Wednesday, December 29, 2010

15 Albums...part 3

Too long a hiatus from writing--the blog (to say nothing of the book proposal) has gone to seed in recent months. What is Winter Break if not a chance to jump-start neglected projects, New Year's resolutions, yadda yadda yadda? So here's a comfy way to ease back in: taking a cue from the "15 Albums" thread that circulated through Facebook last summer, I'm finally writing a bit from the list I'd jotted down after getting to enjoy several of your posts....To embellish and/or spread it out a bit, I've broken it into a bite-sized, 3x5 format.....This is part three, w/ albums 11-15--see Monday & Tuesday for 1-10 if you're so inclined....If you've not done this yourself, it's worth it to take a few minutes....and be in touch!

And thanks for the kind feedback, memories, etc...

Bjorn's 15 Albums (in chronological order of when I got hold of them):

11. Foje: 1982 (1996) What turned out to be Lithuania's biggest rock band's swan song was released months before I arrived to teach English in February 1997, and I blew seeing their farewell concerts that summer (chronicled on the live set Vilnius. Kaunas. Klaipėda [1999]), though I made up for it by seeing Andrius Mamontovas solo a number of times. Foje was crucial to my Lithuanian education in several ways: their lyrics gave me fodder for early language lessons; the breadth and depth of their fanbase underscored to me the presence of a whole national pop culture of which I was only getting the haziest of clues; and their serving as a key into contemporary Lithuanian culture nudged me (ever so politely) to understand that I just had to think beyond cinema in my, erm, scholarship.... Their last album was my first, but by the time I left for IU I had the entire back-catalog on cassette--subsequent fieldwork meant subsequent securing of same on CD, along with the run of Mamontovas solo work. Research, don't you know...

12. V/A: The Inner Flame (1997) This tribute disc was released as a fund-raiser for guitarist Rainer Ptacek that first summer in Lithuania--by the time my parents sent me a dub that Christmas, he was gone. I only saw him play once, at Club Congress in Tucson. I remember thinking he was a roadie when he first went up on stage, ballcap and all--then I remember him doing amazing things with steel guitars and digital delay loops. I subsequently searched all over Tucson filling in his back-catalog (typically, much of his stuff is only available from a German import label). This record connected me back to Tucson, and his picture was on the wall of my Šeduva classroom until the end of my career as a Lithuanian secondary school teacher...

13. Radiohead: OK Computer (1997) Back in the day, in Lithuania, you could buy pirated cassettes of just about anything. And not just in Vilnius, either: I believe I bought this on tape at a kiosk in Utena for five litas (which, given the old 4:1 exchange rate, I can assuredly assert came to all of $1.25). Sure, it appeared to have been pressed in Belarus. Sure, two of the songs had been deleted (due to time constraint or musical taste, I'll never know). Sure, the order of the remaining songs was quite different from the "proper" release. But I'll take my 10-track Belarussian tape over your CD any day of the week....

14. Miles Davis: Kind of Blue (1959) It took me a long time to even start to appreciate jazz--and I've got a lot to learn. I find myself feeling defensive that I've got what could be considered such a "cliche" of a record on this list, but the truth of the matter is that there is no single record I have listened to in the past five years than this one. Every semester I find myself grading more than I ever imagined when I put together my syllabi (note to self: less grading this spring!), and this is a record to grade to, to read to, to relax to, to write awkward sentence constructions to. You know what I mean.

15. John Coltrane: A Love Supreme (1964) If Miles is someone with whom I can do a ton of academic work (at least on that release), 'Trane is not. John Coltrane demands your attention--not at first, but soon enough. And it's only worse on the deluxe re-release that includes a rare live set of the entire suite (complete with pissed-off French crowd that wants more!)... A Love Supreme refuses to be functional--it's too much for that. Hearing the band repetitively sing/chant the title--it's as close as anything I can think of to a zen moment.

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