collection himself, makes its arrival smell like 4000 marigolds. Best $13 you’ll spend all year.
This Chicago punk-turned-post-punk band’s also revived 1980s-punk/indie era contemporaries have already proven that bands could regain bygone inspiration on LP in the ‘00s. But by picking up on 1986, not 1981, thus seizing their own post-punk thread never continued, The Effigies have no modern stylistic peers. And like Ink, it will take several plays before the layers of _Reside_’s smarts and subtleties become as apparent as its strident authority.
I had this at #22 in my issue 60, but it should have been much higher. Like close to #1! Of all the records I reviewed six months ago, this one by far has stayed in my player the longest. It just might be the best rock ‘n’ roll album of the year, a veritable jukebox of two dozen styles of garage rock, power-pop, straight pop, glam, classic rock, punk, hardcore and more with killer songs and killer harmonies and four songwriters all peaking simultaneously. Do not miss this!
When the original 1973-1978 lineup disbanded, lead singer and now guitarist CHRIS BAILEY soldiered on with the name and revolving lineups. That his next three LPs from 1980-1984 were also fantastic, yet again, highly different records, is the cause for immortal status. Hear them here again with bonus b-sides and (again!!) an absolutely corking live LP from Australia in 1981, featuring the return of the older lineup’s original drummer IVOR HAY
Super reissue! Marshes is far more esoteric post-punk—darker, cruder, harsher, repetitive, and discordant than this incredible Lincoln, NE band’s first two LPs recorded around the same time circa 1987, a the textural clash of harrowing sounds like the sinister “The Purgatory Salesman” or the ashen post-breakup bitterness of “Amnesia.” . It made my Top 40 17 years ago, but it’s actually more uniquely powerful now, longer removed from its bygone influences. One can only hope that the forthcoming seventh LP, Shade Side, Sunny Side, their first with their old guitar player in 19 years, is this wickedly devastating. (words-on-music.com)
Incredible after four years off. Sakes alive, if Wire have a whole new LP like this on cue (one is in the works, and none of these songs will be on it), it will make them not just living legends, but verifiable gods, for the post-punk possibilities in pop/anti-pop forever. For now, this is 25 rigorous minutes of minimalist pop heaven. Geniuses? Correct. Still.
Been listening to this since it came out in October. Willie always makes credible/listenable records, but this might be his best album in 20 years. What a good idea to make a record with a modern young band, namely RYAN ADAMS and his group; this collaboration with Adams, who also produces, it just flat our immediate, personal, timeless, new sounding, smart, and experienced all at once—like country should be but almost never is any more. Well, Willie was there before the birth of alt.country, and he’s still standing, his celebrity almost obscuring the fact that he isn’t some joke, he’s just the most talented modern country singer of the last 40 years.
As ominous as Berlin in the Cold War; as beautiful as blizzards; as sensuous as the sight/smell of wind-whipped trees; and as evocatively, abstractly striking as DE KOONING and JACKSON POLLOCK, Radiohead have found the place they’ve sought for 11 years—where their former ‘90s and current muses meld.
A slightly brighter, less shimmery tone makes it a more radio-friendly, poptastic, less garage-y record than this ‘60s-pop-loving Chicago four’s last, excellent Le Main Drag. But the group is even tighter, and the classic pop/power-pop songs and the singing (like on the pedal-steel inflected “Snow”) is the band’s killer calling card, the thing that answers any possible criticism over nostalgia. Music of this exquisite caliber is just plain great in any era.
Of contemporary U.S. shoegaze/dreampop bands, only the last EP by Fresno’s incredible SLEEPOVER DISASTER reaches this Boston foursome’s echelon of hefty brawn, effected-guitars concentration, and howling dog vocals, and the songs themselves are up to the maelstrom. Play this once—you won’t get it out of your head.
