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Tortoise: TNT
I discovered Tortoise my junior year of college. TNT was perfectly timed and came out that March. "Everglade" accompanied slow drives down College Ave in Appleton, while "In Sarah Mencken Christ & Beethoven There Were Women & Men" was in my headphones one late afternoon as I walked home from happy hour at one of the bars downtown, tired and drunk on gin & tonics at only six o'clock. At 3'30" of "The Suspension Bridge At Iguaz� Falls" I still get wistful and picture the stately footbridge that spanned the small valley through campus, and my latest crush walking across it in the middle of the morning.
Moby: Play
That's right. What are you gonna do about it? I'm proud to say I discovered this guilty pleasure before it became the soundtrack to the dot-com era's marketing hubris. The perfect springtime combination of joie de vivre and melancholy, it alternated between the two on an almost track-by-track basis. Helped me prepare for graduation and subsequent entry into the not-so-real world.
William �rbit: StrangeCargoHinterland
This is perhaps my quintessential spring album, though I listen to it at all times of the year. It informed the halcion, horny daydreaming I would do during my Term III Shakespeare class. I probably wrote 30 poems inspired by this album, no exaggeration. I find this to be �rbit's best work by far, and yet there's so little mention of it anywhere. I think it might even be out of print. But it's a hallmark in the downtempo/trip-hop genre.
White Town: Women In Technology
White Town is probably doomed to one-hit wonder status thanks to "Your Woman," but the rest of this album is a nice lightweight pop record. Dated synth and drum machines prevent it from ever becoming too ponderous.
The Sea & Cake: The Fawn
Screw the anti-electronic purists�this is my favorite S&C album. Perfect for background or focused listening, but the whole album seems to have been mixed a little low, as if to encourage one to have it on while napping on a rainy afternoon. One of the few albums, in fact, that I can listen to while jogging or sleeping. "Bird & Flag" is perhaps the eeriest pop song I've ever heard. Naturally, this album transcends seasons, and it's hard to disassociate "Bird & Flag" from the night of September 10 2001, when Neil and I were driving to his storage unit to grab his girlfriend's VCR, and the song was playing in my car, but the night was quiet.
Saint Etienne: Good Humor
I bought the Japanese import of this in May of 1998 because the US version wouldn't be available until the fall. "Goodnight Jack" is definitely one of my top five SE tracks, if not the top. The fact that Douglas Coupland did the liner notes just cemented my suspicion that Saint Etienne was imported to America specifically for me�and about 3500 other hipsters.
Chemical Brothers: Exit Planet Dust / Dig Your Own Hole
I jumped on the Chemical Brothers bandwagon along with everyone else in 1996/97, discovering Exit just in time for the follow-up to blow me away. I think these guys wrote that entire album just so they'd have a million excuses to use their trademark ribcage-rattling, subsonic bass boom. And with both albums, the Beth Orton tracks provided a much-needed morning-after respite from the throbbing hedonism of the other songs.
Tears For Fears: The Seeds Of Love
For when you're in the mood for a depressing spring album rather than a happy one. This album masquerades as a neo-psychedelic peace and love fest with its title track, but on the second side it's an apocalyptic opera of excess, starting with the dirgelike "Standing On The Corner Of The Third World" and building up biblical imagery and momentum to climax with "Year Of The Knife" and then, out of the rubble comes "Famous Last Words," which is so solemn it's almost unlistenable. Having cemented their reputation as pop geniuses with Songs From The Big Chair, it's like Roland Orzabal just said fuck it, I have an unlimited budget, let's go for unapologetic bombast�which in the late 80s is probably the best one could hope for from a serious pop record. It didn't make much of an impression when I bought it in seventh grade, but when I was feeling sullen and melodramatic my senior year of high school, this was perfect.
The Dismemberment Plan: Emergency & I
The antidote to Change, which is the perfect fall album. God. "Life Of Possibilities", "The City", "Back & Forth" ... what more needs to be said? "And that music drifts through my car on a spring night when anything is possible ... "
Underworld: Beaucoup Fish
Dubnobasswithmyheadman will always be my favorite Underworld album, but this one's a close second. "Jumbo" is just so ... sad. Served the same function my senior year of college as Play, above.
Eels: Electroshock Blues / Daises Of The Galaxy
Sometimes spring fucks with us by making us want to feel really, really good when we can't help feeling hopelessly bad. With Electroshock, E essentially accomplished the same thing by setting a concept album based on his sister's suicide to glistening pop melodies. Daises is more incidental, but its best tracks also straddle the divide between joy and pathos.
Elliot Smith: Figure 8
My favorite breakup album after Jeff Buckley's Grace.
The Loud Family: Days For Days
It's September 1998. You graduated from college and are temping in a law firm after a fulfilling summer as a camp counselor. Your parents just announced they're separating, and your walk-up apartment has a shared kitchen and bathroom. But back before any of this, back in April, the Loud Family released an album that reaffirmed your faith in intellectuals and you can still listen to that to take your mind of the end of summer, your meaningless job, and the whole Lewinsky thing.
Jim O'Rourke: Eureka!
Women of the world, take over, because if you don't, the world will come to an end. I remember listening to this album a lot while I drove to a Catholic High School to do my required twenty hours of observation for my education class. An odd, through not altogether unpleasant, juxtaposition.
Jason Falkner: Can You Still Feel?
Blast "Holiday" while driving out to the beach with your new girlfriend on the first 90-degree day of spring. Listen to "Goodnight Sweet Night" a year later, after you've just broken up with her.
Yo La Tengo: And Then Everything Turned Itself Inside Out
It's May, almost June, and it's already fiendishly hot out. Crank up the air conditioning in your efficienecy apartment, put this album on, take a sedative, and get under the covers.
Daft Punk: Homework
God, this is such a good party record. Have a cocktail party out on the veranda, or, failing that, a kegger on the front lawn, and blast this all night.
Cornershop: When I Was Born For The 7th Time
I always associate this album with the above one, if only because I bought them both during the same visit to the used record store, then went over to see my one friend who was in a frat, and got high with him. What song better defines the cautious (and often ironic) optimism of spring better than "Funky Days Are Back Again"? Or the triumphant "We're In Yr Corner," sung in a language I don't understand? Good things are on the horizon. Sleep on the left side. |