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長渕は何に負けたのか


8月16日に長渕剛が24枚目のオリジナルアルバム『Black Train』をリリース。すぐにApple Musicに入つた。
来週22日には一夜限りのライブを武道館で行ひWOWOWで生中継するとのことで、テレビ、ラジオ、公開リハなど当人稼働の大プロモーションをかけてをり、この度YouTubeで全部観てみた。「自分が思つてゐること」を言ふといふ、語つてゐる核は変はらないが、その心情、語り口、身体は60年の人生を経て来た今のものであり、当然「あの頃」とは違ふけれど、それでいいと思ふ。

アルバムは、先行シングル「Loser」をはじめ、よい。60の長渕である。
その「Loser」は打ち込みのリズムが長渕的には新味がありといふことでそればかりが取り沙汰されてゐるが、俺としては「敗北者」といふタイトル、「負け」といふテーマが当然引つかかる。「誰かがこの僕を」といふ曲でも「またひとつ負けちまつた」と始まる。長渕が「負け」を歌ふといふと、当然1986年リリース『STAY DREAM』収録の「レース」を思ふわけだ。

震えが止まらぬ気の病に犯された Everyday
焼けるようなおんぼろなストマック
いらつくような耳鳴り
トランキライザー四錠かじっても
眠れない夜を数え
天井へ落ちていくよな 午前四時の俺

負けた 負けた 自分に負けた
負けた 負けた 今度ばかりは

……といふ、曲だ。

これは、1985〜86年の「ハングリー」ツアー途中、1986年の初めに倒れ、病院で療養ののち書かれた曲と思はれる。5月30日に放送されたNHK-FM「平山雄一サウンド・ストリート」での公開ライブでの音源がそのままアルバムに収められた。その時は「負けた負けた」といふタイトルであつた。

で俺は、当時から今まで30年間、長渕は何に負けたのかを考へてゐるのであつた。

小児喘息で虚弱児、デビュー後もずつとおそらく50kgほどの体重で痩せこけた頬のままで激しいライブを続けていたのが、30に差し掛かるにあたり肉体が悲鳴をあげた。といふのがまづあらう。
しかしA型で神経質な長渕は、負けん気は強いがメンタルは実は非常に弱く、いや弱いといふか神経がえらく過敏で傷つきやすい人である。
ツアーを中止せざるを得ないほどの病気療養は、そのメンタルからきたものである。

長渕のその時までのキャリアをみてみると、15歳の時、ラジオから流れてきた友部正人「一本道」や、加川良「こんばんはお月さん」にいたく衝撃を受けギターを手にして以来、数年で数々のコンテストに入賞、比較的すぐにプロデビューを果たし、「巡恋歌」「順子」のヒット、ライブもどんどん動員を増やし、テレビドラマの主役への抜擢、それらが全て大ヒットと、実に順調なミュージシャン道を歩んでいるのである。
「負けた負けた」といふタイトルを「レース」に変へたといふ点に着目すると、自づとミュージシャンとしてのキャリア、とりわけ競争社会におけるそれで敗北したといふことなのだが、客観的には別に負けてゐない。

もちろん、「巡恋歌」の前にビクターからデビューした最初の「雨の嵐山」がヒットせず帰郷を考えたり、(この頃のことは後の1990年に「電信柱にひっかけた夢」で歌われる)、石野真子との破局をはじめとする数々の失恋、「ヒット」に縛られ秋元康や阿久悠を起用するといつた「ポピュラリティ」の問題に対する苦悩、「ロック」といふ時代風潮へのフォークシンガーとしての対峙など、様々なる格闘こそあれ、である。
それらを全て気力で乗り切り、成功街道をひた走つてゐたはずなのである、この頃の長渕は。

しかし、そんな中の1986年、長渕は30を前にして、深き挫折を味わい、「負け」を認める。これは、側から見られるやうな商業的な「勝ち負け」とは次元を異にする何かとしか言へない。
そして、これはおそらく、当人にしかわからない。

ただ言へるのは、いはゆる、観念的な、「自分との戦い」といふやつではないと思ふ。いやいや、歌詞に「自分に負けた」とあるではないか。確かにある。しかもサビでリフレインでさう叫ぶ。しかし「自分に負ける」とは何か。俺はこれが分からない。
てめえの中にてめえなりの或る理想なり尺度があり、それに達することができないといふ深い絶望を感じた時、「負け」なのだらうか。さうではないといふ気がしてならない。
さういふ意味ではむしろ「社会的な勝ち負け」の方に属する何かであると、初めて聴いて以来30年間、さう確信し続けてゐる。

c0005419_22174454.jpg


ところで新曲の「Loser」は、さうした問ひとは無縁のものである。ここでの「負け」は、どこか観念的、普遍的なもののやうな気がする。それこそ「敗戦」「罹災」といつたものを含めた「敗北感」から、連帯し立ち上がれといふ「奮い立たせ」であり、長渕本人を含めた弱者我々へのメッセージでもあり、「敗北こそ明日への原動力」といつた「物語」に収斂されるもののやうである。それを否定するものではないけれど、俺には「レース」のごく個人的な、自分のためだけに向けた遠吠えの方に傾倒してしまふ。しかもそれは「自分に」負けたのではなく、「社会的に」「他者に」、すなはち、確かな実在を持って存するモノ、コトに負けたのだ。

では何に負けたのか。答えは『STAY DREAM』そして『LICENSE』の中にある。
改めて良作を聴き込んで次稿に続けたい。

「フォークとかロックとか演歌とかね、もう関係ないわけよ。要は、何歌つてんの?つてこと」
(ビデオマガジン「MOJO」1987年)


c0005419_22174407.jpg



「30代の長渕」年表

29〜30歳(1986年)
1月8日 八戸公会堂(LIVE'85 - '86 HUNGRY)
1月9日 青森市民文化会館
1月11日 郡山市民文化会館
1月14日 北海道厚生年金会館
1月17日 大阪城ホール
1月18日 大阪城ホール
1月21日 日本武道館
1月22日 日本武道館 ※長渕倒れ入院、以降の公演中止

病院に母親が上京見舞。「しつかりせんか!」とビンタされ、号泣。のちのドラマ「親子ジグザグ」で再現される。

4月30日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「Don't Cry My Love」)
5月30日 NHK-FM「平山雄一サウンド・ストリート」出演(録音)
6月7日〜8月16日 TVドラマ『親子ゲーム』(TBS系)
7月2日「SUPER STAR」
10月22日『STAY DREAM』
11月11日 大阪城ホール(LIVE'86 - '87 STAY DREAM)
11月17日 札幌市民会館
11月20日 広島郵便貯金ホール
11月28日 長野県民文化会館
11月29日 福岡サンパレス
12月11日 鹿児島市民文化会館
12月17日 愛知県体育館
12月22日 岩手県民会館
12月22日 映画『男はつらいよ 幸福の青い鳥』
12月24日 宮城県民会館


30〜31歳(1987年)
1月12日 日本武道館
2月25日 大阪城ホール
3月4日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「Stay Dream」)
5月25日「ろくなもんじゃねえ」
4月10日〜8月21日 TVドラマ『親子ジグザグ』(TBS系)
8月5日『LICENSE』
9月8日 静岡市民文化会館(LIVE'87 LICENSE)
9月9日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「泣いてチンピラ」)
9月11日 神奈川県民ホール
9月16日「泣いてチンピラ」

9月14日 京都会館
9月26日 神戸文化会館
9月28日 宮城県民ホール
10月1日 新潟県民会館
10月2日 長野県民文化会館
10月8日 鹿児島県民文化ホール
10月9日 鹿児島県民文化ホール
10月11日 広島郵便貯金ホール
10月13日 倉敷市民会館
10月18日 松山市民会館
10月19日 高松市民会館
10月31日 宮崎市民会館
11月2日 福岡サンパレス
11月13日 札幌厚生年金会館
11月17日 愛知県体育館
11月25日 大阪城ホール
12月2日 日本武道館
12月3日 日本武道館


31〜32歳(1988年)
1月27日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「乾杯」)
2月5日「乾杯」
3月5日『NEVER CHANGE』
4月20日 宮城県民会館(LIVE'88 NEVER CHANGE)
4月21日 郡山市民文化センター
4月23日 広島郵便貯金会館ホール
4月25日 倉敷市民会館
4月28日 愛媛県民文化会館
4月30日 福岡国際センター
5月5日 京都会館第一ホール
5月8日 長野県民文化会館
5月9日 新潟県民会館
5月11日 北海道厚生年金会館
5月14日 神戸ワールド記念ホール
5月16日 徳島市文化センター
5月18日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「NEVER CHANGE」)
5月20日 名古屋レインボーホール
5月22日 横浜文化体育館
5月25日「NEVER CHANGE」
5月31日 熊本市民会館
6月2日 鹿児島市民文化ホール
6月3日 鹿児島市民文化ホール
6月7日 静岡市民文化会館
6月15日  大阪城ホール
6月17日 日本武道館
6月19日  東京ドーム

10月7日〜11月25日 TVドラマ『とんぼ』(TBS系)
10月26日「とんぼ」


32〜33歳(1989年)
2月8日「激愛」
3月8日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「とんぼ」「激愛」)
3月11日 映画『オルゴール』(東映)
3月25日 『昭和』
3月29日 豊田市民文化会館(LIVE'89 昭和)
4月4日 金沢市観光会館
4月6日 長野県県民文化会館
4月12日 鹿児島県総合体育センター
4月13日 鹿児島県総合体育センター
4月17日 神戸ワールドホール
4月19日 徳島市文化センター
4月21日 香川県県民ホール
4月22日 愛媛県県民文化会館
4月27日 福岡国際センター
4月29日 長崎市公会堂
5月1日 宮崎市民会館
5月7日 京都PULSEプラザ
5月9日 徳山市文化会館
5月11日 広島サンプラザホール
5月14日 岡山市総合体育館
5月18日 横浜アリーナ
5月21日 国立代々木競技場
5月22日  国立代々木競技場
5月24日 国立代々木競技場
5月30日  青森市文化会館
5月31日 岩手県民会館
6月2日 仙台市体育館
6月6日 新潟市産業センター
6月8日 名古屋レインボーホール
6月9日 名古屋レインボーホール
6月12日 大阪城ホール
6月15日  札幌月寒グリーンドーム
6月19日 大阪城ホール
6月20日 大阪城ホール
7月13日 横浜アリーナ
7月14日 横浜アリーナ

12月8日「しょっぱい三日月の夜」
12月13日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「しょっぱい三日月の夜」)
12月16日 映画『ウォータームーン』(東映)


33〜34歳(1990年)
2月21日『LIVE '89』
2月28日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「お家に帰ろう」「いつかの少年」「とんぼ」)

7月25日 TV「夜のヒットスタジオDELUXE」出演(「巡恋歌」「カラス」「JEEP」)
7月25日「JEEP」
8月25日『JEEP』
9月22日 山梨県民文化ホール(LIVE'90 - '91 JEEP)
9月26日 群馬県民会館
9月27日 宇都宮市文化会館
10月3日 豊田市民文化会館
10月4日 滋賀県立文化産業交流会館
10月8日 徳島市文化センター
10月10日 福井フェニックスプラザ
10月11日 金沢観光会館
10月13日 神戸国際記念ホール
10月14日 神戸国際記念ホール
10月19日 和歌山県民文化会館
10月22日 名古屋レインボーホール
10月23日 名古屋レインボーホール
10月30日 香川県民ホール
10月31日 愛媛県民文化会館
11月5日 浜松アリーナ
11月7日 大阪城ホール
11月8日 大阪城ホール
11月10日  岡山市総合体育館
11月13日 広島サンプラザホール
11月15日  新潟県民会館
11月16日 新潟県民会館
11月22日 長野県民文化会館
11月24日 山形市総合スポーツセンター
11月27日 室蘭新日鉄ホール
11月29日 札幌月寒グリーンドーム
12月1日 仙台市体育館
12月5日  国立代々木競技場
12月6日 国立代々木競技場
12月8日 国立代々木競技場
12月10日 国立代々木競技場
12月11日 国立代々木競技場
12月16日 徳山市文化会館
12月18日 福岡国際センター
12月21日 鹿児島県立体育館
12月22日 鹿児島県立体育館
12月25日  熊本市民会館
12月31日  NHK「紅白歌合戦」


34〜35歳(1991年)
1月8日 郡山市民会館
1月10日 青森市文化会館
1月11日 岩手県民会館
1月17日 横浜アリーナ
1月18日 横浜アリーナ


10月10日〜12月19日 ドラマ『しゃぼん玉』(フジテレビ系)
10月25日「しゃぼん玉」
12月14日『JAPAN』


35〜36歳(1992年)
3月6日 浜松アリーナ(LIVE'92 JAPAN)
3月11日 広島サンプラザホール
3月16日 仙台市体育館
3月20日 金沢実践倫理会館
3月28日 高松市総合体育館
4月5日 名古屋レインボーホール
4月6日 名古屋レインボーホール
4月9日 神戸国際記念ホール
4月10日 神戸国際記念ホール
4月13日 岡山市総合文化体育館
4月16日 鹿児島市民文化ホール
4月17日 鹿児島市民文化ホール
4月24日 真駒内アイスアリーナ
4月29日 郡山市体育館
5月1日 盛岡アイスアリーナ
5月7日 福岡国際センター
5月9日 大阪城ホール
5月10日 大阪城ホール
5月15日  東京ドーム
5月19日 横浜アリーナ

10月28日「巡恋歌'92」


36〜37歳(1993年)
2月14日 愛媛県民文化会館(LIVE JAPAN'93)
2月16日 徳山市文化会館
2月18日 香川県民ホール
2月19日 香川県民ホール
2月24日 福井フェニックスプラザ
3月4日 名古屋レインボーホール
3月5日 名古屋レインボーホール
3月8日 日本武道館
3月9日 日本武道館
3月12日 日本武道館
3月13日 日本武道館
3月15日 日本武道館
3月16日 日本武道館
3月18日 山梨県民文化ホール
3月22日 神戸国際県民ホール
3月23日 神戸国際県民ホール
3月25日 京都会館
3月26日 和歌山県民文化会館
3月29日  大阪城ホール
3月31日 横浜アリーナ
4月1日 横浜アリーナ
4月4日 岩手県民会館
4月6日 広島市民文化センター
4月8日 仙台サンプラザホール
4月9日 仙台サンプラザホール
4月11日 山形市総合スポーツセンター
4月14日 浜松アリーナ
4月18日  宮崎市民会館
4月20日 鹿児島アリーナ
4月21日 鹿児島アリーナ
4月25日 岡山市総合文化体育館
4月27日 福岡国際センター
5月2日 群馬県民会館
5月3日 宇都宮市文化会館
5月7日 金沢実践倫理会館
5月9日 名古屋レインボーホール
5月11日  広島サンプラザホール
5月13日 静岡市民文化会館
5月15日 青森市文化会館
5月18日 真駒内アイスアリーナ
5月20日 新潟県民会館
5月21日 新潟県民会館
5月23日 長野県民文化会館
5月26日 大阪城ホール
5月27日 大阪城ホール

9月22日「RUN」
10月15日〜12月24日 テレビドラマ『RUN』(TBS系)
11月1日『Captain of the Ship』


37〜38歳(1994年)
8月10日「人間」
9月9日 山形市総合スポーツセンター(LIVE'94 Captain of the Ship)
9月13日 盛岡市アイスアリーナ
9月20日 真駒内アイスアリーナ
9月24日 岡山総合文化体育館 ※以降中止


38〜39歳(1995年)
10月4日「友よ」
11月16日 マリンメッセ福岡(LIVE'95 ACOUSTIC ROAD Just Like A Boy)
11月24日 札幌月寒グリーンドーム
11月27日 広島サンプラザ
12月2日 名古屋レインボーホール
12月6日 高松市総合体育館
12月12日 仙台市体育館
12月16日 大阪城ホール
12月21日 鹿児島アリーナ
12月26日 東京ドーム

by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-19 20:36 | 音楽 | Comments(0)  

縦書き横書きの新事実発覚


先日、とあるイベントにて翻訳家の金原瑞人が石川九楊の言を経由してか忘れたが、かつて日本語に横書きはなかつた、と言つてゐて衝撃だつた。

といふのもこれまで古書や石碑の類で、右から左に読む右横書きを多く目にしてゐたから。
だから勝手に、〈昔から日本語は右から左へ読み進める縦書きが基本で主流ではあるものの、近世に西洋の言語が入つて来てからは縦書きも横書きもレイアウトに応じて自在に。ただし横書きの際は右から左にへといふ慣習であつた。それが戦後、欧米のやうに横書きの際は左から右へ、となつたものだ〉と思つてゐた。

ところがあの「右横書き」は、「一行一文字の縦書き」なのだといふのである。知らなんだ。

そこでいろいろ縦書き横書きについて調べてみると、普通にウイキペディアなどにも載つてゐて、言はば常識である事が判明。
(ピタリの参考文献: 戦後日本で右書きの横文字が左書きに変わった瞬間をさぐってみた

とはいへ無知を恥ぢるより、「一行一文字の縦書き」に、どこか美を感じる方が先立ち、爾来、色紙へ揮毫などを頼まれると嬉々として「一行一文字の縦書き」で認めてるやうになつてゐる。

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by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-16 14:06 | 文学 | Comments(0)  

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out カバー集


ここ数日、解散30年の80sバンドとしてザ・スミスとボウイばかり懐古して16歳のあの頃に想いを馳せてゐるが、いよいよスミスのカバーにまで手を伸ばしてゐる始末。といふことで名曲「There Is A Light That Never Goes Out」のカバーを集めてみた次第だ。


The Smiths
'There Is A Light That Never Goes Out' covers


original
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Noel Gallagher
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The Cranberries
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The Killers
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Teeth & Tongue
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Dum Dum Girls
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Johnny marr
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Morrissey
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by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-10 23:05 | Comments(0)  

The Smiths: The Open Secret of 'Girlfriend in a Coma'(転載)


The Smiths: The Open Secret of 'Girlfriend in a Coma'

How a unique alternative-rock tune became the Smiths' most controversial song


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The Smiths – Mike Joyce, Andy Rourke, Johnny Marr and Morrissey – released "Girlfriend in a Coma" on August 10th, 1987, just days after the band officially broke up. Andre Csillag/REX/Shutterstock

By Armond White

転載元
RollingStone.com


Because its title is both shocking and hilarious, "Girlfriend in a Coma" is perhaps the most famous – and most scandalous – of all songs recorded by the Smiths. It's because of that shock, hilarity and scandal that the song deserves celebration on the 30th anniversary of its August 10th, 1987 release.

The legendary status of "Girlfriend" – included on the band's fourth and final album, Strangeways, Here We Come – began with singer-lyricist Morrissey's daring to provoke. He pretended to offend the tradition of conventional pop song subject matter; his daring was part of how the Smiths enlivened 1980s music, setting new standards for the language of popular communication. Morrissey won pop star status for romanticizing unconventional, misunderstood passions. His songs for the Smiths were trailblazing inspiration for the acceptance of social perspectives and emotional sensitivity that cool hipster rock had forbidden.

But not even the Smiths' devoted cult of alternative listeners – who enjoyed the stimulation of hearing a fresh, original approach to pop – were prepared for this salvo. By going against the hedonist, romantic clichés that typically ruled the pop charts, "Girlfriend'"s surprising, indirect poignance makes it a rare example of an alternative pop song whose reputation infiltrated the culture.

If the title itself seemed bizarre (an item supporting Elvis Costello's snarky allegation that Morrissey comes up with great titles then forgets to write the song), Girlfriend's" balance of solemnity and derision is not so morbid as detractors suggest; it actually lays out a challenge to group-think sentimentality. Composer Johnny Marr introduces sweetly charming and deceptive melody that Morrissey's first lines cunningly subvert, adding "la-la-la-la-la."

After a blues-based repetition of his title and thesis, Morrissey confesses the all-too-human exasperation sometimes felt in relationships even when not fraught with medical emergency.

"There were times when I could have strangled her/But you know I would hate anything to happen to her."

Morrissey jokes, but this is a no-joke irony. Its ethical demand is up there with "You're the One For Me, Fatty" as a bias-busting, precedent-setting, world-changing report on personal affection.

It's a new kind of love song, stranger – and more strangely affecting – than most because it zeroes in on the complex vagaries of love: Love equal to friendship; friendship equal to love. This understanding of human relations is more advanced than everyday pop. Morrissey opens up pop heterosexual clichés – queers them – with an open mind and kind-heartedness that reveals the song's true meaning, its open secret.

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The Smiths live at the GMEX Manchester, July 19th, 1986. Ian Tilton/Redux


"Girlfriend in a Coma" is an AIDS song. It's a response to the crisis that took the lives and broke the hearts of so many friends and lovers – the holocaust of the 1980s. In contradistinction to Elvis Costello's notion that Morrissey could not complete an introductory thought, the song's terse, subtle elegance goes on to address a worldwide trauma.

Poet-provocateur Morrissey displayed a pith and potency that refused to wallow in self-pity, just as Marr's delightful guitar melody refused to supply a dirge. But beneath the calm, white-knuckle surface, the pain is there, waiting to be discovered – especially by listeners who know how the record's complex emotions actually felt. (For those who don't, who are too inexperienced or unaware, the infectious tune teaches a lesson in sympathy.)

Good pop music is frequently full of jokes and impudence ("I'd like to drop my trousers to the Queen/Every sensible child will know what this means," as Morrissey joked in "Nowhere Fast"). But true wit in a pop record is rare and "Girlfriend in a Coma" has got it. The realization of suddenly threatened illness and possible death emboldens the seemingly simple, "shocking" subject so that this brief, two-and-a-half minute, song tests the substance of modern living, surviving and grieving during the Plague.


"Girlfriend in a Coma" is an AIDS song. It's a response to the crisis that took the lives and broke the hearts of so many friends and lovers – the holocaust of the 1980s.


Heard in the full context of the album Strangeways, Here We Come, the Smiths' final LP and to my mind their finest-yet achievement, "Girlfriend" is the jaunty coda that follows the longer but no less subtly profound "Death of a Disco Dancer." On that track, the band takes up gay, dance-music subcultures that suffered the phenomenon of sudden bereavement and connects their experience to the stunned mainstream – much as Prince's "Sign O the Times" also did that same year (it contained Prince's eulogy "a man died from a big disease with a little name").

Morrissey's large, spiritual view of the world's turmoil resembles Prince's litany of sorrows, but Morrissey's quotidian catastrophes ("I'd rather not get involved/I never talk to my neighbors I'd/Rather not get involved" – with a woeful swoop on "in-vooolved" as if emotional engagement had come a social faux pas – describes the condition of a fragmenting society that likely was getting worse: Indifference to AIDS tragedy – which the song reproaches –anticipates the next millennium's extreme political polarization. Morrissey is always indie pop's most moving, unsettling moral conscience.

Not many pop artists were capable of coming to grips with the AIDS tragedy; they were either mortified or incapacitated by anger – the first step of grief and political activism. But the latter is too obvious for Morrissey who had already agitated for PETA (his glorious anthem "Meat Is Murder" also avoided the usual protest song vulgarity). An ACT-UP anthem wasn't to Morrissey's temperament; his tone is more insinuating and Oscar Wildean sly. That's why "Death of a Disco Dancer" climaxes with clashing piano chords recalling Bowie's "John, I'm Only Dancing," while "Girlfriend" eases into Morrissey's so effective, plaintive mode: "Would you please let me see her!"

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He borrows the desperate waiting-room cry of anxious loved ones. "Do you really think she'll pull through?" underscores the implied concern – that's where Marr and producer Stephen Street strike an urgent note with violin strings, not weepy, but hard. It wipes the smirk off sarcasm. Morrissey resumes his feigned distance then, in no-pressure mode, grasps the fateful reality: "Let me whisper my last goodbye/ I know it's serious…"

That last line is beautifully sober – not mawkish or snarky, which are too often styles of adolescent resistance to admitting they have deep, hurtful, embarrassing feelings. "Girlfriend," by design, brings you up short. And Morrissey brings anyone's misjudging of his song craft – even Elvis Costello's – to a halt.

In the music video for "Girlfriend," director Tim Broad and Morrissey rejected a literal interpretation of the song and chose clips from the 1964 film The Leather Boys, a prime example of Morrissey's favored British New Wave kitchen sink realism, this time about a young man (Colin Campbell) who marries too soon and faces doubts about his masculinity, egged-on by his equally immature wife (Rita Tushingham). Her wide-eyed, accusing stare symbolizes the song's feminine pronoun ("her/she") so that the video's images construct postmodern (it was the Eighties, remember?) conflict between genders. The video portrays the friendship and commiseration to which the song is a remarkable testimony.

Few pop songs are about grief, but Morrissey's attempt to acknowledge grief with humor and tenderness is why "Girlfriend in a Coma" is extraordinary.







by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-10 22:19 | Comments(0)  

Why It's Great the Smiths Broke Up(転載)


ボウイと同様、1987年のスミス解散から30年。

転載元
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/features/the-smiths-why-breakup-of-morrissey-johnny-marr-andy-rourke-mike-joyce-matters-w496728

ちなみにフェイスブックの翻訳がとんでもない。
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Why It's Great the Smiths Broke Up

Celebrating the breakup of the Manchester foursome – Morrissey, Johnny Marr, Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce – 30 years later


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The breakup of the Smiths was pre-ordained. The band, circa 1985. Pictorial Press Ltd./Alamy

by Mark Simpson


There's nothing quite like realizing that it's
three entire decades since the most perfectly-beautiful, perfectly-worded, perfectly-pitched and perfectly-quiffed relationship you ever had ended for making you feel dead and buried already.


Yes, this month is the big 30th anniversary for the 1987 breakup of the Smiths – possibly the most fraught, emotional and oft-lamented breakups in musical history. The Smiths generation keeps trying to piece back together its broken home, even as they find themselves closer now to their own retirement home than the 1980s. If only the lead guitarist Johnny Marr and lead singer Morrissey hadn't fallen out of handsome love with one another. If only they'd had a manager that they – i.e. Morrissey – could work with. If only Moz hadn't chosen to record that silly Cilla Black track that Marr hated! If only the NME hadn't run that premature "break-up" story. If only Marr, who was living on cocaine and booze at the time, had got himself a cheese and pickle sandwich from Boots instead of going home in a huff.

And if they'd stayed together – for the sake of the kids – imagine how the Smiths would have gone on to make the world listen! Imagine how they would have silenced with total, global, crushing success all those vulgar people that hated them and laughed at us loser fans back then! Imagine the body of work they would have produced by now! Instead of forcing us to keep going back to those four albums – and buying all those countless compilations, reissues, repackages and retro-vinyl limited release scratch-and-sniff picture discs.

But actually, really, very deep down, among our squidgesiest bits, I think we're all, even the biggest, die-hardest fans, secretly really quite glad the Smiths broke up. And if you're not, you probably should be. Their "premature" demise was entirely timely. It saved us from ever having to suffer the unspeakable outrage of a mediocre Smiths album. Something considerably less survivable than end of the band. And it would have come, as surely as bed death follows boredom. That's what happens when any band, let alone one as passionate and truthful as the Smiths, don't like each other anymore but "keep the show on the road."

The expiry of the Smiths after five incandescent years saved them not only from existing in the same timeline as acid house, but also from becoming the very thing they hated and which they rallied the disaffected youth of the "entrepreneurial" Eighties against: just another business. We were spared them ever becoming the Indie Rolling Stones. Or Coldplay with a frontman. Or, that form of musical living death as ghastly as it is commonplace, their own tribute band. Thanks to Cilla Black and that missing cheese sandwich, the Smiths now live on forever in their – and our – pomp: shining, stainless, peerless. No one can touch a hair on their head.

The Smiths, that's to say the creative, emotional, sexy-but-sexless marriage of Morrissey-Marr, were not simply a band, they were, as the name advertised, a family – the non-nuclear, passionate, alternative family to the thermo-nuclear Price Is Rightprimetime family sired by the monetarist marriage of Thatcher-Reagan. This was the 1980s, if you're crumbly enough to remember, that was not just dominant at the time, but compulsory: "There is no alternative" Maggie famously decreed.


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Johnny Marr (left) and Morrissey of the Smiths pose together in the store room of Rough Trade records in London in 1983. Clare Muller/Getty Images


So the Smiths were effectively banned from daytime BBC Radio 1 – except as a punchline – and from pretty much all of the non-NME press, and thus from the upper reaches of the singles charts. The highest charting Smiths single ever was a 1992 reissue of "This Charming Man," five years after they had given up the ghost – it got to Number Eight. The original release in 1983 stalled, criminally, at Number 25 – one of the greatest singles in pop history didn't even reach the Top Twenty. Even then their hippy record company Rough Trade reportedly struggled to press enough copies of their records, so it's probably just as well it seemed to have a publicity budget smaller than Phil Collins' annual spend on combs.

All of which, while a source of great frustration to the band and to Morrissey in particular (and also bitter inspiration: e.g. "Frankly Mr Shankly"), was rather wonderful from the selfish point of view of the fans.

Because it meant that the Smiths remained a well-kept secret, one that belonged entirely to them – and being a Smiths fan in the Eighties was to be part of a very exclusive misfit club. Though in fact this exclusivity just came down to three requirements: Do you have any taste? Do you have a heart? And do you have a sense of humor? "The Smiths are sooooooo depressing!" said every naff twat you knew in the Eighties – which was millions upon millions. But, annoying as it was, every time you heard that lazy dismissal it confirmed something deeply, almost sexually satisfying: that most people simply didn't deserve to be Smiths fans.

All this was about to change in 1987. The Smiths had a brand new non-hippy record label, EMI, with plenty of printing presses and even cash to splash on publicity. The monster that is the American market was beginning to stir and had fixed its rapacious eye upon them. They were poised to finally reap the rewards of all their hard and tender work: the misfit Mancunians were about to become masters of the universe. And probably end up playing stadiums full of those people who used to tell you: "The Smiths are sooooooo depressing."

Many of those people now pretend they were fans anyway, since the Smiths, a band at gentle but total war with the Eighties, has ended up defining that decade, artistically, aesthetically, and even politically (now that neoliberalism is no longer topping the charts). Everyone wants a piece of them – precisely because thanks to the "untimely" split The Smiths never were bought and sold to everyone.

And because they never reformed, despite the perennial feverish speculation – Smiths reformations have become the latter-day Elvis sightings. As Morrissey himself put it back in 2006, mercilessly squashing yet another reunion/resurrection rumor: "We are not friends, we don't see each other. Why on earth would we be on a stage together?" Of course, the answer is money – great steaming ever-increasing wodges of the stuff – but that really wouldn't be the Smiths, who were never about the moolah. Only the Sex Pistols could (just about) get away with calling their (1996) reunion: "The Filthy Lucre Tour." The closest the Smiths seem to have come to reforming was in 2008 when Marr and Morrissey almost rekindled their friendship – before Morrissey lapsed into Morrisseyean silence again.

Besides, since the termination of his union with Marr, Morrissey has had a long and (mostly) successful solo career doing pretty much precisely what he wants – which is partly why the Smiths reforming without him is so inconceivable. Morrissey was the face, the voice, the poet, the ideologist, the polemicist, the art director, the photo researcher, the archivist, the skinny vegan sex symbol, the stand-up comedian, the ego, the invalid and the big fat mouth of the Smiths that a generation of "losers" fell hopelessly-hopefully in love with. And it is probably Steven Patrick Morrissey's own needy, emotional attachment to the Smiths as the band that saved him from being a fanboy forever smothered in a box bedroom in Stretford that has – so far – saved it from the ritual cannibalism of a reunion.

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Morrissey performs live at Wellington Town Hall on December 14th, 2012 in Wellington, New Zealand. Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images

The breakup of the Smiths was pre-ordained anyway. It was foretold in their very first and perfectly-formed single, conceived between their second and third gigs and released in May 1983 – the startlingly original yet bafflingly timeless "Hand in Glove," a three minute, derriere-scorching epic which peaked at Number 124(I told you the 1980s were swinish). It announces the snug union of Morrissey-Marr as a kind of updated Jo-Geoff odd/queer alliance (from Morrissey's uber-text, Shelagh Delaney's A Taste of Honey), and the Smiths as their alternative family looking to adopt a generation. It also urgently evangelizes the Smiths' ironic but entirely sincere credo: "The sun shines out of our behinds/No, it's not like any other love/this one is different – because it's us."

Here, in the first single, is a declaration of war on the shoulder-padded sensibility of the Eighties: "Yes, we may be hidden by rags/But we have something they'll never have" promising to "fight to the last breath." But for all the bravado and insolent optimism, Morrissey imploring his new-found "charmer" to stay on his arm and find the "good life out there, somewhere," the song ends on a melancholic and as it turns out accurately prophetic note: "But I know my luck too well/And I'll probably never see you again." There's something in the third repeat of that last line and it's drawn-out delivery that is wistful and pensive – "I'll prob-ly ne-ver see you-ou a-gain" – but deliciously so.

The prospect of losing what has been gained just after gaining it is what is already preoccupying Morrissey. But then, the masochistic logic of pop music decrees that the whole point of possessing someone is so that you can lose them – so that you can possess them forever, nostalgically. By the end of "Hand in Glove," the very first Smiths single is already nostalgic about the end of the Smiths.

At its happy-sad heart, the magic of great pop music is this bitter-sweet-sweeter blend of hope and despair, possession and loss: The sweetness of happiness and the even sweeter sadness that lies behind happiness and the prospect of losing it. The Smiths, of course, had this magic in spades and were a beautifully-doomed band for a beautiful, doomed generation. Their demise was always part of the deal.

Mark Simpson is the author of Saint Morrissey.

by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-10 10:51 | Comments(0)  

GIGS CASE OF BOØWYを整理


『GIGS CASE OF BOØWY THE ORIGINAL』の発売により、これまでの音源(『GIGS CASE OF BOØWY Complete』)が、0731神戸、0807横浜のどちらを使つてゐたか=どちらが今回初出なのか、といふことが明らかになつた。

今回、MCも完全収録されてゐるやうで、既発版では「MCが神戸で演奏が横浜」といつた手の込んだ編集が行はれてゐたことも発覚。

以下に、今回初出となるものをMCを含め挙げる。
(つまり逆が既出。既出版は8割強が神戸であつたといふことになる)
本来は演奏や歌唱のどの部分がどう違ふかまで叙述すべきなのだが疲れるのでやめる。


Introduction 実演でないのでどちらか分からず
Image Down 神戸
Baby Action 横浜
MC「ハロー! オーライ?久しぶりの、えー横浜文体で、こんなに大勢集まつてくれて本当に嬉しいと思います。今日は、いつものライブと違つて、ケイスオブ、ボウイだぜ? ラッツ!」(横浜)
MC「ハロー、よく来てくれたぜ。ごちゃごちゃいうより聞いてもらひたいと思います」(神戸)
Rats 横浜
Moral 横浜
MC「今の曲を、一回こんな大勢の前でやつてみたかつたのが俺の夢だぜ」「女の子たちに送ります、懐かしいやつです、ギブイット、トゥミー!」(横浜)
MC「それぢやあ、女の子たちに送ります、ギブイット、トゥミー!」(神戸)
Give It To Me 横浜
16 横浜
This Moment 横浜
わがままジュリエット 横浜
Bad Feelin' 横浜
MC「最高。オーライ。それぢやあ、一曲、おまえたちにピッタリの曲を、送ります。松井が、詩を書いた歌なんだけど。オーライ、ライクアチャイルド!」(横浜)
MC「松井が一曲書いた曲を、聴いてほしいと思ひます、ライクアチャイルド!」(神戸)
Like A Child 横浜
Oh! My Jully Part 1 横浜
MC「最高のロックンロールを送りますワーキング、マン」(横浜)
MC「体あつたまつてるか?オーケー、行くぜ、ワーキングマン!」(神戸)
Working Man 横浜
B・Blue 神戸
Teenage Emotion 横浜
London Game 横浜
No. New York 神戸 *頭のMC「最後の曲です」は既出、横浜はMCなし


Dancing in the Pleasure Land 横浜
Rouge of Gray 横浜
MC「いくぜーい。ぢやあ、一度乗つたら降りられないやつやります、ランナウェイ、トレイン」(神戸)
Runaway Train 横浜
B・E・L・I・E・V・E 神戸
Cloudy Heart 横浜
MC「何年も前のアルバムなんだけど、セカンドアルバムのインスタントラブの中のタイトル曲を聴いてくださいインスタントラブ」(神戸)
Instant Love 横浜
Funny-Boy 横浜
MC「オーケーそれぢやあタテノリのやつ送りますマイ、ハニー」(神戸)
My Honey 横浜
MC「えー結構懐かしい曲ばかりなんで、みんな、知らない奴も何人かいたり、するんぢやないかつて思ふんで。絶対、誰も知らないやつ送りますレッツ、シンク」(神戸)
Let's Think 神戸
1984 -Label of Complex- 横浜
MC「えーぢやあ新しいやつをきいてください、プラスティックボム」(神戸)
Plastic Bomb 神戸
MC「こないだ、久々に出した、シングル、聴いてほしいと思います。こんなかに操られてるやつはいないだろうな。行くぜ」(横浜)
Marionette 神戸
MC「新しいやつ行くぜ」(横浜)
Rendez-Vous 横浜
MC「スーパーカリフラジリスティックエクスペアリドーシャス」(神戸)
MC「スーパー、スーパーカリフラジリスティック、スーパーカリフラジリスティックエクスペアリドーシャス」(横浜)
SUPER-CALIFRAGILISTIC-EXPIARI-DOCIOUS 横浜
ハイウェイに乗る前に 横浜
Justy 横浜
ホンキー・トンキー・クレイジー 横浜
MC「いつも、夢を見ているやつに送つてるやつを、送ります、ドリーミン!」(横浜)
Dreamin' 横浜
MC「やりますビート、スイート」(神戸)
Beat Sweet 横浜 *頭MCだけ既出
Blue Vacation 横浜
MC「サンキュー、ほんとにありがとう。センクス。最後に、俺たちのラブソングの中で一番素敵なやつ送ります、オンリーユー」(横浜)
Only You 横浜
MC「ぢやあ、BOØWYが始まつたときに、すげえ、大事にしてゐた曲を、送ります。オンマイ、ビート!」(横浜)
On My Beat 横浜

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by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-07 20:41 | Comments(0)  

100 Best Debut Albums of All Time(転載)


ビートルズ50thだつた2013年のRolling Stone誌の記事がまだweb上に残つてゐたがいつ消えるとも知れずここに転載保存しておかん。ベスト10ものは独断と偏見に満ちたものほど面白い。

転載元
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/lists/the-100-greatest-debut-albums-of-all-time-20130322/boy-19691231


100 Best Debut Albums of All Time
From the Beatles to Nas and beyond

March 22, 2013
c Rolling Stone 2017



It was 50 years ago that the Beatles released their first album, Please Please Me. In honor of that world-changing LP, weve compiled a list of the 100 Greatest Debut Albums of All Time. A note on how we made the list: Albums got docked points if the artist went on to far greater achievements (which is why Please, Please Me and Greetings from Asbury Park, great as they are, didnt made the Top 10); conversely, we gave a little extra recognition to great debut albums that the artist never matched (hello, Is This Itand Illmatic!). We also skipped solo debuts by artists who were already in well-known bands, which is why you wont see John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band or Paul Simon. We focused, instead, on debuts that gave you the thrill of an act arriving fully-formed, ready to reinvent the world in its own image.




100. The Fame
Lady Gaga
Interscope, 2009

The title sounded like wishful thinking when Stefani Germanottas album arrived in August 2008 to a shrug from radio programmers and record-buyers. By the spring of 2009, though, Germanotta, aka Lady Gaga, was famous indeed. Gagas debut was a game-charger, making dark, booming dance-pop?buoyed by the almighty four-on-the-floor thump of Eurodisco?the dominant sound of the global charts. And it introduced the world to an outrageously plus-sized form of pop divadom?to a provocateur and fashion plate who treated the whole world as her red carpet. Those paparazzi she sang about werent just metaphorical, after all.​​



99. The Gilded Palace of Sin​​
The Flying Burrito Brothers
A&M, 1969

"Were a rock & roll band that sounds like a country band," Gram Parsons said of the Burritos, whose first album was an obscure Sixties masterpiece that drew the blueprint for both Seventies country rock and todays alt-country. Parsons and Chris Hillman formed the Burritos after they both quit the Byrds; in many ways, Gilded Palace picks up where the Byrds Sweetheart of the Rodeo left off. Together, the mercurial Parsons and the levelheaded Hillman concocted a crazily coherent statement of irony-fueled hillbilly anthems, inventive covers and achingly beautiful two-part harmonies, all underscored by Sneaky Pete Kleinows radical pedal-steel guitar.
​​



98. Look Sharp!
Joe Jackson
A&M, 1979

He didnt have Elvis Costellos way with words, or Graham Parkers blue-eyed-soul-man style. But Joe Jacksons debut showed that he could match his rival angry young Brits where it counted: song-for-song. Look Sharp! is a near-perfect short, sharp New Wave-pop album, toggling from wiry punk ("Got the Time") to witty ballads ("Is She Really Going Out with Him?"), from social commentary ("Sunday Papers") to bruised romance ("One More Time"). Secret weapon: Jacksons ferocious little four-piece band, especially bassist Graham Maby, who nearly steals the show.
​​



97. Endtroducing....
DJ Shadow
London/Mo Wax, 1996
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Unlikely DJ savior Josh Davis nearly did for the turntable what Hendrix did for the guitar ? bringing vibrant technical brilliance, wild beauty and multifaceted musical texture to an instrument some rock Luddites still didnt even consider to be an instrument at all. He came out of the Mo Wax trip-hop scene but tracks like "Permanent Slump" and "Changeling" had more in common with the spaced psychedelic rock explorations than they did with whatever DJ Krush was up to. But the rich, crackling beats themselves ? culled from countless records discovered over a lifetime of crate digging ? reminded everyone what was fun and free about hip-hop.​​




96. Madonna
Madonna
Sire, 1983
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The artist herself would later dismiss the post-disco pop on her debut as "the aerobics album." But it didnt just succeed in introducing the most important female voice in the history of modern music, its also aged much better sonically than Like A Virgin, her blockbuster 1984 follow-up. Loaded with hits like "Borderline" and "Holiday" (the latter produced by her then-boyfriend, John "Jellybean" Benitez) and the great communal anthem "Everybody," it put downtown New York electro grooves all over the Top 40. Fun fact: it also works great as aerobics music.​​




95. Heres Little Richard
Little Richard
Specialty, 1957​​
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"I came from a family where my people didnt like rhythm and blues," Little Richard told Rolling Stone in 1970. "Bing Crosby, Pennies From Heaven, Ella Fitzgerald was all I heard. And I knew there was something that could be louder than that, but didnt know where to find it. And I found it was me." Richards raucous debut collected singles such as "Good Golly, Miss Molly," in which his rollicking boogie-woogie piano and falsetto scream ignited the unfettered possibilities of rock & roll. "Tutti Frutti" still contains what has to be considered the most inspired rock lyric on record: "A wop bop alu bop, a wop bam boom!"
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94. The Who Sings My Generation
The Who
MCA, 1965
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The Who exploded out of the West London Mod scene and pushed rock and roll to new levels of intensity and volume on their debut. Theyre in maximum-R&B mode: power-chorded reductions of James Brown ballads hurled forward by a manic freight-train rhythm section. When Pete Townshend was badgered by a manager into beefing up his laidback demo of "My Generation," the resulting explosion knocked a hole in the future. In its raw, delinquent intensity, My Generation is a blueprint for much of the garage-rock, punk and heavy metal that flourished after it was released.
​​




93. Almost Killed Me
The Hold Steady
Frenchkiss, 2004

Even on their first album, these Brooklyn-via-Minneapolis dudes had it all: drugs, sex, Catholic guilt, trashy bar-band guitars. Craig Finn splutters his crazed one-liners about killer parties gone bad, from "Mary got a bloody nose from sniffing margarita mix" to "I did a couple favors for these guys who looked like Tusken Raiders." "Certain Songs" pays tribute to a bar where the jukebox has the perfect ratio of Meat Loaf to Billy Joel. Commercial? Not exactly. Yet the Hold Steady sounded so real and raw, so loaded with wit and compassion and energy, this made them a word-of-mouth sensation.
​​




92. Moby Grape
Moby Grape
Columbia, 1967
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What a beautiful mess Moby Grape were, and what an amazing noise they made on their debut album, a stunning artifact of San Francisco rock at its 67 peak. Jerry Miller, Peter Lewis, Don Stevenson, Bob Mosley and Skip Spence all sang like demons and wrote crisp pop songs packed with lysergic country-blues excitement. And the bands three guitarists ? Miller, Spence and Lewis ? created a network of lightning that made songs like "Omaha,"?"Changes" and "Hey Grandma" shine and sizzle. Columbia hyped this album to near death (issuing five singles at once), but the music is just as thrilling now as it was in 67. This is genuine hippie power pop.
​​




91. Arular
M.I.A.
XL, 2005

"London calling, speak the slang now," crowed Anglo-Sri Lankan rapper Maya Arulpragasam, and no one could begrudge her the Clash reference. Arular was the sound of punk and agitprop meeting the 21st century ? a protest march, a street riot, and a carnival, conducted over rousingly rackety beats. The production, by M.I.A. and her then-beau Diplo, recast hip-hop as low-fi global party music. But its M.I.A. who commands the spotlight, whether flirting ("My finger tips and the lips/Do the work, yeah/My hips do the flicks), sloganeering ("Pull up the people, pull up the poor"), needling ("You can be a follower but whos your leader?"), or talking glorious nonsense: "Purple Haze/Galang a lang a lang lang."​​



90. #1 Record
Big Star
Ardent/Stax, 1972

Alex Chilton and Chris Bell were the Memphis whiz kids at the heart of Big Star. They mixed British pop finesse with all-American hard rock, from the surging "Feel" to the acoustic "Thirteen," one of the most beautiful love songs ever written. Chilton, who had been a teenage star with the Box Tops, sang in a high, bright voice that bristled against jagged, ringing guitars. Big Stars back-to-basics idealism didnt sell many records in the progressive-rock-dominated early-Seventies but over the years they inspired artists such as the Replacements and R.E.M..​​



89. Upstairs at Erics
Yaz
Mute, 1982

The ultimate Eighties synth-pop manifesto. Alison Moyet was the brash girl singer with the soul pipes. Vince Clarke was the keyboard geek punching the buttons. Together, they made an album full of club classics like "Situation," "Too Pieces" and "Dont Go," along with "Midnight," a torch ballad Smokey Robinson could have written for Dusty Springfield. Clarke had already tasted fame with Depeche Mode; he famously quit in a huff after they rejected "Only You," which became Yazs first hit. He moved on to Erasure, Moyet to solo hits, but their short-lived partnership was the essence of sideways-haircut romance.​​



88. Homework
Daft Punk
Virgin, 1997
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Daft Punks debut is pure synapse-tweaking brilliance. French duo Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo proved that techno and house could be as elastic, catchy and, at times, as funny as the poppiest pop without diluting its hypnotically driving, acidic essence. Homeawork had standout hits ? like "Da Funk" and the anthemically bloopy "Around the World." But it was paced like a great album, weaving hip-hop and funk (and, on "Rock N Roll," even some Seventies glam) into the mix, with pauses for oceanic contemplation (the guitar-washed "Flesh") and hip-hop influenced skits like "WDPK 83.7 FM," in which a French-accented robo-DJ promises "the sound of tomorrow and the music of today." Considering their towering shadow over all subsequent EDM, that brag sounds like truth in advertising.​​
​​



87. Mass Romantic
The New Pornographers
Mint, 2000

"Where have all sensations gone?" Neko Case asked on this Vancouver bands debut. A lot of indie-rockers were wondering the same thing during the musics late-Nineties nadir. The New Pornos gave the scene a jolt of energy and sorely missed fun. Burt Bacharach fan Carl Newman, Bowie obsessive Dan Bejar and alt-country barnburner Case didnt have much in common on paper but on songs like "Letter From An Occupant" and the title track they came up with music that surged with electric smarts, roundhouse drum-pump and hooks atop hooks. Its power pop that never lets up for a minute.​​



86. good kid, m.A.A.d city
Kendrick Lamar
Top Dawg/Aftermath/Interscope, 2012

The last thing hip-hop was expecting in 2012 was a record like Kendrick Lamars debut: a mainstream triumph by a leftfield star, a classic album that built on narratives not punchlines or braggadocio, a cracked lens view of one of raps sacred terrains, Compton, California. In good kid, m.A.A.d city, Lamar sets spiritual yearnings and moral dilemmas against a stark backdrop of gang violence and police brutality. When Lamar does unleash a hair-raising boast ? "I pray my dick get big as the Eiffel Tower/So I can fuck the world for 72 hours" ? the triumphalism feels well-earned.​​



85. Rage Against the Machine
Rage Against the Machine
Epic, 1992
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"I believe in this bands ability to bridge the gap between entertainment and activism," declared Zack de la Rocha, whose radical politics found sympathetic muscle in Tom Morellos howling one-guitar army. On songs like "Killing in the Name" and "Bullet in the Head" Morellos effects-soaked guitar sounded like a DJ scratch, an air raid siren and Led Zeppelinall at once and hardcore punk vet de la Rochas righteous voice was louder than a bomb: "They say jump/ you say how high" They spawned a million rap-rock imitators but blaming them for Limp Bizkit it like blaming sunshine for garden weeds.
​​




84. Whitney Houston
Whitney Houston
Arista, 1985

The blockbuster debut of the 21-year-old Whitney, a great pop singer with the voice of a great soul singer. She could do steamy R&B like "You Give Good Love," she could do bubble-pop electro-boogie like "How Will I Know," she could do Hollywood schlock like "The Greatest Love Of All." And ? this was the confusing part ? she sang them all like they meant the same thing, which to her they did. Whitney had bigger triumphs ahead of her ? she hit her creative peaks as a full-grown woman. But the vocal firepower of her debut changed the way pop voices emoted for the next 15 years.​​



83. Paid In Full
Erik B. and Rakim
4th and Broadway/Island 1987

Laid-back and diamond-sharp,?Rakim was the finest rapper of the Eighties, and this album is a big reason why. Paid in Full was one of the first hip-hop records to fully embrace Seventies funk samples on stone classics such as "I Know You Got Soul" and the title track. But it was Rakims impossibly cool voice and seemingly effortless flow that stunned listeners, along with the fearlessness of lines like: "Its been a long time, I shouldnt have left you/Without a strong rhyme to step to/ Think of how many weak shows you slept through."​​



82. Heart of the Congos
The Congos
Black Ark, 1977

With all due respect to the Wailers, this 1977 set by the vocal duo of "Ashanti" Roydel Johnson and Cedric Myton is probably the most psychedelic and spiritually potent roots reggae set ever made, and the greatest achievement of famed Jamaican producer Lee "Scratch" Perry. Unearthly harmonies bob in a whirlpool of echo and reverb alongside lowing cyber-cattle and other sound effects as the men sing of Jah, Africa, and the Bible, making art thats as much religious ritual ? and mind-altering substance ? as it is music. Which is exactly the point.​​



81. Entertainment!
Gang of Four
Warner Bros., 1979
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The Clash and the Sex Pistols had raged at rocks corporate structure but Marxist punks the Gang of Four dug into "the dirt behind the daydream" of capitalism without sounding like pallid grad students. In fact, Entertainment!s mix of punk fury and funk attack was a revelation. Andy Gills staccato guitar hits played perfectly off of singer-lyricist Jon Kings bleat. The stiff, jerky aggression of songs such as "Damaged Goods," "Anthrax" and "I Found That Essence Rare" influenced everyone from the Red Hot Chili Peppers to the whole DFA Records dance-rock scene.​​



80. Mr. Tambourine Man
The Byrds
Columbia, 1965
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"Wow, man, you can even dance to that!" said Bob Dylan when he heard the Byrds heavily harmonized, electric twelve-string treatments of his material. The Byrds tender-but-tough debut defined folk rock with Pete Seeger and Dylan covers, Los Angeles studio savvy and punchy, ringing guitars. Its influence on generations of "jangly" rock and roll makes it one of the Sixties most visionary albums and while the Dylan songs got most of the ink, their originals ("Ill Feel A Whole Lot Better") were just as great.​​



79. Elvis Presley
Elvis Presley
RCA, 1956
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In November 1955, RCA Records bought Presleys contract, singles and unreleased master tapes from Sun Records for $35,000. His first full-length album came out six months later, with tracks drawn from both the Sun sessions and from further recording at RCAs studios in New York and Nashville. "There wasnt any pressure," guitarist Scotty Moore said of the first RCA sessions. "They were just bigger studios with different equipment. We basically just went in and did the same thing we always did." On tracks such as "Blue Suede Shoes," that meant revved-up country music with the sexiest voice anyone had ever heard.​​



78. The Stone Roses
The Stone Roses
Silvertone, 1989
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Before Oasis, Blur and their kin "invented" Britpop, there was the self-titled 1989 debut by the Stone Roses, who rose from Manchesters ecstasy-addled proto-rave scene with a sound that reaffirmed the glory of chiming, heady UK rock & roll. If they owed something to the sugar-smeared tunefulness of U.S. peers like R.E.M., their day-glo attack owed nothing to indie-rock coyness. The albums manifesto, after all, is titled "I Wanna Be Adored" ? a line that in fact sounds a lot like "I wanna be your dog" when they sing it. Which is appropriate: The Stooges were punks who wanted to be adored, too.​​



77. Thank Me Later
Drake
Young Money/Cash Money/Universal Motown, 2010

A Canadian Afro-Jewish former teen television star who raps about the malaise of macking over dourly down-tempo ambient beats? It didnt quite sound like the recipe for an instant hip-hop landmark (nor for a commercial blockbuster), but with his 2010 debut, Drake remade rap?and for that matter, pop?in his own woozy image. Thank Me Later was a classic album-album, built to be listened to straight through, with chief producers Noah "40" Shebib and Boi-1da providing a sustained mood of swank sluggishness, and Drakes raps mixing bravado and blues?a party-hearty crown prince with a depressive side. Of course, hes also a punchline champ: "Im busy getting rich, I dont want trouble/I made enough for two niggas, boy?stunt double."​​



76. Are We Not Men? We Are Devo!
Devo
Warner Brothers, 1978
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Most bands try to go for a hot new sound on their debut album. Devo did them all one better with a hot new philosophy ? impressing the gospel of societal "devolution" on a Seventies America that definitely needed to hear it. Billing themselves as "suburban robots here to entertain corporate life forms," they played tight, torrid music that contorted the assembly line pulse of their native Akron, Ohio on songs like "Jocko Homo," "Uncontrollable Urge" and a version of "Satisfaction" that stripped the Stones original down to its corroded chassis.​​



75. Beauty and the Beat
The Go-Gos
A&M/I.R.S., 1981
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The most popular girl group of the New Wave surfed to the top of the charts with this hooky debut. Everyone knows "We Got the Beat" and "Our Lips Our Sealed," exuberant songs that livened up the Top Forty, but the entire album welds punkish spirit to party-minded pop ? from the L.A. anthem "This Town" to splashy power-pop like "Skidmarks on My Heart" and "Cant Stop The World." Its a beachscape of catty girls and pretty boys, and an image of Southern California thats just as indelible as anything by the Eagles or Doors.​​



74. xx
The xx
XL/Young Turks, 2009

Pop was in a maximalist phase, all pummeling Eurodance beats and rococo production flourishes, when these London indie rockers arrived with a radically different musical message: less can be much, much more. Songs like "Crystallized" and "Islands" are masterpieces of minimalism ? songs built around simple chord progressions, delicate guitar and keyboard ostinatos, the gentle rub of Romy Madley-Croft and Oliver Sims his-and-hers croons. Its beautiful music, an exercise in restraint, in the artful use of space and silence. Its also funky (check the bonus track cover of Aaliyahs "Hot Like Fire") and, against all odds, sexy ? booty call music for the blog-rock set.​​



73. Come Away with Me
Norah Jones
Blue Note, 2002

Maybe the most surprising blockbuster of the 21st century, at 10 million-plus copies sold and counting, this sultry set made easy-listening music actually worth listening to. The magic is mainly in Jones sexy, silky tone and effortless phrasing ? its not surprising her previous efforts included diva turns on downtempo EDM jams. But the song selection, including Hank Williams "Cold Cold Heart" and Hoagy Carmichaels "The Nearness of You" alongside gems from a new generation of craftsmen, was also first-rate, while the arrangements balanced smoky jazz and soft pop without turning to abstraction or schmaltz. The result splits the difference between a languid kiss and a juicy bong hit.​​



72. Led Zeppelin
Led Zeppelin
Atlantic, 1969
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On their first album, Led Zeppelin were still in the process of inventing their own sound, moving on from the heavy rave-ups of guitarist Jimmy Pages previous band, the Yardbirds. But from the beginning, Zeppelin had the astonishing fusion of Pages lyrical guitar playing and Robert Plants paint-peeling love-hound yowl. "We were learning what got us off most and what got people off most," said Plant. Yet the template for everything Zeppelin achieved in the 1970s is here: brutal rock ("Communication Breakdown"), thundering power balladry ("Your Time Is Gonna Come"), acid-flavored folk blues ("Babe Im Gonna Leave You").​​



71. Whats the 411
Mary J. Blige
Uptown/MCA, 1992

Mary J. Blige and producer Sean "Puffy" Combs built a platinum-plated bridge between the then disparate worlds of hip-hop and R&B, earning her the undisputed title "Queen of Hip-Hop Soul." Blige was as tough as a rapper but smooth and sweet like an old-school diva and on inviting but rugged songs like "Real Love" and "Reminisce" she imbued a streetwise elegance that brought a fine new realism to R&B. Whats the 411? was just as much as important in its own right as Illmaticor Ready To Die, laying the groundwork for independent women like Lauryn Hill and Beyonce.
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70. Dry
PJ Harvey
Too Pure, 1992
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22-year-old singer-guitar punisher Polly Jean Harvey dropped her ferocious debut just six months after Nirvanas game-changing Nevermind. But this English rocknroll trio invented an alternate type of raw power to Seattle grunge, whether Harvey was breathlessly singing "Im happy Im bleeding" over Captain Beefheart slide guitar blooze riffing, easing herself metaphorically into a body-bag ("Plants and Rags"), or spinning a psychosexually amped-up remake of the Samson and Delilah myth. Biblical passion never rocked so hard. "I put everything I had into it," she said years later. "It was a very extreme record." It still is.​​



69. Pink Flag
Wire
Harvest 1977
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Wire were the sharpest, most inventive malcontents in the UK punk class of 77, knocking out two-chord blasts of primal blurt that made the Sex Pistols sound like Traffic. Pink Flag seemed to reimagine rock itself from the basement up -- from the surging, war-torn "Reuters" to the static-cling power-pop of "Ex Lion Tamer" and the lovely, skeletal romanticism of "Fragile." It became one of the most influential indie-rock albums ever and one of the most covered records of all time -- Minor Threat and Elastica did "12XU," R.E.M. did "Strange," Spoon did "Lowdown," the New Bomb Turks did "Mr. Suit," fIREHOSE did "Mannequin" and on and on.​​



68. Talking Heads: 77
Talking Heads
Sire, 1977
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The Heads dressed like they were interning at the IRS and embraced a tightly wound normality as rebellion. "For a long time, I felt, Well, fuck everybody, " David Byrne told Punk magazine in 1976. "Well, now I want to be accepted." The result was an ingeniously constricted but upbeat sound and lyrics so normal they sounded borderline crazy: "I see the laws made in Washington, D.C. / I think of the ones I consider my favorites / I think of the people that are working for me." The chilling "Psycho Killer," on the other hand, was just plain crazy-crazy.
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67. Get Rich or Die Tryin
50 Cent
Interscope, 2003

In Fiddys hands, the thug life was not merely a lifestyle ? it was a code, an ethos, a Zen path to showbiz glory. When Dr. Dreand Eminem unleashed him in 2003, America couldnt get enough of the ripped, tatted, bullet-riddled stud. 50s debut was full of dark, nickel-plated songs where he played up his hardcore image, but he also had no shame making songs for the ladies: With hits like "In Da Club," he packed dance floors at discos and bar mitzvahs alike. Fun fact: Get Rich or Die Tryin went nine-times platinum, making 50 the first rapper to sell a million for each time he had gotten shot.
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66. The Stooges
The Stooges
Elektra, 1969
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Fueled by "a little marijuana and a lotta alienation," the Stooges gave the lie to hippie idealism, playing with a savagery that unsettled even the most blase clubgoers. The band was signed to Elektra, despite label head Jac Holzmans misgivings that "the Stooges could barely play their instruments. How were we going to get this on record?" Ex-Velvet Underground member John Cale produced a primitive debut wherein, amid Ron Ashetons wah-wah blurts, Iggy Stooge (ne James Osterberg) snarled seminal punk classics such as "I Wanna Be Your Dog," "No Fun" and "1969." The record stiffed, but it undeniably gave birth to punk rock.​​



65. Exile In Guyville
Liz Phair
Matador, 1993

It was pretty much impossible to hang around a cool girls dorm room in the mid 1990s and not see this indie-rock landmark on the CD shelf. A studio expansion of Phairs homemade Girlysound tape, Exilewas a stunning double album that sounded like its songs had gone from her firecracker brainstem straight to tape with the only slightest guitar-drums mediation. The barebones songcraft caused as much of a stir as her frank sex talk on "Flower" and "Glory." But its the lacerating honesty of tracks such as "Divorce Song" that sticks, and "Fuck and Run" is one of the saddest songs ever written about dreaming of romance and settling for less.​​



64. I Just Cant Stop It
The English Beat
I.R.S., 1980

They called themselves the Beat, and they lived up to the moniker: no other UK ska-revival act had their knack for festive rhythm. I Just Cant Stop It showed they were a great dance band, with the ragamuffin toasting of Ranking Roger and sweet saxophone lines of graybeard horn-maestro Saxa floating atop the incessant beat. But they were also a razor-sharp pop group. Lead singer Dave Wakeling wrote deft melodies and lyrics that cast a sharp, cold eye on romance and Thatcher-era politics. The album title doubles as a party-credo and ? if you listen to words of the torrid "Mirror in the Bathroom" ? a lampoon of preening pretty boys.
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63. Shes So Unusual
Cyndi Lauper
Epic/Legacy, 1983

Laupers first band had broken up, she had filed for bankruptcy, and she was singing in a Japanese restaurant. Then this debut album of exuberant, razor-sharp dance pop became the first by a female performer to score four Top Five hits, including?"Girls Just Want to Have Fun" and "Time After Time." The Queens-bred singer looked like a punked up Betty Boop and her sound was admirably elastic ? from here cover of Princes "When You Were Mine" to the reggae tinged "Witness" to an amazing take on the Brains "Money Changes Everything," which sounds at once like a pissed off song about careerist jerks and a anthem of pure nows-my-time ambition.​​



62. Roxy Music
Roxy Music
Reprise, 1972
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In England in the early Seventies, there was nerdy art-rock and sexy glam-rock and rarely did the twain meet. Until this record, that is. Roxy Music mixed future-shock experimentalism in the form of Brian Enos synth-doodles with Old-world charm in the form of Bryan Ferrys tuxedoed croon. "2HB," an ode to Humphrey Bogart, looked back to the grace of vintage Hollywood, while the storming electro-glitz of "Virginia Plain" proved they could write wham-bam hits and translucent cyber-rock like "Ladytron" laid the cloud-car highway to Radiohead and beyond.
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61. Up the Bracket
The Libertines
Rough Trade, 2002

Before he became famous for all the wrong reasons, Pete Doherty led the Libertines to gutter-punk glory on the bands 2002 debut. Produced by Mick Jones of the Clash, Up the Bracket (the title was British slang for a punch in the throat) was a blur of slurred harmonies, budget-guitar grime and songs that always seemed like they might disintegrate or careen off the tracks. It could have been a mess, but thanks to Doherty and Carl Barats giant stash of swishy, Kinksian hooks, the album was as off-handedly tuneful as it was trashy ? music that felt like a slightly dodgy, ultimately thrilling night on the town.​​



60. Tidal
Fiona Apple
Columbia, 1996

In the age of Alanis and Jewel, the airwaves were crawling with troubled ingenues singing tragic ballads about their haunted eyes, but Fiona Apple stood out as a bad, bad girl. Apple was still in her teens when she made Tidal, but the New York art waifs husky voice and jazzy piano gave her confessions a surprisingly adult tone. She also came up with a knockdown theme song in "Criminal," the tale of a young woman whos been careless with a delicate man and even more careless with her delicate self. Tidal was just the beginning ? and Apple has kept topping herself artistically ever since.​​



59. Fever to Tell
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Interscope, 2003

Ladies and gentlemen, Karen O! The Yeah Yeah Yeahs debut introduced the world outside New York to the beer-swilling frontwoman, who sounded like shed eaten Pat Benatar for breakfast while rocking out to Siouxsie and the Banshees. The gorgeous ballad "Maps" was the surprise hit, but most of the album found O spitting fiery slogans ? "Were all gonna burn in hell!" ? like a crazed art-school diva. With Nick Zinner dishing thick, badass riffs and Brian Chase laying down thudding drums, this was vicious garage punk that put fear into the hearts of bass players everywhere.​​



58. Pretty Hate Machine
Nine Inch Nails
TVT, 1989
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When Trent Reznor made Pretty Hate Machine, he was just another New Wave synth dork who failed to hit the big time during the Eighties gold rush. His big claim to fame was playing back-up to Michael J. Fox and Joan Jett in the flop flick Light of Day. But in his studio fantasies, he became an industrial demon lord, barking commands over mechanical stun-beats: "Bow down before the one you serve / Youre gonna get what you deserve!" With "Head Like a Hole," "Terrible Lie" and "Kinda I Want To," Reznor was the king of the goth dance floor.​​



57. Oracular Spectacular
MGMT​​
Columbia, 2008

Two hipster geeks from Wesleyan plug in their rad vintage keyboards, pick out some fetching headbands and compose a suite of damn-near-perfect synthesized heartache. The songs on Oracular Spectacular get even better if you tune in close to the vocals ? but you dont have to figure out a single word of "Kids" to feel the poignant kick of that massive nine-note keyboard hook. The whole album is an odd collection of Seventies psychedelic love-bead sensibility and Eighties New Wave cool.​​



56. For Emma, Forever Ago
Bon Iver
Jagjaguwar, 2008

Justin Vernon sulked out of exotic Eau Claire, Wisconsin to become the indie bard of the late 2000s. At core, Emma is the sound of a dude sitting in a woodland cabin with an acoustic guitar singing in slurred falsetto about… well, its hard to parse what, exactly. But the gist is unmistakable: gorgeously tuneful, and at times hallucinogenic melancholy, dressed in shimmering drones and vocal harmonies, anticipating a folk-rock renaissance that kindled kindred spirits like Fleet Foxes and Grizzly Bear.​​



55. Supa Dupa Fly
Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott
The Goldmine/Elektra, 1997

No album summed up the glories of Nineties radio as perfectly as Supa Dupa Fly, the spaced-out avant-funk bomb that introduced Missy as the don of Virginia Beach. With her partner in crime, Timbaland, Missy claimed hip-hop and R&B as her personal playground, with a voice that dripped soul whether she was singing, rapping, or just chanting the words "beep beep" wherever she could fit them in. Missy struts her stuff in hits like "The Rain," "Sock It 2 Me" and the hysterical "Izzy Izzy Ahh," conquering the world and getting her vroom on. Years later, Supa Dupa Fly still sounds futuristic.
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54. Kill Em All
Metallica
Megaforce/Elektra, 1983

Check out that awesome band picture on the back cover ? these guys looked nothing like Eighties rock stars. Instead, they looked like four shaggy headbanger kids with nothing going for them except the fervor of true believers. Yet that was enough to change the world. Metallica might have taken inspiration from U.K. bands like Iron Maiden or Diamond Head, but they channeled it all into something new and distinctive, in the speedy thrash riffs of "Hit the Lights ? and thats exactly what it sounds like.​​



53. New York Dolls
New York Dolls
Mercury, 1973
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"Could you make it with Frankenstein?" these glammed-out proto-punks asked, not kidding at all, baby. Produced by Todd Rundgren, the fast, cheap and out of control New York Dolls cooked down the Stones decadent blues, the Crystals street-tough sassiness and the Velvet Undergrounds torrid noise into songs like "Personality Crisis," "Trash" and "Bad Girl." They dressed like hookers but they single-bootedly kicked low-life New York swagger into a new era, with a hunger and intensity that no British glitter-rock prima donna could match. Rock still hasnt gotten over it.​​



52. Boy
U2
Island, 1980
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Too ingenious for punk, too unironic for New Wave, U2 arrived on Boy as big-time dreamers with the ambition to back it up; it was the first time anyone had the guts to think post-punk could have the mass and scope of arena-rock (the bands original choice for producer, before going with Steve Lillywhite, was Martin Hannett, of Joy Division fame). The Dublin foursome boasted Bonos flag-waving voice and Dave "the Edge" Evans echoey, effects-laden guitar, as well as anthemic songs such as the club favorite "I Will Follow." Every part of every arrangement is played for exhilarating impact. Pretty soon, theyd have plenty of followers of their own.​​



51. The Smiths
The Smiths
Sire, 1984
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Sexual frustration, long sighs, an Oscar Wilde fetish, the Velvets and Stones and girl groups and movie worship ? its all there on the Smiths insanely original debut. The groundbreaking sound was equal parts Morrisseys morose wit and Johnny Marrs guitar chime. Moz trudges through Englands cheerless marshes in "Still Ill" and "This Charming Man" and sings about child murder on Suffer Little Children" He was a whole new kind of rock star (one who sang things like "For the good life is out there somewhere/ So stay on my arm, you little charmer/ But I know my luck too well"), and he transformed the iconography of UK pop forever.​​



50. Los Angeles
X
Slash, 1980

Produced by Ray Manzarek of the Doors, this is the first great West Coast punk album. Searing songs fly off like sparks, including a zippy cover of the Doors "Soul Kitchen," opener "Your Phones Off the Hook but Youre not" and the torrid, William S. Burroughs-influenced "Johnny Hit and Run Paulene," all propelled by guitarist Billy Zooms rockabilly flash, D.J. Bonebrakes drums and John Doe and Exene Cervenkas cat-scratch harmonies and street-poet vibe. One song title perfectly sums up their scrawled message: "The Worlds A Mess, Its In My Kiss."​​



49. Franz Ferdinand
Franz Ferdinand
Domino, 2004

Everything got a lot livelier when these mod Scottish dance-whore boys showed up, wearing tighter trousers and flaunting catchier tunes than any band out there. The Franz lads declared their mission was making "music for girls to dance to," with frantic guitar jitters and a disco sense of melodrama in hits like "Take Me Out," "Michael" and "Darts of Pleasure." Alex Kapranos vocals are full of smeared-mascara goth sex as he sighs pick-up lines like "I can feel your lips undress my eyes." Kanye West called them "white crunk music," Lil Wayne covered "This Fire" and the band still gets girls dancing.​​



48. Modern Lovers
Modern Lovers
Beserkley, 1976

Jonathan Richman moved from Boston to New York as a teenager in hopes of sleeping on Lou Reeds couch. That influence shows on the two-chord anthem "Roadrunner." Recorded in 1972 but not released until 1976, Lovers turned the tough sounds of the Velvet Undergroundinto an ode to suburban romanticism, pure love, parents, the Fifties and all kinds of other things were that were totally uncool in the early Seventies. "[Rock] wasnt about drugs and space," he said years later. "It was about sex and boyfriends and girlfriends and stuff."​​



47. Piper At the Gates of Dawn
Pink Floyd
Tower, 1967
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"Im full of dust and guitars," Pink Floyds Syd Barrett told Rolling Stone. Heres what that sounded like. The bands debut is all playful, psychedelic imagery and acid guitars. "Astronomy Domine" shows the groups pop side; "The Gnome" gets high on observations like "look at the sky/Look at the river/Isnt it goooood"; "Interstellar Overdrive" is a orgiastic guitar freakout that still leaves a burning sensation in the back of your brain. Barretts vision of psychedelia was blues-free, a huge innovation in late-Sixties England, and his genius-freak persona has been a chimeric lodestar for scads of trippy shut-ins.​​



46. Ten
Pearl Jam
Epic, 1991

When their debut came out, Pearl Jam were competing with Nirvana in a grunge popularity contest they were bound to lose. Yet Ten is a near-perfect record: Eddie Vedders shaky, agonized growl and Mike McCreadys wailing guitar solos on "Alive" and "Jeremy" push both songs to the brink and back again. Where Nirvana proposed a violent broke with classic rock, Pearl Jam worked in the tradition of the Who, giving estranged, forgotten Gen X refugees the arena-stage they deserved. Their influence has been incalculable and ? Creed notwithstanding ? pretty great.​​



45. Psychocandy
The Jesus & Mary Chain
Reprise, 1985
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Scottish boys with amazing hair, terrible skin, leather pants and black shirts buttoned up to the neck surfing a wave of gloom and enjoying every moment of it. The Mary Chains debut is a decadent masterpiece of bubblegum pop drowned in feedback (see "Just Like Honey," "My Little Underground" and "Never Understand"). Psychocandy proved a massive influence on both sides of the pond, inspiring shoegaze in England and the noisy strain of indie pop in the States. Bands such as The Pains of Being Pure at Heart and albums such as My Bloody Valentines noise-on-noise masterstroke Loveless are impossible to imagine without this albums jet engine mope.​​



44. Black Sabbath
Black Sabbath
Warner Brothers, 1970
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While the hippies huffed flower power in 1970, this Birmingham crew preferred sulfuric fumes. The album that arguably invented heavy metal was built on thunderous blues-rock ? see "The Wizard," which suggested the same juke-joint Lord Of The Rings obsession Led Zeppelin had. But the title track, with its famously downtuned Tony Iommi riffage, would define the sound of a thousand bands. And by the time Ozzy Osbourne sings "my name is Lucifer, please take my hand" on "N.I.B." it was hard not to feel pulled over to the dark side yourself.
​​



43. Grace
Jeff Buckley
Columbia, 1994
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​​Blessed with impressive pedigree (he was the son of the Sixties folk-pop icon Tim Buckley) and a voice of great range and deep character, Jeff Buckley was cursed with a perfectionists streak. Buckley had scrapped one stab at a second album and was gearing up to start over when he drowned in a freak accident in Memphis in May 1997, leaving Grace as the only studio album completed to his satisfaction in his brief lifetime. But it is a rich legacy: the transportive blend of serpentine guitars and Buckleys melismatic singing in "Mojo Pin" and "Grace"; the garage-band swagger and velvet pathos of "Last Goodbye" and "So Real"; the way Buckley turns Leonard Cohens "Hallelujah" into delicate, personal prayer.​​



42. Definitely Maybe
Oasis
Creation, 1994
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With a guitar fire-storm that raged like primo Stones, this Manchester crew declared their intent on "Rock N Roll Star," a bold declaration released amid alt-rocks cult-of-the-anti-star culture, and only months after Kurt Cobains suicide. All bluster, bravado and borrowed Beatle-isms (not to mention Bowie and T-Rexbites), it soars from hook to juicy hook. And when Liams snarl slips up into falsetto for the titular line of "Live Forever," its clear that ? on record, anyway ? that this crew would.​​



41. Boston
Boston
Epic 1976

A landmark of Seventies hard rock, from the not-so-mean streets of Swampscott, Massachusetts. Tom Scholz, an MIT-educated Polaroid engineer, spent years in his basement studio, devising the perfect sonic formula. He found it, which is why Boston has remained in constant radio rotation ever since. The guitars feel epic, yet delicate and intimate in emo moments like "Something About You" and "Peace of Mind." In "More Than a Feeling," Scholz built a cathedral to young-adult male romantic yearning, with every second scientifically crafted for maximum impact ? right down to Sib Hashians climactic drum fills in the final fade-out. Come back, Mary Ann ? come back!​​



40. Marquee Moon
Television
Elektra 1977
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When the members of Television materialized in New York, at the dawn of punk, they played an incongruous, soaring amalgam of genres: the noirish howl of the Velvet Underground, brainy art rock, the double-helix guitar sculpture of Quicksilver Messenger Service. As exhilarating in its lyrical ambitions as the Ramones debut was in its brutal simplicity, Marquee Moons singular vision still amazes. "Friction," "Venus" and the mighty title track are jagged, desperate and beautiful all at once. As for punk credentials, dont forget the cryptic electricity and strangled existentialism of guitarist Tom Verlaines voice and songwriting.​​



39. (Pronounced L?h-nerd Skin-nerd)
Lynyrd Skynyrd
MCA 1973
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From the git-go, these shaggy folks from deepest Jacksonville, Florida played hard, lived harder and shot from the hip, all three guitars blazing in music that blew past the Mason-Dixon line to become Americas next top boogie-rock. Discovered and produced by from essential mid-Sixties Dylan sideman Al Kooper, Skynyrd offered taut rockers including "Poison Whiskey" and the perpetual lighter (well, now iPhone) waving anthem "Freebird." Perhaps the ultimate Southern rock band and this record aged shockingly well; just ask the Drive-By Truckers.​​



38. Outlandos dAmour
The Police
A&M, 1978
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They would get bigger, but they never sounded fresher. From Stings smoothly syncopated bass to Andy Summers prog-rock guitar and Stewart Copelands precision drumming, the Police were post-punks who could play their instruments, absorbing reggae and jazz into the spare, bouncy sound of their debut album, a record that didnt sound quite like anything before it. The risque "Roxanne,"?"Next to You"?and "So Lonely"?proved that Sting was already a top-notch pop songwriter and these songs are in the DNA of everyone from No Doubt to U2.​​



37. Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J.
Bruce Springsteen
Columbia, 1973

"Madmen, drummers, bummers, and Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat" begins the future Boss, going on to unspool a sound and a cast of characters from a New Jersey seaside town that would change the landscape of rock & roll. "Growin Up" was a creation myth of a kid inventing himself on stages, "For You" anticipates the screen-door slam and lets-blow-this-town chivalry of "Born to Run," and "Spirit in the Night" launches the indomitable soul of Clarence Clemons and his horn. The beginning of one helluva ride.​​



36. Give Up
Postal Service
Sub Pop, 2003
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Released 20 years after synth-pop was left for dead and just after "electronica" had been written off amid an indie-rock revival, this 2003 gem was created by Death Cab For Cutie singer Ben Gibbard, who was just hitting his stride, with EDM maestro Jimmy "Dntel" Tamborello. Full of skittering fractal beats and buoyed by cameo vocals from Rilo Kileys Jenny Lewis, this emotional travelogue achieved a one-off perfection Gibbards main crew never quite managed. A million-some copies later, its a blueprint for electronic pop; just ask that Owl City kid.​​



35. Weezer
Weezer
DGC 1994
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When it came out, Weezers debut was merely a cool, quirky power-pop album with a couple of hit singles: "Buddy Holly"?and "Undone?(The Sweater Song)." But Rivers Cuomos band became a major influence the young sad-sack punkers who today claim Weezer as one of emos pioneers. Mixing winking deadpan delivery with serious hooks, guarded sensitivity and a deep disinterest in alt-rocks then-roiling culture wars, they came up with a record thats aged much better than a lot of the serious indie-rock of the time ? denizens of which dismissed the Weez as a bad, major-label joke. Well, whos smirking now?​​



34. The Doors
The Doors
Elektra 1967
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After blowing minds as the house band at the Whisky-a-Go-Go, where they were fired for playing the Oedipal drama "The End," the Doors were ready to unleash their organ-driven rock on the world. "On each song we had tried every possible arrangement," drummer John Densmore said, "so we felt the whole album was tight." "Break On Through (to the Other Side)," "Twentieth-Century Fox" and "Crystal Ship" are pop-art songs that were beyond Top Forty attention spans. But the Doors hit pay dirt by editing one of their jam songs for airplay:?"Light My Fire," written by guitarist Robby Krieger when Jim Morrison told everybody in the band to write a song with universal imagery.​​



33. Hot Fuss
The Killers
Island, 2004

So what if they were from Vegas, not the U.K., and the year was 2004, not 1983? The Killers were determined to be Duran Duran anyway. Hot Fuss was a blast of irresistible synth grooves and lyrics about sex, dancing, jealousy and gender-bending, delivered by Brandon Flowers in the worlds greatest bad British accent. "All These Things That Ive Done" was the roof-raiser, building to the magnificently dippy chorus, "I got soul but Im not a soldier!" "Mr. Brightside" and "Smile Like You Mean It" will always sound great in sleazy rock bars at 2 A.M. Best line: "I take my twist with a shout."
​​



32. Three Feet High And Rising
De La Soul
Tommy Boy 1989
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At the end of the Eighties, De La Soul rolled out a new style called "D.A.I.S.Y. Age," which stood for "Da Inner Sound, YAll." They led the Native Tongues posse ? no gold chains, just samples, skits, jokes and beats. This happily sprawling album is the sound of middle class pals pushing raps possibilities by expanding its subject matter and sonic makeup; their ingenious producer Prince Paul bit everyone from P-Funk to Hall and Oates and Johnny Cash. And on tracks like "Eye Know" and "Me, Myself, and I" De La Soul presented an optimistic eclecticism that served as a buoyant alternative to the rap scenes swaggering conformity.​​



31. Dummy
Portishead
Go! Discs 1994
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Portishead used some of the same building blocks as fellow Bristol, England, trip-hoppers Massive Attack ? woozy break beats, jazzy samples, live guitar, girl singer/guy programmer dynamic ? but Beth Gibbons brooding, pop-cabaret vocals showed to the world that you could feel real pain over a slow-dissolve groove. Dummy had a lot in common with the creepy beatscapes of the Wu-Tang Clans RZA but its depth-charge emotional power also evoked Forties noir and late-night, last-cigarette balladry. When Gibbons sings "nobody loves me...its true/Not like you do," against the fragile, cold-storage Lalo Schifrin sample of "Sour Times," shes a Billie Holiday for the chillout room.​​



30. Whatever People Say I Am, Thats What Im Not
Arctic Monkeys
Domino 2006

Now this was one strange Brit-pop success story: Where were the fashion statements and model girlfriends? It turned out that all the Monkeys needed to conquer the world was scrappy, lager-fueled tunes about being young and bored in a bleak steel town. Alex Turner sang about waiting all week for Saturday night, only to strike out with the same local girls he bombed with last week. Thanks to Turners big bag of creaky melodies and the bands snaggletoothed guitar attack, even America couldnt resist pub-punk gems like the raging, sexy "I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor." Its the fastest selling debut album by a band in the history of the UK, quite an achievement if you consider their competition.​​



29. Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)
Wu-Tang Clan
Loud/RCA, 1993
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East Coast hip-hop made a return in 1993, thanks to a nine-man troupe of Staten Island, New York, MCs with a fascination for Hong Kong martial-arts mythology and producer RZAs love of menacing atmospherics. Hip-hop had been harder, but it had rarely been this dirty. Steeped in dusty soul samples and spine-crawling pianos, the RZAs epochal beats seem to hang suspended in billows of weed smoke, the perfect lush, menacing ambient for the project-stairwell grandstanding of Raekwon, GZA, Method Man, Ghostface Killah, et al. As the Nineties progressed, the Wu would infect the rest of hip-hop and R&B like an unshakable virus.​​



28. B-52s
The B-52s
Warner Bros. 1979
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The debut by the B-52s sounds like a bunch of high school friends cramming all their running jokes, goofy sounds and private nicknames into a New Wave record. "We never thought it would get past our circle of friends in Athens [Georgia]," vocalist Fred Schneider told Rolling Stone. It turned out nobody could resist the bands campy, arty funk, or the eccentric squeals and bouffant hairdos of Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson. (Playing organ, Pierson also defined the bands sound.) They played toy instruments, and their thrift-store image was as inventive and colorful as their music ? which, with "Rock Lobster," was pretty inventive and colorful.​​



27. Van Halen
Van Halen
Warner Bros. 1978

The strutting frontman as spandex-clad love machine, the finger-flying guitar hero, the kegstand rhythm section: Van Halen was the ultimate party band and their debut feels like the Eighties arriving two years ahead of schedule. Tunes like the fist pumping "Runnin With the Devil," the muscular "Atomic Punk," a thunderous cover of "You Really Got Me" and "Aint Talkin Bout Love" put the show-biz swagger back in hard rock, and Eddie Van Halens jaw-dropping technique raised the bar for six-string pyrotechnics, particularly on "Eruption," the solo that launched a thousand dudes messing around at Guitar Center.​​



26. Run-DMC
Run-D.M.C.
Profile/Arista 1984
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A rap album? The idea was esoteric back in 1984, but the debut full-length by Joseph "Run" Simmons, Darryl "D.M.C." McDaniels, and D.J. Jason "Jam Master J" Mizell changed that?and transformed American pop culture. Songs like "Sucker M.C.s" and "Hard Times" jettisoned the party-hearty disco bounce of early rap for blunt, blasting beats and rhymes. It was music that had the swagger, the attitude?the volume?of rock and roll; on "Rock Box," Run-D.M.C. even had the audacity to toss in a wailing heavy metal guitar. "Our DJs better than all these bands," they rapped, a boast that turned out to be a prophecy.​​



25. Slanted and Enchanted
Pavement
Matador 1992
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Pavement were the quintessential American independent rock band, and this is the quintessential indie-rock album. The playing is loose-limbed, the production laid-back and primitive, the lyrics quirky and playful, the melodies sweet and seductive. But the sound is as intense as the white noise of the Velvet Underground. Recorded on the super-cheap in Brooklyn and in their thirtysomething drummers Stockton, California studio, Slanted and Enchanted is one of the most influential rock albums of the 1990s; its fuzzy recording style can be heard in the music of Nirvana, Liz Phair, Beck, the Strokes and the White Stripes.​​



24. Vampire Weekend
Vampire Weekend
XL, 2008

Vampire Weekend came out of Columbia University in the late 2000s, showing a pronounced affinity for boat shoes and button-downs as well as an intimate knowledge of African guitar music. Their debut backed up massive press buzz with suavely seductive pop-rock songs about college campuses and trysts with Benetton-wearing ladies. Ezra Koenigs Paul Simon-esque melodies were as refined as his education, floating over bright keyboards and Afropop-tinged grooves. Koenig had a term for VWs music: Upper West Side Soweto. However you label the sound, it was manna for Brooklyn-y boys and Molly Ringwald girls all over the world and helped fuel a discovery of global sounds in indie-pop.​​



23. Ready to Die
The Notorious B.I.G.
Bad Boy 1994
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"At the time I was making the album," B.I.G. told Rolling Stone in 1995, "I was just waking up every morning, hustling, cutting school, looking out for my moms, the police, stickup kids; just risking my life every day on the street selling drugs, you know what Im saying?" B.I.G. (a.k.a. Biggie Smalls) took all that gritty life experience and crammed it into Ready to Die, the best record by the greatest rapper who ever lived and hip-hops finest debut by a stretch. "Big Poppa" is the hit sex jam; on "Things Done Changed" and "Everyday Struggle," he relates gangsta tales in a voice as thick as his waistline. "Im definitely a writer," Biggie said. "I dont even know how to freestyle."​​



22. Violent Femmes
Violent Femmes
Slash, 1983

Is there a more brilliantly icky ? let alone unlikely hit-making ? leadoff track in history than "Blister In The Sun"? A trio of Milwaukee nerds using little more than guitar, standup bass, and a snare drum, the Femmes did big-box string-band busker-pop years before Marcus Mumford was a rumble in his parents pants. And they did it with a wickedly tragic sense of humor. When Gordon Gano whines "Why cant I get just one fuck?!" on "Add It Up," you hear the voice of every pimply, frustrated teenage dude since time began. Unsurprisingly, it (eventually) went platinum.
​​



21. My Aim Is True
Elvis Costello
Columbia 1977
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Costello on the fuel for his debut: "I spent a lot of time with just a big jar of instant coffee and the first Clash album, listening to it over and over." The music doesnt have the savage attack of the Clash ? its more pub rock than punk rock ? but the songs are full of punks verbal bite, particularly "Waiting for the End of the World"?("Dear Lord, I sincerely hope youre coming/Cause you really started something"). The albums opening lines ? "Now that your pictures in the paper being rhythmically admired" ? and the poisoned-valentine ballad "Alison" established Costello as one of the sharpest, and nastiest, lyricists of his generation. He pretty much reinvented the Dylan-esque singer-songwriter in his own nerd-avenger image.​​



20. Unknown Pleasures
Joy Division
Factory, 1979
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This breathtaking 1979 set was to punk what The Velvet Underground & Nico was to psychedelia ? a reveal of the seething dark underbelly of a cultural movement. Produced by Martin Hannett, who makes the band sound like theyre performing in a meat cooler, it introduces Ian Curtis, who wails the Manchester existential blues with a despair so powerful, it somehow transcends hopelessness (when he sings "Ive got the spirit," on the amazing Arctic-chunnel of an album-opener "Disorder," its as thrilling as it is blood-chilling). A model for countless brooding rock bands to come.​​



19. The College Dropout
Kanye West
Roc-A-Fella/Def Jam 2004

He was already a Hall of Fame-worthy beatmaker?the inventor of "Chipmunk Soul"?but Kanye West wanted to rap, and in 2004 Jay-Z, Wests mentor and Roc-A-Fella Records major domo, let the guy record his debut. The result was hip-hop like no one had heard it before: riotous gospel ("Jesus Walks"), wild boudoir music ("Slow Jamz"), tear-jerking family drama ("Family Business"). It was a sound that combined, as Kanye put it, "a Benz and a backpack," fretting over materialism even as it reveled in it. All this, plus "Through the Wire," the greatest song ever rapped through a jaw that was wired shut.​​
​​



18. Murmur
R.E.M.
I.R.S. 1983
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"We wanted to have this kind of timeless record," guitarist Peter Buck said of R.E.M.s debut, and this "technically limited" band (according to producer Don Dixon) did just that. Buck was a rock scholar who had worked in a record store; singer Michael Stipe unspooled his lyrics as if they constituted some new secret language. Murmur is full of ringing guitar and mystery. The lyrics and the melodies seem buried, almost subliminal, and even the songs with something approximating hooks, such as "Radio Free Europe" and "Sitting Still," resist clarity. Murmur was a founding document of alternative rock, released just as Gen X was heading off to college.
​​



17. Please Please Me
The Beatles
Parlophone, 1963
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The Beatles recorded ten of the fourteen songs on their British debut album at EMIs Abbey Road studio in just over twelve hours on February 11th, 1963. For productivity alone, its one of the greatest first albums in rock. The Beatles had already invented a bracing new sound for a rock band ? an assault of thrumming energy and impeccable vocal harmonies ? and they nailed it using the covers and originals in their live repertoire: the Shirelles "Boys"?and Arthur Alexanders "Anna"; the Lennon-McCartney burners "Theres a Place" and "I Saw Her Standing There." John Lennon finished up by shredding what was left of his vocal cords on two takes of "Twist and Shout."​​



16. The Cars
The Cars
Elektra 1978
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No band has ever knocked out a debut so packed with straight-to-car-radio classics. "We used to joke that the first album should be called TheCars Greatest Hits," said guitarist Elliot Easton. The Cars was arty and punchy enough to be part of Bostons New Wave scene and yet so catchy that nearly every track ("My Best Friends Girl," "Just What I Needed") was like a brilliant single. The very idea that cool refinement and feathered-hair heartland appeal could exist together was minted here. Bands from Weezer to the Strokes to Fountains of Wayne are unthinkable without this albums example.​​



15. Funeral
Arcade Fire
Merge 2004

Loss, love, forced coming-of-age and fragile generational hope: Arcade Fires debut touched on all these themes as it defined the independent rock of the 00s. The Montreal band made symphonic rock that truly rocked, using accordions and strings as central elements rather than merely as accessories, with a rhythm section that never let up. Songs like "Wake Up," "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" and "Rebellion (Lies)" were simultaneously outsize and deeply personal, like the best pop. But for all its sad realism ? "I like the peace in the backseat," sings Regine Chassagne at the albums end, knowing the sense of security is utterly false ? this was music that still found solace, and purpose, in communal celebration.​​



14. Reasonable Doubt
Jay-Z
Roc-A-Fella 1996

"The studio was like a psychiatrists couch for me," Jay-Z told Rolling Stone, and his debut is full of a hustlers dreams and laments. It established Jay as one of his generations premier rappers and includes the lyrically brilliant "22 Twos" and a filthy guest appearance from a sixteen-year-old Foxy Brown on "Aint No Nigga." But the centerpiece might be the still-amazing "Brooklyns Finest," a duet between Jay and the Notorious B.I.G., two titans on their way to redefining their artform. Not yet the bubbly-poppin party man, the Jay-Z of Reasonable Doubt is a corner-boy inventing new levels of lyrical dexterity. Once it dropped, hip-hops center of gravity had fully shifted from the West Coast back to the East.​​



13. Pretenders
The Pretenders
Sire 1980
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After years of knocking around Ohio and England, writing record reviews and hanging with the Sex Pistols, Chrissie Hynde put together a band as tough as her attitude. The Pretenders perfect debut is filled with no-nonsense New Wave rock like "Mystery Achievement" ? plus a cover of "Stop Your Sobbing," by the Kinks Ray Davies (three years later, the father of Hyndes child). The biggest hit was "Brass in Pocket," a song of ambition and seduction. Hynde, however, wasnt so sure about the songs success. "I was embarrassed by it," she said. "I hated it so much that if I was in Woolworths and they started playing it, Id have to run out of the store."​​



12. The Clash
The Clash
Epic 1979
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"I havent got any illusions about anything," Joe Strummer said. "Having said that, I still want to try to change things." That youthful ambition bursts through The Clash, a machine-gun blast of shockingly great songs about unemployment ("Career Opportunities"), race ("White Riot") and the Clash themselves ("Clash City Rockers"). Most of the guitar was played by Mick Jones, because Strummer considered studio technique insufficiently punk. The American release was delayed two years and replaced some of the U.K. tracks with recent singles, including "Complete Control" ? a complaint about exactly that sort of record-company shenanigans. Still, both UK and US versions distill their radical vision with a crystal clarity.​​



11. Illmatic
Nas
Columbia, 1994
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Nas was only 20 when he released his debut but he was already a master in the art of storytelling. Nobody captured the creeping menace of life on the streets like this lyrical prodigy from New Yorks Queensbridge projects. With spotless beats from Large Professor, DJ Premier, Pete Rock, and lyrical assists from Q-Tip, the album has a no-bullshit concision that fits its stark subject matter, and quotable lines like "I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death," got Nas tagged as the next Rakim. Everyone was on point. Even guest rapper AZ, who never had much of a career, delivered like Dominos on "Lifes a Bitch": "We were beginners in the hood as Five Percenters/But something musta got in us, cuz all of us turned to sinners." It was the dawn of a hard new era.​​



10. Horses
Patti Smith
Arista 1975
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From its first defiant line, "Jesus died for somebodys sins, but not mine," the opening shot in a bold reinvention of Van Morrisons garage-rock classic "Gloria," Smiths debut album was a declaration of committed mutiny, a statement of faith in the transfigurative powers of rock & roll. Horses made her the queen of punk, but Smith cared more for the poetry in rock. She sought the visions and passions that connected Keith Richards and Rimbaud ? and found them, with the intuitive assistance of a killing band (pianist Richard Sohl, guitarist Lenny Kaye, bassist Ivan Kral and drummer Jay Dee Daugherty) and her friend Robert Mapplethorpe, who shot the cover portrait.​​



9. Music From Big Pink
The Band
Capitol, 1968
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Every rootsy rock guy ever owes something to this record, a bold embrace of American tradition and down-to-earth simplicity released into an era of protest and psychedelia. "Big Pink" was a pink house in Woodstock, New York, where the Band ? Dylans 65-66 backup band on tour ? moved to be near Dylan after his motorcycle accident. While he recuperated, the Band backed him on the demos later known as The Basement Tapes and made its own debut. Dylan offered to play on the album; the Band said no thanks. "We didnt want to just ride his shirttail," drummer Levon Helm said. Dylan contributed "I Shall Be Released" and co-wrote two other tunes. But it was the rustic beauty of the Bands music and the incisive drama of its own reflections on family and obligations, such as "The Weight," that made Big Pink an instant homespun classic.​​​​



8. Is This It
The Strokes
RCA 2001

Few bands have packaged themselves as brilliantly as the Strokes on their debut. Before Is This It even came out, New Yorks mod ragamuffins were overnight sensations, jumping from Avenue A to press hysteria and the inevitable backlash, all inside a year. Julian Casablancas, guitarists Nick Valensi and Albert Hammond Jr., bassist Nikolai Fraiture and drummer Fabrizio Moretti were primed for star time, updating the propulsion of the Velvet Underground and the jangle of Seventies punk with Casablancas acidic dispatches from last nights wreckage. They inspired a ragged revolt in Britain, led by the Libertines and Arctic Monkeys, and reverberated back home with the Kings of Leon. And for the bristling half-hour of Is This It, New Yorks shadows sounded vicious and exciting again.​​



7. Never Mind the Bollocks
The Sex Pistols
Warner Bros. 1977
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"If the sessions had gone the way I wanted, it would have been unlistenable for most people," Johnny Rotten said. "I guess its the very nature of music: If you want people to listen, youre going to have to compromise." But few heard it that way at the time; The Pistols only studio album terrified a whole nation into scared submission. It sounds like a rejection of everything rock & roll ? and the world itself ? had to offer. True, the music was less shocking than Rotten himself, who sang about abortions, anarchy and hatred on "Bodies" and "Anarchy in the U.K." But Never Mind . . . is the Sermon on the Mount of U.K. punk ? and its echoes are everywhere.​​​​



6. Straight Outta Compton
N.W.A.
Priority 1988
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This was the start of gangsta rap as well as the launching pad for the careers of Ice Cube, Eazy-E and Dr. Dre. While Public Enemy were hip-hops political revolutionaries, N.W.A. celebrated the thug life. (A collection of Dre-produced tracks for N.W.A. and other artists had been released in 1987 under the name N.W.A. and the Posse, but this was their first real album.) "Do I look like a motherfucking role model?" Ice Cube asks on "Gangsta Gangsta": "To a kid looking up to me, life aint nothing but bitches and money." Ice Cubes rage, combined with Dr. Dres police-siren street beats, combined for a truly fearsome sound on "Express Yourself," "A?Bitch?Iz a Bitch" and "Straight Outta Compton."?But it was the protest "Fuck Tha Police" that earned the crew its biggest honor: a threatening letter from the FBI.
​​



5. The Velvet Underground and Nico
The Velvet Underground
MGM/Verve 1967
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Much of what we take for granted in rock would not exist without this New York band or its debut, The Velvet Underground and Nico: the androgynous sexuality of glam; punks raw noir; the blackened-riff howl of grunge and noise rock. It is a record of fearless breadth and lyric depth. Singer-songwriter Lou Reed documented carnal desire and drug addiction with a pop wisdom he learned as a song-factory composer for Pickwick Records. Multi-instrumentalist John Cale introduced the power of pulse and drone (from his work in early minimalism); guitarist Sterling Morrison and drummer Maureen Tucker played with tribal force; Nico, a German vocalist brie?y added to the band by manager Andy Warhol, brought an icy femininity to the heated ennui in Reeds songs. Rejected as nihilistic by the love crowd in 67, the Banana Album (so named for its Warhol-designed cover), is the most prophetic rock album ever made.​​



4. Appetite for Destruction
Guns N Roses
Geffen 1987
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The biggest-selling debut album of the Eighties and the biggest hard-rock game-changer since Led Zeppelin IV, Appetitefeatures a lot more than the yowl of Indiana-bred W. Axl Rose. Guitarist Slash gave the band blues emotion and punk energy, while the rhythm section brought the funk on hits such as "Welcome to the Jungle." When all the elements came together, as in the final two minutes of "Paradise City,"?G N R left all other Eighties metal bands in the dust, and they knew it too. "A lot of rock bands are too fucking wimpy to have any sentiment or any emotion," Rose said. "Unless theyre in pain."



3. Are You Experienced
Jimi Hendrix Experience
Reprise 1967
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Every idea we have of the guitarist as groundbreaking individual artist comes from this record. Its what Britain sounded like in late 1966 and early 1967: ablaze with rainbow blues, orchestral guitar feedback and the personal cosmic vision of black American emigre Jimi Hendrix. Hendrixs incendiary guitar was historic in itself, the luminescent sum of his chitlin-circuit labors with Little Richard and the Isley Brothers and his melodic exploitation of amp howl. But it was the pictorial heat of songs like "Manic Depression"?and "The Wind Cries Mary" that established the transcendent promise of psychedelia. Hendrix made soul music for inner space. "Its a collection of free feeling and imagination," he said of the album. "Imagination is very important."​​



2. The Ramones
The Ramones
Sire 1976
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"Our early songs came out of our real feelings of alienation, isolation, frustration ? the feelings everybody feels between seventeen and seventy-five," said singer Joey Ramone. Clocking in at just under twenty-nine minutes, Ramones is a complete rejection of the spangled artifice of 1970s rock and ground zero for the punk-rock revolution. The songs were fast and anti-social, just like the band: "Beat on the Brat,"?"Blitzkrieg Bop,"?"Now I?Wanna Sniff Some Glue."?Guitarist Johnny Ramone refused to play solos ? his jackhammer chords became the lingua franca of punk ? and the whole record cost just over $6000 to make. But Joeys leather-tender plea "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend" showed that even punks need love.​​



1. Licensed to Ill
Beastie Boys
Def Jam 1986
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A statement so powerful, so fully-realized, that the Beastie Boys spent the rest of their careers living it down. Licensed to Illcreated a new way for middle America to rock ? with thundering combination of hip-hop beats, metal riffs and exuberant smart-aleck rhymes ? even as it picked up the flag from Run-DMC and delivered rap music irrevocably into the Heartland. It would become hip-hops first Number One album, and one of the best-selling rap album of all time. Mike D, Ad-Rock, and MCA grew out of the records frat boy sexual politics and party hearty world view, but head-smacking hits like "(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party!)" and "Rhymin & Stealin", like the AC/DC and Led Zeppelin songs that were the Beasties early touchstones, keep getting discovered by new generations of hell-raisers. Its the definition of the debut album that takes over the world: the shock of the new, with an impact that extends for decades.

by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-07 18:28 | 音楽 | Comments(0)  

少し気になったBreakfast


1987大阪城ホール
少し気になったBreakfast
激名曲
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by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-07 00:10 | 音楽 | Comments(0)  

サム・シェパード インタビュー 1986(転載)


1986年の「Rolling Stone」に掲載されたサム・シェパードへのインタビュー記事が、Rolling Stone webに再録されていたので、保存の意味もあり、ここに転載。

転載元
http://www.rollingstone.com/culture/features/sam-shepard-the-rolling-stone-interview


Sam Shepard on Working With Dylan, Why Jim Morrison Has No Sense of Humor

Known for such groundbreaking plays as 'Buried Child,' for which he won a Pulitzer, playwright and actor has helped shape American aesthetic

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Bruce Weber for Rolling Stone


By Jonathan Cott
December 18, 1986

Theater critic Michael Feingold once remarked that the paradox of Sam Shepard consisted in his having "the mind of a Kafka trapped in the body of a Jimmy Stewart."

It was Franz Kafka who wrote that "a book must be the ax for the frozen sea in us." And in the more than 40 plays that Sam Shepard has written since 1964, this American playwright has been breaking open that frozen sea with an originality of vision, a jolting intermingling of humor and grief, a profound examination of the hopes and failures of the American family and an astonishing ear for the cadences of the American idiom. With plays like The Unseen Hand, Curse of the Starving Class, Buried Child (for which he won the 1979 Pulitzer Prize), True West, Fool for Love and the recent A Lie of the Mind, Shepard has cloaked himself in the mantle once worn by Eugene O'Neill and Tennessee Williams.

This Franz Kafka with a lariat, this desert-haunted cowboy-stranger, has also, as an actor, attained the popularity of matinee idols such as Jimmy Stewart and Gary Cooper. With his lean, Sam Shepard lanky, cleft-chinned, high-cheekboned, snaggletoothed, blue-eyed good looks, Sam Shepard has been a magnetic presence in films such as Days of Heaven, Resurrection, Frances, The Right Stuff, Country and Fool for Love. In the words of The Right Stuff's director, Phil Kaufman, "[Shepard] has a quality that is so rare now – you don't see it in the streets much, let alone in the movies – a kind of bygone quality of the Forties, when guys could wear leather jackets and be laconic and still say a lot without verbally saying anything."

Born Samuel Shepard Rogers III on November 5th, 1943, in Fort Sheridan, Illinois, Shepard was an Army brat whose family was stationed for various periods in South Dakota, Utah, Florida and Guam and finally settled down on an avocado ranch in Duarte, California – an end-of-the-road valley town east of Los Angeles. At 19, he left his family and came to New York City as an aspiring actor and musician, started writing his superenergized, music-driven early plays, eventually moved to London with his actress-wife, O-Lan, and son, Jesse, then returned to northern California. He now lives on a farm in Virginia with actress Jessica Lange (with whom he appears in the film version of Beth Henley's play Crimes of the Heart, directed by Bruce Beresford) and their daughter, Hannah, and Jessica's daughter, Alexandra. Like Bob Dylan, whom he resembles in many ways, Sam Shepard is an intensely private person who shies away from journalists, preferring to allow transformed glimpses of himself to appear in his plays and in books like Hawk Moonand the wonderful Motel Chronicles – collections of poems-meditations-dreams-journals-visions. (Don Shewey's recent biography, Sam Shepard, gives an insightful view of the playwright's life and particularly of his complicated, shattered relationship with his alcoholic father.)

In conversation, Sam Shepard is happy to speak directly about things that concern him and indirectly about issues of superficial or only "personal" importance. With an undeniably engaging blue-eyed squint and a kind of Western-swing twang to his voice, he continually displays an unnerving, surprising and charmingly boyish sense of humor. But most disarming of all is the way he unhesitatingly confronts, explores and clarifies the most painful and sorrowful of matters – loss, separation, disillusionment, powerlessness, weakness, fear, lies.

In his most recent play, A Lie of the Mind, Sam Shepard has made his most fearless, controlled and deep penetration into the realm of the American psyche. For in this story of two American families – with its revelations and reconciliations of the relationships between and among a violent son, his battered wife and his angelic brother – the playwright shows how personal and social dreams and lies are one and the same, creating, as he once said Bob Dylan created, "a mythic atmosphere out of the land around us. The land we walk on every day and never see until someone shows it to us."

It was in an old-fashioned, unassuming drugstore on Carton Drive in Beverly Hills, California – one of Shepard's favorite "reading" haunts – and in the tearoom of the Chateau Marmont Hotel, in Hollywood, that the following interview took place earlier this year.

In many of your plays, your characters often perform music onstage, and the feel of your plays is often that of a jazz improvisation or of extended country, blues or rock & roll songs. When did your preoccupation with music begin?
Sam Shepard:
My dad was a kind of semiprofessional Dixieland-type drummer, and I learned the drums from him. When I was about twelve, we bought our first Ludwig drum set from a pawnshop – a marching-band bass drum, great big tom-toms and big, deep snare drums. We stripped the paint off of them, varnished them and then set them out in the orchard to dry.

I was in high school then in Duarte and started playing in a band called Nat's Cats. We performed old swing music, kind of Dixieland stuff, and gradually moved into rock & roll. Trumpet, clarinet, drums – that was the trio. In this same high school that I went to, there was a student named Mike Romero, who also played the drums. So this competition started – a kind of drum wars! – and I once went over to his place and stayed up all night and listened to jazz records for the first time. Then we played for hours, and I discovered what the left hand could do – letting the drum hand ride – because a rock 8 roll drummer would turn the hand over and smash the snare drum, while the jazz drummer would hold the stick in his open palm so that he could get this snap out of it. Mike Romero was the guy who turned me on to that, and all of a sudden the drums opened up for me. And when I moved to New York City in 1963, I started playing drums for the Holy Modal Rounders.


"I've always felt a great affinity with music. Writing seems to me to be a musical experience – rhythmically and in many other ways. But I don't think that that's so unusual. Most of the old guys had the same sense – Christopher Marlowe thought of himself as a musician. Just another musician killed at a bar."


I've always felt a great affinity with music. I've felt myself to be more of a musician than anything else, though I'm not proficient in any one instrument. But I think I have a musical sense of things … and writing seems to me to be a musical experience – rhythmically and in many other ways. But I don't think that that's so unusual. Most of the old guys had the same sense – Christopher Marlowe thought of himself as a musician. Just another musician killed at a bar [laughs] … and there's that theory that he was Shakespeare.

One of your fans told me that you were Shakespeare. And like you, Shakespeare didn't go around promoting himself in the media.
I think that's because he didn't exist. I think there was a whole cover-up for him.

You do?
Yeah. I think there's a big mystery about Shakespeare, but it's too late to confirm it [laughs]. I mean, look at the plays, the way they suddenly shift gears – from the earlier period to those later tragedies. Something happened that nobody knows about. I think he was involved in something deeply mysterious and esoteric, and at the time they had to keep it under wraps. There's an awful lot of amazing insight in his plays that doesn't come from an ordinary mind. And there was a tremendous monastic movement at that time. Who knows what he was into?

Shakespeare didn't mince words either. "To be, or not to be" is right to the point [laughs]. You can't get much more to the point than that. That is the question. Are you going to be here or not? What's the deal? Are you going to be or not be?

When did you make that decision?
Well, you decide that every day.

Do you sometimes wake up and wonder about it?
For me, it's been a process of overcoming a tremendous morning despair. It's been diminishing over the years. But I still feel this trace of this thing that I can't really track down.

Some people are just "up and at 'em!"
I've tried desperately to be like that – 6:00 a.m. and bang! Feed the horses and milk the goats. I used to work a lot on ranches where I grew up, and I had to rise at 5:30 in the morning. In fact, there's something healthy about going against the grain of the laziness of the body.

In a prose poem you once wrote called "Rhythm," you make It sound as if everything is rhythm: "Oilcan rhythms, ratchet wrench rhythms. Playing cards in bicycle spokes…. Water slapping rocks. Flesh slapping flesh. Boxing rhythms. Racing rhythms. Rushing brooks…."
Well, it is, pretty much. But there's that distinction between tempo and rhythm, where tempo is a man-made invention…. In San Francisco, I once studied with an African drummer named Kwaku Dadey, who had been playing since he was seven years old in Ghana. I'd always thought that polyrhythm was an invention of contemporary jazz, but it turns out that it's an ancient African concept. And I remember that one day about eight of us got together to play congas: we played in rhythms of 5s and 6s and in 6/8, 3/4 and 4/4 time simultaneously. Everything stacked and piled up, and you had to carry some of the lines three or four measures to catch up, but eventually it all worked out. It was hard to believe!

There was no connecting principle?
Of course there was. Like the ocean. If you're playing an individual part and I'm playing an individual part and we can't figure out how these two are going to merge – assuming you're sticking to your part and I to mine – they just eventually merge. I don't know how. But the rhythmic structures underneath each one of these parts all somehow map out. And what's the principle of that? It's way beyond music…. That man was an amazing teacher, with an understanding of the crossroads and of how everything fits together. I learned a lot from him.

When I see your plays, I'm sometimes reminded of songs written by the Band.
I love Levon Helm – he's one of my favorite guys. You know, Levon once shot himself in the leg while practicing his quick draw! [Laughs.] And there's another guy Levon once told me about who shot his nuts off – another drummer, by the way – and Levon said that he's never played the same since [laughs]. Oh, boy! Carrying a.45 in your crotch when you're playing the drums is really asking for trouble!

Do you remember the Band's song called "Daniel and the Sacred Harp"? It tells the story of a guy who buys a magical instrument that he has no rights to, and while he's playing his heart out on it in a meadow, he notices that he's lost his shadow, perhaps his soul.
A bad sign. You know Dr. Faustus, by Christopher Marlowe? I'd love to make a film of that sometime. I even prefer it to Goethe's version because of Marlowe's incredible language.

You seem to like Marlowe a lot. When did you first read him?
I'll tell you – aside from assigned reading in high school, I didn't read any plays except for a couple of Brecht things when I was living in New York City. I avoided reading out of arrogance, really. But when I went to England in the early Seventies, I suddenly found myself having a kind of dry spell. It was difficult for me to write, so I started to read. And I read most of the Greek guys – Aeschylus, Sophocles. … I studied up on those guys, and I'm glad I did. I was just amazed by the simplicity of the ancient Greek plays, for instance – they were dead simple. Nothing complex or tricky … which surprised the hell out of me, because I'd assumed they were beyond me. But now I began to comprehend what they were talking about, and they turned out to be accessible.

They're a lot about the family romance, aren't they?
They're all about destiny! That's the most powerful thing. Everything is foreseen, and we just play it out.

You don't think a person can shape his own destiny?
Oh, maybe. But first you have to know what your destiny is.

When did you think you knew your own?
I'm not so sure I do. I'm not saying I know my destiny; I'm saying that it exists. It exists, and it can become a duty to discover it. Or it can be shirked. But if you take it on as your duty, then it becomes a different thing from dismissing it altogether and just imagining that it'll work itself out anyway. I mean, it will. But it's more interesting to try to find it and know it.

What was the first thing you ever wrote?
I remember that when I was a kid, I wrote a story about a Coke bottle. You know that in the old days Coke bottles had the name of the city where they were manufactured inscribed on the bottom – St Paul, Dubuque, wherever. So I wrote this story about this bottle and its travels. It would get filled up in one town, some-one would drink it and throw it out the window, and then it would get on a truck and go somewhere else.

You seem to have found your own voice, on the outskirts of Duarte, all on your own.
You know, Duarte was a weird accumulation of things, a strange kind of melting pot – Spanish, Okie, black, Midwestern elements all jumbled together. People on the move who couldn't move anymore, who wound up in trailer camps. And my grandmother, my father's mother, was part something … maybe American Indian, I'm not sure what. She was real dark, with black eyes, and I don't know what that was all about – there was a cover-up somewhere back there.

But as far as my "voice" goes, I'm not so sure it's "mine." I had a sense that a voice existed that needed expression, that there was a voice that wasn't being voiced, if you want to put it like that. But is it "mine"?


"The shock of violence brings something. I'm not suggesting violence is a way of catharsis. But an accidental confrontation can bring about an awakening. A man can believe himself to be in control of his emotions, yet in the flash of an eye he can lose it totally and be shocked into seeing what he's really made of."


Your most recent play, A Lie of the Mind, seems like a real bringing together and transformation of many of your oldest and deepest "voices."
That's 21 years of work there. It was a tough play to write, because I had the first act very clearly in mind, then went off on a tangent and had to throw away two acts and start again. And then it began to tell itself. Like a story you've heard a long time ago that's now come back.

A writer once stated, "Insight only occurs as a lightning-bolt. The text is the thunder-peal rolling long behind."
Did I write that? [Laughs.]

No, the critic Walter Benjamin did. What was the lightning bolt for A Lie of the Mind?
The incredible schism between a man and a woman, in which something is broken in a way that almost kills the thing that was causing them to be together. The devastating break – that was the lightning bolt.

But isn't it this lightning bolt that woke them up? It seems as if Beth, the battered, brain-damaged wife, who appears to be crazy and living in a dream world, is in fact the clearest-seeing person in the play.
Yes, she's the most sensitive. I've had a couple of experiences of people very close to me who suffered brain damage and who underwent surgery. And the most startling thing in both of these cases was the sense of one's own helplessness in relation to what these two people were going through because of the innocence of their states. We use words all the time – we take them for granted – and suddenly you're faced with people who have no language…. It's gone. And you become aware that language is a learned function – it's an obvious fact – but at that moment you truly become aware of it, when you realize that it can be lost. Those people are on the open end of the stick. They're vulnerable and alive to the fact of language … while we're dead to it. We usually don't understand how it affects people and what kind of luxury it is to have language. So it shakes you up.

It's extraordinarily moving when Beth, pointing to her head, says, "This is me. This is me now. The way I am. Now. This. All. Different. I – I live inside this. Remember. Remembering."
It's interesting how you can be lost in an area like memory – memory is very easy to get lost in. Some things can't get lost, though, because they're based on emotional memory, which is a different thing from just trying to remember the name of a person or some fact. But to remember where you were touched has more of a reverberation. It remembers itself to you.

At the beginning of A Lie of the Mind, Jake's talking to his brother, Frankie, on the phone, and the latter says, "Jake! Don't do that! You're gonna disconnect us again." And you notice how the word disconnect and later a word like remember almost act as ritualistic and key words in the play. Yet the words also pass by unnoticed because they're so well rooted in intense but simple colloquial speech.
I think you have to start in that colloquial territory, and from there move on and arrive in poetic country … but not the other way around. I've noticed that even with the Greek guys, especially with Sophocles, there's a very simple, rawboned language. The choruses are poetic, but the speech of the characters themselves is terse, cut to the bone and pointed to the heart of the problem. It's like Merle Haggard tunes like "My Own Kind of Hat" – I do this, that and some other thing, but I wear my own kind of hat… Real simple.

A wisdom teacher once said that the most difficult barrier in one's life is the conquest of lying – lies of the mind.
But how do you come to see that? It's a hard pill to swallow that everything is a lie. Everything … even the truth! But if you even begin to approach that awareness, then something new takes place, because you start to see that there's another dimension of a relationship between yourself and the truth – the real truth as opposed to the real lies. Because everything, in a way, is suggestion: I suggest to myself that I'm brave, though it turns out that I'm a coward. But the suggestion is so powerful that I believe it, even in the face of my cowardice. The truth is that we can't face the truth…. And it seems to me that the first step is to find out which is which. Because if you go off believing that one part is strong and it's actually weak, you're going to be in for a shock!

As when Jake beats his wife up?
The shock of that kind of violence bringssomething. I'm not in any way suggesting that violence is a way of catharsis – I don't believe that at all. Nor do I believe that acting out one's anger is necessarily going to clean you of it; if anything, it may just provoke more anger. But that kind of accidental confrontation, especially between men and women, can bring about – even if only temporarily – a kind of awakening. Because a man can believe himself to be in control of his emotions, yet in the flash of an eye he can lose it totally and be shocked into seeing what he's really made of…. But to get into that kind of thing with a woman is a cowardly act. And if he's a man at all and doesn't see that, there's no way he can be truthful with himself.

Doesn't Jake, by wounding Beth, make both him and her wake up?
But they wake up into a lostness. They're not found in that state – it's not like, "Oh, now I realize my situation and I know where to turn." It's a lost-ness. Lostness can be profoundly rejuvenating in a way – it's a desperate time and full of despair and all that – but being really lost can start something that's brand-new. Now, there are different kinds of lost-ness – you can be lost and not know what street you're on; you can be lost emotionally; you can be lost with other people; you can be lost in yourself. I think you continually turn around that circle – finding yourself lost and then getting relatively found.

To me, writing is a way of bringing things back together a little bit. If I can at least write something, I start to feel that I'm gathering out of that lostness something that has some kind of structure and form and something that, one hopes, can be translated to others. I don't know if you can ever get totally found – I've met people who are convinced that they know what direction they're going in, and they seem to be very together. But maybe they're believing in a lie. ... A belief in a lie can be very powerful. And then again maybe some of it's true…. Who's to say?

Some of your characters do seem to have staked a legitimate claim in the realm of truth. Beth, for instance.
And they're the hardest ones to say anything about It's much easier to define something that's bent and go with the way it's misshapen. But to define or give an impression of something or someone that's clean is very difficult.

You know, there's a great yearning to get back to that state, and there are all sorts of methods that have been developed for that purpose. I was just talking to an old friend of mine who's having a nervous breakdown – the last person in the world I ever thought would be in that state. And he told me that he was thinking of going on a vision quest. There's apparently a vision-quest cult based on the American Indian practice of going off for three days by yourself. And I said that that was great if it could serve the purpose of confronting the essentials. But I think it's incredibly difficult to do that today. If it happens accidentally, as it apparently did to Werner Erhard … well, then, he's a lucky man. But is that an excuse for starting an entire organization based on his personal breakthrough? I don't know…. And I think that the question of death – of trying to take a truthful look at it – is missing in a lot of people's activities today. The health movement and jogging movement sometimes seem to me to reflect an incredible yearning to escape death – this fanatical thing of running to build up the body!

In his recent biography of you, the critic Don Shewey, who obviously greatly admires your work, makes several comments about your supposed macho image.
Just because machismo exists doesn't mean that it shouldn't exist. There's this attitude today that certain antagonistic forces have to be ignored or completely shut out rather than entered into in order to explore and get to the heart of them. All you have to do is enter one rodeo event to find out what that's all about… and you find out fast – in about eight seconds! So rather than avoid the issue, why not take a dive into it? I'm not saying whether it's good or bad – I think that the moralistic approach to these notions is stupid. It's not a moral issue, it's an issue of existence. Machismo may be an evil force … but what in fact is it?

I knew this guy down in the Yucatán who was so macho he decided to demonstrate to this princess he saw on the beach how powerfully he could swim. So he swam out into the ocean, got caught in the current and drowned himself. Now, he found out fast. What was that moment like when he suddenly realized that because of his vanity he was going to die? I know what this thing is about because I was a victim of it, it was part of my life, my old man tried to force on me a notion of what it was to be a ''man.'' And it destroyed my dad. But you can't avoid facing it.


"Music and humor are both very healing. That's the trouble with modern rock & roll: It's lost its sense of humor. ... I don't think there's hardly anybody worth shaking a stick at anymore…. Take all those Lou Reed imitators, for example. Reed could really write a lyric. He's been ripped off left, right and center."


At the end of your play The Unseen Hand, an old Wild West gunfighter, who's been brought back to life by Willie the Space Freak, reflects, ''A man's gotta be still long enough to figure out his next move…. That's the great thing about this country, ya know. The fact that you can make yer own moves in yer own time without some guy behind the scenes pullin' the switches on ya.'' It's interesting that the American-pioneer myth and the spiritual mission and yearning you were talking about are often spoken of in exactly the same way. There seems to be a connection between these two things, such that true West equals true East.
It's very strong, the connection between physical territory and inner territory. In America, we've run out of the former, and even though they talk about going to the moon and the planets as being an extension of that, it's going to wind up at the same borderline. Now, the spiritual notion talks about something that's more hopeful in a way, because the inner search doesn't come to some Pacific Ocean, where it just builds Los Angeles – it's a never-ending process. But it seems to me that there could be a real meeting between a true Western – meaning Western Hemisphere – spirit and the inner one … and it doesn't have to remain on the level of being courageous with the land anymore. The land's been discovered. There's a different kind of courage that's being called for now.

The poet William Carlos Williams once wrote, "The pure products of America/Go crazy." And some critics have seen your plays to be about these kinds of "real," indigenous, almost overly interbred Americans – now fragmented and deracinated.
I don't know. Insanity is something you're up against all the time. You always have to grapple with that. It's much easier to go crazy than to stay sane. Much easier. Insanity's the easy way out.

In your early writings, one finds a lot of harrowing depictions of demonic states and possession trances.
In those days, I had a lot of emotional earthquakes that I didn't understand because I was in the grips of them. I didn't realize even that much…. I was just running wild with them and didn't know where they were taking me.

In your recent work – Fool for Love, A Lie of the Mind – however, you've been clearly and consciously entering right into the earthquake zone.
I had no choice. At a certain point, you've got to do that, otherwise you end up writing diddley-bop plays. Now, the ear of the typical psychological play doesn't have any reverberation anymore. Plays have to go beyond just ''working out problems'' – that's not the thing I'm talking about. What makes O'Neill's Long Day's Journey into Night such a great work, for instance, is that O'Neill moves past his own personal family situation into a much wider dimension. I read that play in high school, and I've always thought that that was truly the great American play. It's so overwhelmingly honest – O'Neill just doesn't pull any punches. You can't confront that play without being moved.

It's been said, in regard to that work, that children often live out the unconscious and fantasy lives of their parents.
Yes, but certain things that occur inside the family often leave marks on the emotional life that are far stronger than fantasy. What might be seen as the fantasy is, to me, just a kind of rumination on those deep marks, a manifestation of the emotional and psychological elements. Sometimes in someone's gesture you can notice how a parent is somehow inhabiting that person without there being any awareness of that. How often are you aware that a gesture is coming from your old man? Sometimes you can look at your hand and see your rather. But it's a complex scheme – it's not that easy to pinpoint. Again, the thing is not to avoid the issue but to see that it exists.

Thinking of your brain-damaged character, Beth, in A Lie of the Mind and of the deeply musical way she has of expressing herself, I recall a statement by the German poet Novalis that goes, "Every disease is a musical problem, every cure a musical solution."
To me, music and humor are both very healing. ... That's the trouble with modern rock & roll, by the way: it's lost its sense of humor. It's become so morbidly stylistic and sour – there's no joy in it. And I think it's disastrous that a genuine sense of humor has been smothered.

When do you think the smothering began?
It began with the Doors! [Laughs.] The Doors had no sense of humor – they were grim. Now, I knew Jim Morrison for a little while, and in fact he did have a sense of humor – a bizarre one – but he never really exhibited it onstage.

So what musicians do you like to listen to right now?
Billy Joe Royal, Ricky Skaggs, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Lou Ann Barton, the Blasters. I guess what I like is mostly country & western or else stuff that has a real blues feel to it. As far as straight-up-and-down rock & roll goes, I don't think there's hardly anybody worth shaking a stick at anymore. Guys like Clyde McPhatter used to sing their tail ends off! Today I only have a little hope for Texas bands [laughs] … Delbert McClinton's still doing some stuff … but melodically and rhythmically, it's not what it was. Take all those imitators of Lou Reed, for example: if they went back and listened to his early stuff, they'd see that he had a whole different feel … plus he was a helluva writer. He could really write a lyric. He's been ripped off left, right and center.

Coming back to Jim Morrison – you know, he felt he had a curse on his head. Because when he was a kid, he was driving with his family outside Albuquerque. And there was an Indian on the side of the road. His family stopped, and Morrison went over to the Indian, and this guy – Morrison thought he was some kind of shaman – threw a whammy on him. That's probably when Jim Morrison lost his sense of humor [laughs].


"I don't feel the same urgency about acting as about writing."


Spells can be effective.
Their power lies in your believing them.

So how do you avoid the so-called powers of relentless and overintrusive fans?
Carry a gun! [Laughs.]

Just don't carry it in your pocket! I can hear people saying, "His plays haven't been the same since."
Thanks for the warning [laughs].

I've noticed that the funniest moments in your plays are often intermixed with a sense of weirdness and sadness.
It's a double-edged thing. If you look at Buster Keaton and Harry Langdon and Stan Laurel, there's something tragic about them. The humor lies in their incredible innocence in the face of life, which doesn't make sense.

Someone once commented that life is tragic to those who feel and comic to those who think.
I think that to a certain extent that's true. One of the things I look for in actors is a genuine sense of humor. And if they have that, I immediately know that there's a kind of intelligence working there that you won't find in an actor who takes himself so seriously and who's so wrapped up in the Method that he can't see how ridiculous it is.

One of the characters in your play Curse of the Starving Class says something like, "What's there to envy but an outlook?" One might envy your outlook.
Well, I've seen people with better ones [laughs] … you know, people who never find fault with anybody, for whom everything's great, people who are positive all the time.

Not everyone, I gather, was totally positive about your first play-writing efforts in New York City.
Actually, there was only one guy who liked me [laughs] – Michael Smith of The Village Voice. Those first reviews were devastating. In fact, I was vulnerable then and was ready to pack it in and come back to California and get work as a hand on a ranch. But writing has been such a salvation for me for so long that it would be impossible for me to give it up now.

Too late to stop now.
Yeah, it's too late to stop now … Otis Redding. There was a great singer!

Has acting also been a salvation?
No, not at all. I don't have the same connection to it. With acting, I feel that I'm just struggling to get by. An actor is right on the edge, because all he has is the body…. Actually, I should say that acting and writing are related; I just don't feel the same sense of urgency about acting as I do about writing. I've never been able to write a play while I've been acting in a film. It's difficult to split your participation. You have to be very focused and fully occupied to write.

And then, of course, you've been directing your recent plays, too. Theoretically, you could actually be someone who directs himself acting in a play that you yourself have written.
Right. And I'm in the process of finishing a screenplay that I'm going to direct, but I'm not going to act in it.

Someone like Woody Allen does it all the time.
He can do it because in his roles he stands outside the character – he comments on the character rather than plays it … except in Broadway Danny Rose, where he does play a real character. And he's probably the best one around who can write, direct and act. But I don't think I could direct myself acting, because, for me, the two things are diametrically opposed. I don't see how you can be inside and outside at the same time. Acting involves such a deep kind of penetration in, and directing demands an observation from the outside.

In Rolling Thunder Logbook, you describe your first meeting with Dylan, commenting that the first thing he said to you was, "We don't have to make any connections," … and you didn't know whether he was talking about you and him personally or about the movie you were supposed to be working on with him.
Bob gets off the hook a lot with that approach [laughs]. He's great, and I love working with him … but he would rather not commit than commit [laughs]. I wish you could hear the tune he and I wrote together in the spring of 1985. It's at least 20 minutes long – it's like a saga! – and it has to do with a guy standing on line and waiting to see an old Gregory Peck movie that he can't quite remember – only pieces of it, and then this whole memory thing happens, unfolding before his very eyes. He starts speaking internally to a woman he'd been hanging out with, recalling their meetings and reliving the whole journey they'd gone on – and then it returns to the guy, who's still standing on line in the rain. The film the song was about was a Gregory Peck western that Bob had once seen, but he couldn't remember the title. We decided that the title didn't matter, and we spent two days writing the lyrics – Bob had previously composed the melody line, which was already down on tape. He's already gone through different phases with the song. At one point, he talked about making a video out of it.

I told him that it should be an opera, that we should extend it – make it an hour and a half or so – and perform it like an opera…. [An e11-minute version of the song, ''Brownsville Girl,'' appears on Knocked Out Loaded, Dylan's most recent album.] He's a lot of fun to work with, because he's so off the wall sometimes. We'd come up with a line, and I'd think that we were heading down one trail over here, and then suddenly he'd just throw in this other line, and we'd wind up following it off in some different direction. Sometimes it's frustrating to do that when you're trying to make a wholeness out of something, but it turned out OK.

You've actually done exactly that in many of your plays.
Yeah, but I'm trying to do it less than I used to [laughs].

Writing plays, playing music, acting, directing …
It's just been one step at a time. I don't deny that I've had some good luck. My dad had a lot of bad luck. I've had good luck. Luck is a part of it But I don't know exactly how that works.

When critics say, "Well, Sam Shepard has now said everything he has to say In A Lie of the Mind – where can he possibly go from here?'' that is, in a way, sort of casting a little doubt spell, isn't it?
Yeah, it's trying to do something to you, but you can't pay any attention to that, because you've got other things to do. Being surrounded by parasitic people who feed off of your work – well, I guess you've just got to accept it And I suppose some parasites are okay, because they take things off of you. Once, in New Mexico, I observed these incredibly beautiful red-tailed hawks – with a wingspan of five feet – which start out gliding in these arroyos way down low. And these crows come and bother them – they're after fleas and peck at the hawks and drive them nuts, because they're looking for something else. And I watched a crow diving at and bothering this one hawk, which just flew higher and higher until it was so far up that the crow couldn't follow it anymore and had to come back down.

So the answer is to outfly them.
Yeah, outfly them. Avoid situations that are going to take pieces of you. And hide out.

This interview originally appeared in the December 18th, 1986 issue of Rolling Stone.



by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-04 18:59 | 文学 | Comments(0)  

My Buddy by Patti Smith(転載)


「The NEW YORKER」にパティ・スミスがサム・シェパードの追悼文を寄稿。以下、転載。
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/my-buddy-sam-shepard

My Buddy
Patti Smith August 1, 2017 2:53 PM

c0005419_18503690.jpg

Sam Shepard and Patti Smith at the Hotel Chelsea in 1971.
Photograph by David Gahr/Getty


He would call me late in the night from somewhere on the road, a ghost town in Texas, a rest stop near Pittsburgh, or from Santa Fe, where he was parked in the desert, listening to the coyotes howling. But most often he would call from his place in Kentucky, on a cold, still night, when one could hear the stars breathing. Just a late-night phone call out of a blue, as startling as a canvas by Yves Klein; a blue to get lost in, a blue that might lead anywhere. I’d happily awake, stir up some Nescafé and we’d talk about anything. About the emeralds of Cortez, or the white crosses in Flanders Fields, about our kids, or the history of the Kentucky Derby. But mostly we talked about writers and their books. Latin writers. Rudy Wurlitzer. Nabokov. Bruno Schulz.

“Gogol was Ukrainian,” he once said, seemingly out of nowhere. Only not just any nowhere, but a sliver of a many-faceted nowhere that, when lifted in a certain light, became a somewhere. I’d pick up the thread, and we’d improvise into dawn, like two beat-up tenor saxophones, exchanging riffs.

He sent a message from the mountains of Bolivia, where Mateo Gil was shooting “Blackthorn.” The air was thin up there in the Andes, but he navigated it fine, outlasting, and surely outriding, the younger fellows, saddling up no fewer than five different horses. He said that he would bring me back a serape, a black one with rust-colored stripes. He sang in those mountains by a bonfire, old songs written by broken men in love with their own vanishing nature. Wrapped in blankets, he slept under the stars, adrift on Magellanic Clouds.

Sam liked being on the move. He’d throw a fishing rod or an old acoustic guitar in the back seat of his truck, maybe take a dog, but for sure a notebook, and a pen, and a pile of books. He liked packing up and leaving just like that, going west. He liked getting a role that would take him somewhere he really didn’t want to be, but where he would wind up taking in its strangeness; lonely fodder for future work.

In the winter of 2012, we met up in Dublin, where he received an Honorary Doctorate of Letters from Trinity College. He was often embarrassed by accolades but embraced this one, coming from the same institution where Samuel Beckett walked and studied. He loved Beckett, and had a few pieces of writing, in Beckett’s own hand, framed in the kitchen, along with pictures of his kids. That day, we saw the typewriter of John Millington Synge and James Joyce’s spectacles, and, in the night, we joined musicians at Sam’s favorite local pub, the Cobblestone, on the other side of the river. As we playfully staggered across the bridge, he recited reams of Beckett off the top of his head.

Sam promised me that one day he’d show me the landscape of the Southwest, for though well-travelled, I’d not seen much of our own country. But Sam was dealt a whole other hand, stricken with a debilitating affliction. He eventually stopped picking up and leaving. From then on, I visited him, and we read and talked, but mostly we worked. Laboring over his last manuscript, he courageously summoned a reservoir of mental stamina, facing each challenge that fate apportioned him. His hand, with a crescent moon tattooed between his thumb and forefinger, rested on the table before him. The tattoo was a souvenir from our younger days, mine a lightning bolt on the left knee.

Going over a passage describing the Western landscape, he suddenly looked up and said, “I’m sorry I can’t take you there.” I just smiled, for somehow he had already done just that. Without a word, eyes closed, we tramped through the American desert that rolled out a carpet of many colors—saffron dust, then russet, even the color of green glass, golden greens, and then, suddenly, an almost inhuman blue. Blue sand, I said, filled with wonder. Blue everything, he said, and the songs we sang had a color of their own.

We had our routine: Awake. Prepare for the day. Have coffee, a little grub. Set to work, writing. Then a break, outside, to sit in the Adirondack chairs and look at the land. We didn’t have to talk then, and that is real friendship. Never uncomfortable with silence, which, in its welcome form, is yet an extension of conversation. We knew each other for such a long time. Our ways could not be defined or dismissed with a few words describing a careless youth. We were friends; good or bad, we were just ourselves. The passing of time did nothing but strengthen that. Challenges escalated, but we kept going and he finished his work on the manuscript. It was sitting on the table. Nothing was left unsaid. When I departed, Sam was reading Proust.

Long, slow days passed. It was a Kentucky evening filled with the darting light of fireflies, and the sound of the crickets and choruses of bullfrogs. Sam walked to his bed and lay down and went to sleep, a stoic, noble sleep. A sleep that led to an unwitnessed moment, as love surrounded him and breathed the same air. The rain fell when he took his last breath, quietly, just as he would have wished. Sam was a private man. I know something of such men. You have to let them dictate how things go, even to the end. The rain fell, obscuring tears. His children, Jesse, Walker, and Hannah, said goodbye to their father. His sisters Roxanne and Sandy said goodbye to their brother.

I was far away, standing in the rain before the sleeping lion of Lucerne, a colossal, noble, stoic lion carved from the rock of a low cliff. The rain fell, obscuring tears. I knew that I would see Sam again somewhere in the landscape of dream, but at that moment I imagined I was back in Kentucky, with the rolling fields and the creek that widens into a small river. I pictured Sam’s books lining the shelves, his boots lined against the wall, beneath the window where he would watch the horses grazing by the wooden fence. I pictured myself sitting at the kitchen table, reaching for that tattooed hand.

A long time ago, Sam sent me a letter. A long one, where he told me of a dream that he had hoped would never end. “He dreams of horses,” I told the lion. “Fix it for him, will you? Have Big Red waiting for him, a true champion. He won’t need a saddle, he won’t need anything.” I headed to the French border, a crescent moon rising in the black sky. I said goodbye to my buddy, calling to him, in the dead of night.

by ichiro_ishikawa | 2017-08-04 18:44 | 文学 | Comments(0)