Sugar Ray “Music for Cougars”
Years after the clock had counted down from “14:59,” when the endless summer was over and when Mark McGrath went fully blonde, Sugar Ray were on sabbatical. Meanwhile, wunderkind producer, John Abraham, was ascending, cutting records for everyone from Staind to Weezer to Velvet Revolver and Pink. And though in 2008 there was almost nobody on the planet -- including Mark McGrath and his bandmates -- clamoring for a new record from Sugar Ray, Abraham offered the group a deal. Where the rest of us saw a past prime hunk and his band, born from the gunk under Matchbox 20 and Blink 182, Josh Abraham saw unfinished business. So, in 2008, in the face of the zeitgeist, Sugar Ray began recording “Music for Cougars.” Yes — that really is the title.
Nick Lowe “The Impossible Bird”
Once upon a time, Nick Lowe was the guy. He was New Wave’s beloved everyman — cool, but accessible. You might find him at the pub, you might find him on the Pop charts or you might find him in the studio with Elvis Costello. He married Carlene Carter and dated Lois Lane. To drop his name was to confirm your own hipness. By the early nineties, however, his time had come and gone. He was single, hitless, without a label and at the bottom of a pint glass. Amazingly, and with a little help from Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston, he dusted himself off and found a second act, functionally birthing his own genre of music in the process. Part Roots, part Country, part Rockabilly, and part Pop, the former mop-topped hipster became the white-haired songbird for discerning grown ups.
Modest Mouse “Strangers to Ourselves”
Almost two decades into his unlikely career — in between his fifth and sixth albums — Isaac Brock got stuck. It had been many years since “We Were Dead.” Uppers and psychedelics weren’t helping. The line of producers wasn’t helping. The sleeplessness definitely wasn’t helping. He just could not move forward. He was stuck in a loop, like a fatal record scratch. All he could see was the end of everything and how we all knew it was coming and how we all distracted ourselves from it and how we all vacationed and partied and Netflixed, full well knowing that we were fucked. To compound matters, he was being stalked. In fact, he was being stalked by several people. There is little doubt that Isaac was in the throes of paranoia during this time, but — yes — he also really was being stalked. It was that version of Isaac Brock, who, along with seven other band members and four other producers, eventually released “Strangers to Ourselves” in 2015.
Duncan Sheik “Legerdemain”
In the mid-90s, after the crater of Alt Rock, a softer, lighter second wave followed, delivering Bubble-Grunge to Middle America. Though nominally inspired by their predecessors, Goo Goo Dolls and Matchbox 20 steered closer to the middle of the road than to its edges. It was during this flaccid period that Duncan Sheik appeared on the scene — similarly strummy, but better educated and mopier. His fans were certain that a nascent Nick Drake (or at least a Grammy) lurked inside Sheik. However, booze and pity partying ensured otherwise. That was, until 2006, when he wrote the music for “Spring Awakening,” an unexpected Broadway hit. It was not “Pink Moon,” but it was a narrative change. Nearly ten tears later, in middle-age, Duncan Sheik checked into rehab, got himself a blog and — against all odds — made the excellent record his college buddies had always hoped for.
New Order “Waiting for the Sirens' Call”
Is it fun to be in a band? I used to think so. But, then, why does it seem so hard? Is it the anxiety of performance? The inevitable imposter syndrome? The monotony of touring and recording that The Kinks described so well in “Do It Again”? That plight -- the tragedy of fun -- is part of what defines and unites Goths, I suppose. It’s also probably the thesis of Post-Punk’s greatest band: New Order. For many years, the band that was born out of death hunted for fun in every corner of every club in the world. That was, until 1993, when drink and drugs and feelings got in the way. After a trial separation, they reunited, and embarked on a well deserved honeymoon. The fun, however, was short lived. By 2005, when they released the “Waiting for the Sirens’ Call,” divorce was in the air.
Jane’s Addiction “The Great Escape Artist”
By 2011, hell had frozen over enough that we began to expect the return of every legendary band. The Pixies, The Replacements, My Bloody Valentine, Pavement. The list was practically endless. It was simply too costly for those bands not to reunite. So, news of another album from middle aged Jane’s Addiction was kind of ho hum. For many, it was a curiosity, at best. At the core of this presumption was the belief that the great, unsustainable version of Jane’s had died in 1991. That they would return made only commercial sense. That they could recapture any semblance of their original brilliance made practically zero sense.
Beck “Hyperspace”
Since we finally met Beck, the grown up man, on “Sea Change,” a lot has happened: He got married. He had two children. He got divorced. He released seven albums -- most of them appreciated, and a couple beloved. He stayed in California. He stayed thin and pretty and a little weird. To the casual observer, he barely aged. But, with each successive album, he impressed less. There were no more “Odelays” or “Midnight Vultures.” In fact, to some fans and many critics, Beck became kind of boring. In 2002, I had firmly concluded that Beck could never be uninteresting. By 2019, however, I was less sure.
The Feelies “In Between”
If ever there was a band that was born to disappear, it was The Feelies. They were the cult band that, for over forty years, were not a band much more than they were a band. They were R.E.M. without the feelings and Yo La Tengo without the romance. They wrote songs about nothing. They made four albums between 1980 and 1991 and then faded like Halley’s Comet. But then, twenty years later, they returned. And, even though they had already said everything that there was to be said about nothing at all, they kept on saying it. Same chords. Same mumbled words. And it was still perfect.
Pearl Jam “Backspacer”
From the very beginning, I did not trust Pearl Jam. The yearning was too intense. The bass was too rubbery. They wore hats! I was certain that they were a Jam band in disguise. Over time, though, I realized that I was untrusting more than they were untrustworthy. And, by 2009, there were rumors of a “new wave,” “optimistic” Pearl Jam. Obama was President. Cheney and Rumsfeld were gone. Matchbox Twenty and Third Eye Blind were a distant memory. Hope had sprung eternal. I was not not curious.
Beastie Boys “Hot Sauce Committee Part Two”
Ten years later, I don’t really know if this was a fake sequel or a Jewish version of an Irish wake or something else. As music, it tastes more like warm soup than hot sauce. But, they were still elite MCs. And they were still fluent in Dub, Hardcore and Space Funk. Looking back, they were never my band. But a whole lot of what I know about growing up I learned from the Beastie Boys.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers “I’m with You”
After the unexpected peak of “Stadium Arcadium,” The Red Hot Chili Peppers had to consider their descent. John Frusciante left. Flea went back to music school. And Anthony cut his hair and grew a moustache. Five years removed from the mountaintop, they returned older, wiser, and noticeably smaller.
Foo Fighters “Wasting Light”
By 2011s “Wasting Light,” Dave Grohl no longer seemed like the last guy on the Alt Rock ship. He was more like the captain of his own yacht or the elder statesman of Gen X Dad Rock. Equal parts Tom Petty and Fugazi, he could play either Ethan Hawke or Ben Stiller’s character from “Reality Bites.” He was showing us that we could have it both ways. And, I must say, he was kind of convincing.
Graham Parker “Struck by Lightning”
Of that class of 70s Pub Rockers, Graham Parker was once considered the surest of sure things. He was it -- both the next big thing and the through line between Van Morrison and Bob Dylan. But, in time, something amazing happened. Graham Parker did not happen. And by 1991, we found him, without The Rumour, at the end of his major label run, trying to choose between passion and professionalism.
U2 “Songs of Innocence”
The colossal disaster that was the Apple / U2 “Songs of Innocence” campaign has been thoroughly considered by music critics, business writers and technologists. In conjunction with the release of the iPhone 6, it was revealed that all iTunes subscribers would receive a free digital copy of the new U2 album. To many, the promotion was akin to fancy spam. In fact, with the click of a few buttons, Apple and U2 managed to annoy roughly 5% of the Earth’s population. In 2014, for weeks on end, I was reminded of this botched cyber-intrusion through the pairing of my iPhone and my car stereo. It would take me seven years to return to the scene of the crime.
Nine Inch Nails “Bad Witch”
Between 2016 and 2018, Nine Inch Nails would release three products, all born out of a dialogue between Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, but mostly between Reznor and Reznor. The first two of these releases were billed as EPs (“Extended Plays”) and did not eclipse thirty minutes in length. “Bad Witch,” the final piece, consumed with Jazz and David Bowie, is still only six songs and thirty-one minutes long. Taken separately, these records are heady, experimental statements, but also somewhat ephemeral. Taken collectively, however, they are are as considered and challenging as any album from Radiohead, Public Enemy, Brian Eno or, even, David Bowie, himself.
R.E.M. “Around the Sun”
Between 1982 and 1996, in their creative eclecticism and utopian idealism, R.E.M. were the embodiment of Alternative Rock. However, the enduringly great band buckled after drummer Bill Berry left in 1997. By 2004, seven years after Berry departed and just three years after 9/11, R.E.M. was floundering through a deeply personal, middle-aged, anti-Bush, urban ennui. Released in the fall of that year, “Around the Sun” is the plainest album from a band that, previously, was rarely direct and never boring.
Television “Television”
By 1990, Television was twelve years removed from their break-up. To me, they were much more fable than band. Public interest in Tom Verlaine had become so scant that it was fair to wonder if he really had a career at all. But then, just two years later, the unimaginable happened. Quietly and casually, all four members of Television -- Tom Verlaine, Fred Smith, Billy Ficca and, most notably, Richard Lloyd — began playing together again. And, in the Fall of 1992, fourteen years after “Adventure,” Television’s released their third, self-titled studio album.
The Cure “4:13 Dream”
In 2008, The Cure released “4:13 Dream.” Robert Smith was nearly fifty at the time, but looked and sounded very much like the man who made “Friday I’m in Love” in 1992 and “Boys Don’t Cry” in 1979. “4:13 Dream” sold poorly and featured no hit singles. It was either overlooked or under-appreciated. Or both. At the time, it seemed certain that another album would follow soon thereafter. But nothing came. So, if “4:13 Dream” served as a temporary, or accidental, coda, it undoubtedly begs the question: “what did we all miss?”
David Byrne “Grown Backwards”
When the Talking Heads split up, David Byrne went on to a long but never as commercially successful solo career. In the Talking Heads he was always very much the center of the band, selling the show. But, alone, he could never sell himself quite as well. If the music of “Talking Heads ‘77” is the music of a man alone in his neurosis, “Grown Backwards” is the music of a married man with children. You might not expect the person who had a “Fear of Music” to write a lovely song called “The Man Who Loved Beer,” but, in fact, he did.
Jonathan Richman “I, Jonathan”
Eternally young at heart, Jonathan Richman amassed a prodigious catalogue between his legendary Modern Lovers’ albums and his solo records. And while many point to “I, Jonathan” as a high water mark, the truth is that most of his releases warrant consideration. Sometimes, he sings in Spanish. Sometimes, he sings Country Music songs. Sometimes, he sings children’s songs for the kids in all of us. But his superpower -- that thing that makes him better than anyone else -- was his ability to make us feel like we were driving with the radio on in 1972 and like we were sitting in the last days of summer in 1992.