Remember
Uncanny X-Men #282 when Bishop came through a time portal from a dystopian future? Where mutants had been hunted and killed? Where he had been branded with an "M" over a portion of his face? Well, over the next several issues, Bishop battled the X-Men and brandished his awesome mutant ability to absorb all forms of radiant energy and conduct it back through his hands (resulting in sweet covers
like this and
this). That was
cool.*
The D Man knows cool. Since Bishop came from the future, The D Man's understanding has only accelerated over the past twenty years. I may not always exude cool myself, or, candidly, try (too hard) to do so. But I have a keen appreciation for people, places, and things that are, inherently, cool. (Just like you, my loyal cadre of readers).
So what is cool when it comes to music? Much like the Supreme Court's definition for obscene material, The D Man just knows it when he sees it. Like my Grandpa's
Ray Price 8-track tapes in his old green truck. (Cool). Like Erlend Oye hopping off the stage after his set to
dance with the small crowd. (Very cool). Like
playing Rock Band with
Mark Kozelek. (Off-the-charts cool.)
So, naturally, The D Man's record collection is cool. According to
this recent matrix, my collection is a purposeful mix (
sorry Scots!) of lowbrow (
Glasvegas), middlebrow (
Frightened Rabbit), and highbrow (
Belle & Sebastian). I run heavy on the indie rock, with great swaths of Americana, pop, and electronic music. I even have a carefully cultivated R&B and hip-hop section, just like a reverse black dude with his limited fare of George Michael or John Mayer.
But somewhere among the rabblement, The D Man owns some records that are flat out cool. The following albums are cool by virtue of a hip contextual melange of meaning, backstory, artwork, and vibe, to name just a few of the critical ingredients. So enjoy. And let The D Man know what other records belong in the club of cool. Bishop is waiting.
- Incesticide by Nirvana (1992). The D Man remembers his strange attraction to this weird, messy album of older demos and rarities. It sounded nothing like the full-scale production assault on Nevermind. The music was raw, forceful, and the cover art seemed scandalous, even scary. (In the liner notes, Cobain is credited with the artwork under the moniker Kurdt Kobain). The D Man played the album in his basement bedroom and thrilled at the adoloscent terror of "Sliver"--after all, who couldn't relate to being dropped off at Grandma's place for just a little too long? The likes of "Turnaround," "Molly's Lips," and "Been A Son" all displayed Cobain's driving, melodic pop gifts underneath all of the fury. Cobain was cool. Can there even be an argument over that?
- (The Rollercoaster Album) by Red House Painters (1993). On the band's second eponymous album (for super-cool label 4AD), Mark Kozelek entered into the rarified realm of cult adoration that continues through the present day. The sepia-toned image of a long-vanished roller coaster is the stark reminder of things past, things forgotten--and a visual entry point to this album's beautiful nostalgia and devastating sadness. Kozelek penned powerful "slow-core" songs in the middle of grunge's heyday, his brilliant lyrics pointed and pretty. "Grace Cathedral Park," "The Katy Song," and "Mistress" are potent reminders of furtive creativity linked by youth, love, and loss.
- Wowee Zowee by Pavement (1995). Everything about this record is cool. The cover is a blast of pop-art magic. The music is an eclectic, scatterbrained collection of spontaneous riffs and art-rock ditties. If you believe Stephen Malkmus, Pavement's super left turn on album number three was due to excessive marijuana consumption. Couched between two classic albums and the band's more refined pop approach on their last two efforts, Wowee Zowee is an indie-rock pinnacle of smart, messy, Enlish-major-drop-out guitar rock.
- Clouds Taste Metallic by The Flaming Lips (1995). The Flaming Lip's seventh album is fuzzed-out psyche-rock bliss. The last album to feature killer guitarist Ronald Jones, Clouds Taste Metallic is the Lips finest collection of guitar-based songs. Of course, The Lips have gone on to record several cool records since (The Soft Bulletin, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Embryonic), but Clouds captures the whimsical, anything-goes sound that defined the band before its current festival prowess. Recently, when Wayne Coyne blazed a war of words with Arcade Fire in the press, even Win Butler conceded that Clouds Taste Metallic was a huge record (while dishing it right back to Wayne). When a record deserves an aside in a press battle between two indie-rock titans, you know it is cool. Check out "The Abandoned Hospital Ship," an unbelievably cool album opener.
- Maxwell's Urban Hang Suite by Maxwell (1996). A serious departure from the ghetto culture of 90's R&B, Maxwell's debut album was a refreshing, groovy, soulful nod to the sexual healing of vintage crooners like Marvin Gaye. Showcasing Maxwell's incredible pipes and serious commitment to relationships (albeit super-sexy relationships), the album's cover ditched the usual photo of the cool soul-singer for a retro invitation to knock the boots. Granted, the fact that this record came out during The D Man's make-out prime--and that he was probably the only guy spinning it in his high school (hello ladies!)--made it that much cooler.
- Agaetis Byrjun by Sigur Ros (2001). Iceland's Sigur Ros established their near-mythic status with their second album, which introduced savvy listeners to sounds they could not have imagined: lush, ambient post-rock orchestration helmed by lead singer Jonsi Birgisson's otherwordly vocals and cello-bowed guitarwork. Songs like "Staralfur" or "Svenfn-g-englar" were unlike anything we've heard before, and both were used to great aplomb in movies and videos. Overly earnest and little pretentious? Maybe. But artists have spent ages to sound so wholly original. Which could explain the alien fetus on the cover art. Or not.
- When I Said I Wanted to Be Your Dog (2004). Lekman's first proper album, When I Said I Wanted to Be Your Dog, established the Swede as the go-to troubadour of pop earnestness and romantic melancholy. Lekman's witty, sample-laden tracks are unforgettable, and his Morrissey-esque voice carries tunes to exquisite little epiphanies. Sure, his subsequent albums are probably better in terms of melody and polish, but there is a wistful majesty to the lo-fi production, a magic to the small (and funny) stories of heartbreak and misunderstanding. She said it was all make believe / But I thought you said maple leaves. A lyric sums up the humor, pathos, and sweetness that Lekman reveals in his clever little songs.
- And the Glass-Handed Kites by Mew (2006). The cover photograph is downright frightening, a nod to the grotesque that earned the dubious distinction of one of the worst album covers of the year. (Of course, the so-bad-it's-cool cover actually works in the album's favor here). The Danish band's songs are epic, musical pageantry, connected together as a single continuous suite, resulting in a dark fantasy kingdom that delivers a sweeping blend of shoegaze, metal, and prog-rock. These guys look great in front of a camera, and it is a shame that their music will never be performed in a U2-style arena setting, as they are one of the only indies on the planet that could actually pull off a stratospheric show. The overdramatic song titles--see "Circuitry of the Wolf," "The Seeting Rain Weeps for You," "Apocalypso"--are often sung in the highest of male registers. Indeed, "Zookeeper's Boy" is in the running for the best falsetto rock song of all time. Now that is cool.
- Gemini by Wild Nothing (2010). Wild Nothing's dreamy, shoegaze guitar-pop hints at the ineffable. Gemini is awash with starry-eyed synths, crystalline guitars, and fuzzy atmospherics, reimagining a vein of iridescent, wistful, 1980's pop music. Jack Tatum's debut is an understated affair that sulks, seeps, and sears into listeners romance-fueled memories, and the album is a clear indication that he is an unabashed fan of his brooding and melodic forbears, the touchstones that mopey teens of yesterday listened to and adored (Joy Division, The Cure, The Cocteau Twins). Cool company, indeed.
- Kaputt by Destroyer (2011). To date, the most beguiling record of the year. If you're cool, or you really want to be cool, you should check it out. You can always come current.
*For whatever reason, Uncanny X-Men #282 to #293, ultimately leading into the X-Cutioner's Song saga, was one of my all-time favorite run of comics. Cool.
