The Most Perfect Album of All Time (In My Universe At Least)
Last week I was flying across America and weird thoughts kept continually tumbling out of my head. VIcodin will do that to you I guess. One of the longest conversations I had with myself was on the best cd/record/album of all time, or at least what I consider to be the most "perfect record." It's hard to describe perfection, but it basically implies great songs, great sound, great performances, and no wasted moments. Most albums are full of junk, or "filler" wedged between the "singles" which are all you are really meant to listen to.
For the life of me I've only been able to come up with a handful of perfect records. Nearly every record I like has a few moments of just "ehh." Even Led Zeppelin IV has "Four Sticks" which is just a good song surrounded by great ones. I'm sure you've already guessed, "Fizzy Fuzzy Big and Buzzy" is my favorite record of all time, not because it's perfect ("Don't Wanna Know" is a throw away track), but because it's so very nearly perfect, like our own lives, and encompasses this crazy wide rage of moods. There are more moods expressed on "Fizzy" than any other record I've ever listened to. It's an album that still makes me cry, but also leaves me with hope at the same time. There are bouncy songs on it, clever double entendres, great guitar solos, and some of the finest American song-writer ever. If you don't believe me, you've never listened to the album.
The Refreshments are generally known for one minor hit song in 1996. "Banditos" wasn't a radio phenomenon, but it was played a lot. Most people are familiar with it, and if you hum a little bit of "the world is full of stupid people, so meet me at the mission at midnight and we'll divvy up there" they tend to figure it out. If they don't figure it out, they didn't have a radio in 1996, only listened to Christian music stations at the time, or lost their hearing that summer. Those are about the only excuses I'm going to buy. "Banditos" was a fun song, perfect for radio, and with a chorus that demands to be screamed out at the top of your lungs, but it's only an introduction, and far from the album's apex.
The entire record is influenced by the desert Southwest, but even more than the land that created it, this is an album shaped by heartache and loneliness. I have no idea if lead singer and song-writer Roger Clyne was suffering some sort of great depression when he wrote most of "Fizzy," but there's this sense of loss on the record that slaps you in the face even during the most happy sounding guitar solo. One of my favorite tracks on the album, and one that just grooves and almost forces you to move, is called "Girly" and while it's all upbeat and buoyant, lines like "beat me till I'm black and blue and I'm hanging by a thread, then I can get back up and we can do it all over again" make Roger sound like some sort of sado-masochist. The music stands in sharp contrast to the protagonist of the song whose woman does nothing but beat the shit out of him, emotionally I'm guessing.
There's an angriness about relationships in some of the songs, and having met Roger on a number of occasions, I can tell you he's not an angry person. Perhaps relationships are just frustrating, and there's no way to avoid that frustration, no matter how you feel about the other person. One of the things I always liked about Roger as a song-writer (and especially on this album) is how humble he is. "I was never cool enough to work in a record store," whether it's true or not in his case, it was true enough in mine, and I can relate to the lyric. Life is just a giant "Suckerpunch" and you can do everything just right and still fall flat on your face and end up with blood on your clothes. I like songs where the guy doesn't get the girl, and most of us go through that a time or twelve in our lives.
("Suckerpunch" might define the entire career of "The Refreshments." I've never seen a better reviewed band, and anyone who has ever been exposed to the band becomes a fan for life, but somehow Polygram record couldn't translate that into a platinum album. Think of all the dreck in pop-music, and it becomes even more unfathomable why I'm writing about these guys on Facebook, instead of watching a "Behind the Music" on them.)
While the album ends on the heartbreaking yet triumphant "Nada" part of me wishes it had ended with "Down Together," perhaps the most hopeful song on the whole record. Basically an declaration that doing stupid things is OK, it also opens the door to thinking that it might be possible to find a speck of dust and scribble down a shared life story. It's the only song on the entire record that doesn't document a dysfunctional relationship with a significant other. It was almost like a giant shrug, reminding the listener that it's not all that bleak, really.
It's hard to write about "Fizzy" without spending a paragraph on each and every song on the album. There's an energy and piece of experience in each and every story that it feels like blasphemy to ignore one to praise another. While songs like "Nada" and "Interstate" both have this shared sense of lonely, one ends in victory and the other ends in defeat. We don't win every time, nor will we. It's almost ridiculous to think otherwise.
If there's a climax to the record it's a shared one. For me and many of my friends the sing-a-long drinking song "Mekong" will always haunt (and bless) our lives. "Mekong" is a depressing song wrapped in a celebration of life. Even when we are far from home and all on our own with only "what's his name my new best friend" to pass the time with life is still worth celebrating. Even in the crappiest of circumstances it's still OK to raise a toast and cherish the small victories. It is always happy hour, mostly just because I've lived to fight another day.
"Mekong" is an amazing song, but the real climax of the record might be "Nada," which borders on life altering anthem. I don't know why a tale of some guy's desert wanderings is so poignant, but it is. To this day the line "I tip the bottle and bite the lime" sends shivers down my spine. I know it's just a reference to tequila, but when Roger sings it, the whole thing becomes an approach to life. I know that there's crap on the highway, the car is out of gas, and I'm about to get bit by a rattlesnake, but whatever, I'm gonna tip that bottle and bite the lime.
For the life of me I've only been able to come up with a handful of perfect records. Nearly every record I like has a few moments of just "ehh." Even Led Zeppelin IV has "Four Sticks" which is just a good song surrounded by great ones. I'm sure you've already guessed, "Fizzy Fuzzy Big and Buzzy" is my favorite record of all time, not because it's perfect ("Don't Wanna Know" is a throw away track), but because it's so very nearly perfect, like our own lives, and encompasses this crazy wide rage of moods. There are more moods expressed on "Fizzy" than any other record I've ever listened to. It's an album that still makes me cry, but also leaves me with hope at the same time. There are bouncy songs on it, clever double entendres, great guitar solos, and some of the finest American song-writer ever. If you don't believe me, you've never listened to the album.
The Refreshments are generally known for one minor hit song in 1996. "Banditos" wasn't a radio phenomenon, but it was played a lot. Most people are familiar with it, and if you hum a little bit of "the world is full of stupid people, so meet me at the mission at midnight and we'll divvy up there" they tend to figure it out. If they don't figure it out, they didn't have a radio in 1996, only listened to Christian music stations at the time, or lost their hearing that summer. Those are about the only excuses I'm going to buy. "Banditos" was a fun song, perfect for radio, and with a chorus that demands to be screamed out at the top of your lungs, but it's only an introduction, and far from the album's apex.
The entire record is influenced by the desert Southwest, but even more than the land that created it, this is an album shaped by heartache and loneliness. I have no idea if lead singer and song-writer Roger Clyne was suffering some sort of great depression when he wrote most of "Fizzy," but there's this sense of loss on the record that slaps you in the face even during the most happy sounding guitar solo. One of my favorite tracks on the album, and one that just grooves and almost forces you to move, is called "Girly" and while it's all upbeat and buoyant, lines like "beat me till I'm black and blue and I'm hanging by a thread, then I can get back up and we can do it all over again" make Roger sound like some sort of sado-masochist. The music stands in sharp contrast to the protagonist of the song whose woman does nothing but beat the shit out of him, emotionally I'm guessing.
There's an angriness about relationships in some of the songs, and having met Roger on a number of occasions, I can tell you he's not an angry person. Perhaps relationships are just frustrating, and there's no way to avoid that frustration, no matter how you feel about the other person. One of the things I always liked about Roger as a song-writer (and especially on this album) is how humble he is. "I was never cool enough to work in a record store," whether it's true or not in his case, it was true enough in mine, and I can relate to the lyric. Life is just a giant "Suckerpunch" and you can do everything just right and still fall flat on your face and end up with blood on your clothes. I like songs where the guy doesn't get the girl, and most of us go through that a time or twelve in our lives.
("Suckerpunch" might define the entire career of "The Refreshments." I've never seen a better reviewed band, and anyone who has ever been exposed to the band becomes a fan for life, but somehow Polygram record couldn't translate that into a platinum album. Think of all the dreck in pop-music, and it becomes even more unfathomable why I'm writing about these guys on Facebook, instead of watching a "Behind the Music" on them.)
While the album ends on the heartbreaking yet triumphant "Nada" part of me wishes it had ended with "Down Together," perhaps the most hopeful song on the whole record. Basically an declaration that doing stupid things is OK, it also opens the door to thinking that it might be possible to find a speck of dust and scribble down a shared life story. It's the only song on the entire record that doesn't document a dysfunctional relationship with a significant other. It was almost like a giant shrug, reminding the listener that it's not all that bleak, really.
It's hard to write about "Fizzy" without spending a paragraph on each and every song on the album. There's an energy and piece of experience in each and every story that it feels like blasphemy to ignore one to praise another. While songs like "Nada" and "Interstate" both have this shared sense of lonely, one ends in victory and the other ends in defeat. We don't win every time, nor will we. It's almost ridiculous to think otherwise.
If there's a climax to the record it's a shared one. For me and many of my friends the sing-a-long drinking song "Mekong" will always haunt (and bless) our lives. "Mekong" is a depressing song wrapped in a celebration of life. Even when we are far from home and all on our own with only "what's his name my new best friend" to pass the time with life is still worth celebrating. Even in the crappiest of circumstances it's still OK to raise a toast and cherish the small victories. It is always happy hour, mostly just because I've lived to fight another day.
"Mekong" is an amazing song, but the real climax of the record might be "Nada," which borders on life altering anthem. I don't know why a tale of some guy's desert wanderings is so poignant, but it is. To this day the line "I tip the bottle and bite the lime" sends shivers down my spine. I know it's just a reference to tequila, but when Roger sings it, the whole thing becomes an approach to life. I know that there's crap on the highway, the car is out of gas, and I'm about to get bit by a rattlesnake, but whatever, I'm gonna tip that bottle and bite the lime.