PJ Harvey – Rid of Me
I’ve been intending to publish this post for the better part of a week, closer to two, but stuff kept getting in the way: Specifically a heat pump that’s in need of repair and a cold house and an astonishingly high repair bill. So I’m just now getting back to a place where I can write about my silly little record collection. I’ve made it this far. The gap’s growing, though, so I need to get moving.
One of the bright spots during 2020, when there were few bright spots to speak of, was PJ Harvey’s catalog being reissued on vinyl. On some level, I recognize that this was basically just music I already liked being delivered in a package that was more to my liking, but look, I still needed something to get excited about. I also listen to these albums all the time—some records only make it into the rotation every few months or once a year or something like that. But Peej is pretty much always on deck.
And Rid of Me is her best. Look, there’s an argument for others: To Bring You My Love is phenomenal, as is Is This Desire?, which you’ll read about in another hundred posts or so. (Or, no, I’m doing them in threes, so … does math… 35 or so? Something like that.) But Rid of Me is the most visceral. A Steve Albini joint, it carries an intensity that few other albums can even come close to. The title track opens the album at its quietest for about two minutes before erupting into an explosion of blisteringly loud rock. (The mastering on vinyl feels less like a bomb going off though.) Then it pretty much continues to be loud and visceral and abrasive. There are times when it hews close to The Birthday Party-style punk blues, with weird rhythms and guitars that feel like sandpaper on skin. And even though it’s fairly explicitly sexual at times, it’s not what you’d call sexy—see “Rub Til It Bleeds” and “Dry.” I think the titles speak for themselves.
The first time I heard this it pretty much scorched my face, and I’ve been recovering ever since. But having it on vinyl has been a priority essentially ever since I started buying records pretty regularly, which was over 15 years ago. Thankfully it’s back in print and I didn’t have to spend $150 on it. Not that it’s not worth it, but you know, no need to spend it if you don’t have to.
Rating: 10.0
Sound Quality: Great
Steve Gunn – Time Off
Hand in hand with my recent revelation that Led Zeppelin III may be—just maybe!—my favorite Zep album is the realization that I love psychedelic folk, American primitivism, all forms of weird America. Weirdos with acoustic guitars, basically. Like when I bought back-to-back Pentangle albums. Or had a delayed (around 12 years or so) obsession with Espers. Steven Gunn actually might have been the catalyst for this, as I heard his then-new album at the time, and while I think not all of it stunned me immediately, a few songs stood out as being spectacular (like “Vagabond,” what a song!), and for that matter, led me to some of his old work that I loved even more.
Like Time Off. This came out in 2013 but I didn’t hear it until 2019, and I didn’t buy a copy until 2020. (Via Discogs I’m pretty sure.) This one’s a lot more trippy than his recent records, less folk-rock, more cosmic vibes. Though there is some material that’s more Wilco in tone; “Lurker” was even in a McDonald’s commercial! (Not necessarily the “New Slang” of its time, but still, good for him.) The songs that really grabbed me at first were the two at the end of the album, “Old Strange” and “Trailways Ramble.” They’re two sides of the same coin, each a lengthy, slowly unfolding psychedelic folk dirge. The former is more of a song, per se, while the latter is more of a folk raga. Both are mesmerizing, 10 out of 10 songs. Just phenomenal space-travel folk. Great on their own, but pick your poison if that’s your thing.
If I remember correctly, and my master list seems to confirm this, it was a 2020 release featuring Gunn that made me finally pick this up, though that release is coming up a little later. Stay tuned.
Rating: 9.0
Sound Quality: Great
Dadawah – Peace and Love-Wadadasow
Yep, more reggae! I warned you—didn’t I warn you?! And this one’s pretty interesting. I think I actually got turned on to this one from some Twitter pals during MWE in February (Music Writer’s Exercise for those who don’t know the abbreviation—it’s a thing where you listen to an album you’ve never heard every day all month; I never strictly participate if only because I try to listen to music I’ve never heard as often as I can, but I generally support it). And someone described it as “apocalyptic,” which is generally a term you don’t see associated with reggae all that much, so I knew I had to listen. Especially considering the cover art makes it look so chill.
So: I was wrong. The deeper I got into reggae, the more I realized that a LOT of it is pretty apocalyptic. Fire and brimstone is around every corner in the most Rastafarian-heavy stuff, which is something I kind of wrestle with a little, because I can’t get behind the dogmatic elements of any religion. And, you know, there’s a lot of songs out there that are like “You’ve sinned and god’s gonna fuck you up,” so that’s pretty judgy. Not that I don’t still like some of those songs, but I don’t always endorse the general message. This album is more about the promised land and stuff like that, but it’s still intense.
Peace and Love-Wadadasow is more technically a “nyabinghi” album, which is a kind of Rastafarian ceremonial music, but it’s also kinda dubby, and kind of a dark, psychedelic funk album. It’s hard to really capture in a single phrase what this album is, because “Reggae” definitely doesn’t do justice to the Curtis-Mayfield-on-Judgment-Day vibe it has, but I’ll say this: It’s cool as hell. I genuinely haven’t heard many, if any, reggae albums that sound anything like it, and that’s in large part why it resonated with me so much the first time I heard it. Hearing this for the first time was one of the rare recent instances in which I heard something and it felt like opening up a door into a world I’d never really experienced before. And that’s always super exciting. Just four long, weirdly funky songs that stretch into the beyond.
It’s definitely apocalyptic though, and despite my atheist/agnostic/skeptic outlook about these things, I just can’t seem to tear myself away from just such an album.
Rating: 9.3
Sound Quality: Great
1000 Times Jeff 