Warhorse "as heaven turns to ash"

In 2007 a big chunk of my heart died.  A beloved records store named Home Of The Hits closed it's doors.  Since the late '80s when I discovered it's hallowed existence the small shop became a desperate destination.  I would beg, borrow or steal to get to it.  As teenagers we would either get rides or hijack someone's parents car to head up to Elmwood ave to go to HOTH and then skateboard Elmwood ave.   When I got my first apartment in buffalo in '93 the very first morning I awoke it the new place I walked up to HOTH, I was new to the city and I got turned around and lost.  I eventually made it there, I had $10 to my name and I bought a used Pigface CD. I miss the smell of that small room, the wall of t-shirts, the unusable Pepsi machine, the loose board in the back corner in front of the used "R" section.   I miss the lfriendly snobbery of the staff, I miss how they were familiar enough with me that when my listening interests would change they would remark I was buying weird stuff and then give me suggestions in that vein.  I wanted to work there so bad.
I bought this #Warhorse cd there in 2002.  I had just gotten into doom metal and was exploring releases on the Southern Lord record label.  I have a vivid memory of buying this and taping it to play in my '88 Crown Victoria.  Someone played this at work the other night and all I could think of was how much I miss researching music in fanzines and online and heading up to that record store to see if it was there. It was like a clubhouse. It was a social hub. I would hang up my hand drawn flyers for shows and the people there would be psyched to receive them.  It was my Cheers. I was it's Norm.

Soror Dolorosa "no more heroes"

This time of year often makes me think of my friend's visits from abroad.  I have a friend who now lives and works in Switzerland.  Over the past several years he has made it a point t to return to his college stomping grounds where I live to visit family and friends.  He is as music obsessed as I and have introduced each other to many bands.  He's well liked by my children and held in fascinating regard for his multi-lingual and multi-cultural assets.  Maybe one day my kids will grow up to like his musical tastes as much as I do. (Currently my kids are not into french black metal and swiss industrial metal)  He's been my wingman for last minute shopping and we enjoy American breakfasts (something he misses that I take for granted) while listening to his domestic musical purchases.  This is among my favorite CDs he has introduced me to. #sorordolorosa is a gothy post-punk experience that any fans of that style would love.  Deep baritone vocals and prominent bass guitar lines over a wonderfully produced album.  It suprised me a little when he played it for me, never thought he was into this kind of thing but I'm always reminded of him and our heart to heart conversations covering love, life, dialects and cheese.   He didn't make it to our part of the world this year (I believe he visited friends in Finland) he was missed.  Our oldest asked if he was coming to our house and was bummed when he found out he wasn't.   I played this album today and pondered how music can be an ingredient to the bonds that keep us in touch.  I made the boys mix CDs of music they like for xmas this year, I put a track off this album and told my oldest it was a "Mr. Dan song". I stood in the kitchen and listened to the ceiling as he played it in his room overhead.  I marveled at the impression that's been made and hope that the company I keep keeps making positive role models for my children.  And I hope they grow up to like french black metal as much as he and I do.

Six Going On Seven "heartbeat's got backbeat"

This is one of those CDs I wish that I had written.  It's a smartly written edgy indie rock album with great raspy vocals and the spotlight on the bass guitar. #sixgoingonseven vocalist/bassist Josh English is one of my most envied songwriters and this album contains one of those songs that we sometimes get to imagine was written just for me ("reverse midas") with a lyrical delivery that will get my fist up in defiance every time ("from best friends to 'better left unsaid'. 'Never again' is a safe bet.")  My band got to play with these guys in North Hampton, MA at a small art space called The Flywheel.  It was the kind of venue that made it feel like a scene, like a group of friends. I don't remember our set but our friends in The Warren Commission killed it and I was in awe of this band.  It was a performance where I didn't want to blink and miss seeing the bass guitar gymnastics.  I've been after my old drummer for years to copy the bootleg she made of that show on a reasonable format (seriously, what am I going to do with a mini disc?) 
This album has quietly been a desert island favorite of mine since it's release in '99.  It's also another one of those bands that I love but I am surprised at how little other people find them as engaging as I do.  Ah well, sometimes.the horses aren't thirsty.

Cursive "domestica"

In 2001 I went to go see #cursive at a small bar called The Atomic.  The bar was not really set up for shows, it was a small concrete square and the band's were always too loud and the p.a. was too shitty to hear vocals.  We really liked that place none the less.  This CD "domestica" was an open letter to singer/songwriter Tim Kasher's divorce.  The band and album are kind of a harsh spirit animal of the Smiths work.  I remember two things about that show: 1) my future ex-wife completely blew me off and with the clarity of hind-sight the show supporting this album should have been an ominous omen and 2) the opening act was a band called The White Octave whose line up had ex-Cursive musicians. I was wondering if the small group of people at this show were going to see some kind of bitter musician brawl.  I was actually really enthralled with that plotline. I got to the show a little early to watch the whole thing unfold.  I was the only one there for quite a while.  Slowly other indie rocker hipsters started drifting in, then after the listed start time Cursive showed up.  I wondered if they'd be pissed the openers weren't there yet. I was ancious for drama to unfold, to see some juicy indie rock history.   A bit later the other band showed up, both bands hugged and laughed.  They had beers and I think for a few minutes may have even forgotten there was a show to be played.  Both bands performed and played great sets, the night turned out to be quality music with no drama. Which was fine, I was wrapped up in my own microcosm of drama anyway.  This disc is still a great album.  It's dark, wry and kind of self-important.  It's no wonder I like it so much.

Texas Is The Reason "do you know who you are?"

This cd is so loaded with memories it's almost impossible to isolate them.  The disc stirs my memories all up into one mid-twenties pulp.  I first heard the band on a Revelation Records comp. Which led me to buy their ep. When this #texasisthereason album was released in 1996 I was a 24 year old mess. I was of the disposition that a broken heart at 24 meant my life was over and I was just killing time until death took me.  I was reading the other day about how you have three loves in your life.  The first one is "idealistic love".  The one where everything appears to be how it "should be" but fails because it is shallow or at least unappreciated.  The second one is your "hard love", that's the one that actually teaches you what you need from and and what to give for love, often in very painful ways.  The third is your "commitment love".  The one where you supposedly figure all this love shit out.  This album fits snuggly in my "hard love" period of music collecting.  I was into music that was transitioning from sincere punk and hardcore into more thinking and artistic grounds.  Smart indie and first wave of emo (before it became a dirty word)  this album always conjures up memories of walking around the west side of buffalo in early winter with cold, wet shoes and pants cuffed with ice and snow.  A new winter is always calming to me, the city gets real quiet except for your crunchy footsteps.  The band encapsulates it with the lyric: "it's getting cold all over again. So I'll be inside way too much again."  I'd spend alot of time making mix tapes for people I suspect didn't really want them in the first place.  It was a warm cocoon inside a cold apartment in a cold city.  I actually thrived on it.  It was like faux misery because I was content. The weather had given me a rational excuse to stay inside and pour over music and sketchbooks while drinking brewed cheap coffee, which is all I wanted to do anyway.  I can sing this whole album, probably without be accompanyed by the CD. Laying on my stomach with a pen and a sketchbook just inches from my ill-gotten stereo.  Once in a while looking up and beingesmerized by the vibration of the speakers. Simple sad times.

Autopsy "severed survival"

I was around for the birth of death metal.  Not only was I around but I was paying attention.  Through an older hesher at school I was introduced to tape trading.  A culture of people copying and compiling casettes and trading them through the mail.  The older metal head gave me a couple of xeroxed contact lists and a cassette with morbid angel first demo and on the flips side a demo by the band Thantos.  It was my starter kit.  I went full bore: soaping and reusing postage stamps, copying covers at school when no one was in the office and stealing cassette tapes from my sister whenever possible.  I was introduced to a lot of awesome burgeoning metal bands.  Some destined for great things and some to remain in obscurity.  To quote a friend of mine: "I didn't know music could get this heavy!"  I received a demo by the band #autopsy during this time.  It was one of my favorites, when their full length was finally released it had different cover art than this reissue.  It had zombie surgeons peering down at the viewer who was the "patient" under medical lights.  Man, I loved that cover.  Their sludgey death metal still gets the hair to stand up on my neck.  Whenever people wax about "old-school " this is the stuff that I think of.  I think about all the loving effort and work that went into getting our hands on this stuff. It made the music that much cooler.

Danzig "danzig"

This album really changed the musical landscape for me in 1988.  As a metal head flirting with punk I had already been introduced to Samhain by a punk dude at school so I was familiar with this iconic horned skull.  I had seen an ad for this release, it was just the cover and an "out now".  The image stuck with me (as it has for many others) and I tracked the release down.  When I first heard it I remember being suprised at how not-heavy the album was, but the dark romantic evil elvis was quick to woo me.  My mom allowed us to play tapes of music we liked in the car when she drove, I  suspected she may not be as annoyed by this as the Possessed tape I had been playing just to be a dick.  She liked it and I remember her saying it reminded her of Roy Orbison (something #danzig himself probably would have dug).  I had a cheap white stratocaster knock off that sat as a paperweight in my room for a year.  I bought it with money I earned working at a pizzeria.  Is was a symbol of immersion to me.  That the music I obsessed over I'd be able to create some day.  I fumbled with it a few times, but since I had no idea how to tune it (or even that it needed to be tuned) I just kind of played with it rather than play it.  One day I sat and figured out how to play "twist of cain" on one string.  It was an epiphany!  A glimpse that I would be able to recreate these magical sounds!  Ground zero for the many bands I would be in.  All of which were really important to me, and all of which I owe a debt to this cd.

Agalloch "the mantle"

Even though I love black metal and it's offshoots it's rare that I ever catch the bands live.  To be fair most of the stuff I really like is the work of reclusive weirdos doing one-man-band things.  Or else they are European with violent histories and the likelihood of an American work visa makes their tours highly unlikely. There are some great American black metal bands that do tour a bit (catch Krallice if you can and for the love of unholy trees I wish Wolves In The Throne Room would play outside of the Pacific northwest!)  #agalloch are, or rather WERE one of those quality domestic acts.  I caught them years ago in Cleveland.  They aren't one of the corpse paint and blood acts, actually they looked refreshingly "normal" which I liked a whole lot.  They sounded huge and epic live and in that setting the songs took on a sort of post-hardcore indie vibe. I kept thinking they were a darker, more sinister Sunny Day Real Estate.  The experience has colored their CDs for me and they have whole new layers in the context of hearing them live.  While I was in Cleveland I made a stop at the rock and roll hall of fame.  It was a little weird seeing such a fringe band and then looking at these carnivalesque displays of sequenced jump suits and vintage posters treated like religious texts.  I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it, it was a bunch of my music collection made tangible,  I just felt a little alien after seeing a band like this the night before. 
The band veers towards goth-folk during alot of these songs and it's a great dichotomy to the metallic guitar parts.  The band broke up this past year and while I've read the two remaining camps from the dissolution are planning on making more music I fear that this will only make me miss this band even more.  It's rare that when a band, which is the mystical alchemy of it's members, dissolves that the remaining factions retain any of the chemistry that made the music special to begin with.
This disc does sound really good to me on this cold, grey December morning.

Billy Joel "glass houses"

The song "it's still rock and roll to me" triggers a very distinct memory for me.    In 1981 I was nine years old riding in my parents ford bronco on transit road in Clarence, NY.  We had just eaten at a Swiss Chalet restaurant and were heading back home.  I remember loving this song and the amount of lyrics even though I didn't understand all the references.  It didnt hurt that his last name was the first time i had heard the name Joel outside of my own name.  We drove past the green-blue glow of Child World toy store and I fantasized about all the G.I.Joe treasures within.  I sang along and felt like I was "in" on the whole rock n ' roll thing.  Like I was part of the gang, I belonged with all the voices on the radio.  I was in a car full of people but was so absorbed in the song I felt alone.  I distinctly remember that feeling.  Escapism.   I didn't know that it had a name, that it was the intention of rock n' roll.  I thought I stumbled on some magical feeling only I could experience.  It became an obsessive pursuit in later years.  I've caught #billyjoel live four times in my life.  I'd go catch the current old curmudgeon version of him again.  The soft spot I have for him stems from that epiphany with a belly full of chain restaurant ribs.  I recently had a discussion with a client about how I cannot relate to people who don't love music.  I think I've just realized that actually I specifically cannot relate to people who don't crave the escapism that music offers.  You can love edm, hip hop, power metal, etc.  As long as you crave the shelter of abstract patterns of sound we will be able to get along just fine.  To quote Billy: "it's still rock and roll to me."
Unless it's second tier grunge.  Bleccchh. (Just seeing if d.m.t. is paying attention)

Motorhead "ace of spades"

In high school I worked at a pizzeria near my house.  I worked nearly full time hours which meant I had some disposable income which I blew on booze and cassettes.  The coolest thing about working at that place was the cross section of people I became friends with: preppy girls, biker bar tenders, skateboarder dudes and basic suburban dudes.  I was the token metal head.  Any jobs I've had through out my life that had a communal radio meant conflict.  People fight of music.  Some academic should write a paper on it.  This pizzeria was an anomoly;  I don't remember anyone ever bitch in about the radio.  Over the course of the night it'd go from top 40 radio to Guns n' Roses to the Circle Jerks to #motorhead.  I remember people being polite and we would all take turns.  Maybe it was because we were all young and interested in music, maybe it was because it was one of those rare work environments where everyone liked each other (hell, I even got along with my sister during her short stint there).  I had caught Motorhead in an episode of The Young Ones (don't ask me how, I don't remember how I caught that show.  I seem to remember seeing it along side Benny Hill as a child at my grandparent's house) besides that performance their logo was bad ass and the band were warmly regarded in hesher circles.  I remember one blonde girl laughing at the lyrics to "love me like a reptile".  It wasn't a mocking laugh, it was an appreciative silly laugh.  That pizzeria would have been a haven from my abusive step-father even without that crew, but those teenagers and young adults were like my amicable gang.  It was only two years of working there but it felt like a lifetime, now what feels like a lifetime ago.  I was introduced to lots of cool music there: the replacements, the cult, the forgotten rebels, etc.  It was a really important time for me personally.  It was a haven (with free pizza).  Every time I hear "love me like a reptile" I think of that pretty blonde girl's kind, non-judgmental laugh.  She'll never know how much that one fleeting moment comforted me.

Junius "the martyrdom of a catastrophist"

Periodically I catch an opening act live and they become a real favorite of mine.  I drove down to Pittsburgh to catch an Enslaved/Alcest concert.  My friends and I got there early and got Primanti Bros. sandwiches and got stoned in the car outside of the venue.  The place was a converted church which was unassailably cool and had multi levels of bars and rooms.  We wandered around waiting for the show to begin.  Ghost was originally slotted to be the opening band but for some unknown reason they were replaced by #junius. We were Ghost fans so we're were bummed (we also had no idea how big that band would eventually become.  I remember at the time I had their first album and was still unaware of the makeup/costume schtick)  Junius took the stage and sounded heavy, melodic, atmospheric and kind of beautiful.  They blew me away.  Their music isn't metal but it's not far removed, it's a sort of shoegazey version of metal, not unlike post-"white pony" Deftones as a reference point.  It's the vocalist that sells them though.  A deep baritone crooner that sounds like he has been fronting a Depeche Mode cover band for years.  Melodramatic music with snobby airs of artistic sophistication.   Yeah, I liked it straight away.  We talked about the band quite a bit on the three hour drive home.  They made quite the impression and their discography sits on my "favorite band" shelf on my wall of music.  It's a place of honor.  My wife even likes the song: "Elisheva, I Love You".

Lungfish "pass and stow"

A friend who i have mentioned a few times in this blog was also responsible for turning me on to #lungfish .  His bedroom was directly off the kitchen of our Elmwood village apartment and quite a few times as I was raiding the coffee pot I heard this album spilling out of his room.  Eventually I asked him who it was and bought a copy for myself.  He recounted seeing the band live, something I've always been jealous of.  Lungfish play mesmerizing post punk,  their repetitive riffs with a spoken - sung art damaged vocalist seemed very urban to me.  At the time I was smitten with NYC (where my roommate had been living when he caught the band) and this disc was like a soundtrack to my romanticized version of inner-city life.  The album was released on D.C.'s Dischord records so it had an elite pedigree without even hearing it.  As it would turn out the vocalist Daniel Higgs  (credited on this album as A. Astronomo Erdman) was an influential tattoo artist.  Something I didn't know until years into my tattooing career.  It breathed new life into this disc for me and I've revisited and marveled at all the interconnected webs of life.  Some seen and some unseen.  Some obvious forces, some subconcious.  I wonder if somehow his tattooing permeated his music and eventually nudged that path for me.  As a pragmatic I don't really buy that stuff (I had tried getting an apprenticeship years before I heard this album in 1996) but the romantic in me loves the idea of that plotline.