Three Bands Who've Got The Halloween Spirit

As noted All-Hallows-Eve expert Jello Biafra once, uh, noted "Remember what I did / Remember what I was / Back on Halloween." While Biafra was being derisive on "Halloween," there's something to be said for dressing up and letting loose... something the following three bands understand:

The Damned-as-Nazz-Nomad-and-the-Nightmares

Released a scant 12 years after Lenny Kaye's initial Nuggets compilation (and who was using the Hammond organ in 1984 besides Jeff "Monoman" Conolly?), the Damned paid homage to the blink-and-you'll-miss-'em classic garage bands of the 1960s with this charming one-off, billed as the soundtrack to the (unfortunately) non-existent exploitation film, Give Daddy the Knife, Cindy. The already-nicknamed band members picked up new identities for the project -- Raymond Burns is Captain Sensible as Sphinx Svenson! -- and contributed two originals ("Do You Know (I Know)" and "Just Call Me Sky") that fit snugly next to classics like the Electric Prunes' "I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night)" and the Litter's "Action Woman."

The Damned never revisited their retro alter egos, and were barely themselves by 1985, which saw the release of the Sensible-less Phantasmagoria. Still, there's no denying the joyous rock 'n' roll that informs Give Daddy the Knife, Cindy... and here's hoping Green Day-as-Foxboro-Hot-Tubs have the good sense to offer a tip of the cap of their recent garage sidetrip, Stop Drop and Roll!!

XTC-as-Dukes-of-Stratosphear

By 1985, post-punk pioneers XTC had sanded down their spikier edges and had found peace as studio-bound purveyors of intelligent British pop (compare 1980's Black Sea to 1984's The Big Express). '85 saw the unexplained appearance of something called The 25 O'Clock EP, credited to the "lost" '60s Britpsychers the Dukes of Stratosphear, and a convincing era-appropriate album cover. Rumors swirled that XTC were the Dukes, but they denied any affiliation. Still, an overwhelming amount of evidence to the contrary prevailed: "Sir John Johns" sounded suspiciously like XTC frontman Andy Partridge and "Dukes of Stratosphear" just happened to be XTC's original name. (The record dropped on April Fool's Day, 1985, for what it's worth, too.) The band eventually fessed up -- they needed the publicity, as this unassuming EP outsold XTC's two previous records (Mummer and The Big Express) -- and returned in 1987 to record Psonic Psunspot, which was less psychedelic than it's predecessor -- despite the preponderance of "ps"'s in the title, but is still an amazing batch of tunes seemingly gamma-rayed directly from the heart of 1967. Furthermore, it boasts one of XTC's greatest singles, the peerless "Vanishing Girl"; it's reason enough to justify the entire project.

25 O'Clock and Psonic Psunspot were released together as Chips Off The Chocolate Fireball later in 1987; it's well worth tracking down.

"You're A Good Man, Albert Brown," Dukes of Stratosphear

Paul-Westerberg-as-Grandpaboy

Adventurous souls who picked up the Grandpaboy EP in 1997 only found the scant description of our eponymous guitarslinger in the liner notes: Grandpaboy was born somewhere He plays guitar Do not try to be his friend He will not like you. Of course, one spin of the disc revealed Grandpaboy to be Replacements frontman Paul Westerberg retreating/retrenching to the power pop garage where he earned his fame in the mid-1980s. And really, who else could've been operating under the name "Grandpaboy" but the man who put both "Gary's Got A Boner" and "Answering Machine" on the Replacements' Let it Be? After the 'Mats' dissolution, Westerberg's solo output had been solid if undistinguished -- Grandpaboy, by comparison, was a righteous blast of snotty rock 'n' roll. Certainly nothing on 1996's Eventually matches the joie de vivre of "Hot Un," with it's tongue-wagging command to "check out that girl on that bellybutton."

Westerberg's gone back to the Grandpaboy well a few times in the last decade, most notably on 2002's Stereo/Mono, and the Grandpaboy aesthetic has bled into Westerberg's proper releases -- how else to interpret this past July's 49:00, single-track, $0.49-cent Amazon download, with it's untitled songs overlapping each other like 10 radios all tuned to 1968?

"Hot Un," Grandpaboy

Year-End Round-Up: Part 3

There's a trend I've been noticing the past few years that bloomed in full this year: My top 10 are found in everyone else's 11-30. So for better or worse, you won't find the National, Radiohead, Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem, Animal Collective or any other buzzworthy bands on this list. Am I ignoring prevailing trends? Stuck in genre ghettos? Or do I just have terrible taste in music? How can a consensus be reached when literally thousands of albums are released in any given year? Aaaaaaaahhhhhh! Who's to say, but I do know this: These are the 20 albums that defined my 2007, and I'm proud to call them my best-of list. (Band name links go to official MySpace pages.)

20. Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger (Kemado): This is what we talk about when we talk about big dumb rock. This Brooklyn outfit turned in the album the Stooges should've released this year, full of macho posturing, giant hooks and a shout-out to the greatest non-existent nightclub in the planet, Rowdy P's! Whether these guys can repeat the trick on album #2 remains to be seen, but right now, who cares? With Cheeseburger, they've graced us with the year's best air guitar album.

19. Retox, Turbonegro (Edel): These Norwegian garage-glam weirdos seemed to be running out of steam after 2005's Party Animals but Retox was a welcome return to form: Louder and funnier than they've been in years ("What Is Rock?," anyone?), Hank and Co provided hope for every other leather- and ass-obsessed Eurogarage band out there. (May I also suggest Mark Deming's hilarious review over at Allmusic.)

18. Yoni, Ginger (3D): The redheaded Wildhearts frontman was, as ever, a busy man this year, playing shows on both sides of the pond, and releasing his day-job band's eponymous album in addition to this solo lark. But as enjoyable as The Wildhearts was, it's the stylistically-diverse Yoni (horns! guest vocals from the dude from the Toadies!) that earns a slot on the list. Hook-happy songs like "Why Can't You Just Be Normal All The Time?" and "Siberian Angel" prove that nobody writes catchier/deeper/truer songs about relationships. Fifteen years into a rollercoaster of a career, Ginger is still operating at the peak of his powers.

17. Under the Blacklight, Rilo Kiley (Warner Brothers): Jenny Lewis and the gang may be alienating their original fans with each subsequent release as they move from precocious troubadours to whatever passes for indie rock stars these days, but I've been digging them more and more with each new album. 2004's More Adventurous was a bright revelation, and Lewis' solo project detour, Rabbit Fur Coat, found a deserving home on last year's best-of list, but neither of them prepared me for the sonic leap of Blacklight. Equal parts sunny ("Silver Lining") and sultry ("The Moneymaker"), it's the -- cliche alert! -- quintessential "California" record, and much cheaper than flying out there and surrounding myself with actual Californians.

16. The Dethalbum, Dethklok (Williams Street): What does it say about the current state of rock music when the rockingest album of the year was put out by a homage/parody heavy metal cartoon band? (Obligatory admission about my ignorance of the heavy metal scene; please, no angry letters about which other, non-cartoon bands rocked harder.) The Dethalbum is also funny as hell, tackling topics rarely covered in the metal world: birthdays ("Birthday Dethday") and tax-paying ("Dethharmonic," with its assertion that "If I could write off your murder / I'd save all of my receipts / Because I'd rather you be dead / Than lose a tiny shred of what I made this fiscal year." Death and taxes, man.) Outside of the Britney Spears saga, no one-note joke provided more entertainment this year than these guys.


15. New Wave, Against Me! (Sire): It always does my heart good when Against Me! frontman Tom Gabel shouts "We can be the bands we want to hear! We can define our own generation!" on New Wave's opening title track. Even though history has proved me wrong repeatedly, I want to believe punk rock can make a difference. In a year where too many top acts spent time navelgazing, Against Me! provided a much needed kick in the pants.






14. Dynamico, Mitch Easter (Electric Devil): My inner power-pop loving old man demanded to listen to this album after reading about it in No Depression (of all places), and he refused to be denied. Easter's best known, if at all, as a producer and crafter of '80s jangle pop, working with the likes of R.E.M., Let's Active, the dB's, but he makes a fine frontman on Dynamico, his solo debut(!). Since I'll never get my hands on a time machine to travel back to 1987 to listen to a college radio station, joyful, out-of-time albums like Dynamico will have to tide me over.

13. Glitter in the Gutter, Jesse Malin (Adeline): Malin's 2003 debut, The Fine Art of Self-Destruction, is one of my favorite records released this millennium, and Glitter, album number three, is no slouch either. Malin set his sights on out-Springsteen-ing Springsteen (and not in that inscrutable Arcade Fire sort of way), and nearly does it on earthy, honest, roots rockers like "Don't Let Them Take You Down" and "Lucinda." He also invites Bruce to sing backing vocals on "Broken Radio," just to rub it in the elderstatesman's face. Way to play The Boss's head like a bongo, Malin.



12. Silver Mountain, Deadstring Brothers (Bloodshot): Album number three from this Detroit six-piece picks up where 2005's Starving Winter Report left off: imagining a world where every new album must be influenced by the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street. It's a beautiful dream, no? A stronger country vibe permeates Silver Mountain, and indicates the Deadstrings may have their sights on channeling Gram Parsons next. They may not be groundbreaking artists, but, hey, they have a great record collection.

11. Chrome Dreams II, Neil Young (Reprise): After recharging the spiritual batteries on last year's Living With War, Young dug through his own personal archives for this not-quite odds-and-sods collection. Young's rockers sit comfotably next to the introspective tunes, and I'll be the heretic that prefers the (merely) 14-minute long "No Hidden Path" to the epic, 18-minute long, and long-lost late-'80s chestnut "Ordinary People." A glorious mess.




10. At My Age, Nick Lowe (Yep Roc): I'm not sure how it took Lowe 6 years to record the 12 song, 35-minute At My Age, (especially when two of the songs are cover tunes) but when the end results are as funny and charming as At My Age's are, it's hard to quibble with time delays. Lowe's far removed from his late-'70s power pop incarnation, but he's still a charming smart-aleck (see "I Trained Her To Love Me" or "Feel Again")... though he's tempered it with some middle-aged wistfulness ("Long-Limbed Girl") that plays nicely off his silver fox persona. At My Age is a lark, but never fails to entertain. Let's just hope the next Lowe record doesn't come out in 2013.

09. Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Spoon (Merge): Write-ups for this one litter best-of lists across the internet, and with good reason: If they weren't there already, Ga^5 confirms Spoon's place at the top of the indie rock heap. No one else mixes venom ("Don't Make Me A Target"), haunting minimalism ("My Little Japanese Cigarette Case") and soul ("The Underdog") better. Also, for those keeping score, they're one album away from the rare five-kickass-albums-in-a-row streak. Check back in 2009.



08. Going Way Out With Heavy Trash, Heavy Trash (Yep Roc): A warped, uh, trashed rockabilly/blues mash-up from Matt Vera-Ray and Jon Spencer, Going Way Out brought nothing but joy this year. This album almost earned a slot on the strength alone of the undeniable "They Were Kings," but there's plenty other songs to recommend: "Crazy Pritty Baby," "Outside Chance" and the bizarro, otherworldly closer, "You Can't Win." Bonus points for the Tony Millionaire-drawn cover.


07. The Hair The TV The Baby & The Band, Imperial Teen (Merge): The title refers to how this power-pop quartet spent the past five years away from music-making, which in turns reminds me of how much I missed these guys during their half-decade hiatus -- so much so, I used my "brainy, expertly arranged power-pop" slot for these guys instead of New Pornographers. (There's not enough room for both of them, so don't ask.) The Hair... surprised me by being my go-to album for the last third of 2007. It's a sweet, fun album that seems to have escaped everyone else's radar.


06. Because of the Times, Kings of Leon (RCA): Haunting, atmospheric, tinged with post-punk... can you believe this is the same band that released the stomping Youth and Young Manhood four years ago? Steady touring (and kicking some of the vices that informed/marred their sophomore disc, Aha Shake Heartbreak) seems to have done wonders for the brothers (and cousin) Followill: opener "Knocked Up" is equal parts epic, enthralling and totally full of itself -- just like a certain Irish band they opened for that starts with a "U" and ends with a "2". And for all their experimentation, they can still knock out rockers that'll punch you in the boypart: "Black Thumbnail" and "Camaro" hold up nicely with their earlier, more visceral work. Doubts I had about their chances of being a career act have been put to rest.

05. Magic, Bruce Springsteen (Columbia): OK, so there's no underlying concept informing Magic (though consensus seems to be building that this is the "America has lost its way" record... though I'm giving that nod to Ted Leo) but time and again I found myself reaching for this album. The post-millennial isolation anthem "Radio Nowhere," the sunny/wistful "Girls In Their Summer Clothes" and "Livin' In The Future"... sometimes "just" another batch of Springsteen songs is all this world needs.




04. The Black and White Album, The Hives (Universal): This is one weird-ass album, but it's a measure of my love for and trust of Fagersta, Sweden's finest that I followed them down every twisted alley on The Black and White Album. Sure, there's the classic Hives rave-ups that bookend the album, "Tick Tick Boom" and "Bigger Hole To Fill," but what to make of the other tracks? A quick rundown: "Try It Again" shoehorns in a children's choir; the mid-album diversion "A Stroll Through Hive Manor Corridors" is a demented Tom Waits carnival ride; "T.H.E.H.I.V.E.S." was produced by Pharrell Williams; and "Puppet On A String" is some sort of alternate universe cabaret, yet the whole album hangs together quite nicely. The Black and White Album would have been excoriated had the band stuck with its original title (The World's First Perfect Album, which really belonged as the title to 2004's masterwork Tyrannosaurus Hives), but as it stands, The Black and White Album sums up the Hives' multi-hued universe. They're such jokers.

03. The Beatific Visions, brakesbrakesbrakes (Rough Trade): British, country-infused post-punk with a lefty political bent? Somewhere, the Mekons' lawyers are drafting an angry cease-and-desist letter. But Jon Langford's crew never penned a song about God and the Devil battling for the universe via a poker game (ironically enough, "Cease and Desist"), and they definitely never wrote anything as batshit-insane as the battle-between-two-spiky-things, "Porcupine or Pineapple." But for all the goofing, these guys had plenty going for them in 2007: hook-happy guitars and songs that were equal parts heartfelt (witness the title track and "Mobile Communication") and wracked with paranoia ("Margarita"). Something for everyone! An underrated gem, to be sure.

02. Living With The Living, Ted Leo (Touch & Go): Is Ted Leo the only rocker who reads the newspaper? At the very least, he's one of the few who fuels himself with the outrages of the world, with the added bonus of writing catchy songs that never fall into didacticism. On album number five, Leo repeatedly rails against the protracted/interminable war ("Fourth World War," "Army Bound," the stunning "Bomb. Repeat. Bomb."), yet finds time to relax and celebrate life ("A Bottle of Buckie," "La Costa Brava"). Hell, he even sings about a girl ("Colleen"). I read grumblings from critics, complaining that Leo's now written the same album five times in a row, but as long as the world is going to hell in a handbasket, we need Ted Leo to do what he does best.

01. Icky Thump, White Stripes (Warner Brothers): I heard someone sum up modern radio recently as: British bands, American bands trying to sound British, and the White Stripes. Has everyone else forgotten how to rock? I realize that carefree rock doesn't match the tenor of the times, but as a rebuttal I offer up Icky Thump. The simple joys of picking up a guitar and cranking it will never grow old; what about this has stopped appealing to people? To me, this has been the biggest -- and most disheartening -- trend of 2007. 20 years ago, the Replacements, Husker Du, R.E.M. and U2 all placed in the top 15 of the 1987 Pazz and Jop poll. Where are those bands' analogues today? (Go ahead and call me a rockist; I freely own up to the term.) If you knew where to look, you could get your rock fix, but rock shouldn't have to be a scavenger hunt. The White Stripes know this, and Icky Thump simply outrocked everybody. How come nobody else is thinking to grab a guitar and a drum kit, hole up in a studio for a week, and bang out a rock album, full of songs like"You Don't Know What Love Is (You Just Do As You're Told)," "Rag & Bone," "I'm Slowly Turning Into You," "Effect and Cause"? Re-reading this entry, I'm ending what was a very good year for music with more questions than answers, but I do know this: Jack and Meg, keep releasing albums like Icky Thump every other year and waving the banner of rock, and you'll have my undying allegiance.

Year-End Round-Up: Part 2

The Best of 2007 Album List is on the horizon, but until that big reveal, here's the 34 songs, in alphabetical order by title, that I really dug this year. Yeah, I know it's a ton of songs. I tried to whittle it down. Honest. Enjoy the YouTube linkage.

--"Almost Ready," Dinosaur Jr (Beyond)
--"Before The Money Came," Bettye LaVette (The Scene of The Crime)
--"Brass Ring," Broken West (I Can't Go On, I'll Go On)
--"Bigger Hole to Fill," The Hives (The Black and White Album) ▲
--"C.I.A," Ted Leo & the Pharmacists (Living With The Living)
--"Can You Feel It?," Apples in Stereo (New Magnetic Wonder)
--"Gone Gone Gone," Robert Plant & Alison Krauss (Raising Sand)

~ ~ ~

--"Halloween Head," Ryan Adams (Easy Tiger)
--"Hold Me In The River," The Brakes (The Beatific Visions)
--"I Discovered America," Graham Parker (Don't Tell Columbus) ▲
--"Ill-Placed Trust," Sloan (Never Hear The End Of It)
--"Impossible Germany," Wilco (Sky Blue Sky)
--"In The Modern World," Jesse Malin (Glitter In The Gutter)

~ ~ ~

--"Knocked Up," Kings of Leon (Because of the Times)
--"Long-Limbed Girl," Nick Lowe (At My Age) ▲
--"Money For The Heart," Cheeseburger (Cheeseburger)
--"Myriad Harbour," New Pornographers (Challengers)
--"No Hidden Path," Neil Young (Chrome Dreams II)
--"No Pussy Blues," Grinderman (Grinderman)
--"Queen Of The Scene," Deadstring Brothers (Silver Mountain)

~ ~ ~

--"Radio Nowhere," Bruce Springsteen (Magic)
--"Rag & Bone," White Stripes (Icky Thump) ▲
--"Rentacrowd," Len Price 3 (Rentacrowd)
--"Satellite Radio," Steve Earle (Washington Square Serenade)
--"Siberian Angel," Ginger (Yoni)
--"Sudden Crown Drop," Mitch Easter (Dynamico)
--"Skylon," Gruff Rhys (Candylion)

~ ~ ~

--"The Moneymaker," Rilo Kiley (Under the Blacklight)
--"The Picture," Son Volt (The Search)
--"The Underdog," Spoon (Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga)
--"The Wolf," Shooter Jennings (The Wolf) ▲
--"They Were Kings," Heavy Trash (Goin' Way Out With Heavy Trash)
--"Thrash Unreal," Against Me! (New Wave)
--"What Is Rock?," Turbonegro (Retox)

Year-End Round-Up: Part 1

Alright, so clearly this blog will not be regularly updated. (Damn you, social and academic commitments!) But the end of December is like Christmas time to a music blogger (cough, cough); it's a chance to prove your music knowledge to a bunch of anonymous strangers by giddily posting lists of songs and albums that nobody else listened to this year.

I've got a few lists in mind this year, starting with this one: Albums Not Released 2007 That I Loved This Year. Some were new to me this year; others I've had for a while, but it took until this year for me to fall in love with them. Of course, all are highly recommended.


10. Here Come the Warm Jets, Brian Eno (1974): I can't recall what prompted me to get my hands on Eno's '70s albums, but I'm glad I did. As long as we're talking Eno, I recommend this Lester Bangs-penned piece on Eno, written in 1979, but not published until 2003: "Brian Eno: A Sandbox in Alphaville."



9. Kings of the Wild Frontier, Adam & the Ants (1980): I'm still tracking down albums that I learned about through Simon Reynolds' amazing Rip It Up and Start Again: Post-Punk 1978-1984 -- and I read it a year-and-a-half ago. It's funny: the image I once had of these post-punk/New Wave acts, gleaned only through alt-rock radio's "Flashback Lunchbox" hours, is completely different from the one I have from actually listening to these artists' albums. Side A of Kings of the Wild Frontier could whip most anything released this year, or any other year. The lesson: Radio blows. Go out and get the album. Key track

8. Dirty Mind, Prince (1980): Before he was a keyboard-confounding symbol, a movie star or a fan-suing douchetard, Prince was just a dude who mixed funk, soul, R&B and New Wave together better than anyone else has done before or since. This album kicked off his amazing run of albums in the '80s, and at lean, mean 30 minutes, it has a breeziness not found on his hour-plus epics, 1983's 1999 and 1987's Sign 'O' The Times. Also, once you've heard "When You Were Mine," I dare you not to play it four more times in a row.


7. Birth, School, Work, Death, The Godfathers (1988): The Godfathers' fate must be chalked up to bad timing: they missed the Britpunk explosion by 10 years, and precipitated the '90s Britrock scene by a half-dozen years; they were a band without a flag. Oasis, Blur, Arctic Monkeys, every other British guitar band fawned over by N.M.E.: the Godfathers are, uh, godfathers to the whole bloody lot of 'em. This album's opening 1-2 punch of the title track and "If I Only Had Time" leave me wondering how and why these guys haven't attained even footnote status in rock history.


6. Only A Lad, Oingo Boingo (1981): Like many others this year, I first heard the title track to this album on Guitar Hero Encore: Rocks the '80s. Some friends and I used to go to "Guitar Hero Night" at a local bar, and I would anger the other bar patrons by constantly playing the "wimpy" New Wave tracks. I'm sorry, but there's nothing wimpy about the song -- read the lyrics: it's "Jeremy" for the 1980s -- or the rest of this album, which is perfect for days when I want to listen to herky-jerky New Wave, but I don't want to listen to DEVO or the first B-52s album.

5. Cosmo's Factory, Creedence Clearwater Revival (1970): I dusted off my CCR records after the Steve Hyden of The Onion's AV Club proclaimed Cosmo's Factory's opening track, "Ramble Tamble," the "most rockin' song of all time." I can't say I agree with him -- my vote goes to the Faces' "Stay With Me" -- but man oh man is this album fantastic. Like the Adam Ant case above, after years of hearing Creedence songs on the radio, it's refreshing to hear them in their original context. How I didn't get a speeding ticket this year while listening to "Ramble Tamble," "Travelin' Band" or "Up Around the Bend" in the car is beyond me. God must be a Creedence fan. Best moment on the album: "You can ponder perpetual motion."

4. Double Nickels on the Dime, Minutemen (1984): I've had this album for years, too, but it took a reading of Michael Azerrad's '80s indie rock report Our Band Could Be Your Life to make this record click for me. With 40+ songs and a decided political bent, Double Nickels seems like an intimidating listen on paper, but tunes like "Corona" (a.k.a. the Jackass theme song), "Jesus & Tequila" and "This Ain't No Picnic" are plenty accessible. I'm also willing to nudge this album ahead of Husker Du's Zen Arcade in the battle for the "Best Double Album Of 1984." This album gets bonus points for being the perfect length for the car ride between Boston and my folks' house in Connecticut. (Also recommended: Michael Fournier's 33-1/3 book series entry on Double Nickels on the Dime)

3. Sandinista!, The Clash (1980): There's always one thing I think when I listen to Sandinista! (and Double Nickels, for that matter): Boy, they don't make 'em like they used to. I parked myself on a park bench one Sunday afternoon this summer and devoured the album in one sitting. What the hell fueled this stuffed-to-the-gills 3-LP set? Musical overexuberance? Hubris? There's so much happening in this album, it never fails to set my brain on fire: "Hitsville U.K." "When Ivan Meets G.I. Joe." "The Leader." "Police On My Back." "Lose This Skin." Hell, I'm getting goosebumps just typing the song titles. (Especially "Lose This Skin." That song's has been haunting me ever since I first heard it.) This album gets unfairly maligned for its adventurism (go check the conflicted 3-star Amazon reviews), and the Clash themselves retreated (1982's Combat Rock), then imploded (1985's Cut the Crap) on their next two albums, but with Sandinista!, the Clash showed that punk could be whatever the hell you wanted it to be.

2. Exile on Main Street, Rolling Stones (1972): This was another album I've had for ages that I didn't get around to fully appreciating until this year. Yes, I know it's heresy that it took me this long to come around to Exile. Better late than never, I suppose. Enough has been written about this album that I'll only embarrass myself by trying to add to the canon, but I will say this: No lyric ever written, by any songwriter, has ever topped this gem from opening track "Rocks Off": "Sunshine bores the daylights out of me."

1. The Devil You Know, Todd Snider (2006): Checking back through my files, I didn't get my hands on a copy of this album until December '06 (though it was released in August of that year). Had I spent more time with this record, it would have easily taken every slot on my Best Albums of 2006 list. Alright, so that's a little hyperbolic -- but not by much. It's albums like this that remind me why I subscribe to No Depression. There's just so many honest slices of life in the songs collected here: criminals, prostitutes, drunks, drywall-hangers, George W. Bush (whom Snider absolutely eviscerates on "You Got Away With It (A Tale Of Two Fraternity Brothers")), and I'll be damned if there was a more rockin' song than the title track released in 2006. Just... wow. Get your hands on a copy of this one.

"Looking For A Job," Todd Snider