Great Albums As Chosen By Me: Class of 2006 - by Liam R
In anticipation of the next batch of inductees to the Straw Donkeys Album Hall Of Fame (the first inductees can be found here) here are 2007's entries to the hall and I think you should know right now that each of these albums is absolutely fantastic and should be in your record collection. If they're not, get them now; if you don't want to buy them because you don't think you'll like them you have no taste whatsoever and may as well cease existing.
The Clash: London Calling (Volume 3, Issue Eleventy)
Yes, it’s April and so we have the return of the next batch of inductees into the Straw Donkeys Album Hall of Fame, which is obviously not an excuse for me to throw together a filler article come the end of the year. However, due to the short nature of the month we are only inducting three albums this time around so let’s cut the bullshit and get to our first nominee/victim/delete as applicable. When you think of punk you shouldn’t think of The Offspring, Green Day, Bowling For Soup or *shudder* Good Charlotte, for back in 1977 there were two bands that deserved to wear that tag. Sure, The Ramones did it first but The Sex Pistols nailed the whole thing. From the insanely simply chord structures, eyebrow raising lyrics and general gobbiness, they were punk. On the other side of the fence were The Clash, who raised the bar somewhat and none more so than on London Calling. Bookended by two classic tunes, the discordant title track to start and gorgeous guitar pop of ‘Train In Vain’, The Clash took punk’s ethos and enthused it with whatever took their fancy. From the reggae of ‘Revolution Rock’ to the proto ska punk of ‘Wrong ‘Em Boyo’ to the lush orchestral stylings of ‘The Card Cheat’ it reeks of a band that wanted to shake off their punk label and do something different while still remaining true to the cause which in turn gave birth to one of the defining albums ever recorded. And if you want even further proof of their genius just listen to ‘The Guns Of Brixton’, you’ll see what I mean.
The Pogues: Rum, Sodomy & The Lash (Volume 3, Issue Twelve)
Some of you may be aware that I have already inducted one album by The Pogues into the Straw Donkeys Album Hall Of Fame thingy that we have, so it comes as no surprise that I take the older brother of ‘If I Should Fall From Grace With God’ and put it in as well. There was a small line-up change from the previous album, with guitarist Philip Chevron joining full-time (he had temporarily replaced Jem Finer on banjo a few months back when he went on paternity leave) and they managed to get Elvis Costello to produce the album (no doubt because he fancied the crap out of bassist Cait O’Riordan) so the rough edges of ‘Red Roses For Me’ could be smoothed out. But what The Pogues achieved on ‘Rum, Sodomy And The Lash’ has lasted the test of time, and found itself placed on Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the best 500 albums of all time ever. Take ‘ Dirty Old Town ’ for instance, the version here of which has now become the definitive version. But even apart from there, the album has perhaps the greatest opening seven track salvo perhaps ever compiled from the adrenaline fuelled ‘Sick Bed Of Cuchulainn’ to the aforementioned ‘Dirty Old Town’ The Pogues blitz with quality song after quality song. The mournful dirge of ‘The Old Main Drag’ complimenting its lyrics about living life in the gutter of London, the ferocious instrumental that is ‘Wildcats Of Kilkenny’ The cornerstone of the opening, and indeed the whole album is ‘A Pair Of Brown Eyes’ and it is without doubt the finest song ever written by Shane MacGowan. From its infectious refrain to lyrics about the brutality of war and loss of love it tugs at the heart strings without ever getting too sickly. The second half of the album does seem to get sucked down under the weight of the quality of the first but this is remedied by the magnificence of their version of ‘And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda’. Is it better than ‘If I Should Fall…’ though? In my opinion the latter album just outweighs it but this runs it a mighty close second, and with it now being remastered and having the equally fantastic ‘Poguetry In Motion’ packaged with it there is no reason not to get one of the best albums you’ll ever hear. Classic just doesn’t cover it.
Jay Z: The Blueprint (Volume 3, Issue Fourteen)
Hip hop, a legendary institution that to the majority of the (white) world is a symbol of everything that is wrong with society. Feckless wealth, mindless violence and rampant misogyny are far cries from the harmless block parties and break dancing that the genre emerged from in the late seventies. And this attitude is never more on show than on hip hop albums which are long, drawn out affairs stacked up with ‘amusing’ skits to pad it out so that each one is less an album and more a battle of stamina. Surely a culling of the fat and better quality control would be a good idea, rather than making as much money as possible? So it is quite a joy that we have Jay Z’s ‘The Blueprint’ then, which breaks the typical mould by being an almost regular album. A small intro to start, no annoying interludes and a definite ending. He even goes so far as to put a few secret tracks on at the end! But the debate here, as it always seems to be in hip hop is who is the best on the mic and in my humble opinion Jay will be seen as one of the best. His flow is adaptable and blends around the beats he is given, never stilted or forced dropping pop culture references for fun. Of course while his rapping is mighty, his producers back him up no end, with Just Blaze and some bloke called Kanye West delivering some prime slices of musical heaven. While the beats aren’t as innovative as a Dr Dre or Timbaland or The Neptunes, there’s a certain old school feel to proceedings, with soul samples and brass sections all mingling together. The whole thing just sounds nigh on perfect, never forced and never outstaying its welcome. However, if Jay Z is one of the best rappers alive (and he is), and this is his finest album the only problem is that he doesn’t have the best bit on the album. That honour goes to Eminem, who supplies the beats and the sole duet on the album in the form of ‘Renegade’ and quite simply kills everything he has done before and done since. If Eminem could show the same sort of fire on his own records than on his guest spots with others then he would be immediately be lifted into the upper echelon of hip hop’s finest. As it is, this is the best pure rap album of the last few years and your life will be poorer without sampling its delights.
The Streets: Original Pirate Material (Volume 3, Issue Fifteen)
Why do I get the horrible feeling that I’m going to get flak for this induction? Oh well, there is a reason why this section is called ‘Great Albums As Picked By Me’ and these are my personal choices for stuff you need to listen to. But when it comes to The Streets opinion is polarized like no other artist in living memory. My point here is that even though there are bands you hate, they have probably done a track or two that you love. With Mike Skinner’s home cooked efforts there is no common ground and you have to pick sides, and even I was leaning towards hating him until I listened to ‘Original Pirate Material’ and one track which completely changed my opinion on him in the four minutes it lasts. That song is one called ‘It’s Too Late’ and it is truly gorgeous even if it’s about Mike losing his girl for being selfish. And when the strings die away during the third verse as Skinner realises he’s lost his girl forget about it, you empathise with him. Elsewhere, Skinner’s talent for a hook shines brightly from the skanking organ riff on ‘Push Things Forward’ to the bassline which kicks you square in the balls on ‘Don’t Mug Yourself’ Skinner goes for economy without sacrificing quality. Album opener ‘Turn The Page’ is simply awesome, its two point string riffs meshing against each other until a third set of strings rises up midway through and takes the song to a whole other level. One big debating point is Skinner’s delivery, but on these tales of drink and drugs and birds it’s an everyman style without pretension and even comedy when he slips into two wildly differing personas on ‘The Irony Of It All’(a nerdy cannabis smoker and lairy alcoholic). While his second album would be a greater whole due to its recurring theme, this is the better album on a song by song basis and that’s all you need to know.