My introduction to American singer/songwriter Suzanne Vega came via a remix of her track “Tom’s diner” back when I was in high school. I won’t tarry long on that particular song lest we run the risk of it getting tangled in all of our heads. But if you so wish it, the song appeared at the twenty-seven spot on my Best tunes of 1990 list and you can read more about it in that post I wrote three years ago.
I wasn’t the only one introduced to Vega in 1990. As I wrote previously, that remix opened the doors to all sorts of new fans and perhaps was the impetus behind the change in direction we heard on her 1992 album, “99.9F°”. I remember not really being phased when I first heard it but then again, I had not yet gotten into her earlier, more folky stuff, save for perhaps being vaguely familiar with “Luka” from the radio. My friend Tim brought the CD over to my place one night, though I’m not sure what we were doing that evening (maybe playing Risk), and I asked him to leave it with me because the sound reminded me of “Pretty hate machine”, an album with which I was quite obsessed at the time.
Number one hit single, “Blood makes noise”, was particularly, jaw-droppingly good. Chains clanking, drums thumping, bass heavy and insistent, demanding insular attention, while Vega chants and incants alongside the tribal rhythms.
“I’d like to help you doctor
Yes I really really would
But the din in my head
It’s too much and it’s no good”
It’s two minutes of racket, an uproar on the dance floor, frenzy and ecstasy. Indeed, this din is not too much, nay, it’s really, really good.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 1992 list, click here.
(Vinyl Love is a series of posts that quite simply lists, describes, and displays the pieces in my growing vinyl collection. You can bet that each record was given a spin during the drafting of each corresponding post.)
Artist: The Essex Green Album Title: Hardly electronic Year released: 2018 Details: Limited edition, peak edition, red & orange swirl vinyl
The skinny:Last week, I wrote about how I discovered this Indie Rock trio from Brooklyn, New York, when I saw them open for Camera Obscura back in 2007. This here album, The Essex Green’s fourth, and their first in almost twelve years, was a bit of a surprise release back in 2018. Indeed, even after hearing a few tracks, it wasn’t on my radar to add to my vinyl collection but then, I saw it on the racks while perusing one of my favourite local record stores, Compact Music, and I just couldn’t help myself. This limited ‘Peak’ vinyl edition of “Hardly electronic” is lovely in orange and red translucent and hit my platter so often back in 2018 that it ended up on my top ten list for the year.
“Scraggly hair and messed up shoes
I’m looking all around for you
Find you in the corner bar
But you can’t find the keys to your car”
This one here’s a real rocker! Driving rhythm and flailing guitars and frontman Bill Janovitz singing about blowing chances with love and life. I first came across this track and thus discovered Buffalo Tom when I recorded the music video off City Limits, a story you might recognize by now if you’ve perused other posts in my Best tunes of 1990, 1991, and 1992 lists. I definitely remember rewinding and replaying this video many times over in my basement bedroom, while frantically slapping the tops of my thighs, flat-handed, as if I were drumming right alongside Tom Maginnis. It’s absolutely one of those songs that gets me riled up every time, even now, especially at around the halfway mark of the song where the mouth organ gets whipped out and then, the real craze begins.
Buffalo Tom was formed in Boston in 1986 and apparently, their name was an amalgam of 60s rock band Buffalo Springfield and the first name of their drummer. Their friendship with J. Mascis and the fact that he produced their first two records was likely the main reason they obtained the questionable tag of Dinosaur Jr. junior. I never saw this comparison myself but I always enjoyed Buffalo Tom’s music more than that of Mascis’s group, perhaps not a popular opinion. Nonetheless, it’s true, and of course, it was on their third album, “Let me come over”, on which this song appears, where they sought different collaborators and started to blaze their own trail, that things really started happening for them.
I loved the drive and energy of “Velvet roof” so much that the first time I saw “Let me come over” on a CD rack, I didn’t hesitate to buy it. Unfortunately, as you might know if you’ve read a certain post on New Model Army’s “Purity”, this particular story doesn’t have such a happy ending. I had travelled to Toronto in the summer of 1993 with my friend Tim to see New Model Army live, my first ever concert. We had driven to the Scarborough Town Centre in the afternoon, parked, and took the TTC LRT and subway downtown from there. Before the show, we hit a few of Tim’s favourite used record and CD shops, including the now defunct Penguin Music, which for quite a while afterwards became my own favourite. I picked up copies of Primus’s “Sailing the seas of cheese” and this Buffalo Tom album.
The New Model Army show was so incredible that we stayed almost right to the end, despite Tim’s wary eye on his watch, knowing full well that we had to catch the last subway eastward, which on a week night in those days wasn’t very late. It was a race from Lee’s Palace to Bathurst station and I remember struggling mightily at the entry gate with hands full of CDs and a concert tee and trying to find the token I had purchased earlier. Then, mere moments later, while waiting downstairs for the subway train to arrive, I realized I no longer had the CDs in my hands. I ran back upstairs but they were nowhere to be found and the ticket taker only shrugged.
At some point, I purchased another copy of “Sailing the seas of cheese” but never did replace “Let me come over”. It was reissued on vinyl a few years ago for its 25th anniversary. If I ever see a copy of that out in the wild, I’m thinking the album will finally see my shelves. One can hope.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 1992 list, click here.
My (life in) music lists 