Review: Smashing Pumpkins' 'Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness' 30th Anniversary Set

Just four years after a super-cool and stripped down debut, and two after a more elaborately produced alternative-radio hit-machine, Smashing Pumpkins unleashed the kind of madly ambitious set a group usually reserves for much later in their career. But, in the heady alternative rock hey-day, one never knew how long their band would last, especially a band as a volatile as Smashing Pumpkins, so I guess Billy Corgan figured he'd better not fart around too much.

The kind of elephantine project Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness turned out to be tends to be full of farting around, and yet, as gargantuan as this set is, it's short on pointless noodling, a much bigger hit-delivery vehicle than Siamese Dream (four of it singles went Top Forty on Billboard's Hot 100; nothing on the previous album pulled that trick), and shockingly consistent. That's saying a lot because in a lot of ways, the Pumpkins' third album almost plays like a parody of ambition. While releasing a double-album is traditionally a band's way of making a big, serious, artistic statement, releasing a triple-one is more like announcing a serious break from reality (just ask The Clash). Releasing a quadruple one? There isn't even an armchair-shrink assessment for that kind of folly. But that's basically what Smashing Pumpkins did in 1995. Sure, the CD release fit on just two discs, but those were two jam-packed CDs. They made a triple-disc set necessary when Mellon Collie was released on vinyl in Europe the following year, but only a quadruple-disc set would allow the album to play out in its intended running order and without any sides piling on so many tracks that they started to ooze out of audiophile territory.

Review: 'David Lynch' Revised & Updated Edition

Break the code, solve the crime. One thing that draws a lot of viewers to the films of David Lynch is Lynch's refusal to express his intentions on the surface. In an age when every film's message must be explicitly stated for an audience with the attention span of a puppy, David Lynch's dogged refusal to ever play that dull game is especially thrilling. 

It also means that theories about what, say, that blue box in Mulholland Dr. means are more plentiful than donuts in Agent Cooper's mouth. Whether they be glib brain farts or endless exegeses, explanations of what Lynch really meant are everywhere. To the late filmmaker's credit, he rarely validated any, but also rarely outright said any were wrong either.

Review: Velocity Girl's '¡Simpatico!' (Loser Edition)

Two years ago Sub-Pop released a long overdue reissue of Velocity Girl's first album, Copacetic. While simply getting that album back on vinyl would have been a big enough deal for fans, the package also included a bonus disc of B-sides and other such oddities, redesigned cover art, extensive notes from band member Archie Moore, and most significantly, a pretty radical remix. Moore had always been disappointed by the album's atmospheric yet muddy 1993 mix, and by brightening it up and drawing out the details, he helped UltraCopacetic to become that rarest of classic record birds: one that actually became better after a remix. 

Review: 'Rush & 2112: Fifty Years'

 

I haven't read much by him, but Daniel Bukszpan had a big impact on my own writing. Reviewing his Encyclopedia of New Wave a long time ago here on Psychobabble, I was most impressed by how he balanced humor with doing what any rock writer is supposed to do. So when I received a press release announcing his next book was on Rush's 2112, I lit up. I like Rush, and 2112 is a pretty good album, but I was mostly on board to read how Bukszpan would handle the topic. Considering Rush's highfalutin concepts, their kimonos, Geddy Lee's wood-sprite voice, and Neil Peart's mustache it's not like there's no material to poke a bit of good-natured fun at. 

Review: 'A Place Both Wonderful and Strange: The Extraordinary Until History of Twin Peaks'

A Place Both Wonderful and Strange: The Extraordinary Until History of Twin Peaks had already been on my radar for a bit when my wife told me she'd listened to Glen Weldon's podcast, and self-described Peaks superfan Weldon said he was surprised by how much he'd learned from Scott Meslow's book. 

Review: The Rippers' 'Honesty'

One of the delights of exploring classic psych is discovering how bands from around the world grooved around with it. Germany's The Rippers went the garagey route, with simple arrangements built around guitar, bass, drums, and organ and a pleasingly gruff singer who could pass for Zoot Money. You won't find anything as revelatory of Zoot and Dantalian's Chariot's "Madman Running Through the Fields" on The Rippers' one and only LP, but Honesty is still a highly enjoyable product of 1968 that often sounds more like a product of 1966. 

Review: 'Punk: The Last Word'

When you call your book Punk: The Last Word, you better be pretty damn comprehensive. A title like that yawps "Here's all that's left you'll ever need to know and everyone else can shut it."

At 600 pages, Chris Sullivan and (mostly) Stephen Colegrave's oral history is certainly fat. And they definitely cast a wide net to snare up whatever might be considered punk. Along with the expected punk rock bits, Punk: The Last Word also spews a lot of ink on fashion, venues, lifestyles, beatniks, underground theater, and old, dead philosophers and poets. 

Vinyl Reissue of The Animals' 'Animalisms'

While their top-tier British peers were progressing emphatically by the spring of 1966, The Animals were perfectly happy to continue on as if it were still 1964, doing what they always did best: putting their Newcastle stamp on American blues, soul, R&B, and tin pan alley tunes. "Shapes of Things","19th Nervous Breakdown", "See My Friends", "Substitute", and "Nowhere Man" were not enough to throw them off course. So May 1966's Animalisms was yet another platter of mostly other people's material, the two exceptions being Eric Burdon and new keyboardist Dave Rowberry's "You're on My Mind" and "She'll Return It" (I refuse to acknowledge the lame minute of clapping credited to Rowberry alone...whoops!). 

Review: 'Classic Monsters, Modern Art'

When I took my wife to see The Bride of Frankenstein at NY's Museum of Modern Art on one of our first dates, the one thing she commented on after seeing it for the first time was how "iconic" every frame of it is. It may not be as lauded as Citizen Kane, but Kane doesn't have an image half as indelible as Karloff's monster lumbering through a crypt or Lanchester's Bride shrieking in horror when she first meets him. As far as I'm concerned, the horror of the unseen (see The Haunting or The Blair Witch Project) will always be scariest, but the monsters, crypts, and graveyards of less frightening films will never fail to scratch the itchy shoulders of those like me who look forward to Halloween more than Christmas.

Review: 'SMiLE: The Rise, Fall, & Resurrection of Brian Wilson'

For nearly forty years, Brian Wilson's SMiLE existed more as a myth than a piece of music you could actually listen to. Sure, there were scores of bootlegs, but the average Beach Boys fan doesn't go that very, very naughty route. So, aside from a handful of songs that skittered out officially here or there, the SMiLE story was one that existed more on the page than emanating from speakers. While it was covered in any Beach Boys bio worth its salt, the biggest dose of SMiLE lore was Domenic Priore's Look! Listen! Vibrate! SMiLE! a truly wonderful, zine-like anthology of period press clippings and new essays first published in 1988.