Fast times
December 12, 2003 | 12:00am
Amonth ago, I wrote an article listing the six horror films one should see for Halloween, putting in one Philippine entry: a classic monster flick called Zuma. A few days later, while in conversation with my best friend’s girlfriend — a pretty lass of 19 currently studying at the Ateneo, the topic came up and I was surprised — no, that’s not quite right… I was shocked when her eyes glazed over with no recognition whatsoever at the mention of Jim Fernandez’s fabled creature’s name. It would later turn out that all of her friends were likewise ignorant of a film which has scared many of my generation: A writer-friend of mine developed an incapacitating fear of snakes while I can claim an irreparable damage to my tender kidneys. (I wouldn’t go and relieve myself late at night, waiting for morning to make the journey to the toilet for fear of encountering Max Laurel in all his horrible green glory.)
I’m 27, and that may not seem old. (Technically, I still fall under the youth bracket under UN standards.) But it seems that if you remember Aga Muhlach dancing in the teen offering Campus Beat, the 99.5 RT mascot and the first Edsa revolution, you’re no longer as young as you thought you were. And this is further driven home by the music you prefer. (Sure you like Mandy Moore and Hillary Duff but you can bet that you’re not the demographic those teenyboppers are targeting.)
Another sign o’ the times (oh no, an allusion to Prince! Isn’t mascara on men still in vogue?) is when bands that provided the soundtrack to dateless proms, drunken car-rides and all manner of juvenile delinquency are releasing career retrospectives or "greatest hits" all of a sudden. In fact, I encountered two of the bands listed below as far back as grade school, way before the collapse of the Soviet Union. (What the f–k’s that? Um, well, there was this thing called the Cold War you see…No, I’m not talking about Pepsi and Coca-Cola but…Oh well, whatever, never mind…) During those times they represented youthful exuberance and the struggle of finding your own identity despite the commonality of puberty. Even songs that I didn’t like during that time I look back at with a fondness comparable to that of circumcision or perhaps throwing up after your first night out drinking. God, I completely understand what Dickens was thinking when he wrote those classic lines, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…" (to which Norm from Cheers would retort: "Now, wait a minute, which was it?")
Being a teenager is surely fun; but it is hell.
Listening to these songs, I wonder how I could’ve ever survived it all without them.
R.E.M.
The Best of R.E.M.: In Time 1988-2003
Warner
Contrary to popular belief, this band from Athens, Georgia existed way before their 1991 hit Losing My Religion. There was a plethora of classic singles such as So. Central Rain (I’m Sorry) and The One I Love – mistakenly sung at weddings even by guitarist Peter Buck – that endeared the band to many a confused adolescent whose only other sympathetic voice was one Stephen Morrissey. By the same measure, the band continued to exist as a vital force even after their mainstream breakthrough. The albums that followed showed that Michael Stipe and Co. weren’t afraid to be looked upon as being "difficult," indulging obsessions like counter-culture icons such as Patti Smith and neglected legend Andy Kaufman. Neither did they abandon their fans either, sweetening the obscurities with the majestic melodiousness of the songs themselves.
That said, there are misfires, mostly newer stuff recently recorded for the compilation. Current single Bad Day is basically It’s The End of the World as We Know It without the clever title and the hooks; while Animal sounds like it was taken from the band’s ill-conceived 1994 album "Monster" (thankfully only represented by one albeit not the best track).
Despite its shortcomings, the album hangs well. E-Bow the Letter was R.E.M.’s biggest hit in Britain (Interesting tidbit: British Prime Minister Tony Blair has gone on record to say the band is his favorite) and one can hear why the British respond so well. The track features Patti Smith who was always more appreciated abroad than in her own country. But more than that, beneath its murky atmospherics and gentle wind of a melody, it is essentially a song of hope arising from sadness – an emotion many of their most brilliant artists have captured so eloquently in the past. Other notables include Daysleeper from 1998’s "Up" which is the only pop song in recent memory to use the term, circadian rhythm, and holds the distinction of being the catchiest one since The Stranglers’ Golden Brown.
Sometime back, Stipe told Rolling Stone magazine that R.E.M. would disband at the end of the century. Thankfully, they meant this one.
STONE TEMPLE PILOTS
Thank You
Warner
Comedian David Spade once joked on SNL that he liked Stone Temple Pilots when he saw them on tour but liked them better when "they were still called Pearl Jam." Never a critical favorite (and considered a guilty pleasure at best), STP weren’t forgiven for vaulting to fame by vocalist Scott Weiland uncannily sounding like Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder on the band’s first smash "Plush." (It didn’t help matters much when Weiland countered that he’d actually been nicking Jim Morrison’s vocal style.) Much like our very own Rivermaya, STP was in the curious position of having consistent chart-toppers while remaining "uncool" by rock elite standards. Not that it mattered (although Weiland did his best to get away from plaid and Doc Martens, embracing glitter and glam rock.)
Now with the hindsight afforded by time, one can assess the recorded legacies of both bands with objectivity not possible at the time. Both were stars alright and some would say sounded like one another but there was a difference. While Vedder stared into what we assume is the void (or a particularly tasty hamburger) in the video for Jeremy and spewed supposedly affecting observations about Gen X, Weiland threw up lines like "when the dogs begin to smell her" and some nonsense about "walking shoes worn thin." (On Sex Type Thing he attempted a commentary on date-rape but was only pilloried for sounding like he actually condoned it.) But just as STP continued to deliver — how shall one put this without offense? — durable pop nuggets consistently over the years like Interstate Love Song, Big Bang Baby and Sour Girl their Seattle counterparts release albums that increasingly become tedious to listen to, begging someone to put Vedder out of his misery. And while Plush continues to be popular on radio request days, it seems early ’90s anthems like Animal is only suffered willfully when sung by Parokya ni Edgar.
The reason that the music of STP is still being enjoyed is simple. With STP, you were meant to have fun while with Pearl Jam you were made to feel guilty about having fun. (Not necessarily a bad thing but it grows old pretty fast especially if you don’t mean it, man.) Pearl Jam tried covering their pretense with substance whereas with STP the substance was pretense.
True, STP weren’t original and were musically derivative but weren’t most bands at the time? Anyway, rock and roll is all about the same three chords right? What matters now is that long after Jeremy’s dead and buried you’ll still probably hear Weiland’s absurd ditty about canines sniffing up some girl’s ass.
RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS
Greatest Hits
Warner
Los Angeles is certainly the place for broken dreams – what with the number of dead screenwriters floating face down in ubiquitous swimming pools and the number of well-worn casting couches stained with semen and cheap perfume.
To even the casual observer of the musical talent emerging from the Hollywood sign’s shadow, the Red Hot Chili Peppers seemed to fit in perfectly in the role of a rock and roll suicide, with the end clearly in view even before the start of the second act. Death, madness and all the dangerous excesses figure heavily in the plot, all the tried and tested elements of tragedy.
So it came as a surprise when the Chili Peppers — often cast as Animal House frat boys with the I.Q of Bill and Ted — would graduate at the top of their class and come out mature musicians. Certainly they had the chops (although Fishbone were better) and a share of original ideas (but Jane’s Addiction had more) but no one could see them lasting for more than a few kegs of beer.
With their newly released "Greatest Hits" their status as sensitive songwriters with more on their mind than just good times is established, painting over the public image of them as buffoons with only socks on. Eschewing the flippancy of songs like Aeroplane and material found in 1989’s "Mother Milk" (including stag-night favorite Sexy Mexican Maid), they opt for more contemplative and thoughtful offerings. Starting off with their breakthrough hit Under the Bridge – which would sound trite if it weren’t sung and played with such naked honesty – it presents the band as the scarred survivors of the tinsel-town dream that they truly are. Scar Tissue is particularly affecting: the first single out of the band’s hugely successful "Californication" album, it casts singer Anthony Keidis as a Wim Wenders angel cast adrift in Nathanael West’s Hollywood, surveying its inhabitants sharing with only the birds to share "this lonely view." The video is even more telling: the band are no longer exotic animals prancing in the Californian desert but rather walking wounded and heavily bandaged, only awaiting to be carrion for the vultures.
It’s not as depressing as you think though. As shown in songs like By the Way, the Peppers have honed their songwriting to allow the gravitas to exist alongside booty-shaking grooves. For those who want their funk unadulterated there are tracks like the Stevie Wonder cover Higher Ground and Give It Away. The latter is notable for the fact that it name-dropped Bob Marley and introduced the man (not the music, mind you) to numerous Filipino "rastafarians" whose only previous inspiration was Milli Vanilli.
In the liner notes, drummer Chad Smith says that according to David Bowie they only remember you for three things in your career. For the Chili Peppers, he’d say, "It’s the socks, the drugs and being the progenitors of (a) hybrid of rock/funk." He hopes that the record would prove they’re much more than that. And, after listening to the band’s impressive back catalog, there’s no doubt they’ve succeeded.
Deus Ex Machina, anyone?
BrandSpace Articles
<
>
