e vice versa!!!
Mais uma pérola tirada do blog do Alexandre Matias:
sexta-feira, 28 de outubro de 2011
quarta-feira, 26 de outubro de 2011
Peel
E ontem se foram exatos 7 anos da morte de John Peel.
Para quem não conheçe, talvez o radialista mais importante da história.
Para celebrar a vida de Peel, o Maurício Valladares fez um Ronca Ronca inteirinho com músicas tiradas das famosas Peel Sessions.
Vale a pena conferir, já que o programa estará em breve disponível em streaming no site da OiFM.
Cheers.
quarta-feira, 19 de outubro de 2011
This is Religion!!!!
Vi no blog do Ronca Ronca.
As partes 2, 3 e 4 você vê no "Iutubui".
John Peel foi, é, o Cara.
As partes 2, 3 e 4 você vê no "Iutubui".
John Peel foi, é, o Cara.
terça-feira, 18 de outubro de 2011
E por falar em Felipe Hirsch ...
... outro texto muito inspirado:
"Esses meninos e meninas que crescem em cidades como Nova York são tão mal acustumados. Eles passam assim suas adolescências, com o Radiohead nas suas esquinas. O R.E.M era um sonho distante. Isso nos fazia tão decididos a conhecê-los mais e mais. Vivemos boa parte das nossas vidas para eles. Seguindo os passos, de longe, no tempo e no espaço, como astrônomos que estudam imagens de uma cratera na lua. Nas cidades pequenas, nossos amores são platônicos. E são muitos, muitos. R.E.M é só um bom exemplo. Um exemplo que uso agora porque, semana passada com o fim da banda, eu e todos meus amigos perdemos algo ou, quem sabe, só nos lembramos do que, normalmente e dolorosamente, com o tempo se perde. Não é que eu não simpatize com esses jovens ao meu redor, hoje, nesse show do Radiohead, no Roseland Ballroom. Gosto de observá-los, voyerísticamente, detalhadamente. E mesmo os vendo assim, com suas cabeças iluminadas, enterradas em seus iphones, silenciosos entre si, teclando, percebo seus tédios. Sim, existe o tédio das pequenas cidades e o tédio das cidades grandes. Duas meninas mais espertas ao meu lado riem e dizem: “Câmeras! Vocês não vão se lembrar disso! Vivam o momento! Mimados por todas as suas possibilidades, viciados em seus apps, meninos e meninas de Nova York assistiram a mais um show do Radiohead. E foram até carinhosos, levantaram o rosto de suas telas por três ou quatro vezes para vislumbrar os artistas. Alguns “indies” mais velhos denunciavam que a banda já é um clássico de quase duas décadas.
King Of Limbs é o trabalho mais estranho, aparentemente sem foco, sem o passo à frente dos outros trabalhos. Percebendo mais, nos sensibilizando mais, enfim, pensando mais, é possível ver que o passo foi conscientemente dado no escuro, flutuando em algum lugar (no limbo?) em busca de formas. Instintivo, bastante emocional, mas pensado, realmente experimental. Como sempre, um som cristalino, perfeito e capaz, usado em sua amplitude. Weird Fishes/Arpeggi foi hipnotizante, Subterranean Homesick Alien (tocada pela primeira vez desde 2003) incrivelmente delicada. Cruzei o calor e o frio da luzes de leds e neons do Times Square, voltando para o hotel, refletindo a experiência. Será sempre uma noite inesquecível. Noite que devo ao meu amigo, o arquiteto Isay Weinfeld. Figurar numa lista de convidados do Radiohead foi um dos pontos altos da minha vida. Porque eu não nasci em Nova York. Eu nasci em Ipanema, cresci em Curitiba, e posso explicar cada imagem de Wave que tocava no restaurante ao lado, antes do show.
No fim, o Radiohead, todos da banda, agradeciam, batedo palmas para o público. O R.E.M. acabou, com trinta e um anos de história, agradecendo ao seus fãs por deixá-los fazerem parte de suas vidas. Como diz meu amigo Caio Marques, o final mais classudo da história. New Adventures in Hi Fi, Automatic For The People, Murmur, tantos discos maravilhosos. Sempre fizeram parte das nossas vidas, é uma verdade histórica. Mas que histórias são essas? Sempre ouvíamos na Sutil, entre amigos, no squat. Em 1997 ouvíamos E Bow The Letter, em 1998 ouvíamos Up e viajamos juntos para ver o show com neons, como esses, e músicas inéditas de Reveal (um disco sobre um verão místico que conseguiu ampliar a fase inspirada e, injustamente, não respeitada).
E até agora, tocava a linda Überlin no início de Trilhas Sonoras de Amor Perdidas. Sempre ímpar, Bad Day é uma obra prima. Vê-lo, Michael Stipe, cantando Seven Chinese Brothers, ouvir Monster pela primeira vez, ver Losing My Religion pela primeira vez (você lembra? que impressionante!), saber que Patti Smith chorou, quando ainda não os conhecia, quando ouviu The One I Love. O silêncio da última estrofe de Man On The Moon com Michael Stipe caminhando de costas, num posto de gasolina ou bar, com um chapéu de cowboy. E amigos!, ouvir New Adventures in Hi Fi pela primeira vez. O single mais dark, aquela carta-canção escrita às quatro da manhã dentro de um ônibus. No vídeo da música, cheio de imagens de estradas, cores baixas, horas mágicas, lâmpadas fluorescentes, alumínio e céu, um rosto das sombras do esquecimento se insinuava: era o retorno de Patti Smith (hoje, todos com seus exemplares de Apenas Garotos nas mãos).
Thom Yorke cantou: this one goes to “the one I love”. Uma homenagem a banda que ele, garoto, também amou. Ele é de Oxford. Está certo Oxford não é Curitiba, mas é bastante tediosa também. Como disse Peter Buck na sua despedida da banda: “Eu sei que vou reencontrá-los no futuro, meus amigos, ou numa loja de discos da nossa cidade (elas não existirão) ou em pé, no fundo do bar, assistindo a um grupo de meninos de 19 anos tentando mudar o mundo (esses existirão?). Eu não conheço mais esses meninos e meninas. Nem os daqui de Nova York e nem mais, o tempo voa, os de Curitiba. Eu só sei que tudo em sua forma evolui, mas a essência da busca é similar, ou a mesma. Foi e sempre será como quando ouvi Spike do Elvis Costello pela primeira vez (assisti por aqui a Revolver Tour e contarei). Em 1989. O ano em que tudo mudou. Hoje, não existem mais obras assim? É claro que sim. E desconfio que elas estejam surgindo de dentro daquelas telas iluminadas de smartfones. De lá, também, devemos ouvir a comemoração entre amigos, o testemunhar do mundo que se cria, a sensação doce da formação em conjunto, coletiva, dividida, das grandes e pequenas descobertas. Uma banda como o Radiohead, que criou The Bends, Ok Computer, Kid A, In Rainbows, talvez não saiba mais guiar isso, como um dia o fez, inesquecívelmente. Agora eles correm por fora, por dentro deles, e talvez ainda surpreendam e nos façam levantar as cabeças ocupadas, com as mensagens de nossos blackberries, para reve-los."
"Esses meninos e meninas que crescem em cidades como Nova York são tão mal acustumados. Eles passam assim suas adolescências, com o Radiohead nas suas esquinas. O R.E.M era um sonho distante. Isso nos fazia tão decididos a conhecê-los mais e mais. Vivemos boa parte das nossas vidas para eles. Seguindo os passos, de longe, no tempo e no espaço, como astrônomos que estudam imagens de uma cratera na lua. Nas cidades pequenas, nossos amores são platônicos. E são muitos, muitos. R.E.M é só um bom exemplo. Um exemplo que uso agora porque, semana passada com o fim da banda, eu e todos meus amigos perdemos algo ou, quem sabe, só nos lembramos do que, normalmente e dolorosamente, com o tempo se perde. Não é que eu não simpatize com esses jovens ao meu redor, hoje, nesse show do Radiohead, no Roseland Ballroom. Gosto de observá-los, voyerísticamente, detalhadamente. E mesmo os vendo assim, com suas cabeças iluminadas, enterradas em seus iphones, silenciosos entre si, teclando, percebo seus tédios. Sim, existe o tédio das pequenas cidades e o tédio das cidades grandes. Duas meninas mais espertas ao meu lado riem e dizem: “Câmeras! Vocês não vão se lembrar disso! Vivam o momento! Mimados por todas as suas possibilidades, viciados em seus apps, meninos e meninas de Nova York assistiram a mais um show do Radiohead. E foram até carinhosos, levantaram o rosto de suas telas por três ou quatro vezes para vislumbrar os artistas. Alguns “indies” mais velhos denunciavam que a banda já é um clássico de quase duas décadas.
King Of Limbs é o trabalho mais estranho, aparentemente sem foco, sem o passo à frente dos outros trabalhos. Percebendo mais, nos sensibilizando mais, enfim, pensando mais, é possível ver que o passo foi conscientemente dado no escuro, flutuando em algum lugar (no limbo?) em busca de formas. Instintivo, bastante emocional, mas pensado, realmente experimental. Como sempre, um som cristalino, perfeito e capaz, usado em sua amplitude. Weird Fishes/Arpeggi foi hipnotizante, Subterranean Homesick Alien (tocada pela primeira vez desde 2003) incrivelmente delicada. Cruzei o calor e o frio da luzes de leds e neons do Times Square, voltando para o hotel, refletindo a experiência. Será sempre uma noite inesquecível. Noite que devo ao meu amigo, o arquiteto Isay Weinfeld. Figurar numa lista de convidados do Radiohead foi um dos pontos altos da minha vida. Porque eu não nasci em Nova York. Eu nasci em Ipanema, cresci em Curitiba, e posso explicar cada imagem de Wave que tocava no restaurante ao lado, antes do show.
No fim, o Radiohead, todos da banda, agradeciam, batedo palmas para o público. O R.E.M. acabou, com trinta e um anos de história, agradecendo ao seus fãs por deixá-los fazerem parte de suas vidas. Como diz meu amigo Caio Marques, o final mais classudo da história. New Adventures in Hi Fi, Automatic For The People, Murmur, tantos discos maravilhosos. Sempre fizeram parte das nossas vidas, é uma verdade histórica. Mas que histórias são essas? Sempre ouvíamos na Sutil, entre amigos, no squat. Em 1997 ouvíamos E Bow The Letter, em 1998 ouvíamos Up e viajamos juntos para ver o show com neons, como esses, e músicas inéditas de Reveal (um disco sobre um verão místico que conseguiu ampliar a fase inspirada e, injustamente, não respeitada).
E até agora, tocava a linda Überlin no início de Trilhas Sonoras de Amor Perdidas. Sempre ímpar, Bad Day é uma obra prima. Vê-lo, Michael Stipe, cantando Seven Chinese Brothers, ouvir Monster pela primeira vez, ver Losing My Religion pela primeira vez (você lembra? que impressionante!), saber que Patti Smith chorou, quando ainda não os conhecia, quando ouviu The One I Love. O silêncio da última estrofe de Man On The Moon com Michael Stipe caminhando de costas, num posto de gasolina ou bar, com um chapéu de cowboy. E amigos!, ouvir New Adventures in Hi Fi pela primeira vez. O single mais dark, aquela carta-canção escrita às quatro da manhã dentro de um ônibus. No vídeo da música, cheio de imagens de estradas, cores baixas, horas mágicas, lâmpadas fluorescentes, alumínio e céu, um rosto das sombras do esquecimento se insinuava: era o retorno de Patti Smith (hoje, todos com seus exemplares de Apenas Garotos nas mãos).
Thom Yorke cantou: this one goes to “the one I love”. Uma homenagem a banda que ele, garoto, também amou. Ele é de Oxford. Está certo Oxford não é Curitiba, mas é bastante tediosa também. Como disse Peter Buck na sua despedida da banda: “Eu sei que vou reencontrá-los no futuro, meus amigos, ou numa loja de discos da nossa cidade (elas não existirão) ou em pé, no fundo do bar, assistindo a um grupo de meninos de 19 anos tentando mudar o mundo (esses existirão?). Eu não conheço mais esses meninos e meninas. Nem os daqui de Nova York e nem mais, o tempo voa, os de Curitiba. Eu só sei que tudo em sua forma evolui, mas a essência da busca é similar, ou a mesma. Foi e sempre será como quando ouvi Spike do Elvis Costello pela primeira vez (assisti por aqui a Revolver Tour e contarei). Em 1989. O ano em que tudo mudou. Hoje, não existem mais obras assim? É claro que sim. E desconfio que elas estejam surgindo de dentro daquelas telas iluminadas de smartfones. De lá, também, devemos ouvir a comemoração entre amigos, o testemunhar do mundo que se cria, a sensação doce da formação em conjunto, coletiva, dividida, das grandes e pequenas descobertas. Uma banda como o Radiohead, que criou The Bends, Ok Computer, Kid A, In Rainbows, talvez não saiba mais guiar isso, como um dia o fez, inesquecívelmente. Agora eles correm por fora, por dentro deles, e talvez ainda surpreendam e nos façam levantar as cabeças ocupadas, com as mensagens de nossos blackberries, para reve-los."
Nostalgia?
Não sei ao certo se foi por conta do nascimento de mais um filho ou por influência de alguns episódios (15 anos da morte de Renato Russo e novo disco do Noel Gallagher), mas o fato é que nas últimas semanas tenho ouvido basicamente Legião Urbana e Oasis (e Blur também).
A primeira banda foi muito importante para mim na década de 80, e escreverei mais sobre ela em breve.
Já o Oasis foi minha banda favorita ao longo dos anos 90 (até prefiro o Blur, mas fui prestar atenção na banda um pouco mais tarde).
Aproveitando o gancho, vejam essa lista que saiu na Rolling Stone espanhola sobre os melhores discos do Britpop (Rolling Stone Brasil, cadê você? Chico Buarque na capa é compreensível, mas foda!):
"
1. Different class, de Pulp:
En un momento en que Blur y Oasis se habían convertido en demasiado grandes, la banda liderada por Jarvis Cocker (en activo desde finales de los setenta) se transformó en la verdadera favorita de mucha gente. Motivos: Common people se basta. Pero fue el grueso del álbum el que hizo de Different class el trabajo definitivo de la época. Jarvis Cocker era un londinense cualquiera que salía por el Soho (Bar Italia), adoraba a las chicas de Ladbroke Grove (I spy), no quería comprometerse (Disco 2000) y mostraba un apetito insaciable por la juerga (Sorted for E’s & Wizz) y el sexo (Underwear y Live bed show). Todo lo anterior, resumido en ese himno que fue y es Common People, explican por qué Pulp fueron una banda sin la que, seguramente, el Britpop habría sido algo muy distinto, o no habría sido en absoluto.
2. Parklife, de Blur:
A la tercera fue la vencida. Después de mostrarse demasiado dubitativos en sus dos primeros discos, hasta el punto de que nadie sabía si iban para estrellas o para anécdota, Damon Albarn emergió como el más firme plumilla musical a heredar el trono de cronista laureado del reino, entre serio e irónico, que en su día detentó Ray Davies. Auténtico buque insignia del Britpop, Parklife regalaba canciones a casi todas las esencias de la vida realmente inglesa: las jornadas festivas (Bank holiday), la mirada desapasionada y costumbrista a la vida cotidiana (End of the century), la escapada a la costa (Clover over dover)… En medio, cautivadores paisajes personales como Badhead y To the end, y un final majestuoso con This is a low, una de sus mejores canciones.
3. Definitely maybe, de Oasis:
A estas alturas todos saben quienes son Oasis, y si los ama o los odia. Por eso quizás el tiempo ha restado valor a lo que supuso la publicación de Definitely maybe. Bajo la batuta de las excelentes composiciones de Noel Gallagher, y con la personalidad y el carisma de su hermano pequeño Liam como forma visible de la propuesta, el debut de Oasis impulsó el regreso de las guitarras densas al pop inglés (que sus grupos de cabecera fueran Beatles y Stone Roses, no implica que los Sex Pistols no sonaran en el sucio local de Manchester donde ensayaban estos macarras). Oasis se convirtieron, de repente, en la referencia estética y espiritual; y canciones como Columbia, Slide away, Supersonic o Cigarettes & alcohol, en himnos vitales y generacionales.
3. Definitely maybe, de Oasis:
A estas alturas todos saben quienes son Oasis, y si los ama o los odia. Por eso quizás el tiempo ha restado valor a lo que supuso la publicación de Definitely maybe. Bajo la batuta de las excelentes composiciones de Noel Gallagher, y con la personalidad y el carisma de su hermano pequeño Liam como forma visible de la propuesta, el debut de Oasis impulsó el regreso de las guitarras densas al pop inglés (que sus grupos de cabecera fueran Beatles y Stone Roses, no implica que los Sex Pistols no sonaran en el sucio local de Manchester donde ensayaban estos macarras). Oasis se convirtieron, de repente, en la referencia estética y espiritual; y canciones como Columbia, Slide away, Supersonic o Cigarettes & alcohol, en himnos vitales y generacionales.
Dejamos una grabación en directo de Columbia, de Oasis:
4. Dog man star, de Suede:
El single previo Stay together ya anticipaba el camino. La creciente maestría e inquietud musical de Bernard Butler –y su alienamiento respecto al resto de la banda– más la no menos creciente actividad lisérgica de Brett Anderson provocaron que Suede se desmarcaran de su álbum de debut y de toda la música que se hacía entonces e iniciaran otro viaje por su cuenta. Aún les quedaba Bowie (New generation), pero la afectación y el melodrama eran nuevos. Dog man star era tan ambicioso artísticamente que, de no ser por la sutilidad con la que Butler envolvió las desgarradas maniobras poéticas de Anderson, canciones como The asphalt world, The wild ones o Still life habrían dado vergüenza ajena. En cambio, fue una obra maestra. Butler dejó Suede antes de que viera la luz.
5. I should coco, de Supergrass:
Espectacular se convierte en un adjetivo escaso para definir un debut de los que ya no se publican en estos tibios tiempos. Coger todas tus influencias (Bowie, Buzzcocks, Beatles) y mostrarlas sin pudor ni nostalgia para convertirlas en, ahí la clave, un sonido personalísimo, lo consiguieron estos tres descerebrados en el año 95. Pura energía sin control ni mesura, una enfermedad musical infecciosa y… letal.
6. Wake up!, de The Boo Radleys:
La banda liderada (en tareas compositivas) por Martin Carr había empezado mucho antes del Britpop y Giant steps (1993) ya era un disco sobresaliente, pero en Wake up! dieron con una tecla que, por otro lado, no volvieron a encontrar jamás: la del éxito comercial. La mitad de la culpa fue del single Wake up boo, pero el disco también tenía perlas como Reaching out from here, Martin, Doom! It’s seven o’clock o It’s lulu.
7. Fuzzy logic, de Super Furry Animals:
Galeses militantes –su tercer disco sería en ese idioma–, Gruff Rhys y compañía debutaron a principios de 1996 con un álbum de punk pop juguetón, surrealista, loco de remate, pluscuamperfecto. Entre el trallazo de God! show me magic y los coros de For now and ever cabían la inmediatez de Something 4 the weekend, una canción dedicada a un frisbee y otras gloriosas rarezas que hablaban de la singularidad de este grupo.
8. Elastica, de Elastica:
En el 95, no había garito de Nueva York o Londres en el que no se hablara de Elastica. Con un rollo new-wave y la vista puesta muy cerca de los discos de Wire, gracias a ellos el movimiento encontró a su icono (sexual) femenino: Justine Frischmann.
9. Suede, de Suede:
Un sonido seductor y oscuro, entre lo afectado y la poesía. Corría el año 1993 y con el binomio Butler-Anderson llegó el glamour al britpop. El tiempo no ha pasado por Animal nitrate, So young o Sleeping pills, excitantes canciones de huida... a ninguna parte.
10. 1977, de Ash:
¿Podrías pasar un año en una habitación con la saga de Star Wars, un póster de Jackie Chan en la pared, algunos pedales de distorsión enganchados a la guitarra, un diario en blanco, y los discos de los Housemartins sonando sólo en los días pares? Mientras piensas la respuesta, escucha el trabajo que publicaron estos niñatos norirlandeses en el año 1996, enlazando con destreza el sonido punk inglés con cierta querencia grunge y bastante cultura pop. Y sí, es cierto lo que cuentan: Wheeler, Hamilton y Murray hicieron que algunos se dejaran los flequillos crecer y crecer.
11. Casanova, de The Divine Comedy:
Que Scott Walker era un extraño en las existencias de los britpoperos, era un hecho. Y que con su cuarto y mejor disco, un Neil Hannon de 25 años llenó ese vacío, también. Romántico pero no dramático, orquestal pero no barroco, Casanova está repleto de magia, de charming, y de canciones inmensas como Something for the Weekend o Becoming more like Alfie.
12. (What’s the story) Morning glory, de Oasis:
En su día fue celebrado como incluso mejor que su debut. Wonderwall fue un éxito mundial, aunque con el tiempo las mejores canciones son las que suenan más urgentes, Hello o Some might say. A pesar de que no, no era mejor que Definitely maybe, se trataba de una colección de canciones al alcance de muy pocos, y fue el disco que les dio la gloria.
13. Modern life is rubbish, de Blur:
Debates al margen (si fue o no el disco que marcó el ahora del britpop), el segundo de Blur dibuja a un grupo que busca reinventarse: si antes el grunge ejercía su poder hasta donde alcanzaba la vista, ahora el pop debe dominar el mundo… otra vez. Los hipnóticos arreglos de Coxon, el tenso bajo de James y la lírica mordaz de Albarn, en pleno apogeo. Sin este disco, Parklife no hubiera sido posible.
14. A northern soul, de The Verve:
Ya desde el principio de su carrera, a Richard Ashcroft le llamaban Mad Richard por sus actitudes y ambiciones chamánicas. El único momento en que las puso negro sobre blanco fue en este disco, en especial en las canciones-himno A new decade, This is music y History. También en el libreto del disco, con imágenes apologéticas de una espiritualidad más o menos narcótica.
15. K, de Kula Shaker:
Con Hendrix, Grateful Dead y George Harrison metidos en el alma, y el Siddhartha de Hesse en el bolsillo, Crispian Mills, nieto del actor Sir John Mills, montó una banda para recuperar la espiritualidad que inundaba la psicodelia de finales de los 60. Versos en sánscrito y shivas de cuatro brazos recorren canciones que marcaron por la esencia más que por la forma. Ahora son difíciles de reivindicar, pero en su día Tattva fue un pelotazo.
16. Expecting to fly, de The Bluetones:
En 2010 se publicaba un nuevo disco de los Bluetones. Tras quince años de pop melódico y armoniosos pasajes, mostraban seguir a lo suyo, tarea que en la empezaron con Expecting to fly, su debut del año 1996. Las obvias comparaciones con los Stone Roses, lejos de perjudicar, les permitieron tener hueco asegurado en el NME. Y hits como Bluetonic o Slight return hicieron el resto.
17. The great escape, de Blur:
Batalla campal, estribillos letales, palabras afiladas, y dos discos a punto de ver la luz. Oasis ganó en cifras y Blur en letras. Country house, un single lleno de referencias british, sirvió de radiografía (y de aviso) de lo que íbamos a encontrar en The great escape: la sociedad británica y su cultura puestas en duda. Con singles como The universal, estamos ante el primer disco de Blur que consiguió triunfar en EE UU.
18. Olympian, de Gene:
En algún punto entre The Faces, The Jam y The Smiths situamos el proyecto de Martin Rossiter y compañía. Secundarios de lujo más por mala suerte que por falta de talento, Gene destacaban por mezclar épica con crudeza, ofreciendo un debut que, por debajo de las evidentes influencias, dejaba entrever ideas y personalidad. Hay que completarlo con el álbum de singles y rarezas To see the lights.
19. This world and body, de Marion:
Víctimas de lo que llamaron ‘la maldición de Morrissey’ (grupo al que alababa, grupo que se hundía), Marion tuvieron sus cinco minutos de gloria gracias a temas irresistibles como Sleep. Las adicciones de su líder, Jaime, acabaron con ellos antes de lo que merecían.
20. Moseley shoals, de Ocean Colour Scene:
Paul Weller dijo: “Ellos me gustan”. Y nosotros le creímos, porque casi nunca se equivoca. Mucho más eclécticos y frescos que en su debut, Ocean Colour Scene sorprendieron en el año 1996 con este brillante disco y con un single, The riverboat song, que contiene uno de los riffs más adictivos del pop.
21. New wave, de The Auteurs:
El exquisito grupo de Luke Haines fue alineado junto a Suede en los principios del Britpop, pero el regusto agridulce y el sonido más melódico que demuestran joyas como Showgirl o Starstruck mostró que sus caminos eran distintos.
22. Nuisance, de Menswear:
Hubo un momento, en 1994, en que todo el mundo sabía quiénes eran Menswear aunque nadie había escuchado ni una canción suya. Eran los reyes del saber estar, de la ubicuidad, convirtieron el ser vistos en un arte. Después, el tiempo se les echó encima y les pasó de largo. Antes, hicieron este disco en el que brillan sus singles más conocidos: Daydreamer y Being brave.
23. On, de Echobelly:
Por un par de años, Echobelly fueron la banda con cantante femenina más consistente del Britpop. Éxitos como Insomniac o I can’t imagine the world without me abonaron el terreno para este On que les consolidó, aunque brevemente. Los hits aquí son King of the kerb y Great things. Echobelly pusieron banda sonora a muchos grandes momentos de la época.
24. Lovelife, de Lush:
Fueron de los primeros en estar ahí, alternando con Blur y Stereolab, pero no alcanzaron ni la popularidad de los primeros ni el culto de los segundos. Se quedaron en unos fabricantes de pop –perdón– bonito, cuidados por la prensa hasta que aparecieron en escena Cast, que hacían lo mismo pero con personaje ilustre en cabeza. De hecho ellos y su All change podrían haber ocupado este hueco.
25. The it girl, de Sleeper:
Ahora cuesta creerlo, pero Sleeper titulaban así su segundo disco porque su lideresa, Louise Wener, era en efecto la chica-objeto del britpop –dado que Justine Frischmann era pareja estable de Damon Albarn–. Aunque musicalmente no estuvieran a la altura de la atención que se les prestó, Sale of the century, Nice guy Eddie o Statuesque pueden valer una revisión en una fiesta temática."
Bom listas são sempre subjetivas, mas deixar de fora Urban Hymmes do Verve é um pecado mortal!
Quanto ao Oasis, Defenitly Maybe é de fato um disco histórico, considerado um dos melhores debuts de todos os tempos, mas o Morning Glory (em 12o. na lista) é, por questões sentimentais, o meu favorito.
Aliás, o disco solo do Noel Gallegher etá bem bom, recomendo.
A primeira banda foi muito importante para mim na década de 80, e escreverei mais sobre ela em breve.
Já o Oasis foi minha banda favorita ao longo dos anos 90 (até prefiro o Blur, mas fui prestar atenção na banda um pouco mais tarde).
Aproveitando o gancho, vejam essa lista que saiu na Rolling Stone espanhola sobre os melhores discos do Britpop (Rolling Stone Brasil, cadê você? Chico Buarque na capa é compreensível, mas foda!):
"
1. Different class, de Pulp:
En un momento en que Blur y Oasis se habían convertido en demasiado grandes, la banda liderada por Jarvis Cocker (en activo desde finales de los setenta) se transformó en la verdadera favorita de mucha gente. Motivos: Common people se basta. Pero fue el grueso del álbum el que hizo de Different class el trabajo definitivo de la época. Jarvis Cocker era un londinense cualquiera que salía por el Soho (Bar Italia), adoraba a las chicas de Ladbroke Grove (I spy), no quería comprometerse (Disco 2000) y mostraba un apetito insaciable por la juerga (Sorted for E’s & Wizz) y el sexo (Underwear y Live bed show). Todo lo anterior, resumido en ese himno que fue y es Common People, explican por qué Pulp fueron una banda sin la que, seguramente, el Britpop habría sido algo muy distinto, o no habría sido en absoluto.
2. Parklife, de Blur:
A la tercera fue la vencida. Después de mostrarse demasiado dubitativos en sus dos primeros discos, hasta el punto de que nadie sabía si iban para estrellas o para anécdota, Damon Albarn emergió como el más firme plumilla musical a heredar el trono de cronista laureado del reino, entre serio e irónico, que en su día detentó Ray Davies. Auténtico buque insignia del Britpop, Parklife regalaba canciones a casi todas las esencias de la vida realmente inglesa: las jornadas festivas (Bank holiday), la mirada desapasionada y costumbrista a la vida cotidiana (End of the century), la escapada a la costa (Clover over dover)… En medio, cautivadores paisajes personales como Badhead y To the end, y un final majestuoso con This is a low, una de sus mejores canciones.
3. Definitely maybe, de Oasis:
A estas alturas todos saben quienes son Oasis, y si los ama o los odia. Por eso quizás el tiempo ha restado valor a lo que supuso la publicación de Definitely maybe. Bajo la batuta de las excelentes composiciones de Noel Gallagher, y con la personalidad y el carisma de su hermano pequeño Liam como forma visible de la propuesta, el debut de Oasis impulsó el regreso de las guitarras densas al pop inglés (que sus grupos de cabecera fueran Beatles y Stone Roses, no implica que los Sex Pistols no sonaran en el sucio local de Manchester donde ensayaban estos macarras). Oasis se convirtieron, de repente, en la referencia estética y espiritual; y canciones como Columbia, Slide away, Supersonic o Cigarettes & alcohol, en himnos vitales y generacionales.
3. Definitely maybe, de Oasis:
A estas alturas todos saben quienes son Oasis, y si los ama o los odia. Por eso quizás el tiempo ha restado valor a lo que supuso la publicación de Definitely maybe. Bajo la batuta de las excelentes composiciones de Noel Gallagher, y con la personalidad y el carisma de su hermano pequeño Liam como forma visible de la propuesta, el debut de Oasis impulsó el regreso de las guitarras densas al pop inglés (que sus grupos de cabecera fueran Beatles y Stone Roses, no implica que los Sex Pistols no sonaran en el sucio local de Manchester donde ensayaban estos macarras). Oasis se convirtieron, de repente, en la referencia estética y espiritual; y canciones como Columbia, Slide away, Supersonic o Cigarettes & alcohol, en himnos vitales y generacionales.
Dejamos una grabación en directo de Columbia, de Oasis:
4. Dog man star, de Suede:
El single previo Stay together ya anticipaba el camino. La creciente maestría e inquietud musical de Bernard Butler –y su alienamiento respecto al resto de la banda– más la no menos creciente actividad lisérgica de Brett Anderson provocaron que Suede se desmarcaran de su álbum de debut y de toda la música que se hacía entonces e iniciaran otro viaje por su cuenta. Aún les quedaba Bowie (New generation), pero la afectación y el melodrama eran nuevos. Dog man star era tan ambicioso artísticamente que, de no ser por la sutilidad con la que Butler envolvió las desgarradas maniobras poéticas de Anderson, canciones como The asphalt world, The wild ones o Still life habrían dado vergüenza ajena. En cambio, fue una obra maestra. Butler dejó Suede antes de que viera la luz.
5. I should coco, de Supergrass:
Espectacular se convierte en un adjetivo escaso para definir un debut de los que ya no se publican en estos tibios tiempos. Coger todas tus influencias (Bowie, Buzzcocks, Beatles) y mostrarlas sin pudor ni nostalgia para convertirlas en, ahí la clave, un sonido personalísimo, lo consiguieron estos tres descerebrados en el año 95. Pura energía sin control ni mesura, una enfermedad musical infecciosa y… letal.
6. Wake up!, de The Boo Radleys:
La banda liderada (en tareas compositivas) por Martin Carr había empezado mucho antes del Britpop y Giant steps (1993) ya era un disco sobresaliente, pero en Wake up! dieron con una tecla que, por otro lado, no volvieron a encontrar jamás: la del éxito comercial. La mitad de la culpa fue del single Wake up boo, pero el disco también tenía perlas como Reaching out from here, Martin, Doom! It’s seven o’clock o It’s lulu.
7. Fuzzy logic, de Super Furry Animals:
Galeses militantes –su tercer disco sería en ese idioma–, Gruff Rhys y compañía debutaron a principios de 1996 con un álbum de punk pop juguetón, surrealista, loco de remate, pluscuamperfecto. Entre el trallazo de God! show me magic y los coros de For now and ever cabían la inmediatez de Something 4 the weekend, una canción dedicada a un frisbee y otras gloriosas rarezas que hablaban de la singularidad de este grupo.
8. Elastica, de Elastica:
En el 95, no había garito de Nueva York o Londres en el que no se hablara de Elastica. Con un rollo new-wave y la vista puesta muy cerca de los discos de Wire, gracias a ellos el movimiento encontró a su icono (sexual) femenino: Justine Frischmann.
9. Suede, de Suede:
Un sonido seductor y oscuro, entre lo afectado y la poesía. Corría el año 1993 y con el binomio Butler-Anderson llegó el glamour al britpop. El tiempo no ha pasado por Animal nitrate, So young o Sleeping pills, excitantes canciones de huida... a ninguna parte.
10. 1977, de Ash:
¿Podrías pasar un año en una habitación con la saga de Star Wars, un póster de Jackie Chan en la pared, algunos pedales de distorsión enganchados a la guitarra, un diario en blanco, y los discos de los Housemartins sonando sólo en los días pares? Mientras piensas la respuesta, escucha el trabajo que publicaron estos niñatos norirlandeses en el año 1996, enlazando con destreza el sonido punk inglés con cierta querencia grunge y bastante cultura pop. Y sí, es cierto lo que cuentan: Wheeler, Hamilton y Murray hicieron que algunos se dejaran los flequillos crecer y crecer.
11. Casanova, de The Divine Comedy:
Que Scott Walker era un extraño en las existencias de los britpoperos, era un hecho. Y que con su cuarto y mejor disco, un Neil Hannon de 25 años llenó ese vacío, también. Romántico pero no dramático, orquestal pero no barroco, Casanova está repleto de magia, de charming, y de canciones inmensas como Something for the Weekend o Becoming more like Alfie.
12. (What’s the story) Morning glory, de Oasis:
En su día fue celebrado como incluso mejor que su debut. Wonderwall fue un éxito mundial, aunque con el tiempo las mejores canciones son las que suenan más urgentes, Hello o Some might say. A pesar de que no, no era mejor que Definitely maybe, se trataba de una colección de canciones al alcance de muy pocos, y fue el disco que les dio la gloria.
13. Modern life is rubbish, de Blur:
Debates al margen (si fue o no el disco que marcó el ahora del britpop), el segundo de Blur dibuja a un grupo que busca reinventarse: si antes el grunge ejercía su poder hasta donde alcanzaba la vista, ahora el pop debe dominar el mundo… otra vez. Los hipnóticos arreglos de Coxon, el tenso bajo de James y la lírica mordaz de Albarn, en pleno apogeo. Sin este disco, Parklife no hubiera sido posible.
14. A northern soul, de The Verve:
Ya desde el principio de su carrera, a Richard Ashcroft le llamaban Mad Richard por sus actitudes y ambiciones chamánicas. El único momento en que las puso negro sobre blanco fue en este disco, en especial en las canciones-himno A new decade, This is music y History. También en el libreto del disco, con imágenes apologéticas de una espiritualidad más o menos narcótica.
15. K, de Kula Shaker:
Con Hendrix, Grateful Dead y George Harrison metidos en el alma, y el Siddhartha de Hesse en el bolsillo, Crispian Mills, nieto del actor Sir John Mills, montó una banda para recuperar la espiritualidad que inundaba la psicodelia de finales de los 60. Versos en sánscrito y shivas de cuatro brazos recorren canciones que marcaron por la esencia más que por la forma. Ahora son difíciles de reivindicar, pero en su día Tattva fue un pelotazo.
16. Expecting to fly, de The Bluetones:
En 2010 se publicaba un nuevo disco de los Bluetones. Tras quince años de pop melódico y armoniosos pasajes, mostraban seguir a lo suyo, tarea que en la empezaron con Expecting to fly, su debut del año 1996. Las obvias comparaciones con los Stone Roses, lejos de perjudicar, les permitieron tener hueco asegurado en el NME. Y hits como Bluetonic o Slight return hicieron el resto.
17. The great escape, de Blur:
Batalla campal, estribillos letales, palabras afiladas, y dos discos a punto de ver la luz. Oasis ganó en cifras y Blur en letras. Country house, un single lleno de referencias british, sirvió de radiografía (y de aviso) de lo que íbamos a encontrar en The great escape: la sociedad británica y su cultura puestas en duda. Con singles como The universal, estamos ante el primer disco de Blur que consiguió triunfar en EE UU.
18. Olympian, de Gene:
En algún punto entre The Faces, The Jam y The Smiths situamos el proyecto de Martin Rossiter y compañía. Secundarios de lujo más por mala suerte que por falta de talento, Gene destacaban por mezclar épica con crudeza, ofreciendo un debut que, por debajo de las evidentes influencias, dejaba entrever ideas y personalidad. Hay que completarlo con el álbum de singles y rarezas To see the lights.
19. This world and body, de Marion:
Víctimas de lo que llamaron ‘la maldición de Morrissey’ (grupo al que alababa, grupo que se hundía), Marion tuvieron sus cinco minutos de gloria gracias a temas irresistibles como Sleep. Las adicciones de su líder, Jaime, acabaron con ellos antes de lo que merecían.
20. Moseley shoals, de Ocean Colour Scene:
Paul Weller dijo: “Ellos me gustan”. Y nosotros le creímos, porque casi nunca se equivoca. Mucho más eclécticos y frescos que en su debut, Ocean Colour Scene sorprendieron en el año 1996 con este brillante disco y con un single, The riverboat song, que contiene uno de los riffs más adictivos del pop.
21. New wave, de The Auteurs:
El exquisito grupo de Luke Haines fue alineado junto a Suede en los principios del Britpop, pero el regusto agridulce y el sonido más melódico que demuestran joyas como Showgirl o Starstruck mostró que sus caminos eran distintos.
22. Nuisance, de Menswear:
Hubo un momento, en 1994, en que todo el mundo sabía quiénes eran Menswear aunque nadie había escuchado ni una canción suya. Eran los reyes del saber estar, de la ubicuidad, convirtieron el ser vistos en un arte. Después, el tiempo se les echó encima y les pasó de largo. Antes, hicieron este disco en el que brillan sus singles más conocidos: Daydreamer y Being brave.
23. On, de Echobelly:
Por un par de años, Echobelly fueron la banda con cantante femenina más consistente del Britpop. Éxitos como Insomniac o I can’t imagine the world without me abonaron el terreno para este On que les consolidó, aunque brevemente. Los hits aquí son King of the kerb y Great things. Echobelly pusieron banda sonora a muchos grandes momentos de la época.
24. Lovelife, de Lush:
Fueron de los primeros en estar ahí, alternando con Blur y Stereolab, pero no alcanzaron ni la popularidad de los primeros ni el culto de los segundos. Se quedaron en unos fabricantes de pop –perdón– bonito, cuidados por la prensa hasta que aparecieron en escena Cast, que hacían lo mismo pero con personaje ilustre en cabeza. De hecho ellos y su All change podrían haber ocupado este hueco.
25. The it girl, de Sleeper:
Ahora cuesta creerlo, pero Sleeper titulaban así su segundo disco porque su lideresa, Louise Wener, era en efecto la chica-objeto del britpop –dado que Justine Frischmann era pareja estable de Damon Albarn–. Aunque musicalmente no estuvieran a la altura de la atención que se les prestó, Sale of the century, Nice guy Eddie o Statuesque pueden valer una revisión en una fiesta temática."
Bom listas são sempre subjetivas, mas deixar de fora Urban Hymmes do Verve é um pecado mortal!
Quanto ao Oasis, Defenitly Maybe é de fato um disco histórico, considerado um dos melhores debuts de todos os tempos, mas o Morning Glory (em 12o. na lista) é, por questões sentimentais, o meu favorito.
Aliás, o disco solo do Noel Gallegher etá bem bom, recomendo.
Felipe Hirsch
Felipe, para quem não conhece, é um dos melhores diretores brasileiros de teatro da atualidade. Bom, pelos menos quem fala isso é a imprensa especializada, pois confesso, com grande carga de vergonha, que ainda não assisti a nenhuma de suas peças.
Mas não é isso o que importa para esse texto, e sim que Hirsch é um (mais que) apaixonado por cultura pop, música em especial, e escreve textos muito bons em uma coluna do Jornal O Globo, intitulada Pop Cult.
Já faz algum tempo que quero postar algumas dessas colunas por aqui, e como tenho ouvido demais o último disco do Portishead, Third, de 2009, decidi começar por esta aqui, aproveitem ao máximo:
"Vi aquele show incrível da Beth Gibbons no Tim Festival. Depois, ela assistiu o Lambchop do meu lado, me pediu fogo e eu não tinha, um dos maiores fracassos da minha vida. E eu não sabia se assistia ao show ou ficava olhando pra ela fumando. Naquele tempo fumava-se. Linda, cool, com aquela voz de Mysteries ou cantando Candy Says do Velvet na minha cabeça. Tantos anos depois, continua tudo assim. Eu nunca tinha visto o Portishead. Poucos viram, eles não tocam há 13 anos na América. Escolheram o sensacional Hammerstein Ballroom, em Nova York, com sua acústica e som perfeitos. O show começa com a abertura de Three. Sete das onze do três são tocadas. Entre elas, a linda Magic Doors. Threads, como no disco, encerra o show, curto mas inesquecível. Do clássico Dummy, tocam Mysterons, Sour Times, Wandering Star, Roads e Glory Box, todas desesperadamente adoradas pelo público. Cowboys e Over, do segundo disco. Chase The Tear, o último single também foi tocado. Tudo é tão delicado que parece escapar da razão e se alojar nos sentidos. Música e imagens flutuam ao redor, e a voz de Beth Gibbons. Ela não fuma no palco. Não pode mais fumar no palco? É isso? Eu perdi algo? Como é que o Keith Richards faz? eu penso. Eu quero ver a Beth Gibbons cantando e fumando! Eu não quero viver num mundo em que a Beth Gibbons não possa fumar, e cantar Roads pra mim, pra nós. Sei, eu já entendi que é perigoso. Quando fizemos Som & Fúria no Sesc Anchieta, na temporada de 2000, acomodávamos umas 140 pessoas nas escadas, no chão do teatro. Não tinha lugar pra pisar, todos abraçados, como num show de rock. Isso não pode mais. Sempre penso que se aquelas pessoas queriam arriscar suas vidas pra ver uma peça de teatro é um sinal de que havia, no teatro, uma coisa interessante o bastante para arriscar a vida. Enquanto as pessoas quiserem arriscar um pouco suas vidas por uma peça de teatro, está tudo bem com o teatro. Fora essa digressão, Beth Gibbons estava lá, de novo, ao alcance da minha paixão. Dessa vez, enchi meu casaco de isqueiros, mas ela nem passou perto de precisar o mínimo de mim. Nem sei se ela fuma mais. É uma pena pro mundo, se a Beth Gibbons não fuma mais. Agora eu estou aqui, no deserto, vim parar em Las Vegas para o Shakedown, Festival de Garage, Punk e outros Rockabillies, aqui do lado do Flamingo. Segunda vou encontrar o Portishead em L.A e depois no teatro grego de Berkeley. É um vôo longo entre Nova York e Los Angeles para a Beth Gibbons sem fumar. Esse ano, o Portishead fez a curadoria do ATP (All Tomorrow’s Parties). Em Alexandra Place, em Londres, e aqui na América, em Asbury Park. Na Europa teve PJ Harvey, Grinderman, Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Nos Estados Unidos teve Battles, Horrors, e, principalmente, Jeff Mangum do Neutral Milk Hotel. Ele andou tocando pelas ruas do sul de Manhattan durante os protestos em Wall Street na semana passada. Por sorte, eu estava por lá. Por azar, eu não vi. Verei em New Jersey em novembro. Dizem que ele não existe. Mando notícias.
Outra coisa que não sai da minha cabeça é o show que vi de…Elvis Costello e sua Revolver Tour. Fui até o tal United Palace no Bronx. Igreja e teatro, é um dos lugares mais incríveis que já entrei na cidade. Lindo de morrer. Bem, Costello é assunto de toda semana, mas esse show é muito especial! Pra quem não sabe, é um jogo de uma roleta pousada no palco com o nome de umas 60 músicas. Durante o show, alguns felizes são selecionados, na platéia, para girar a coisa. Então, os Attractions, ou melhor, os Imposters e Elvis tocam as sorteadas. Com essa dinâmica nenhum show é, no mínimo, igual ao outro. Fora isso, existem alguns lances a mais. Por exemplo, no meu show deu Cash na roleta. EC brincou que essa era a hora do público jogar dinheiro no palco. Mas logo emendou com um medley fantástico de Johnny Cash, culminando com uma versão, de arrancar os olhos, de I Still Miss Someone. É estarrecedor como eles brincam com suas capacidades. Se cai na palavra Time, como aconteceu, eles saem tocando umas 4 músicas com esse tema, algumas do repertório, outras completamente improvisadas. Durante a rodada, os selecionados ficam bebericando coquetéis num lounge bar, próximo ao piano, ou podem se aventurar num pole dancing instalado no palco. Entre os convidados, na minha noite, a bela Mary Louise Parker, de Weeds, foi pescada, rodou a roleta, ganhou sua música, dançou no poste para delírio do teatro-igreja e foi presenteada, por seu nome, como uma versão inesquecível de Marie’s the Name of His Latest Flame, minha música preferida de Elvis Presley (entre outras doze), composta por Doc Pomus, o maior ídolo, da música, de Lou Reed. O da literatura é, foi seu professor, Delmore Schwartz. Fora isso, é importante dizer que Costello abriu! o show com Alison e já emendou com Lipstick Vogue, o que fez meu coração disparar acima de 160 batimentos por minuto. E sim, ele tocou (porque na roleta deu) Everyday I Write The Book, I Don`t Want To Go To Chelsea, Peace, Love and Understanding (composta com Nick Lowe) e as raríssimas Stella Hurt, You Little Fool e New Lace Sleeves. Spectacle, o genial programa de TV de EC, afinou ainda mais a enciclopédia de música que ele é. Já falei aqui sobre o episódio do encontro com Elton John. Um clássico. Aliás, ouvi, nesse deserto iluminado, ao vivo, EJ cantando Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters e chorei de tão bonito. Semana que vem, Foo Fighters em L.A."
Aliás, pode até ter sido alguma questão de agenda, mas não dá para entender como o Portishead foi ignorado na escalação dos festivais brasileiros (Rock In Rio, Planeta Terra e SWU), apesar de que gostaria mesmo era de ver a banda tocar no Via Funchal.
Abs.
Mas não é isso o que importa para esse texto, e sim que Hirsch é um (mais que) apaixonado por cultura pop, música em especial, e escreve textos muito bons em uma coluna do Jornal O Globo, intitulada Pop Cult.
Já faz algum tempo que quero postar algumas dessas colunas por aqui, e como tenho ouvido demais o último disco do Portishead, Third, de 2009, decidi começar por esta aqui, aproveitem ao máximo:
"Vi aquele show incrível da Beth Gibbons no Tim Festival. Depois, ela assistiu o Lambchop do meu lado, me pediu fogo e eu não tinha, um dos maiores fracassos da minha vida. E eu não sabia se assistia ao show ou ficava olhando pra ela fumando. Naquele tempo fumava-se. Linda, cool, com aquela voz de Mysteries ou cantando Candy Says do Velvet na minha cabeça. Tantos anos depois, continua tudo assim. Eu nunca tinha visto o Portishead. Poucos viram, eles não tocam há 13 anos na América. Escolheram o sensacional Hammerstein Ballroom, em Nova York, com sua acústica e som perfeitos. O show começa com a abertura de Three. Sete das onze do três são tocadas. Entre elas, a linda Magic Doors. Threads, como no disco, encerra o show, curto mas inesquecível. Do clássico Dummy, tocam Mysterons, Sour Times, Wandering Star, Roads e Glory Box, todas desesperadamente adoradas pelo público. Cowboys e Over, do segundo disco. Chase The Tear, o último single também foi tocado. Tudo é tão delicado que parece escapar da razão e se alojar nos sentidos. Música e imagens flutuam ao redor, e a voz de Beth Gibbons. Ela não fuma no palco. Não pode mais fumar no palco? É isso? Eu perdi algo? Como é que o Keith Richards faz? eu penso. Eu quero ver a Beth Gibbons cantando e fumando! Eu não quero viver num mundo em que a Beth Gibbons não possa fumar, e cantar Roads pra mim, pra nós. Sei, eu já entendi que é perigoso. Quando fizemos Som & Fúria no Sesc Anchieta, na temporada de 2000, acomodávamos umas 140 pessoas nas escadas, no chão do teatro. Não tinha lugar pra pisar, todos abraçados, como num show de rock. Isso não pode mais. Sempre penso que se aquelas pessoas queriam arriscar suas vidas pra ver uma peça de teatro é um sinal de que havia, no teatro, uma coisa interessante o bastante para arriscar a vida. Enquanto as pessoas quiserem arriscar um pouco suas vidas por uma peça de teatro, está tudo bem com o teatro. Fora essa digressão, Beth Gibbons estava lá, de novo, ao alcance da minha paixão. Dessa vez, enchi meu casaco de isqueiros, mas ela nem passou perto de precisar o mínimo de mim. Nem sei se ela fuma mais. É uma pena pro mundo, se a Beth Gibbons não fuma mais. Agora eu estou aqui, no deserto, vim parar em Las Vegas para o Shakedown, Festival de Garage, Punk e outros Rockabillies, aqui do lado do Flamingo. Segunda vou encontrar o Portishead em L.A e depois no teatro grego de Berkeley. É um vôo longo entre Nova York e Los Angeles para a Beth Gibbons sem fumar. Esse ano, o Portishead fez a curadoria do ATP (All Tomorrow’s Parties). Em Alexandra Place, em Londres, e aqui na América, em Asbury Park. Na Europa teve PJ Harvey, Grinderman, Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Nos Estados Unidos teve Battles, Horrors, e, principalmente, Jeff Mangum do Neutral Milk Hotel. Ele andou tocando pelas ruas do sul de Manhattan durante os protestos em Wall Street na semana passada. Por sorte, eu estava por lá. Por azar, eu não vi. Verei em New Jersey em novembro. Dizem que ele não existe. Mando notícias.
Outra coisa que não sai da minha cabeça é o show que vi de…Elvis Costello e sua Revolver Tour. Fui até o tal United Palace no Bronx. Igreja e teatro, é um dos lugares mais incríveis que já entrei na cidade. Lindo de morrer. Bem, Costello é assunto de toda semana, mas esse show é muito especial! Pra quem não sabe, é um jogo de uma roleta pousada no palco com o nome de umas 60 músicas. Durante o show, alguns felizes são selecionados, na platéia, para girar a coisa. Então, os Attractions, ou melhor, os Imposters e Elvis tocam as sorteadas. Com essa dinâmica nenhum show é, no mínimo, igual ao outro. Fora isso, existem alguns lances a mais. Por exemplo, no meu show deu Cash na roleta. EC brincou que essa era a hora do público jogar dinheiro no palco. Mas logo emendou com um medley fantástico de Johnny Cash, culminando com uma versão, de arrancar os olhos, de I Still Miss Someone. É estarrecedor como eles brincam com suas capacidades. Se cai na palavra Time, como aconteceu, eles saem tocando umas 4 músicas com esse tema, algumas do repertório, outras completamente improvisadas. Durante a rodada, os selecionados ficam bebericando coquetéis num lounge bar, próximo ao piano, ou podem se aventurar num pole dancing instalado no palco. Entre os convidados, na minha noite, a bela Mary Louise Parker, de Weeds, foi pescada, rodou a roleta, ganhou sua música, dançou no poste para delírio do teatro-igreja e foi presenteada, por seu nome, como uma versão inesquecível de Marie’s the Name of His Latest Flame, minha música preferida de Elvis Presley (entre outras doze), composta por Doc Pomus, o maior ídolo, da música, de Lou Reed. O da literatura é, foi seu professor, Delmore Schwartz. Fora isso, é importante dizer que Costello abriu! o show com Alison e já emendou com Lipstick Vogue, o que fez meu coração disparar acima de 160 batimentos por minuto. E sim, ele tocou (porque na roleta deu) Everyday I Write The Book, I Don`t Want To Go To Chelsea, Peace, Love and Understanding (composta com Nick Lowe) e as raríssimas Stella Hurt, You Little Fool e New Lace Sleeves. Spectacle, o genial programa de TV de EC, afinou ainda mais a enciclopédia de música que ele é. Já falei aqui sobre o episódio do encontro com Elton John. Um clássico. Aliás, ouvi, nesse deserto iluminado, ao vivo, EJ cantando Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters e chorei de tão bonito. Semana que vem, Foo Fighters em L.A."
Aliás, pode até ter sido alguma questão de agenda, mas não dá para entender como o Portishead foi ignorado na escalação dos festivais brasileiros (Rock In Rio, Planeta Terra e SWU), apesar de que gostaria mesmo era de ver a banda tocar no Via Funchal.
Abs.
domingo, 16 de outubro de 2011
Reverb 2
E não é que o Thiago Pereira ganhou mais uma medalha de ouro, em panamericanos!
Nossa, essa notícia só reforça meu orgulho pelo esporte brasileiro (he he he).
Nossa, essa notícia só reforça meu orgulho pelo esporte brasileiro (he he he).
segunda-feira, 10 de outubro de 2011
Punk Africano
Vi no blog do Ronca Ronca hoje.
Algumas bandas parecem ser muito interessantes.
Aliás, ainda essa semana mais sobre punk, e pós punk, aqui no blog.
Abs.
Algumas bandas parecem ser muito interessantes.
Aliás, ainda essa semana mais sobre punk, e pós punk, aqui no blog.
Abs.
domingo, 9 de outubro de 2011
Jah Wobble volta ao pós punk
Ele mesmo conta à revista Clash:
"I first made the acquaintance of Julie Campbell via Email on the Eighteenth of February 2011. We arranged a meeting at Manchester’s Deansgate a couple of days later, on a Saturday afternoon. It was a very confused beginning to our collaboration, reminiscent of a Larry David scenario. I thought that her record company (Warp) were interested in me remixing or possibly producing her. She was under the opposite impression and thought that I was looking to find a singer for a band that I was supposed to be forming. I had first heard her voice when Steve Beckett, the boss of Warp Records, played me her the title track of her 2010 album ‘Nerve Up’. Initially, I knew her by her stage name LoneLady.
At first, I assumed that ‘Nerve up’ and the single ‘Intuition’ were cover versions, simply because they immediately sounded familiar to me. It was as if I already knew them. To my ear, they had a dry tautness and a melodic sensibility that strongly suggested Manchester of the late seventies. I assumed they were classics by the Buzzcocks or Joy Division (during their later Martin Hannett period), that had somehow eluded me. The Buzzcocks were the first punk band, other than the Sex Pistols, that I liked. I first saw them at the Vortex in 1977. They were lyrically adept, with a taut, focused sound with just the right amount of irony. I bought their début EP ‘Spiral Scratch’ (great title). I particularly liked ‘Boredom’, especially the one note solo.
However, LoneLady had an edgy aesthetic about her, way beyond any seventies band. She had intelligently paired down and reduced her sound to the bare minimum, thereby making it even more starkly dramatic and effective. She was obviously a smart cookie. I checked out her performances on YouTube and was struck by her commanding presence (and what I felt was a rather haughty demeanour). She had what I would call that 'beautiful androgyny thing' that the British (Bowie et al) tend to do so well. I hoped she wasn't as difficult as some singers tend towards being.
When I sat opposite her, I sipped cappuccino and slurped down snails (enveloped in a rich buttery garlic sauce). Julie drank a Belgian beer. I was relieved to find that she was an intelligent and articulate woman; both down to earth and knowledgeable culturally. She had a background in fine arts. I explained to her how I had a lingering ambition to make an album that was in the (for want of a better term) 'post-punk' tradition. This longing had been exacerbated by the talk of a PiL reunion a couple of years before my meeting with Julie. I had always felt that it was unlikely that I would ever play under the PiL banner again; and predictably, negotiations stalled at a very early stage.
However, that episode further whetted my appetite to make a post-punk album in the original PiL mode (but with a modern sensibility – there's no point in making 'museum music'). The thing that had always thwarted me was the distinct lack of a charismatic (in the right ‘uncharismatic’ way) singer/front person. I had been on the lookout for 'the one', on and off, for twenty odd years. To be honest, I had never even come close. However, not being able to find the right person has never baffled me. It is, after all, a tall order. They would need to be able to deal convincingly with a number of styles of music, whilst always being their own (authentic) idiosyncratic self. (Up to this point, I have never even seen the particular ‘ideal’ that I was looking for contained in any one performer.)
Spoken word needs to be part of the package in a venture like this. For all its darkness and trauma, post-punk is connected (inextricably) to the ideals of late nineteenth century romanticism; especially its poetry, which rails, quite rightly, against the rationalisation of life and nature. Back then, the industrial age was the enemy, whereas now it’s the information-led age, the new Tower of Babble, in its myriad forms, that stands infantile and all-pervasive in opposition to the romantic ideal.
Facebook and the industrial revolution point towards the same thing. Unthinking, unhappy uniformity – well, fuck that. (That’s why post-punk came about; because ‘punk’ became unthinking, unhappy and uniform – and artistically restricting.)
So as I sat there, on a bright fresh early spring afternoon, I had one question on my mind: "is this the one?" The early indications were very positive. Julie was well up to give it a go. All I could promise, at that point, was that it was highly likely that the process would be a lot of fun and that nice dinners would be eaten in nice restaurants. She also told me that she was a serious PiL fan, which delighted me. That meant that we were halfway there already. I suggested that we get Keith Levene to play some guitar for us. Keith had been in contact with me in the months leading up to my meeting with Julie. In fact, I had already had a bash with him at the end of one of my gigs. I knew that he was very aware that he had wasted so many years pursuing the wrong things. It was a good time to be getting him in. We decided that we would cut some basic backing tracks, and if all went well, we would get Levene to play on them. No-one has ever come close to Levene in terms of playing the non-square, non-bourgeoisie, harmonically hip, ‘guitar wash’ a la ‘Poptones’, ‘Theme’, etc.
So a few days later, just to get the ball rolling, we cut three basic rhythm tracks, 'Psychic Life', 'Phantasms' and 'Ruinlust'. Julie put vocals down. I noticed her thick, bound notebook of lyrics. I asked if I could peruse them. I was astounded; there was page after page of typed (as in typed with a typewriter) lyrics. A torrent of dark, haunting and troubled images was conveyed by the words. It was momentarily overwhelming. "Game on!" I thought, "this girl's the real thing. She's a poet!"
I also found that she could really sing. Additionally I discovered that, similar to myself, she was a psychogeographer and long distance urban pedestrian (facts crucial to the creation of this project).
Above all, the post-punk period was about having fun and shedding shackles. That ethos is as strong as it ever was, as far as I’m concerned. It’s about working with a melange of influences, approaches and aesthetics. (It also allows an old bloke like me to travel backwards and forwards in time.) Here is a list of some of the people, places and things that have influenced the making of this album and its accompanying images/artwork:
Georgio Moroder, Biba, Emily Dickinson, Chaka Khan, Ingmar Bergman, Helmut Newton, The Yellow Wallpaper, Karl Lagerfeld, French Film Noir, J.G. Ballard, Disco, Andrei Tarkovsky, Blade Runner, The Robbie Vincent Show.
Jah Wobble, Stockport, August, 2011"
sábado, 8 de outubro de 2011
O Sistema
Vendo agora o show do System of a down (uma banda da qual não conheço quase nada) no Rock In Rio (as críticas da imprensa foram tão boas que me despertaram uma curiosidade tremenda), confesso que fiquei impressionado com a receptividade do público. Honestamente não fazia a menor idéia de que a banda tivesse um público tão entusiasmado no país.
Esse foi, sem dúvida, um acerto da produção.
Esse foi, sem dúvida, um acerto da produção.
quinta-feira, 6 de outubro de 2011
Steve Jobs
Não ia comentar nada sobre o falecimento do Steve Jobs. Mas passando agora pelo blog do André Forastieri encontrei esse vídeo.
A essa altura você provavelmente já deve ter visto, mas ainda assim acho que vale muito a pena colocar por aqui.
E faço minhas as palavras do Forastieri:
"Como viver antes de morrer, por Steve Jobs."
A essa altura você provavelmente já deve ter visto, mas ainda assim acho que vale muito a pena colocar por aqui.
E faço minhas as palavras do Forastieri:
"Como viver antes de morrer, por Steve Jobs."
quarta-feira, 5 de outubro de 2011
terça-feira, 4 de outubro de 2011
Ainda sobre os 50 (55) discos mais influentes
Tá certo, a lista é de 2006, mas como só vi hoje ...
Refletindo sobre essa lista me vêm à cabeça pelo menos 5 discos que foram omitidos. Veja se concorda:
51 Sex Pistols
Never Mind The Bollocks, Here´s The Sex Pistols (1977)
A lista tem álbuns que influenciaram esse aqui, mas sua importância é indiscutível. Sem esse disco não haveria: todas as bandas punk inglesas, o pós-punk, Oasis (Noel Gallagher é fã assumido) e Prodigy (de onde você acha que eles tiraram o visual e a pegada rocker?). Também não haveria Nirvana (Kurt era outro fã confesso). E também não existiriam Joy Division, New Order, Smiths e todos os outros 6 gatos pingados que estavam no primeiro show da banda em Manchester (consequentemente não haveria Factory Records, nem Happy Mondays ou A Certain Ratio). Bom, também não haveria Simply Red! Pois é, o vocalista também estava naquele show em Manchester.
52. The Beatles
The Beatles (1968)
Vamos combinar que sem os The Beatles a música que ouvimos dõs anos 70 em diante não existiria!!!
Colocar só o Sgt. Peppers é muito pouco, portanto!!!
Na minha opinião além desse famoso "álbum branco", e da banda do "Sgto. Pimenta", pelo menos o Revolver e o Abbey Road. O álbum branco é tão diverso e eclético, que pelo menos uns 3.000 discos foram inspirados por ele. Mas entrou mesmo na lista por conta de Helter Skelter, sem a qual não existiria heavy metal ou qualquer outro tipo de música com guitarras pesadas.
53 Paul McCartney
McCartney (1970)
Ainda na seara dos The Beatles. McCartney é o mestre das belas melodias, e esse disco é tão belo quanto incompreendido. Basta dizer que sem ele não haveriam todos esses artistas lo-fi (como o Pavement, por exemplo), ou melhor, não haveria todo o Indie Rock!
54. PIL
First Issue (1978)
Mr. John Lydon não dá ponto sem nó, e no final dos anos 70 o cara estava impossível. Junto com Keith Levene e Jah Wobble formaram uma das bandas mais poderosas de todos os tempos e definiram os rumos da música (ao menos da boa música) a partir de então. Poderia ter escolhido Metal Box, mas acho o primeiro álbum ainda mais emblemático, pois sem ele não existiria todo o pós-punk, o new romantic, Joy Division, U2, Radiohead, Primal Scream, Red Hot Chilli Peppers e uma tonelada de outras bandas.
55 The Specials
Specials
Responsáveis pelo furacão da segunda onda do Ska que invadiu o Reino Unido no final dos 70, começo dos 80, criaram o selo (2Tone) que catapultou o gênero e lançou diversas outras bandas de sucesso (Madness, The Beat e The Selekter, por exemplo), influenciaram grande parte feito no mundo no início da década de 80 (você acha que a pegada reggae das bandas brasileiras e argentinas, dentre outras, vem da onde?), e também gente como No Doubt, Libertines, Lilly Allen e, principalmente, Amy Whinehouse.
Abaixo, os discos da lista que estão na minha estante:
1 Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground and Nico (1967)
2 The Beatles - Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967)
3 Kraftwerk - Trans-Europe Express (1977)
6 Marvin Gaye - What's Going On (1971)
7 Patti Smith - Horses (1975)
8 Bob Dylan - Bringing it All Back Home (1965)
9 Elvis Presley - Elvis Presley (1956)
10 The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds (1966)
11 David Bowie - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars (1972)
12 Miles Davis - Kind of Blue (1959)
17 The Stooges - Raw Power (1973)
18 The Clash - London Calling (1979)
23 Augustus Pablo - King Tubby Meets Rockers Uptown (1976)
25 James Brown - Live at the Apollo (1963)
27 Jimi Hendrix - Are You Experienced (1967)
29 Pink Floyd - The Dark Side of the Moon (1973)
30 The Wailers - Catch a Fire (1973)
31 The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses (1989)
33 Herbie Hancock - Head Hunters (1973)
34 Black Sabbath - Black Sabbath (1970)
37 Massive Attack - Blue Lines (1991)
38 Radiohead - The Bends (1995)
39 Michael Jackson - Thriller (1982)
42 The Smiths - The Smiths (1984)
43 Primal Scream - Screamadelica (1991)
44 Talking Heads - Fear of Music (1979)
47 Nirvana - Nevermind (1991)
48 The Strokes - Is This It? (2001)
Refletindo sobre essa lista me vêm à cabeça pelo menos 5 discos que foram omitidos. Veja se concorda:
51 Sex Pistols
Never Mind The Bollocks, Here´s The Sex Pistols (1977)
A lista tem álbuns que influenciaram esse aqui, mas sua importância é indiscutível. Sem esse disco não haveria: todas as bandas punk inglesas, o pós-punk, Oasis (Noel Gallagher é fã assumido) e Prodigy (de onde você acha que eles tiraram o visual e a pegada rocker?). Também não haveria Nirvana (Kurt era outro fã confesso). E também não existiriam Joy Division, New Order, Smiths e todos os outros 6 gatos pingados que estavam no primeiro show da banda em Manchester (consequentemente não haveria Factory Records, nem Happy Mondays ou A Certain Ratio). Bom, também não haveria Simply Red! Pois é, o vocalista também estava naquele show em Manchester.
52. The Beatles
The Beatles (1968)
Vamos combinar que sem os The Beatles a música que ouvimos dõs anos 70 em diante não existiria!!!
Colocar só o Sgt. Peppers é muito pouco, portanto!!!
Na minha opinião além desse famoso "álbum branco", e da banda do "Sgto. Pimenta", pelo menos o Revolver e o Abbey Road. O álbum branco é tão diverso e eclético, que pelo menos uns 3.000 discos foram inspirados por ele. Mas entrou mesmo na lista por conta de Helter Skelter, sem a qual não existiria heavy metal ou qualquer outro tipo de música com guitarras pesadas.
53 Paul McCartney
McCartney (1970)
Ainda na seara dos The Beatles. McCartney é o mestre das belas melodias, e esse disco é tão belo quanto incompreendido. Basta dizer que sem ele não haveriam todos esses artistas lo-fi (como o Pavement, por exemplo), ou melhor, não haveria todo o Indie Rock!
54. PIL
First Issue (1978)
Mr. John Lydon não dá ponto sem nó, e no final dos anos 70 o cara estava impossível. Junto com Keith Levene e Jah Wobble formaram uma das bandas mais poderosas de todos os tempos e definiram os rumos da música (ao menos da boa música) a partir de então. Poderia ter escolhido Metal Box, mas acho o primeiro álbum ainda mais emblemático, pois sem ele não existiria todo o pós-punk, o new romantic, Joy Division, U2, Radiohead, Primal Scream, Red Hot Chilli Peppers e uma tonelada de outras bandas.
55 The Specials
Specials
Responsáveis pelo furacão da segunda onda do Ska que invadiu o Reino Unido no final dos 70, começo dos 80, criaram o selo (2Tone) que catapultou o gênero e lançou diversas outras bandas de sucesso (Madness, The Beat e The Selekter, por exemplo), influenciaram grande parte feito no mundo no início da década de 80 (você acha que a pegada reggae das bandas brasileiras e argentinas, dentre outras, vem da onde?), e também gente como No Doubt, Libertines, Lilly Allen e, principalmente, Amy Whinehouse.
Abaixo, os discos da lista que estão na minha estante:
1 Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground and Nico (1967)
2 The Beatles - Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967)
3 Kraftwerk - Trans-Europe Express (1977)
6 Marvin Gaye - What's Going On (1971)
7 Patti Smith - Horses (1975)
8 Bob Dylan - Bringing it All Back Home (1965)
9 Elvis Presley - Elvis Presley (1956)
10 The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds (1966)
11 David Bowie - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars (1972)
12 Miles Davis - Kind of Blue (1959)
17 The Stooges - Raw Power (1973)
18 The Clash - London Calling (1979)
23 Augustus Pablo - King Tubby Meets Rockers Uptown (1976)
25 James Brown - Live at the Apollo (1963)
27 Jimi Hendrix - Are You Experienced (1967)
29 Pink Floyd - The Dark Side of the Moon (1973)
30 The Wailers - Catch a Fire (1973)
31 The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses (1989)
33 Herbie Hancock - Head Hunters (1973)
34 Black Sabbath - Black Sabbath (1970)
37 Massive Attack - Blue Lines (1991)
38 Radiohead - The Bends (1995)
39 Michael Jackson - Thriller (1982)
42 The Smiths - The Smiths (1984)
43 Primal Scream - Screamadelica (1991)
44 Talking Heads - Fear of Music (1979)
47 Nirvana - Nevermind (1991)
48 The Strokes - Is This It? (2001)
Os 50 mais influentes (continuação)
Passando os olhos pela lista fiquei contente ao ver que dos tais 50 álbuns mais influentes de todos os tempos 28 estão na minha discoteca (física).
Alguns outros serão incorporados em breve.
Abs.
Alguns outros serão incorporados em breve.
Abs.
Os 50 discos mais influentes
Peguei a dica no blog do Bruno Natal (Urbe).
A lista foi feita pelo Guardian, em 2006, e a influência dos discos pode ser para o bem ou para o mal.
"The Observer, Sunday 16 July 2006
1 The Velvet Underground and Nico (1967)
Though it sold poorly on its initial release, this has since become arguably the most influential rock album of all time. The first art-rock album, it merges dreamy, druggy balladry ('Sunday Morning') with raw and uncompromising sonic experimentation ('Venus in Furs'), and is famously clothed in that Andy Warhol-designed 'banana' sleeve. Lou Reed's lyrics depicted a Warholian New York demi-monde where hard drugs and sexual experimentation held sway. Shocking then, and still utterly transfixing.
Without this, there'd be no ... Bowie, Roxy Music, Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Jesus and Mary Chain, among many others.
SOH
2 The Beatles
Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967)
There are those who rate Revolver (1966) or 'the White Album' (1968) higher. But Sgt Pepper's made the watertight case for pop music as an art form in itself; until then, it was thought the silly, transient stuff of teenagers. At a time when all pop music was stringently manufactured, these Paul McCartney-driven melodies and George Martin-produced whorls of sound proved that untried ground was not only the most fertile stuff, but also the most viable commercially. It defined the Sixties and - for good and ill - gave white rock all its airs and graces.
Without this ... pop would be a very different beast.
KE
3 Kraftwerk
Trans-Europe Express (1977)
Released at the height of punk, this sleek, urbane, synthesised, intellectual work shared little ground with its contemporaries. Not that it wanted to. Kraftwerk operated from within a bubble of equipment and ideas which owed more to science and philosophy than mere entertainment. Still, this paean to the beauty of mechanised movement and European civilisation was a moving and exquisite album in itself. And, through a sample on Afrika Bambaataa's seminal 'Planet Rock', the German eggheads joined the dots with black American electro, giving rise to entire new genres.
Without this... no techno, no house, no Pet Shop Boys. The list is endless.
KE
4 NWA
Straight Outta Compton (1989)
Like a darker, more vengeful Public Enemy, NWA (Niggaz With Attitude) exposed the vicious realities of the West Coast gang culture on their lurid, fluent debut. Part aural reportage (sirens, gunshots, police radio), part thuggish swagger, Compton laid the blueprint for the most successful musical genre of the last 20 years, gangsta rap. It gave the world a new production mogul in Dr Dre, and gave voice to the frustrations that flared up into the LA riots in 1992. As befits an album boasting a song called 'Fuck tha Police', attention from the FBI, the Parents' Music Resource Centre and our own Metropolitan Police's Obscene Publications Squad sealed its notoriety.
Without this ... no Eminem, no 50 Cent, no Dizzee Rascal.
KE
5 Robert Johnson
King of the Delta Blues Singers (1961)
Described by Eric Clapton as 'the most important blues singer that ever lived', Johnson was an intensely private man, whose short life and mysterious death created an enduring mythology. He was said to have sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads in Mississippi in exchange for his finger-picking prowess. Johnson recorded a mere 29 songs, chief among them 'Hellhound on My Trail', but when it was finally issued, King of the Delta Blues Singers became one of the touchstones of the British blues scene.
Without this ... no Rolling Stones, Cream, Led Zeppelin.
SOH
6 Marvin Gaye
What's Going On (1971)
Gaye's career as tuxedo-clad heart-throb gave no hint he would cut a concept album dealing with civil rights, the Vietnam war and ghetto life. Equally startling was the music, softening and double-tracking Gaye's falsetto against a wash of bubbling percussion, swaying strings and chattering guitars. Motown boss Berry Gordy hated it but its disillusioned nobility caught the public mood. Led by the oft-covered 'Inner City Blues', it ushered in an era of socially aware soul.
Without this ... no Innervisions (Stevie Wonder) or Superfly (Curtis Mayfield).
NS
7 Patti Smith
Horses (1975)
Who would have thought punk rock was, in part, kickstarted by a girl? Poet, misfit and New York ligger, Patti channelled the spirits of Keith Richards, Bob Dylan and Rimbaud into female form, and onto an album whose febrile energy and Dionysian spirit helped light the touchpaper for New York punk. The Robert Mapplethorpe-shot cover, in which a hungry, mannish Patti stares down the viewer, defiantly broke with the music industry's treatment of women artists (sexy or girl-next-door) and still startles today.
Without this ... no REM, PJ Harvey, Razorlight. And no powerful female pop icons like Madonna.
KE
8 Bob Dylan
Bringing it All Back Home (1965)
The first folk-rock album? Maybe. Certainly the first augury of what was to come with the momentous 'Like a Rolling Stone'. Released in one of pop's pivotal years, Bringing it All Back Home fused hallucinatory lyricism and, on half of its tracks, a raw, ragged rock'n'roll thrust. On the opening song, 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', Dylan manages to pay homage to the Beats and Chuck Berry, while anticipating the surreal wordplay of rap.
Without this ... put simply, on this album and the follow-up, Highway 61 Revisited, Dylan invented modern rock music.
SOH
9 Elvis Presley
Elvis Presley (1956)
The King's first album was also the first example of how to cash in on a teenage craze. With Presleymania at full tilt, RCA simultaneously released a single, a four-track EP and an album, all with the same cover of Elvis in full, demented cry. They got their first million dollar album, the fans got a mix of rock-outs like 'Blue Suede Shoes', lascivious R&B and syrupy ballads.
Without this ... no King, no rock and roll madness, no Beatles first album, no pop sex symbols.
NS
10 The Beach Boys
Pet Sounds (1966)
Of late, Pet Sounds has replaced Sgt Pepper's as the critics' choice of Greatest Album of All Time. Composed by the increasingly reclusive Brian Wilson while the rest of the group were touring, it might well have been a solo album. The beauty resides not just in its compositional genius and instrumental invention, but in the elaborate vocal harmonies that imbue these sad songs with an almost heartbreaking grandeur.
Without this ... where to start? The Beatles acknowledged its influence; Dylan said of Brian Wilson, 'That ear! I mean, Jesus, he's got to will that to the Smithsonian.'
SOH
11 David Bowie
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars (1972)
Bowie's revolutionary mix of hard rock and glam pop was given an otherwordly look and feel by his coquettish alter ego Ziggy. It's not so much that every act that followed dyed their hair orange in homage to the spidery spaceman; more that they learned the value of creating a 'bubble' of image and presentation that fans could fall in love with.
Without this ... we'd be lost. No Sex Pistols, no Prince, no Madonna, no Duran Duran, no Boy George, no Kiss, no Bon Jovi, no 'Bohemian Rhapsody' ... I could go on.
LH
12 Miles Davis
Kind of Blue (1959)
A rare example of revolutionary music that almost everyone liked from the moment they heard it. Its cool, spacey, open-textured approach marked a complete break with the prevalent 'hard bop' style. The effect, based on simple scales, called modes, was fresh, delicate, approachable but surprisingly expressive. Others picked up on it and 'modal jazz' has been part of the language ever since. The album also became the media's favourite source of mood music.
Without this ... no ominous, brooding, atmospheric trumpet behind a million radio plays and TV documentaries.
DG
13 Frank Sinatra
Songs for Swingin' Lovers (1956)
The previous year Sinatra had cut In the Wee Small Hours, a brooding cycle of torch songs that was arguably pop's first concept album. Once again working with arranger Nelson Riddle, he presented its complement; a set of upbeat paeans to romance. Exhilarating performances of standards like 'I've Got You Under My Skin' defined Sinatra's urbane, finger-snapping persona for the rest of his career and pushed the record to number one in the first ever British album chart.
Without this ... the 'singer as song interpreter' wouldn't have been born, karaoke menus would be much diminished.
NS
14 Joni Mitchell
Blue (1971)
Though Carole King's Tapestry was the biggest-selling album of the era, it is Joni Mitchell's Blue that remains the most influential of all the early Seventies outings by confessional singer-songwriters. Joni laid bare her heart in a series of intimate songs about love, betrayal and emotional insecurity. It could have been hell (think James Taylor) but for the penetrating brilliance of the songwriting. Raw, spare and sophisticated, it remains the template for a certain kind of baroque female angst.
Without this ... no Tori Amos or Fiona Apple - and Elvis Costello and Prince have cited her as a prime influence.
SOH
15 Brian Eno
Discreet Music (1975)
Brian Eno, it is said, invented ambient music when he was stuck in a hospital bed unable to reach a radio that was playing too quietly, giving him the eureka moment that set the course not only for his post-Roxy Music career as an 'atmosphere'-enhancing producer, but for the future of electronic music.
Without this ... we wouldn't have David Bowie's Low or Heroes, the echoey guitars of U2'S The Edge, and no William Orbit, Orb, Juana Molina. To name but a few.
LH
16 Aretha Franklin
I Never Loved a Man the Way I love You (1967)
'R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to me!' Is there a more potent female lyric in pop? Franklin's Atlantic Records debut unleashed her soulful ferociousness upon an unsuspecting public, and both the singer and her album quickly became iconic symbols of black American pride.
Without this ... Tina Turner, Mariah Carey, girl power would not exist, and rudeboys would not spit 'res'pec' through kissed teeth.
EJS
17 The Stooges
Raw Power (1973)
Produced by David Bowie, who also helped re-form the band, Raw Power was the Stooges's late swansong, and their most influential album. The Detroit group were already legendary for incendiary live shows and first two albums, but Raw Power, though selling as poorly as its predecessors, was subsequently cited as a prime influence by virtually every group in the British punk scene.
Without this ... no punk, so no Sex Pistols (who covered 'No Fun'); no White Stripes.
SOH
18 The Clash
London Calling (1979)
The best record to come out of punk, or punk's death knell? On this double album, The Clash fused their rockabilly roots with their love of reggae, moving away from the choppy snarls of the scene that birthed them. This was the album that legitimised punk - hitherto a stroppy fad - into the rock canon. Its iconic cover, and songs about the Spanish Civil War brought left-wing politics firmly into musical fashion.
Without this ... would the west have come to love reggae, dub and ragga quite so much? We certainly would have no Manic Street Preachers ... or Green Day, or Rancid ... or possibly even Lily Allen.
KE
19 Mary J Blige
What's the 411? (1992)
When the Bronx-born 'Queen of Hip Hop Soul' catapulted her debut on to a legion of approving listeners, she unwittingly defined a new wave of R&B. Before Mary, R&B's roots were still firmly planted in soul and jazz (ie Aretha Franklin and Chaka Khan). The emergence of hip hop and this album from Blige and her mentor and producer Sean 'Puffy' Combs (aka P Diddy) gave birth to a new gritty sound, informed by the singer's harrowing past.
Without this ... no R&B/soul divide, which means no TLC, Beyonce, or Ashanti, to name just three.
EJS
20 The Byrds
Sweetheart of the Rodeo (1968)
At one inspired stroke, Sweetheart vanquished the cultural divide between acid-munching, peace-preaching long hairs and beer-swilling, flag-waving good old boys by creating the enduring hybrid of country-rock. Allying rippling guitars and silky vocal harmonies with a mix of country tradition ('I Am a Pilgrim') and Gram Parsons originals, the record irrevocably altered the perspective of two previously averse streams of Americana. The group even cut their hair to play the Grand Ole Opry.
Without this ... no Hotel California, no Willie Nelson, no Shania Twain.
NS
21 The Spice Girls
Spice (1996)
The music business has been cynically creating and marketing acts since the days of the wax cylinder, but on nothing like the scale of the Spice phenomenon, which was applied to crisps, soft drinks, you name it. Musically, the Spice's Motown-lite was unoriginal, but 'Girl Power', despite being a male invention, touched a nerve and defined a generation of tweenies who took it to heart.
Without this ... five-year-olds would not have become a prime target for pop marketeers. Most of all, there'd be no Posh'n'Becks.
NS
22 Kate Bush
The Hounds of Love (1985)
On Side One our Kate strikes a deal with God, throws her shoes in a lake and poses as a little boy riding a rain machine. Turn over, and she's drowning, exorcising demons and dancing an Irish jig. All this to a soundscape that employs the shiniest synthesised studio toys the Eighties had to offer in the service of one women's unique yet utterly English musical genius. Listen again to the delirious cacophany of 'Running Up That Hill', and it sounds like God struck that deal.
Without this ... Tori Amos would have spawned no earthquakes, Alison Goldfrapp would lack her juiciest cherries and romance would have withered on the vine.
JB
23 Augustus Pablo
King Tubby Meets Rockers Uptown (1976)
Jamaica's invention of dub - a stripped-down, echo-laden instrumental remix of a vocal track - was spawned principally on the B-sides of local reggae hits and in the island's competing sound-systems, with technician-engineer King Tubby as its master creator, a man who could 'play' the mixing console. This collection of ethereal melodies by melodica maestro Augustus Pablo distilled the art into album form. It would be years before the West caught up.
Without this ... no DJ remixes, no house, no rave.
NS
24 Youssou N'Dour
Immigres (1984)
The charismatic N'Dour, Senegal's top star, changed the West's perception of African musicians, just as he had revolutionised Senegalese music. Nothing sounded like the fusion on Immigres, with its lopsided rhythms, whooping talking drums and discordant horns, topped by N'Dour's supple, powerful vocals. Immigres also redefined the role of West African griot, addressing migration and African identity.
Without this ... N'Dour wouldn't have met Peter Gabriel, there'd have been no African presence at Live 8. In fact, 'world music' would not exist as a section in Western collections.
NS
25 James Brown
Live at the Apollo (1963)
This remains the live album by which all others are measured, and is still the best delineation of the raw power of primal soul music. It propelled James Brown into the mainstream, and paved the way for a string of propulsive hits like 'Papa's Got a Brand New Bag' (1965) and 'Cold Sweat' (1967). The catalyst for many great soul stylists, from Sly Stone to Otis Redding, it also provided an early lesson in dynamics for the young Michael Jackson.
Without this ... great chunks of hip hop - which has sampled Brown more than almost any other - would be missing.
SOH
26 Stevie Wonder
Songs in the Key of Life (1976)
This influenced virtually every modern soul and R&B singer, brimming with timeless classics like 'Isn't She Lovely', 'As' and 'Sir Duke'. The 21-tracker encompassed a vast range of life's issues - emotional, social, spiritual and environmental - all performed with bravado and a lightness of touch. No other R&B artist has sung about the quandaries of human existence with quite the same grace.
Without this ... no Alicia Keys, no John Legend - contemporary R&B would be empty and lifeless.
EJS
27 Jimi Hendrix
Are You Experienced (1967)
Looking and playing like a brother from another planet, Hendrix delivered the most dramatic debut in pop history. Marrying blues and psychedelia, dexterity and feedback trickery, it redefined the guitar's sonic possibilities, while beyond the fretboard pyrotechnics burnt a fierce artistic vision - 'Third Stone From the Sun' made Jimi rock's first (and still best travelled) cosmonaut.
Without this ... countless guitarists and cock-rockers might not have been (Stevie Ray Vaughan, Lenny Kravitz, even Miles Davis owes him), but most of all, without Experienced, there'd be no Jimi experience.
NS
28 Prince and the Revolution
Purple Rain (1984)
Prince had been plugging away with limited success for several years when the man in tiny pants reinvented himself as a purple-clad movie star. Like Michael Jackson, he felt that the way to gain crossover appeal was to run the musical gamut: in this case, from the minimalist funk of his earlier albums to the volume-at-11 rock of Jimi Hendrix. The title track is a monumental, fist-clenching rock ballad that, perversely, whetted our appetites for far worse examples by Christina Aguilera among others.
Without this ... no Janet Jackson, no Peaches, and certainly no Beck.
LH
29 Pink Floyd
The Dark Side of the Moon (1973)
Sounds like it was pretty tough to be in Pink Floyd in the early 1970s. You had all the money you could spend (ker-ching!) but you thought that was vulgar. You didn't get on with your bandmates because they all had superiority complexes. You couldn't enter the recording booth without having an existential crisis. Piper At The Gates of Dawn, their debut with the late Syd Barrett, turned out to be influential in a more positive sense (David Bowie, Blur).
Without this ... there'd be no Thom Yorke solo mumblings, and much less prog rock (if only ...).
LH
30 The Wailers
Catch a Fire (1973)
Alongside The Harder They Come (movie and soundtrack), Catch a Fire changed the perception of reggae from eccentric, lightweight pop to a music of mystery and power. Dressed in a snappy Zippo lighter sleeve, and launched with rock razzmatazz, it delivered a polished, guitar-sweetened version of what Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer had made when white audiences weren't listening. By turns militant, mystic and sexy, it helped make Bob Marley the first Third World superstar.
Without this ... no Aswad or Steel Pulse, no native American or Maori or African reggae bands.
NS
31 The Stone Roses
The Stone Roses (1989)
Until the late Eighties, Manchester was thought to be a forbidding, dour place where the ghost of Ian Curtis still clanked about. The Stone Roses' concatenation of sweet West Coast psychedelia and the lairy, loved-up rave culture was as unforeseeable as it was seismic. Ecstasy pulled the sniffy rock kids away from their Smiths records and into clubland; the result was an album whose woozy words and funky drumming sounded as guileless as it did hedonistic.
Without this ... well, a bit of the Roses remains in the DNA of every British guitar band since.
KE
32 Otis Redding
Otis Blue (1965)
Until Stax Records and Otis Redding arrived, the Southern states were a place you had to leave to make it (unless you were a country singer). Recorded weeks after the death of Redding's idol, Sam Cooke, the album cast Otis as Cooke's successor, an embodiment of young black America with white appeal - alongside Cooke's 'A Change is Gonna Come' was the Stones's 'Satisfaction'. With terrific backings from the MGs and the Markeys horns behind Otis's rasping vocals, it defined 'soul'.
Without this ... no Aretha Franklin singing 'Respect', no Al Green, and no Terence Trent D'Arby.
NS
33 Herbie Hancock
Head Hunters (1973)
It definitively wedded jazz to funk and R&B, and did it with such joyful confidence that it launched a whole new, open-minded approach to the music. Equally important was the use of electronic keyboards, then in their infancy, which vastly expanded the range of available textures. Head Hunters kickstarted the stylistic and ethnic fusions that have enlivened jazz for 30 years.
Without this ... suffice to say, almost everything in the jazz-funk idiom can be traced back to this.
DG
34 Black Sabbath
Black Sabbath (1970)
A mere 30 minutes long, this was none the less the album where heavy metal was first forged. Its ponderous tempos, cod-satanic imagery (bassist Geezer Butler was a Roman Catholic and Dennis Wheatley fan), Tony Iommi's sledgehammer guitar riffs and Ozzy Osbourne's shrieking vocals all went on to define the genre and shaped most arena rock of the Seventies and Eighties.
Without this ... no Spinal Tap, no grunge or Kurt Cobain and, of course, no Osbournes.
NS
35 The Ramones
The Ramones (1976)
'Fun disappeared from music in 1974,' claimed singer Joey Ramone. To restore it took he and his three 'brothers' just one album and 16 tracks, all under three minutes. Brevity was the New York punk rockers' first lesson to the world, along with speed, a distorted guitar thrash and a knowing line in faux-dumb lyrics. In an era of 'progressive' rock pomposity and 12-minute tracks, the Ramones' back-to-basics approach was rousing and confrontational.
Without this ... no fun.
NS
36 The Who
My Generation (1965)
Alongside the equally influential Small Faces, The Who were the quintessential British mod group. Long before they recorded the first rock opera, Tommy, they unleashed a stream of singles that articulated all the youthful pent-up frustration of Sixties London before it started to swing. Their 1965 debut album, My Generation, included the defiant and celebratory 'The Kids Are Alright' and the ultimate mod anthem, 'My Generation', with its infamous line, 'I hope I die before I get old.' Angry aggressive art-school pop with attitude to burn.
Without this ... no Paul Weller, no Blur and, God help us, no Ordinary Boys either.
NS
37 Massive AttackBlue Lines (1991)
Obliterators of rap's boundaries, Massive Attack pioneered the cinematic trip hop movement. After graduating from one of Britain's premier sound systems, the Bristol-based Wild Bunch, Andrew 'Mushroom' Vowles and Grant 'Daddy G' Marshall joined forces with graffiti artist 3D. Massive Attack's debut LP spawned the unforgettable 'Unfinished Sympathy' and remains a modern classic.
Without this ... no Roots Manuva, no Dizzee. In fact, there would be no British urban music scene to speak of.
EJS
38 Radiohead
The Bends (1995)
In parallel with Jeff Buckley, Radiohead's Thom Yorke popularised the angst-laden falsetto, a thoughtful opposite to the chest-beating lad-rock personified by Oasis's Liam Gallagher. Sounding girly to a backdrop of churning guitars became a much-copied idea, however, one which eventually coalesced into an entire decade of sound.
Without this ... Coldplay would not exist, nor Keane, nor James Blunt.
KE
39 Michael Jackson
Thriller (1982)
Pure, startling genius from beginning to end, Michael Jackson and producer Quincy Jones seemed hellbent on creating the biggest, most universally appealing pop album ever made. Jones introduced elements of rock into soul and vice versa in such a way that it's now no surprise to hear a pop record that mashes up more marginal genres into a form that will have universal relevance.
Without this ... no megastars such as Justin Timberlake or Madonna, no wide-appeal uber-producers such as Timbaland or Pharrell Williams.
LH
40 Run DMC
Run DMC (1984)
Before them came block-rocking DJ Grandmaster Flash and the Godfather, Afrika Bambaataa, but it was Run DMC who carved the prototype for today's hip hop MCs. Their self-titled debut - the first rap album to go gold - was rough around the edges and catchy as hell. As Rev Run spat, 'Unemployment at a record high/ People coming, people going, people born to die', the way was paved for conscious and political rap.
Without this ... no Public Enemy, Roots and Nas.
EJS
41 Chic
Chic (1977)
The Chic Organisation revolutionised disco music in the late Seventies, reclaiming it from the naff Bee Gees and ensuring the pre-eminence of slickly produced party music in the charts for the next three decades. Its main men Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards patented a sound on their 1977 debut that was influential on bands from Duran Duran to Orange Juice. They also created a hit-making formula that mixed dance beats with monster hooks.
Without this ... no Destiny's Child.
LH
42 The Smiths
The Smiths (1984)
Yearning, melodic, jangly, and very northern, The Smiths' first album was quite unlike anything that had gone before. It helped that Morrissey was a one-off and that Johnny Marr had taken all the best riffs from Sixties pop, punk and disco and melded them into his own unique style. But there was something magical about their sound that endless successors have tried to replicate.
Without this ... there'd be no Belle and Sebastian, no Suede, no Oasis, and no Libertines - at the very least.
LH
43 Primal Scream
Screamadelica (1991)
Thanks to producer Andrew Weatherall and some debauched raving, this former fey indie outfit enthusiastically took on dance music's heady rushes. It was a conversion bordering on the Damascene, but one being mirrored in halls of residence, cars, clubs and bedsits all around the nation. Screamadelica brought hedonism crashing into the mainstream.
Without this ... no lad culture - it was no accident that a mag founded in 1994 shared its name with Screamadelica's defining single, 'Loaded'.
KE
44 Talking Heads
Fear of Music (1979)
There's something refreshingly jolly about the modern-life paranoia expressed by chief Talking Head David Byrne on this album that moany old Radiohead could learn from. Opening track 'I Zimbra' splices funk with afrobeat, paving the way for Byrne and Eno's mould-breaking My Life in the Bush of Ghosts album a few years later.
Without this ... Paul Simon's Graceland might never have been made.
LH
45 Fairport Convention
Liege and Lief (1969)
The birth of English folk-rock. Considered an act of heresy by folk purists, this electrified album fragmented the band. No matter, the opening cry of 'Come all you roving minstrels' proved galvanic.
Without this ... no Celtic revivalists like the Pogues and Waterboys or descendants like the Levellers.
NS
46 The Human League
Dare (1981)
Until Dare, synthesisers meant solemnity. Phil Oakey's reinvention of the group as chirpy popsters, complete with two flailing, girl-next-door vocalists, feminised electronica.
Without this ... and Oakey's lop-sided haircut, squads of new romantics and synth-pop acts would have been lost.
NS
47 Nirvana
Nevermind (1991)
You might argue Nirvana's landmark album changed nothing whatsoever. All their best seditious instincts came to nothing, after all. And yet Nevermind still rocks mightily, capturing a moment when the vituperative US underground imposed its agenda on the staid mainstream. Without this ... no Seattle scene, no Britpop, no Pete Doherty.
KE
48 The Strokes
Is This It? (2001)
Five good-looking young men hauled the jangling sound of Television and the Velvet Underground into the new millennium, reinvigorating rock's obsession with having a good time.
Without this ... a fine brood of heirs would not have been spawned: among them, Franz Ferdinand and the Libertines.
KE
49 De La Soul
3 Feet High and Rising (1989)
Ten years after hip hop's arrival, its original joie de vivre had been subsumed by macho braggadocio. Three Feet High made hip hop playful again, with light rhythms, unusual sound samples and its talk of the D.A.I.S.Y. age ('Da Inner Sound Y'all') earning the trio a 'hippy' label.
Without this ... thoughtful hip hop acts like the Jungle Brothers and PM Dawn wouldn't have arrived.
NS
50 LFO
Frequencies (1991)
Acid house was sniffed at as a fad until it started producing 'proper' albums. Frequencies was its first masterpiece. Updating the pristine blueprint of Kraftwerk with house, acid, ambient and hip hop, it made dance music legitimate to album-buyers.
Without this ... no success for Orbital, Underworld, Leftfield, Chemical Brothers or Aphex Twin."
A lista foi feita pelo Guardian, em 2006, e a influência dos discos pode ser para o bem ou para o mal.
"The Observer, Sunday 16 July 2006
1 The Velvet Underground and Nico (1967)
Though it sold poorly on its initial release, this has since become arguably the most influential rock album of all time. The first art-rock album, it merges dreamy, druggy balladry ('Sunday Morning') with raw and uncompromising sonic experimentation ('Venus in Furs'), and is famously clothed in that Andy Warhol-designed 'banana' sleeve. Lou Reed's lyrics depicted a Warholian New York demi-monde where hard drugs and sexual experimentation held sway. Shocking then, and still utterly transfixing.
Without this, there'd be no ... Bowie, Roxy Music, Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Jesus and Mary Chain, among many others.
SOH
2 The Beatles
Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967)
There are those who rate Revolver (1966) or 'the White Album' (1968) higher. But Sgt Pepper's made the watertight case for pop music as an art form in itself; until then, it was thought the silly, transient stuff of teenagers. At a time when all pop music was stringently manufactured, these Paul McCartney-driven melodies and George Martin-produced whorls of sound proved that untried ground was not only the most fertile stuff, but also the most viable commercially. It defined the Sixties and - for good and ill - gave white rock all its airs and graces.
Without this ... pop would be a very different beast.
KE
3 Kraftwerk
Trans-Europe Express (1977)
Released at the height of punk, this sleek, urbane, synthesised, intellectual work shared little ground with its contemporaries. Not that it wanted to. Kraftwerk operated from within a bubble of equipment and ideas which owed more to science and philosophy than mere entertainment. Still, this paean to the beauty of mechanised movement and European civilisation was a moving and exquisite album in itself. And, through a sample on Afrika Bambaataa's seminal 'Planet Rock', the German eggheads joined the dots with black American electro, giving rise to entire new genres.
Without this... no techno, no house, no Pet Shop Boys. The list is endless.
KE
4 NWA
Straight Outta Compton (1989)
Like a darker, more vengeful Public Enemy, NWA (Niggaz With Attitude) exposed the vicious realities of the West Coast gang culture on their lurid, fluent debut. Part aural reportage (sirens, gunshots, police radio), part thuggish swagger, Compton laid the blueprint for the most successful musical genre of the last 20 years, gangsta rap. It gave the world a new production mogul in Dr Dre, and gave voice to the frustrations that flared up into the LA riots in 1992. As befits an album boasting a song called 'Fuck tha Police', attention from the FBI, the Parents' Music Resource Centre and our own Metropolitan Police's Obscene Publications Squad sealed its notoriety.
Without this ... no Eminem, no 50 Cent, no Dizzee Rascal.
KE
5 Robert Johnson
King of the Delta Blues Singers (1961)
Described by Eric Clapton as 'the most important blues singer that ever lived', Johnson was an intensely private man, whose short life and mysterious death created an enduring mythology. He was said to have sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads in Mississippi in exchange for his finger-picking prowess. Johnson recorded a mere 29 songs, chief among them 'Hellhound on My Trail', but when it was finally issued, King of the Delta Blues Singers became one of the touchstones of the British blues scene.
Without this ... no Rolling Stones, Cream, Led Zeppelin.
SOH
6 Marvin Gaye
What's Going On (1971)
Gaye's career as tuxedo-clad heart-throb gave no hint he would cut a concept album dealing with civil rights, the Vietnam war and ghetto life. Equally startling was the music, softening and double-tracking Gaye's falsetto against a wash of bubbling percussion, swaying strings and chattering guitars. Motown boss Berry Gordy hated it but its disillusioned nobility caught the public mood. Led by the oft-covered 'Inner City Blues', it ushered in an era of socially aware soul.
Without this ... no Innervisions (Stevie Wonder) or Superfly (Curtis Mayfield).
NS
7 Patti Smith
Horses (1975)
Who would have thought punk rock was, in part, kickstarted by a girl? Poet, misfit and New York ligger, Patti channelled the spirits of Keith Richards, Bob Dylan and Rimbaud into female form, and onto an album whose febrile energy and Dionysian spirit helped light the touchpaper for New York punk. The Robert Mapplethorpe-shot cover, in which a hungry, mannish Patti stares down the viewer, defiantly broke with the music industry's treatment of women artists (sexy or girl-next-door) and still startles today.
Without this ... no REM, PJ Harvey, Razorlight. And no powerful female pop icons like Madonna.
KE
8 Bob Dylan
Bringing it All Back Home (1965)
The first folk-rock album? Maybe. Certainly the first augury of what was to come with the momentous 'Like a Rolling Stone'. Released in one of pop's pivotal years, Bringing it All Back Home fused hallucinatory lyricism and, on half of its tracks, a raw, ragged rock'n'roll thrust. On the opening song, 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', Dylan manages to pay homage to the Beats and Chuck Berry, while anticipating the surreal wordplay of rap.
Without this ... put simply, on this album and the follow-up, Highway 61 Revisited, Dylan invented modern rock music.
SOH
9 Elvis Presley
Elvis Presley (1956)
The King's first album was also the first example of how to cash in on a teenage craze. With Presleymania at full tilt, RCA simultaneously released a single, a four-track EP and an album, all with the same cover of Elvis in full, demented cry. They got their first million dollar album, the fans got a mix of rock-outs like 'Blue Suede Shoes', lascivious R&B and syrupy ballads.
Without this ... no King, no rock and roll madness, no Beatles first album, no pop sex symbols.
NS
10 The Beach Boys
Pet Sounds (1966)
Of late, Pet Sounds has replaced Sgt Pepper's as the critics' choice of Greatest Album of All Time. Composed by the increasingly reclusive Brian Wilson while the rest of the group were touring, it might well have been a solo album. The beauty resides not just in its compositional genius and instrumental invention, but in the elaborate vocal harmonies that imbue these sad songs with an almost heartbreaking grandeur.
Without this ... where to start? The Beatles acknowledged its influence; Dylan said of Brian Wilson, 'That ear! I mean, Jesus, he's got to will that to the Smithsonian.'
SOH
11 David Bowie
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars (1972)
Bowie's revolutionary mix of hard rock and glam pop was given an otherwordly look and feel by his coquettish alter ego Ziggy. It's not so much that every act that followed dyed their hair orange in homage to the spidery spaceman; more that they learned the value of creating a 'bubble' of image and presentation that fans could fall in love with.
Without this ... we'd be lost. No Sex Pistols, no Prince, no Madonna, no Duran Duran, no Boy George, no Kiss, no Bon Jovi, no 'Bohemian Rhapsody' ... I could go on.
LH
12 Miles Davis
Kind of Blue (1959)
A rare example of revolutionary music that almost everyone liked from the moment they heard it. Its cool, spacey, open-textured approach marked a complete break with the prevalent 'hard bop' style. The effect, based on simple scales, called modes, was fresh, delicate, approachable but surprisingly expressive. Others picked up on it and 'modal jazz' has been part of the language ever since. The album also became the media's favourite source of mood music.
Without this ... no ominous, brooding, atmospheric trumpet behind a million radio plays and TV documentaries.
DG
13 Frank Sinatra
Songs for Swingin' Lovers (1956)
The previous year Sinatra had cut In the Wee Small Hours, a brooding cycle of torch songs that was arguably pop's first concept album. Once again working with arranger Nelson Riddle, he presented its complement; a set of upbeat paeans to romance. Exhilarating performances of standards like 'I've Got You Under My Skin' defined Sinatra's urbane, finger-snapping persona for the rest of his career and pushed the record to number one in the first ever British album chart.
Without this ... the 'singer as song interpreter' wouldn't have been born, karaoke menus would be much diminished.
NS
14 Joni Mitchell
Blue (1971)
Though Carole King's Tapestry was the biggest-selling album of the era, it is Joni Mitchell's Blue that remains the most influential of all the early Seventies outings by confessional singer-songwriters. Joni laid bare her heart in a series of intimate songs about love, betrayal and emotional insecurity. It could have been hell (think James Taylor) but for the penetrating brilliance of the songwriting. Raw, spare and sophisticated, it remains the template for a certain kind of baroque female angst.
Without this ... no Tori Amos or Fiona Apple - and Elvis Costello and Prince have cited her as a prime influence.
SOH
15 Brian Eno
Discreet Music (1975)
Brian Eno, it is said, invented ambient music when he was stuck in a hospital bed unable to reach a radio that was playing too quietly, giving him the eureka moment that set the course not only for his post-Roxy Music career as an 'atmosphere'-enhancing producer, but for the future of electronic music.
Without this ... we wouldn't have David Bowie's Low or Heroes, the echoey guitars of U2'S The Edge, and no William Orbit, Orb, Juana Molina. To name but a few.
LH
16 Aretha Franklin
I Never Loved a Man the Way I love You (1967)
'R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to me!' Is there a more potent female lyric in pop? Franklin's Atlantic Records debut unleashed her soulful ferociousness upon an unsuspecting public, and both the singer and her album quickly became iconic symbols of black American pride.
Without this ... Tina Turner, Mariah Carey, girl power would not exist, and rudeboys would not spit 'res'pec' through kissed teeth.
EJS
17 The Stooges
Raw Power (1973)
Produced by David Bowie, who also helped re-form the band, Raw Power was the Stooges's late swansong, and their most influential album. The Detroit group were already legendary for incendiary live shows and first two albums, but Raw Power, though selling as poorly as its predecessors, was subsequently cited as a prime influence by virtually every group in the British punk scene.
Without this ... no punk, so no Sex Pistols (who covered 'No Fun'); no White Stripes.
SOH
18 The Clash
London Calling (1979)
The best record to come out of punk, or punk's death knell? On this double album, The Clash fused their rockabilly roots with their love of reggae, moving away from the choppy snarls of the scene that birthed them. This was the album that legitimised punk - hitherto a stroppy fad - into the rock canon. Its iconic cover, and songs about the Spanish Civil War brought left-wing politics firmly into musical fashion.
Without this ... would the west have come to love reggae, dub and ragga quite so much? We certainly would have no Manic Street Preachers ... or Green Day, or Rancid ... or possibly even Lily Allen.
KE
19 Mary J Blige
What's the 411? (1992)
When the Bronx-born 'Queen of Hip Hop Soul' catapulted her debut on to a legion of approving listeners, she unwittingly defined a new wave of R&B. Before Mary, R&B's roots were still firmly planted in soul and jazz (ie Aretha Franklin and Chaka Khan). The emergence of hip hop and this album from Blige and her mentor and producer Sean 'Puffy' Combs (aka P Diddy) gave birth to a new gritty sound, informed by the singer's harrowing past.
Without this ... no R&B/soul divide, which means no TLC, Beyonce, or Ashanti, to name just three.
EJS
20 The Byrds
Sweetheart of the Rodeo (1968)
At one inspired stroke, Sweetheart vanquished the cultural divide between acid-munching, peace-preaching long hairs and beer-swilling, flag-waving good old boys by creating the enduring hybrid of country-rock. Allying rippling guitars and silky vocal harmonies with a mix of country tradition ('I Am a Pilgrim') and Gram Parsons originals, the record irrevocably altered the perspective of two previously averse streams of Americana. The group even cut their hair to play the Grand Ole Opry.
Without this ... no Hotel California, no Willie Nelson, no Shania Twain.
NS
21 The Spice Girls
Spice (1996)
The music business has been cynically creating and marketing acts since the days of the wax cylinder, but on nothing like the scale of the Spice phenomenon, which was applied to crisps, soft drinks, you name it. Musically, the Spice's Motown-lite was unoriginal, but 'Girl Power', despite being a male invention, touched a nerve and defined a generation of tweenies who took it to heart.
Without this ... five-year-olds would not have become a prime target for pop marketeers. Most of all, there'd be no Posh'n'Becks.
NS
22 Kate Bush
The Hounds of Love (1985)
On Side One our Kate strikes a deal with God, throws her shoes in a lake and poses as a little boy riding a rain machine. Turn over, and she's drowning, exorcising demons and dancing an Irish jig. All this to a soundscape that employs the shiniest synthesised studio toys the Eighties had to offer in the service of one women's unique yet utterly English musical genius. Listen again to the delirious cacophany of 'Running Up That Hill', and it sounds like God struck that deal.
Without this ... Tori Amos would have spawned no earthquakes, Alison Goldfrapp would lack her juiciest cherries and romance would have withered on the vine.
JB
23 Augustus Pablo
King Tubby Meets Rockers Uptown (1976)
Jamaica's invention of dub - a stripped-down, echo-laden instrumental remix of a vocal track - was spawned principally on the B-sides of local reggae hits and in the island's competing sound-systems, with technician-engineer King Tubby as its master creator, a man who could 'play' the mixing console. This collection of ethereal melodies by melodica maestro Augustus Pablo distilled the art into album form. It would be years before the West caught up.
Without this ... no DJ remixes, no house, no rave.
NS
24 Youssou N'Dour
Immigres (1984)
The charismatic N'Dour, Senegal's top star, changed the West's perception of African musicians, just as he had revolutionised Senegalese music. Nothing sounded like the fusion on Immigres, with its lopsided rhythms, whooping talking drums and discordant horns, topped by N'Dour's supple, powerful vocals. Immigres also redefined the role of West African griot, addressing migration and African identity.
Without this ... N'Dour wouldn't have met Peter Gabriel, there'd have been no African presence at Live 8. In fact, 'world music' would not exist as a section in Western collections.
NS
25 James Brown
Live at the Apollo (1963)
This remains the live album by which all others are measured, and is still the best delineation of the raw power of primal soul music. It propelled James Brown into the mainstream, and paved the way for a string of propulsive hits like 'Papa's Got a Brand New Bag' (1965) and 'Cold Sweat' (1967). The catalyst for many great soul stylists, from Sly Stone to Otis Redding, it also provided an early lesson in dynamics for the young Michael Jackson.
Without this ... great chunks of hip hop - which has sampled Brown more than almost any other - would be missing.
SOH
26 Stevie Wonder
Songs in the Key of Life (1976)
This influenced virtually every modern soul and R&B singer, brimming with timeless classics like 'Isn't She Lovely', 'As' and 'Sir Duke'. The 21-tracker encompassed a vast range of life's issues - emotional, social, spiritual and environmental - all performed with bravado and a lightness of touch. No other R&B artist has sung about the quandaries of human existence with quite the same grace.
Without this ... no Alicia Keys, no John Legend - contemporary R&B would be empty and lifeless.
EJS
27 Jimi Hendrix
Are You Experienced (1967)
Looking and playing like a brother from another planet, Hendrix delivered the most dramatic debut in pop history. Marrying blues and psychedelia, dexterity and feedback trickery, it redefined the guitar's sonic possibilities, while beyond the fretboard pyrotechnics burnt a fierce artistic vision - 'Third Stone From the Sun' made Jimi rock's first (and still best travelled) cosmonaut.
Without this ... countless guitarists and cock-rockers might not have been (Stevie Ray Vaughan, Lenny Kravitz, even Miles Davis owes him), but most of all, without Experienced, there'd be no Jimi experience.
NS
28 Prince and the Revolution
Purple Rain (1984)
Prince had been plugging away with limited success for several years when the man in tiny pants reinvented himself as a purple-clad movie star. Like Michael Jackson, he felt that the way to gain crossover appeal was to run the musical gamut: in this case, from the minimalist funk of his earlier albums to the volume-at-11 rock of Jimi Hendrix. The title track is a monumental, fist-clenching rock ballad that, perversely, whetted our appetites for far worse examples by Christina Aguilera among others.
Without this ... no Janet Jackson, no Peaches, and certainly no Beck.
LH
29 Pink Floyd
The Dark Side of the Moon (1973)
Sounds like it was pretty tough to be in Pink Floyd in the early 1970s. You had all the money you could spend (ker-ching!) but you thought that was vulgar. You didn't get on with your bandmates because they all had superiority complexes. You couldn't enter the recording booth without having an existential crisis. Piper At The Gates of Dawn, their debut with the late Syd Barrett, turned out to be influential in a more positive sense (David Bowie, Blur).
Without this ... there'd be no Thom Yorke solo mumblings, and much less prog rock (if only ...).
LH
30 The Wailers
Catch a Fire (1973)
Alongside The Harder They Come (movie and soundtrack), Catch a Fire changed the perception of reggae from eccentric, lightweight pop to a music of mystery and power. Dressed in a snappy Zippo lighter sleeve, and launched with rock razzmatazz, it delivered a polished, guitar-sweetened version of what Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer had made when white audiences weren't listening. By turns militant, mystic and sexy, it helped make Bob Marley the first Third World superstar.
Without this ... no Aswad or Steel Pulse, no native American or Maori or African reggae bands.
NS
31 The Stone Roses
The Stone Roses (1989)
Until the late Eighties, Manchester was thought to be a forbidding, dour place where the ghost of Ian Curtis still clanked about. The Stone Roses' concatenation of sweet West Coast psychedelia and the lairy, loved-up rave culture was as unforeseeable as it was seismic. Ecstasy pulled the sniffy rock kids away from their Smiths records and into clubland; the result was an album whose woozy words and funky drumming sounded as guileless as it did hedonistic.
Without this ... well, a bit of the Roses remains in the DNA of every British guitar band since.
KE
32 Otis Redding
Otis Blue (1965)
Until Stax Records and Otis Redding arrived, the Southern states were a place you had to leave to make it (unless you were a country singer). Recorded weeks after the death of Redding's idol, Sam Cooke, the album cast Otis as Cooke's successor, an embodiment of young black America with white appeal - alongside Cooke's 'A Change is Gonna Come' was the Stones's 'Satisfaction'. With terrific backings from the MGs and the Markeys horns behind Otis's rasping vocals, it defined 'soul'.
Without this ... no Aretha Franklin singing 'Respect', no Al Green, and no Terence Trent D'Arby.
NS
33 Herbie Hancock
Head Hunters (1973)
It definitively wedded jazz to funk and R&B, and did it with such joyful confidence that it launched a whole new, open-minded approach to the music. Equally important was the use of electronic keyboards, then in their infancy, which vastly expanded the range of available textures. Head Hunters kickstarted the stylistic and ethnic fusions that have enlivened jazz for 30 years.
Without this ... suffice to say, almost everything in the jazz-funk idiom can be traced back to this.
DG
34 Black Sabbath
Black Sabbath (1970)
A mere 30 minutes long, this was none the less the album where heavy metal was first forged. Its ponderous tempos, cod-satanic imagery (bassist Geezer Butler was a Roman Catholic and Dennis Wheatley fan), Tony Iommi's sledgehammer guitar riffs and Ozzy Osbourne's shrieking vocals all went on to define the genre and shaped most arena rock of the Seventies and Eighties.
Without this ... no Spinal Tap, no grunge or Kurt Cobain and, of course, no Osbournes.
NS
35 The Ramones
The Ramones (1976)
'Fun disappeared from music in 1974,' claimed singer Joey Ramone. To restore it took he and his three 'brothers' just one album and 16 tracks, all under three minutes. Brevity was the New York punk rockers' first lesson to the world, along with speed, a distorted guitar thrash and a knowing line in faux-dumb lyrics. In an era of 'progressive' rock pomposity and 12-minute tracks, the Ramones' back-to-basics approach was rousing and confrontational.
Without this ... no fun.
NS
36 The Who
My Generation (1965)
Alongside the equally influential Small Faces, The Who were the quintessential British mod group. Long before they recorded the first rock opera, Tommy, they unleashed a stream of singles that articulated all the youthful pent-up frustration of Sixties London before it started to swing. Their 1965 debut album, My Generation, included the defiant and celebratory 'The Kids Are Alright' and the ultimate mod anthem, 'My Generation', with its infamous line, 'I hope I die before I get old.' Angry aggressive art-school pop with attitude to burn.
Without this ... no Paul Weller, no Blur and, God help us, no Ordinary Boys either.
NS
37 Massive AttackBlue Lines (1991)
Obliterators of rap's boundaries, Massive Attack pioneered the cinematic trip hop movement. After graduating from one of Britain's premier sound systems, the Bristol-based Wild Bunch, Andrew 'Mushroom' Vowles and Grant 'Daddy G' Marshall joined forces with graffiti artist 3D. Massive Attack's debut LP spawned the unforgettable 'Unfinished Sympathy' and remains a modern classic.
Without this ... no Roots Manuva, no Dizzee. In fact, there would be no British urban music scene to speak of.
EJS
38 Radiohead
The Bends (1995)
In parallel with Jeff Buckley, Radiohead's Thom Yorke popularised the angst-laden falsetto, a thoughtful opposite to the chest-beating lad-rock personified by Oasis's Liam Gallagher. Sounding girly to a backdrop of churning guitars became a much-copied idea, however, one which eventually coalesced into an entire decade of sound.
Without this ... Coldplay would not exist, nor Keane, nor James Blunt.
KE
39 Michael Jackson
Thriller (1982)
Pure, startling genius from beginning to end, Michael Jackson and producer Quincy Jones seemed hellbent on creating the biggest, most universally appealing pop album ever made. Jones introduced elements of rock into soul and vice versa in such a way that it's now no surprise to hear a pop record that mashes up more marginal genres into a form that will have universal relevance.
Without this ... no megastars such as Justin Timberlake or Madonna, no wide-appeal uber-producers such as Timbaland or Pharrell Williams.
LH
40 Run DMC
Run DMC (1984)
Before them came block-rocking DJ Grandmaster Flash and the Godfather, Afrika Bambaataa, but it was Run DMC who carved the prototype for today's hip hop MCs. Their self-titled debut - the first rap album to go gold - was rough around the edges and catchy as hell. As Rev Run spat, 'Unemployment at a record high/ People coming, people going, people born to die', the way was paved for conscious and political rap.
Without this ... no Public Enemy, Roots and Nas.
EJS
41 Chic
Chic (1977)
The Chic Organisation revolutionised disco music in the late Seventies, reclaiming it from the naff Bee Gees and ensuring the pre-eminence of slickly produced party music in the charts for the next three decades. Its main men Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards patented a sound on their 1977 debut that was influential on bands from Duran Duran to Orange Juice. They also created a hit-making formula that mixed dance beats with monster hooks.
Without this ... no Destiny's Child.
LH
42 The Smiths
The Smiths (1984)
Yearning, melodic, jangly, and very northern, The Smiths' first album was quite unlike anything that had gone before. It helped that Morrissey was a one-off and that Johnny Marr had taken all the best riffs from Sixties pop, punk and disco and melded them into his own unique style. But there was something magical about their sound that endless successors have tried to replicate.
Without this ... there'd be no Belle and Sebastian, no Suede, no Oasis, and no Libertines - at the very least.
LH
43 Primal Scream
Screamadelica (1991)
Thanks to producer Andrew Weatherall and some debauched raving, this former fey indie outfit enthusiastically took on dance music's heady rushes. It was a conversion bordering on the Damascene, but one being mirrored in halls of residence, cars, clubs and bedsits all around the nation. Screamadelica brought hedonism crashing into the mainstream.
Without this ... no lad culture - it was no accident that a mag founded in 1994 shared its name with Screamadelica's defining single, 'Loaded'.
KE
44 Talking Heads
Fear of Music (1979)
There's something refreshingly jolly about the modern-life paranoia expressed by chief Talking Head David Byrne on this album that moany old Radiohead could learn from. Opening track 'I Zimbra' splices funk with afrobeat, paving the way for Byrne and Eno's mould-breaking My Life in the Bush of Ghosts album a few years later.
Without this ... Paul Simon's Graceland might never have been made.
LH
45 Fairport Convention
Liege and Lief (1969)
The birth of English folk-rock. Considered an act of heresy by folk purists, this electrified album fragmented the band. No matter, the opening cry of 'Come all you roving minstrels' proved galvanic.
Without this ... no Celtic revivalists like the Pogues and Waterboys or descendants like the Levellers.
NS
46 The Human League
Dare (1981)
Until Dare, synthesisers meant solemnity. Phil Oakey's reinvention of the group as chirpy popsters, complete with two flailing, girl-next-door vocalists, feminised electronica.
Without this ... and Oakey's lop-sided haircut, squads of new romantics and synth-pop acts would have been lost.
NS
47 Nirvana
Nevermind (1991)
You might argue Nirvana's landmark album changed nothing whatsoever. All their best seditious instincts came to nothing, after all. And yet Nevermind still rocks mightily, capturing a moment when the vituperative US underground imposed its agenda on the staid mainstream. Without this ... no Seattle scene, no Britpop, no Pete Doherty.
KE
48 The Strokes
Is This It? (2001)
Five good-looking young men hauled the jangling sound of Television and the Velvet Underground into the new millennium, reinvigorating rock's obsession with having a good time.
Without this ... a fine brood of heirs would not have been spawned: among them, Franz Ferdinand and the Libertines.
KE
49 De La Soul
3 Feet High and Rising (1989)
Ten years after hip hop's arrival, its original joie de vivre had been subsumed by macho braggadocio. Three Feet High made hip hop playful again, with light rhythms, unusual sound samples and its talk of the D.A.I.S.Y. age ('Da Inner Sound Y'all') earning the trio a 'hippy' label.
Without this ... thoughtful hip hop acts like the Jungle Brothers and PM Dawn wouldn't have arrived.
NS
50 LFO
Frequencies (1991)
Acid house was sniffed at as a fad until it started producing 'proper' albums. Frequencies was its first masterpiece. Updating the pristine blueprint of Kraftwerk with house, acid, ambient and hip hop, it made dance music legitimate to album-buyers.
Without this ... no success for Orbital, Underworld, Leftfield, Chemical Brothers or Aphex Twin."
segunda-feira, 3 de outubro de 2011
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