TV Obsessive
The Smashing Pumpkins- Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
By Natasha B.C. Smith
The Smashing Pumpkins’ magnum opus, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, marked a point in the evolution of my musical tastes that came after the classic rock of Queen, and before the industrial metal of Marilyn Manson. I discovered the album when I was 14 or 15, after being entranced by the old timey, otherworldly music video for “Tonight, Tonight” (based on Georges Méliès’ silent film A Trip to the Moon). It was, and still is, one of the most beautiful and inspiring songs I’d ever heard. The song told me that “the impossible is possible tonight, tonight,” and somehow, I still believe it.
This was around 2000, five years after the album’s release, and back when you still had to browse the CDs in a physical store to hunt down a masterpiece like this. It was a double album, which already made it seem special, and I was even more impressed by the care and creativity that had gone into its artwork and liner notes. I flipped through several paintings, then came to lyrics beautifully printed on pastel pages, with black line drawings of objects and animals representing each song. The artwork had a cohesive, old-fashioned yet quirky style, and it was the first time I had encountered an album that so clearly combined the songs, the artwork and the liner notes into one complete work of art, rather than just a collection of songs.
The Smashing Pumpkins were also the first band I listened to that leaned into something resembling a gothic aesthetic, and they were essentially my gateway drug into the darker, heavier music I love so much now. Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness changed the way I look at music and widened my perception of what was possible. Two decades later, I still rate it as one of the greatest albums of all time. The songs oscillate from lilting melodies to energized chaos, yet they all fit together. Some are better than others, and the 28-song album could potentially have been trimmed a bit, but so many of the tracks are standout classics.
While I’ll always love “Tonight, Tonight,” with its soaring tune, bittersweet nostalgia and ultimate optimism, my favorite song on the album has always been the lesser known “Muzzle.” A similarly epic song, “Muzzle” deals with existential dread, turning it into a joyous celebration of the wisdom and experience we gain by living. From the very first line, “I fear that I am ordinary, just like everyone,” I could always relate to this underrated song. The gorgeous “1979” also takes a laid-back approach to thoughts of mortality, while simultaneously reminiscing about youth (“And we don’t know / Just where our bones will rest / To dust, I guess”).
Heavier tunes with catchy riffs (the best of which are “Zero,” “Bullet With Butterfly Wings,” “Where Boys Fear to Tread,” and “Bodies”) help to give the album an edge, providing fantastic counterpoints to its quieter moments. It’s in those quieter moments that “To Forgive” and “Stumbleine” take it down a notch, with their simple yet stunning laments. Another outstanding song, “Here Is No Why” combines passionate vocals with an exuberant, addictive tune, and lyrics that are both sad and oddly charming (“May the king of gloom / Be forever doomed”).
Two of the most enjoyable songs are “Thru the Eyes of Ruby,” with pounding and swirling notes that sweep you up into its vast soundscape, and “Love,” with its strong beats and sumptuous instrumentation. It may have some imperfections, but Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was life changing for me and, overall, it’s a truly influential album by an incredible band.
Mr. Bungle- Disco Volante
By Laura Stewart
In 1995 Faith No More released King for a Day…Fool for a Lifetime, a brilliant album, but the end was growing ever closer for the band. Genius frontman Mike Patton had many side projects and returned to his original band Mr. Bungle and they released an eponymous debut that was weird enough to faze even fans of FNM. Then, also in 1995, came Disco Volante. Patton forged a commercial bomb with this daunting, impenetrable, and unsettling album—and he knew it. For him, it was all part of the fun. The sheer variety of musical genres crammed into each second of space is mind-boggling; death metal combines with jazz. Techno, Middle Eastern music, ‘50s R&B, and grindcore also enter the fray. For anyone with the resolve to give this repeated listens, a treasure trove of musical ingenuity awaits.
“Everyone I Went to High School Is Dead” upends the preconception of what death metal can be Producing a sludgy, mid-paced song that contains the fury of death without the speed. The eerie vocals only add to the sense of dread that has by now entered your veins.
“Chemical Marriage” is a bit of a bland follow-up, though its abrupt switch of style grabs attention. “Carry Stress in the Jaw” is where the band truly lets loose, with morbid lyrics recalling Angel Dust era Faith No More, though the lyrics aren’t Patton’s. The song goes from a creepy atmosphere which erupts into a furious jazz number before transforming once more into Napalm Death-style grindcore, then ending in a bizarre surf-rock style with Patton’s narration. Patton once again proves himself to be the most versatile singer ever as he goes from whispers to shrieks without pause.
“Desert Search For Techno Allah” completely abandons comprehension with a bizarre tale over electronic Arabic music. “Violenza Domestica” features Patton warbling in Italian. Dex F. says the lyrics involve a father who takes out his child’s tongue. So…there you have it…
“After School Special” deceives the listener as the narrator lists all the kind things his mother said to and did for him. Suddenly, he yells “You lied to me!” and the song gives way to a beyond-creepy baby voice that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. “Phlegmatics” sounds like King Crimson on some serious narcotics, with its dissonance and tone.
“Ma Meeshka Mow Skowz” showcases Patton’s method of making noise with his throat over singing. “The Bends” is the highlight of the album, with its underwater journey complete with truly avant-garde arrangements. “Backstrokin’ ” helps to ease off “The Bends” with psychedelic organ. “Platypus” is yet another song that displays why Patton is as respected as he his. Funky bass under a crushing riff, with Patton using his voice like an instrument that would only be played in Mr. Bungle.
“Merry Go Bye” closes the album with Beach Boys vibes that belie the suicidal lyrics. Suddenly, we are treated to more grind-death, which eventually gives way to some truly graceful lines from Patton. An incredible way to close the album.
Disco Volante is not for the faint of heart. Mike Patton’s mission statement is to unsettle his audience. While in FNM he deliberately tried to alienate his MTV fans, this album challenged the norm in a time where rock had finally been conquered by the industry, where grunge had given way to an immense void filled by bands designed to make corporations money. Patton, the man who, (along with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rage Against the Machine, and his mates in Faith No More) helped to pioneer rap metal, firmly thrusts his middle finger in the direction of the host of second rate imitators rising up to cash in on his legacy. Disco Volante is possibly the most defiant record of the ‘90s, and it brought much needed rebellion to the scene.
Pulp- Different Class
By Simon McDermott
I always liked Pulp. I appreciated their smart, glam sensibilities even when I was a kid. They were at the top of their game at that point in the mid-’90s. Jarvis Cocker was charming the nation with his humble wit and style and the band were high in the charts back when they actually had good songs in them. They’re often overshadowed in the Britpop era by Blur and Oasis but I always preferred their more sophisticated, superior, synth-tinted music. However, it wasn’t until I moved to London that I started to appreciate it fully, as their album Different Class is the soundtrack to living in the city. There are even songs on the record written about certain places such as “Bar Italia”, which is a cafe in Soho and the B-Side “Mile End”, where I lived for many years myself in East London.
There are no weak links in the dozen songs on the album. From “Mis-Shapes,” the strong, raucous opening declaration of war on the upper classes and small-town suburbia; to the sordid, illicit affairs of “Pencil Skirt” and “I Spy”; to chart-topping anthems “Common People” and “Disco 2000”. The first half of the album is powerful and saucy, with Cocker painting himself as a modern-day lothario. However, the second half takes a turn, exploring dry spells and the loss of passion in “Live Bed Show”; musings on serendipity in love with “Something Changed” and “F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E”; along with the highs and lows of nights out with “Sorted for E’s & Wizz” and “Monday Morning”.
The hidden gem of the album for me is “Underwear”. No song has ever summed up the hint of awkwardness when sleeping with someone for the first time and putting into words the thoughts and feelings you have before, during and after the experience. It’s an antidote to all the perfectly rehearsed sex scenes you’ve seen in films and TV shows. It also includes one of my favourite lyrics: “If fashion is your trade, then when you’re naked, I guess you must be unemployed yeah.” Cocker’s words capture the realism in what happens behind closed doors and in doing so paints pictures more stimulating than the most passionate fictional love scene.
He’s a romantic at heart though and “Something Changed” shows it. The song puts those thoughts we’ve all had into words well, about whether we were meant to meet certain people that change our lives. The hit single “Disco 2000” also shows this with its lyrics of never quite getting over unrequited teenage love. It also happens to have an infectious, ravey beat and a catchy chorus that make it a brilliant pop song. The other thing that Different Class romanticises in an ironic way is narcotics. In “Sorted Out for E’s & Wizz”, it vocalises private thoughts many have had on a night out that’s going nowhere, about not being worried as you already have the party favours.
The song also questions the substance of festivals without narcotics. Are they transcendent experiences because of the music and atmosphere, or is it just getting wasted on drugs that makes people think they’ve had an awakening? Then there’s “Common People”. There’s not much to say about it that hasn’t been said before but what I will say is that it’s a perfect song and one that I’ve enjoyed singing with my friends at many parties over the years. It has such savvy lyrics for being essentially a pop anthem. Going to university in London has meant I’ve seen many who fit the profile, dressing in shabby clothes that are falling off them even though they come from old money and this song firmly puts them in their place.
Different Class was a huge critical and financial success, reaching number one in the UK album charts and snagging the coveted Mercury Prize as well. It’s always included in lists of the best albums ever and is now widely acknowledged as being the best album from the Britpop era as well, as it rightly should be. For me personally, it will always be the soundtrack to my twenties, that exciting period that will always be the most fun but eventually leads to disillusionment and a realignment of thinking. It’s always comforting to reminisce about those times when you were young and dumb though. With the way the band capture that kitchen sink drama and a quintessentially British quality of a bygone era, Pulp are the best way to do it.
