For some it is a spoon . . .
'10 More Years', Shangri-La Records, Various Artists Compilation, 1998, CD.
For others, like me, a record or CD. I bought this as a sonic souvenir, one of several, of my trip to Memphis. Don't worry, I also bought some mindless Elvis paraphernalia and am very proud of the souvenir tourist photo, still on our fridge, of me and my girlfriend, Cass, standing in front of a fake Graceland backdrop.
10 More Years: Shangri-La Records 1989-98 is a compilation of highlights from Memphis indie rock label Shangri-La's first ten years. As indie rock comps go, it's not too bad. Listening to it, however, reminds me of my troubled relationship with indie rock. So much of it sounds the same - is it the most utilitarian of genres? I guess it is the sprawling American heartland offspring of the punk rock ideal.
Memphis is a small town with an incredibly huge music history. Sort of like Uruguay in the World Cup. W.C. Handy, Sun Records, Al Green, Big Star to name but a few who have contributed to the great legacy Memphis provides to contemporary music. So where to fit indie rock in the scheme of this town's capital M, capital H, Music History. Well, of course, there is no need to fit it in anywhere.
Being a relatively small city with a small music scene, it is perhaps understandable that a lot of these bands - The Grifters, the Hot Monkey, Simple Ones - sound alike. I actually really like The Grifters and "Radio City Suicide" (not found on this comp) from their 'Ain't My Lookout' album is a phenomenal example of detuned guitar, loud-soft dynamic, grunge pop from the mid-90s. Up there with Superchunk's "Slack Motherfucker" in my books. But there is a sameness to this stuff that turned me off indie rock awhile back when. A couple of tracks on here have a bluesier bent in keeping with the rich Memphis blues tradition.
What you do consistently hear, loud and fuzzy (not too clear), is the Alex Chilton influence. Not so much the pristine first two Big Star albums but the fucked-upedness of '3rd' or 'Sister Lovers' or whatever it's called and his subsequent solo albums. It's a willful sloppiness that marks so much of the enervated output of American indie rock: it's a marker gene in the slacker DNA. It makes you wear work boots even though the most work you ever do is go to the fridge to get another beer. It gives you just enough philosophy to sit around and realise life's screwed up, but not enough to get up and do anything about it.
Ok, calm down, enough of the Christian bootcamp rhetoric. Just put those Rollins Band records away.
That's better.
I'm glad I bought this Shangri-La compilation though. It's a little piece of a town I really loved, along with the cheesy Elvis souvenirs and the printed postcard from Al Green thanking me for turning up to church (even though he was in NY at the time - major bummer) and the Sun Records t-shirt that has faded from black to bottle green.
At least I can listen to a CD: what the hell do you do with a souvenir spoon?
For others, like me, a record or CD. I bought this as a sonic souvenir, one of several, of my trip to Memphis. Don't worry, I also bought some mindless Elvis paraphernalia and am very proud of the souvenir tourist photo, still on our fridge, of me and my girlfriend, Cass, standing in front of a fake Graceland backdrop.
10 More Years: Shangri-La Records 1989-98 is a compilation of highlights from Memphis indie rock label Shangri-La's first ten years. As indie rock comps go, it's not too bad. Listening to it, however, reminds me of my troubled relationship with indie rock. So much of it sounds the same - is it the most utilitarian of genres? I guess it is the sprawling American heartland offspring of the punk rock ideal.
Memphis is a small town with an incredibly huge music history. Sort of like Uruguay in the World Cup. W.C. Handy, Sun Records, Al Green, Big Star to name but a few who have contributed to the great legacy Memphis provides to contemporary music. So where to fit indie rock in the scheme of this town's capital M, capital H, Music History. Well, of course, there is no need to fit it in anywhere.
Being a relatively small city with a small music scene, it is perhaps understandable that a lot of these bands - The Grifters, the Hot Monkey, Simple Ones - sound alike. I actually really like The Grifters and "Radio City Suicide" (not found on this comp) from their 'Ain't My Lookout' album is a phenomenal example of detuned guitar, loud-soft dynamic, grunge pop from the mid-90s. Up there with Superchunk's "Slack Motherfucker" in my books. But there is a sameness to this stuff that turned me off indie rock awhile back when. A couple of tracks on here have a bluesier bent in keeping with the rich Memphis blues tradition.
What you do consistently hear, loud and fuzzy (not too clear), is the Alex Chilton influence. Not so much the pristine first two Big Star albums but the fucked-upedness of '3rd' or 'Sister Lovers' or whatever it's called and his subsequent solo albums. It's a willful sloppiness that marks so much of the enervated output of American indie rock: it's a marker gene in the slacker DNA. It makes you wear work boots even though the most work you ever do is go to the fridge to get another beer. It gives you just enough philosophy to sit around and realise life's screwed up, but not enough to get up and do anything about it.
Ok, calm down, enough of the Christian bootcamp rhetoric. Just put those Rollins Band records away.
That's better.
I'm glad I bought this Shangri-La compilation though. It's a little piece of a town I really loved, along with the cheesy Elvis souvenirs and the printed postcard from Al Green thanking me for turning up to church (even though he was in NY at the time - major bummer) and the Sun Records t-shirt that has faded from black to bottle green.
At least I can listen to a CD: what the hell do you do with a souvenir spoon?
posted by Engel at 2:49 PM
3 Comments:
I desperately want to go to Graceland, home of the tacky. i think i would feel very happy there
Hi Callum,
It's tackiness but also so much more. Highlight, among many, was Vernon, Elvis' dad, Presley's bizarre looking office compound out back. Completely wood-panelled, it looked like an office from a 1960s sitcom designed by a set designer who had never actually set foot in an office. It was very bizarre. Most surprising part of the whole Graceland tour was how emotionally moving it is.
SPOONS ARE AWESOME!
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