An Incomplete Compilation of My Favorite Records from the Last Decade

The Lawrence Arms - The Greatest Story Ever Told

This album had, bar none, the best use of a dual-vocalist approach I’ve ever heard. The track separation is divided evenly. Chris brings the emotional, melancholic side while Brendan contributes the snotty punk rock for which he is loved. And their voices aren’t even exclusive to their own songs. Not at all. The backing vocals, though a stark contrast in style, hit in all the right places. The genius of the lyrics is another remarkable aspect. The two songwriters are so well-read that the abundance of obscure pop-cultural references necessitates a separate section in the liner notes for cited annotations. To top it all off, The Greatest Story Ever Told is loosely a circus-themed concept record, in which there are several recurring ideas. I wish I could be more specific about the unifying theme, but it’s hard to explain. Put simply, this record needs to be heard.

NOFX - Pump up the Valuum

A NOFX album without the mandatory throwaway track or tracks? There are two, possibly three that exist. This is one of them. Pump up the Valuum (a terrific pun that was unfortunately watered down from its original title, Pump up the Valium, for fear of a lawsuit) was nonstop, edge-of-your-seat punk rock. The humor was there, obviously, but so was the introspective side. Fat Mike is clever, witty, and smart, but he will never embrace his intelligence in an arrogant, pretentious manner. On the contrary, he downplays it altogether. For those who can see past his occasionally juvenile, though endearing antics, there are moments of subtle brilliance. “I’ll trade a hundred days for one inside of you.”

Converge - Jane Doe

Jane Doe is unlike anything else in my music collection. Although it is far from being immediately accessible, it demands repeated listens for that very reason. In my opinion, it is probably the most intense emotional expression put to tape. Jacob Bannon’s screams sound as though they could shatter glass. Bannon and his extremely talented group of musicians were the perfect match for each other. The technicality and precision within their dreary sonic texture created totally unconventional song structures, where time signatures were sometimes impossible to pinpoint. The atmosphere was incredibly, incredibly bleak. Converge redefined hardcore, and Jane Doe is undisputedly their magnum opus.

Glass and Ashes - Aesthetic Arrest

Without hesitation, I can safely declare that both Glass and Ashes full lengths are absolutely astonishing. My iTunes library can attest to this, as there is not a single song on each that didn’t receive my personal “five-star” rating. What’s more remarkable is that in this respect, Glass and Ashes stands alone as being uniquely flawless in every sense of the word. Their 2008 self-titled sophomore record is equally deserving of its place in this list, but I decided to nominate the album that turned me on to the band in the first place. Aesthetic Arrest is gritty, dark, angry, and incredibly passionate. Even with such aggressive vocals, Michael Carter shows his ability to maturely tackle a difficult subject matter with thought and sensitivity.

Boston, Pt. 2

Joe McMahon has a NOFX sweatshirt. It’s the one with the ripped off Bad Religion logo, where instead of a slashed-out cross it’s a slashed-out “FX.” Get it? I feel like I’m not describing it well enough. He also has a Twelve Hour Turn tattoo. I wanted to talk to him about it, but to no avail.

Speaking of which, Gwomper, the bassist of Avail is also the bassist of Smoke or Fire. Both bands are from Richmond, although the latter spent its early years here in Boston. Never mind.

Smoke or Fire played fourteen songs, taking the stage at about eleven-thirty. I was exhausted at that point, but luckily I hadn’t been standing in place all day, which is usually the case for most shows. For this one, however, I didn’t leave my car until nine. The show was eighteen and up, so after checking my ID the person at the door drew an obnoxiously large X on each hand. I made my way to the front of the stage and stood there for a while, while most people hung out at the bar. After losing hope that the show would start at a reasonable time, I eventually sat down in the corner. I texted Soleil, mostly to look preoccupied with something. Everyone around me hung out in groups of two or more. I must have looked pretty lonely.

They opened with “What Separates Us All,” then continued to play a good amount of songs from both full lengths, plus one from their latest seven-inch, which I picked up at the merch table. Joe told us that they had only sold three shirts on the entire tour, so I guess that made me numbers four and five. The guy at the table was nice enough to sell me the second for half-price. The record, Prehistoric Knife Fight, came on blue vinyl. There are two hundred and five copies, all of which are only available on the tour. I know I’m a vinyl nerd, but this makes up for me missing out on the pre-order (Fat Wreck Chords gave out slightly less limited orange vinyl).

“Fire Escapes” made my night, along with “Culture as Given” and “Irish Handcuffs.” “Irish Handcuffs” is such a realistically bittersweet song about growing up and losing touch with old friends. It’s about being connected to past acquaintances only through formal reunions like weddings and funerals, at which every memory is suppressed by a permanent reliance on alcohol. I know that sounds strikingly similar to Alkaline Trio subject matter, but perhaps that’s why I love it. The emotion is sincere, and it translated well in the live setting.

I didn’t get home until two in the morning, but it was well worth it. In fact, I think I did well on the Music Appreciation test I took six hours later.

“Have a shot and wash it down with another drink. To tell the truth, this shit is starting to make me sick. And the years go by.”

Setlist

What Separates Us All

Cops and Drugs

Filter

Delawhere

Melatonin

Culture as Given

Fire Escapes

The Patty Hearst Syndrome

Modesty

Little Bohemia

Goodbye to Boston

Cryin’ Shame

Irish Handcuffs

California’s Burning