I recently hit up the local St. Vincent de Paul thrift shop down the street from work to look at their CDs (because more CDs is just what I need--like a hole in my head). I can at least rationalize it by telling myself that I'm donating money to charity. Anyway, I found some decent stuff, or at least stuff I believe to be decent. Certainly decent for $1 apiece. So here is what I bought: Franz Ferdinand--Franz Ferdinand, Gorillaz--Gorillaz, Live--Secret Samadhi, Madonna--The Immaculate Collection, Paul McCartney--Run Devil Run, and 10,000 Maniacs--Our Time in Eden.
So here is the rundown:
I remember Franz Ferdinand from the early aughts and the era of angular punky garage-y bands like The Strokes, The Hives, etc. I suppose Franz Ferdinand belong in that category, or are at least adjacent. Outside of their hit "Take Me Out," I didn't pay them much attention then, but in 2021 at the thrift shop I thought: why not? I spun the album a few days ago and enjoyed it. I hear a bit of Roxy Music in what Franz Ferdinand were doing, and Alex Kapranos seems to be channeling Bryan Ferry. I wish I hadn't waited 17 years to investigate these guys, but I wasn't feeling it in 2004.
I will always think of Gorillaz as Damon Albarn's side project from Blur, which is ridiculous because Gorillaz have been much more commercially successful than Blur ever were. When Gorillaz' second album Demon Days was released in 2005, I checked it out of the library but couldn't get into it. A probably reason for this disconnect was that I was listening to it in my car on my way to a job interview, was already nervous, and the music didn't help. I never bothered to give it another try. I listened to a bit of this debut and liked what I heard. It may soon be time to give Demon Days another shot.
If they are remembered at all anymore, Live takes all kinds of shit these days. I don't give a damn what anyone says though, Throwing Copper is outstanding. (I held back from saying "Throwing Copper slaps"). Sure, the lyrics are a bit dodgy ("her placenta falls to the floor") but the music is both hooky and ferocious in a '90s grunge sort of way. The much-maligned follow-up Secret Samadhi was at the thrift shop, so I thought I'd give it a try. The first two songs aren't bad. Maybe I will provide a full report later.
The Immaculate Collection is the first Madonna album I've owned since I had her debut on cassette from about 1984-1986. I decided that owning a Madonna album wasn't "cool" anymore, so I gave it to the guy who lived next door to me at Shaw Hall during my freshman year at Michigan State. Madonna's singles are undeniable, so I'm looking forward to giving this a spin.
I listened to Paul McCartney's Run Devil Run on the way home from St. Vincent de Paul, and what an incredible find for $1. I'd heard for years how good the album was: raw and energized, McCartney dealing with the pain of losing his wife Linda by going back into his musical past. I was a bit skeptical, but the consensus was correct. Once again, I wish I hadn't waited so long.
And finally, there is 10,000 Maniacs' Our Time in Eden. I have been off-and-on with this band since 1987, when I discovered their then-new album In My Tribe and the earlier The Wishing Chair. In the same way that the band Live seems trapped in the 1990s, 10,000 Maniacs seem trapped in the '80s. They are never mentioned any time the great bands of the '80s are discussed. I'm not exactly sure why that is, but I have some theories: First, they were not sonically edgy. Though The Wishing Chair had some slightly dissonant post-punk feel ("Scorpio Rising" comes to mind), it's largely folk rock. In My Tribe is even more hook-laden and folky. The rough edges of The Wishing Chair were largely smoothed away by Peter Asher's crisp production, though this isn't necessarily a bad thing. The music is more focused on In My Tribe than The Wishing Chair. (The Maniacs' earlier indie recordings, Human Conflict Number Five and Secrets of the I Ching are delightfully eccentric in their mix of jittery new waviness/post-punkiness and white reggae, but not likely to get the arbiters of cool, i.e. rock critics, too excited). The second "problem" 10,000 Maniacs have (at least among the arbiters of cool) are Natalie Merchant's lyrics, which could be perceived as too didactic/moralizing, particularly on In My Tribe.
After listening to Our Time in Eden, perhaps the band's most assured and mature album, and digging into the early stuff from 1982-83, I conclude it's ridiculous that 10,000 Maniacs have been forgotten. They absolutely deserve a place among the best bands of the '80s and early '90s (since I don't count the post-Natalie years).
So there is my ill-spent time at the thrift store. Stay tuned for likely future installments.
