Classic Albums 10 Years In

I particularly rever artists with true staying power. Stereogum's Listomania feature recently came out with an inspired list of 10 Classic Albums Released 10 Years Into A Band/Artist's Career. The original list is here, but it inspired me to think of a few of my own, less obvious but equally noteworthy, inclusions. Alas, scanning quickly through my record collection I've only come up with a further six, so I would be interested in your own suggestions.

Animal Collective - Merryweather Post-Pavilion (2009)

A decade into one of the most unpredictable and genre-defying careers of recent times, Animal Collective finally hit the big time with this gorgeous yet vibrant concoction of ethereal pop. Arguments will rage on as to which AC album is the best (with the exception of Danse Manatee, I'll accept cases for any one of their releases), but there can be little argument that Merriweather Post-Pavilion is their most cohesive and consistent release to date. The world waits in anticipation of what they'll come up with next.

The Flaming Lips - Transmissions From The Satellite Heart (1993)

Transmissions Of A Satellite Heart marked the first unlikely success story for Oklahoma's acid-fried rockers, thanks to the wonderfully goofy single She Don't Use Jelly (the only song which dared to rhyme the word "store" with "orange"). It was indicative of an album with a wealth of deranged yet oddly endearing riches, whilst the uber-drums and digitised guitar sound of the closing Slow Nerve Action pointed the way towards the even more fruitful Dave Fridmann years.

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Let Love In (1994)

There perhaps isn't such a thing as the definitive Bad Seeds album, a fact which owes more to their unwavering brilliance than any paucity in quality recordings. But Let Love In may be the closest they've got to it. It has textbook examples of all their calling cards: unhinged rockers (Jangling Jack); songs of unrepentent lust (Loverman); hilarious gallows humour (Lay Me Low); a clutch of Cave's finest ballads (I Let Love In, Nobody's Baby Now, the all-encompassing two-parter Do You Love Me?) and of course, in Red Right Hand, one iconic song about a man of shadowy deeds.

Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna Are You The Destroyer? (2007)

With 2007's game-changing Hissing Fauna... Of Montreal were transformed from fey, anglophilic popsters, to dark, damaged electro-glam-funksters. They hadn't completely forsaken their love of the UK; pushed to the brink by a messy break-up from his then-girlfriend, bandleader Kevin Barnes took on the persona of African-American tranvestite Georgie Fruit, a definite nod to Bowie's alter-egos of the 70's. Faberge Falls For Shuggie would casually toss out the titles for the band's subsequent string of releases, none as good as this landmark record.

Sleater-Kinney - The Woods (2005)

In what unfortunately turned out to be their swan song (though at least we now have Wild Flag as compensation), the Washington all-girl trio beefed up their guitar-playing chops and enlisted producer Dave Fridmann to amp up their sound even further, resulting in their heaviest sounding record. The Woods shamelessly revelled in a love for bluesy 70's rock - few suspected that Sleater-Kinney could write an 11-minute song, let alone pull it off with such fortitude - but the siren-like vocals of Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein gave it that crucial gut-punch.

Talk Talk - Laughing Stock (1991)

After a painstaking recording process which would ultimately break the band, 1991's Laughing Stock found Talk Talk worlds away from the (admittedly darker than most) New Romantic outfit which had started out 10 years previously. It stands alongside its predecessor, 1989's Spirit Of Eden, as a stunningly singular piece of work, Mark Hollis' haunting vocals put to music which, with the aid of a host of fellow musicians, resonated with atmosphere, managing to sound both wildly improvised and impeccably crafted. Few albums are so hugely influential, and yet so utterly inimitable.

Ancient Melodies Of The Future

Next week I start a new radio show in Cam FM. It's called Ancient Melodies Of The Future which - aside from my love of Built To Spill, as if that wasn't already obvious from the name of this blog - is a reference to how popular (and not so popular) music's past goes on to shape its future.

This show is not meant to be some mere nostalgia trip, more a celebration of how the finest artists of today draw upon their influences; in some cases, the similarities are obvious, but as time goes on, and new music genres and sub-genres are created, deconstructed, and spliced together, it's quite interesting to see just how far the apple can fall from the tree. I revile those with the attitude that popular music reached its peak in Year X, and that those who achieved a particular sound aesthetic first are by default its best practitioners. It's those narrow-minded individuals (Rolling Stone writers, in general) who permanently affix Sgt Pepper or Pet Sounds to the top of every Greatest Albums Of All Time Lists without a moment's thought (not to say that these aren't great records, but for those similarly sceptical of the unanimous acclaim heaped upon these records, Kill Your Idols by Jim DeRogatis should provide a satifying read).

At the risk of contradicting myself, however, it's becoming increasingly difficult to see how even the greatest albums of today can ever be allowed to join the pantheon of those aforementioned "classics". Every publication, from Rolling Stone to Pitchfork to Mojo, will have its own particular spin on the All Time List, but whoever the compiler is, you can guarantee that certain names - Beatles, Dylan, Bowie and so forth - will feature somewhere, and that's because by virtue of being there first, they got to shape both the pop and underground music scenes forevermore. Radiohead - who in 1997's OK Computer and 2000's Kid A have at least two albums which are ubiquitous with those All Time Lists -  are perhaps the last ever band that will ever achieve that level of crossover recognition. As the music scene becomes increasingly splintered into genres and sub-genres, it's almost impossible for a consensus to be reached on any record. With the great commercial success of last year's The Suburbs by the Arcade Fire, we might hope to see 2005's Funeral find its way onto those lists for good. But what about Merriweather Post Pavilion? Sound Of Silver? Return To Cookie Mountain? I'm not going to get my hopes up.

Perhaps the very concept of The Greatest Album Of All Time is defunct. Let's just embrace the sheer diversity of today's music scene; with Ancient Melodies Of The Future, I hope to do just that.

Catch the first show on Tuesday 4th October 8-9pm, and then every Thursday 8-9pm, on Cambridge 97.2FM or www.camfm.co.uk

Zaireeka! - reappraisal of a misunderstood classic

Pitchfork Media is celebrating its 15th birthday this week. Love it or loathe it, there's no denying the site has had an almost unparalleled influence on the indie/alternative music scene over that time. It's also hard to deny that since its inception in 1996, the standard of writing has improved substantially.

For me, one of the greatest travesties that P4k ever inflicted on music journalism was its 0.0 score of Zaireeka!, the Flaming Lips' mind-boggling 4CD album from 1997. One of the worst things about that review was the fact that it failed to provide any critique of the album's music whatsoever, but instead laid into the album's concept (for the uninitiated, the four CDs which make up Zaireeka are all meant for simultaneous play, meaning you need 4 CD players, or else three other friends with CD players, to get the full listening experience).

First of all, let me say that the concept to Zaireeka! is brilliant on so many levels. You never get the same listening experience twice. To keep 4 CD players perfectly in sync over 8 songs and 45 minutes is simply an impossible task, but that ends up being half the fun, especially when you start hearing echoes of a vocal before the original vocal has even been uttered. And then you're able to play around with the whole album dynamics. Which CD should I play in this player? How loud should I have it? Where should this CD player go in the room? And whilst 4 CDs is undoubtedly the recommended  set-up, Zaireeka! can be enjoyed with 3 or even just 2 CDs, giving all manner of permutations (just make sure you have CD1 included in there somewhere).

And then there's the intended communal experience of Zaireeka!, the idea of friends coming along, bringing their CD players, having some drinks, and sitting back and soaking up the madness. I've experienced the album once in this manner, and it has really stuck in my mind in a way that I've never had from simply sticking on a CD, either before or since.

But all of this would be moot if the music itself was a load of old cobblers. It's here where Zaireeka! transcends mere gimmickry, offering a wonderful, and surprisingly focussed set of songs which actually runs the gamut between 1995's Clouds Taste Metallic (when they still sounded like a band playing actual instruments) and 1999's polyphonic masterpiece The Soft Bulletin pretty well.

As part of their 15th birthday celebrations, P4k have dug up a number of journalistic pieces from their archive, one of which is a reappraisal of Zaireeka!, originally written in 2002. It goes a long way to addressing the original misdemeanour, by pretty much outlining what I've said here. Hopefully, moments of agenda-driven, attention-seeking drivel such as that original review are a thing of the past on P4k. But should there remain a dearth of level-headed, objective writing on P4k's pages....well you've always got KILAS, haven't you?

Shopowners Of The World Unite!

As London, and many other parts of the UK, are beseiged by riots, the likes of which have not been seen in some 30 years, it's easy to reflect on the similarities between the situation all those years ago, and how it is today. In both cases, the protaganists primarily originate from poor households, often from ethnic minorities, at a time with a Tory government in power, and a surge in unemployment. There are, however, clear disparities. For all the bait which there's been to bite on, what we have witnessed in the past few days has provided little evidence of a true motive; these are rebels without a cause, who stand for nothing.

One only has to look at the current neutered state of the music industry to see just how well it reflects what's going out on the streets. Any sense of  lyrical depth or socio-political insight has been snuffed out, any greater meaning rendered worthless. If there's any motive in today's popular music, its to further the relentless march of consumerism; when music videos have become so rife with product placement, is it any wonder that looting of mobile phone shops and other electronic goods has been the order of the day? During the riots of '81, the ominous "Ghost Town" by The Specials took its icy grip of the top of the chart; today we have Cher Lloyd  the product of a programme whos very take-home message is that you can have it all, and achieve it with the bare minimum of hard graft.

The finger cannot, and should not, merely be pointed at pop music. With UK punk and its aftermath in the late 70's and early 80's, there emerged a glut of bands and artists, from privileged and poor backgrounds alike, documenting how they perceived the government to be failing its people. There's been no shortage of source material for artists to draw upon in recent years - the war in Iraq, the global recession and the resulting cuts - and yet the current UK indie crop is worryingly scant on artists who have something to say, seemingly quashed by an overwhelming sense of tolerance and indifference.

Of course, a good song, be it mainstream or otherwise, should serve to entertain first and foremost, and many of us may listen to music as a means of escape rather than engagement. Yet it seems no coincidence that these most senseless of riots are breaking out a time when the UK music scene is at its most directionless.

Life After Brent for Menomena?

The recent news of Brent Knopf's departure from Portland, Oregon trio Menomena really knocked me for six. It's not that the news was so surprising - last year's Mines was a troubled birth to say the least, with the three members reportedly at each others throats - it's just that Menomena seemed like one of those bands that would either exist as their original trio or not at all. Whilst the remaining two members Danny Seim and Justin Harris have pledged to carry on (and seem pretty confident in their ability to do so, judging by this article), it's hard to imagine Menomena minus Knopf. As a trio, each member formed an integral part of the band; all three members contributed to the songwriting, shared singing duties across each record and played an array of instruments both live and on record. One only needs to look at Knopf's fine work with side-project Ramona Falls to see just how much he brought to Menomena.

Menomena easily rank amongst my favourite bands to emerge in the last 5-10 years. They're certainly one of the most underrated, one of those bands that so frequently garner praise yet are conspicuous only by their absence come the end-of-year lists. They seemed to arrive fully-formed too, with 2003's I Am The Fun Blame Monster (a clever anagram of The First Menomena Album), an album which showcased the band's way with meticulous arrangements and crystal-clear production which, as with all subsequent releases, was put together with "Deeler", a computer program written by Knopf no less. That album also showed off Menomena's creative flair with album packaging, containing a flickbook which decoded the anagram and showed the three guys playing their instruments; 2007's Friend & Foe featured multiple album covers comprising a plethora of comic beasties, cut so that rotating the underlying CD changed the image, giving near endless possibilities. They're not averse from taking a risk too; as early as album #2, they were composing  20-minute instrumental suites made to accompany a performance by a local dance troupe. But most importantly Menomena were making great music, music entirely unique to them.

Good luck to Danny and Justin; let's not forget they're extremely talented guys and I'm sure they can still do  the Menomena name justice. As for Brent, I'm sure he'll be just fine.

The Problem Of Leisure, What To Do For Pleasure?

I have been reading a fair amount of negativity on the subject of Gang of Four and their allowance of the song Natural's Not In It to be used in an X-box Kinect Sports commercial. "Sell-outs!" is the general cry. How could a band that wrote such insightful songs on the evils of consumerism (Cheeseburger, Natural's Not In It), the media's biased and desensitising handling of world issues (I Found That Essence Rare, 5:45), on the failings of capitalism (erm...Capital, It Fails Us Now), a band whose very name invokes the heart of Chinese communism of the 60's and 70's endorse that most consumerist of products, the X-box? Get over it, I say. These people seem to neglect the fact that when the band released their seminal debut LP Entertainment!, they were signed to EMI. Their later records were released on Warner Bros.

Hypocrisy? Not really. In Paul Lester's biography Damaged Gods, Andy Gill makes it quite clear that the band never set out to be heroes of the self-righteous variety: "It would have been easy to wave a red flag, to adopt a stance, to put one foot on the monitors and man the barricades...but we don't feel that's accurate". He continues: "A lot of the time we're describing ourselves as being WITH the enemy. We're complicit. We're collaborators. It's not a straightforward world, that's what we think". In an article in today's Sunday Times, Jon King remarks on the raised eyebrows on the whole X-box commercial affair: "I'm not going to apologise for doing what we need to do to get by." And that captures the true essence of GoFs lyrics; as people, they're as flawed as you and me, as the system that governs them, it's just that they're able to recognise those flaws in themselves. Whilst I deeply admire the bold ethics of many of the bands to whom GoF were a benefactor (Fugazi, the Minutemen), it was never what GoF were about. Their music provided (and still provides) an accurate socio-political commentary; it's not a statement of intent.

On the 24th, Gang of Four release Content, their first album of new material in some 16 years. My initial scepticism has been curbed somewhat by catching half a new track on the radio the other day. It sounded pretty good actually, like a more muscular version of the band that recorded Entertainment! and Solid Gold. It reminded me of how Mission Of Burma sounded on their reunion, a band which, sonically least, had more than a little in common with GoF. Whether that's a reflection of the album as a whole, I couldn't say, but I will continue to assess GoF on what really counts, their music.

2010: My Final Thoughts

I'm always keen to point out that as far as music is concerned, there's no such thing as a bad year, but sometimes you just have to trawl a little deeper to get to the good stuff. Fortunately, 2010 was all too ready to deliver a wealth of goods. Whilst 2010 perhaps wasn't the best year for flourishing new talent (just two of my top 20 albums were debuts), it was a great year for young bands realising their full potential, both critically (Titus Andronicus, These New Puritans) and commercially (Arcade Fire, Vampire Weekend). It also saw a number of highly dependable artists (The Walkmen, Spoon, The National, Menomena, Deerhunter) add commendable releases to already-impressive discographies, but if those records felt like safe bets, it was encouraging that equally established artists such as Sufjan Stevens, Joanna Newsom and Caribou were willing to take risks that were no less rewarding.

It was an excellent year in particular for electronic music, with a clutch of imaginative and varied releases from the UK (James Blake, Four Tet), US (Emeralds, Flying Lotus, Oneohtrix Point Never) and everywhere else (The Knife, Pantha Du Prince). Indeed if I have any complaint about my favourite releases of 2010 (and it's something which could equally be applied to the last few years, to be fair) it's that the music tended to appeal more to the head than to the heart; plenty of songs blew my mind, but ultimately few were able to send a tingle down the spine.

2010 saw mixed fortunes for some of music's biggest egos. M.I.A went to war with everyone, but her highly anticipated third record /\/\ /\ Y /\ failed to win her the wider audience she clearly craved for, and alienated much of her existing fanbase to boot. But the year ended on a high-note for the equally confrontational Kanye, who after another wildly eventful year, was given an ecstatic reception for the release of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (including a perfect 10.0 score on P4k, the first time that's happened for a new release in eight years). And then there was Bono falling off the stage. That was pretty funny.

Every year we have to say farewell to a host of musical names, and we were struck pretty hard in 2010. We lost highly influential legends such as Captain Beefheart and Alex Chilton, and big personalities such as Malcolm McLaren. There were also the untimely losses of Jay Reatard and the perenially troubled Mark Linkous. Perhaps the most personally affecting loss to me was that of Slits founding member Ari Up who died rather suddenly of cancer in October; just a few months previous I'd spurned the opportunity to see the Slits  play effectively on my doorstep, something that I will rue for some time to come.

But it was also the chance to say hello again to some old friends. There were high-profile re-unions for Pavement and Godspeed You! Black Emperor, whilst the original Britpop scene turned full-circle with the acrimonious departure of Oasis, and the returns of Suede and Pulp (Blur too suggested that last year's successful run round the block wouldn't be the last we'd hear of them). But arguably the year's most unlikely success was that of Michael Gira's Swans who, 14 years on from the gaunt Soundtracks For The Blind returned with the fire burning bright in their bellies once more with the tremendous My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky.

So yes, if there really is such a thing as a good year in music, 2010 is a strong contender for that accolade. Roll on 2011.

iTunes Ping - First Impressions

So I joined Ping, iTunes' "social network for music", essentially a Facebook in miniaturised form for music-lovers. In short, Ping allows you to follow your favourite music artists, alerting you of their recent activity, any artists they in turn are following, and allowing you to post comments on their profile. You can also follow friends and fellow Ping users, and (if you so wish in your Privacy settings) let them follow you, thus allowing you to recommend music artists to them and vice versa, as well as making any iTunes music purchases visible. And having spent a few hours playing around with it, here are my initial thoughts.

First off, it's pretty clunky. The presentation side of things is relatively okay, with a menu bar on the right-hand side consisting of just "Recent Activity","My Reviews", "People" and "Featured". Simple enough, but click on any of these menu bar options, and the menu (along with the "Find People" browser" tends to disappear; to recover it you have to click "Ping" on the top menu. A small annoyance, admittedly, but one that compunds the fact that finding the artists that you actually want to follow on Ping is unecessarily difficult. You would think Apple would've been able to sync this feature with your existing iTunes library, and automatically recommend artists that exist both in Ping and within your library. But no, you have to either type in the artist you're looking for, or trawl through the hundreds of "recommended" artists, few of which actually bear any semblance to your particular tastes in music.

At this early stage, the number of artists available to follow on Ping is understandably limited, although that's not to say there's not some interesting inclusions; amongst the artists I follow are HEALTH, Nico Muhly, Gang Gang Dance and Menomena. However, it seems like the artists are just as unsure on how to utilise Ping as the average Joe. The most recent post (at the time of writing) from HEALTH says it all; "So I think PING is really about discussion, communication. Good back and forth format, not so good for bulletins. And you can't list tourdates." Well, actually you can list tourdates, albeit in the unwieldy form of continuous prose rather than an actual list. Also, of the 20 or so artists I currently follow, none have posted in the past 5 days, which doesn't exactly fill you with confidence over the usefulness of Ping. Of course, you could choose to follow iTunes tools Coldplay, and be informed every time Chris Martin goes to take a crap, if you so wish.

For all its faults, there is potential in Ping. It's useful, particularly from a music blogger's perspective, to see the recent announcements of all your favourite artists there on one page (if they bother to post anything at all, that is). I also like the more personable nature that some artists, like HEALTH, have adopted for Ping, as opposed to the more sterile self-promotion tactics of other artists, and it's good to see the albums artists are currently listening to, as well as the artists they themselves follow. It's just disappointing that with Facebook and Twitter having been around for so long, that Apple couldn't make the first incarnation of Ping better defined and more user-friendly. I guess that's something they can work on over the zillion updates that will occur between now and iTunes 11.

Grow Up! How to mature as a music artist

How many times have you read in an album review that an artist has gone for a more "mature" sound? How many times has that made you cringe? If you've read those words in Q or Rolling Stone, "mature" pretty much translates into "sold out" and/or "become really bland". So-called maturity can be a terrible thing for the creativity and credibility of a band - just look at the Red Hot Chili Peppers - but the fact is, very few artists can get away with forever mining the same sound. And when you start off playing as loud and as hard as you possibly can, there's only one way you can really go.

Portland, Oregon indie-punkers The Thermals are a prime example of a band  currently stuck in this conundrum. Their fifth album, Personal Life, which came out last Monday on Kill Rock Stars, is a disappointment, the sound of a band with the air taken out of them, when once they bristled with energy. Nobody could accuse them of "selling out"; their no-frills approach of guitar-bass-drums remains as true as ever. But their limited template just cannot bring anything to the (all too numerous) lower tempo songs on here.

Yet good bands can mature, and remain artistically vital long into their careers. Here are a couple of examples:

Pavement

Okay, so admittedly there's not many people who would say that their favourite Pavement album is Brighten The Corners or Terror Twilight. But those two releases honed in on the tunes that were always there, beneath all the jerking around and slack-strung guitars. And whilst the recording of Terror Twilight in full 24-track glory may have seemed like heresy to some, it served to make The Hexx the most densely atmospheric song in their entire catalogue.

Proof: Shady Lane (from Brighten The Corners), ...and Carrot Rope (from Terror Twilight)

Arcade Fire

A more recent example, yes, and a band (one hopes) still relatively early into their career, but the Arcade Fire solved the quite enviable problem of how exactly do you should follow up one of the defining debut albums of the last decade. Whilst Neon Bible was perhaps a minor misstep, this year's The Suburbs re-affirmed them as critical darlings by stripping away much of the  previous bombast, and delivering a set of songs with a clearly realised concept that sounded all the better in one another's company. And #1 positions on both sides of the Atlantic confirmed that it wasn't just critics who were in agreement.

Proof: Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains), Ready To Start (both from the Suburbs)

Fugazi

"Mature" shouldn't even be in the vocabulary of your average hardcore/post-hardcore band - most (Drive Like Jehu, Black Eyes, At The Drive In) burn fast and bright, whilst those that stick around (...Trail Of The Dead) go into a downward spiral. But typically Fugazi (along with perhaps Unwound) are the exception to the rule. Crucially, Fugazi demonstrated that sound experimentation, along with ever-improving musicianship and even a degree of subtlety, didn't have to come at the cost of the band's trademark intensity, and as great as 13 Songs and Repeater are, it's arguably the likes of 1995's Red Medicine and 2001's (probable) swansong The Argument that will remain the band's most enduring classics.

Proof: Fell, Destroyed (from Red Medicine), Full Disclosure (from The Argument)

Nick Cave

Here's another alternative; don't "mature" at all, but revel in your own filth as a dirty old man. If it helps, enlist some of your buddies in a side-project that allows you and your friends to let your hair down, and use that to re-inform and reinvigorate your day-job. That raucous first Grinderman album was swiftly followed by Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!, possibly the most rollicking release in the Bad Seeds catalogue. The release of Grinderman 2 on Monday is a highly anticipated as any Bad Seeds album.

Proof: Get It On (from Grinderman), We Call Upon The Author (from Dig, Lazarus Dig!!!)

It's Record Store Day!

Whenever I'm in London, there's nothing more I like doing than having a wander down Berwick Street off Oxford Road, to stop by my favourite haunt Sister Ray Records. I never fail to leave there without picking up something (last time it was a cheap copy of Pavement's Slow Century DVD), and the place always reminds me of the importance of the independent record store, and the pleasure that comes from leafing through their stock, and finding that rare EP you've been looking for, or making that impulse purchase that you later come to treasure. Sister Ray is one of a number of stores in the UK (and indeed the world), participating in Record Store Day, so check out which stores near you are taking part near you, and give them your support.

Record Store Day UK

Galaxie 500: The greatest one-trick pony ever?

I've been listening to a lot of Galaxie 500 lately, and as much as I love them, they are a band that are so easy to tear apart for so many reasons. Their songs consist of the same basic chords, arranged in predictable patterns, and crudely strummed, and aside from the occasional neat solo, the musicianship of the band never rose above workmanlike. Most of the songs are played at the same sedate tempo. Singer/guitarist Dean Wareham couldn't really sing, and always seemed to play with the same guitar tone. So aside from being early protaganists of what's become known as dream-pop (which, with the likes of Beach House, Atlas Sound, Sunny Day In Glasgow et al. is going very strong, thank you very much), why is it so easy to overlook the band's shortcomings?

Perhaps it's because the band had the good grace to call it quits before it became they ran their trademark sound into the ground. Galaxie 500 released just three LPs, and perhaps they realised that they had peaked with second album On Fire. For this reason alone, AC/DC are exempt from the title of "Greatest One-Trick Pony",

Maybe it's because everything about Galaxie 500's sound is so endearing and likeable. The guitars glow with warmth on the verses and the choruses, whilstthe solos have just enough squall and bite to be truly satisfying. The tempos are leisurely and inviting. Wareham may not have been in possession of the finest voice, but still had the ability to make you swoon with a well-placed "aaaaaah".

Or maybe it's because closer inspection of their seemingly indistinguishable song collection reveals songs that are nevertheless individually memorable, thanks to some subtle but crucial sonic detail: a forlorn sax (Decomposing Trees, arguably their finest moment); vocals bathed in delicious echo (Tugboat); a vocal turn from bassist Naomi Yang (Listen, The Snow Is Falling, one of a number of terrific cover versions the band recorded), or just an endearingly daft lyric about eating twinkies (Strange). These are small touches, but in all cases define their respective songs.

Whatever the reason, Galaxie 500 got a lot of mileage out of one formula, and are rightly loved for it. And if you missed them first time around, now's the time to invest your time and money; all three albums have been re-issued as 2-CD deluxe editions by Domino.