Resolutions

I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I’m not against the idea of setting goals for self-improvement, but tying those goals to a universal, fixed timeline every year seems like a recipe for failure. So when people ask me about my resolutions, I usually just shrug the question off and change this subject.

This year is a little different. Last week marked one year since I officially launched Off Pitch (which is definitely the only reason this is coming out a month after New Years Day). In honor of this anniversary, and since we’re through the traditional resolution season, I thought now would be a perfect time to reflect on my music-related habits and share some of my goals for both myself and Off Pitch in the year(s) to come. Besides writing more, which probably goes without saying.

More Concerts

I know: hot take, right? With the pandemic still raging in most parts of the world, almost everyone is hankering for the return of concerts and festivals. But even before COVID cancelled the live music industry, my concert attendance was sparse. I’ve enjoyed just about every show I’ve ever been to, but when the time comes to buy tickets, I tend to drag my feet. Even if it’s an artist I’m really excited about.

Now that I have no choice in the matter, my attitude has changed. I miss going out and immersing myself in the live music experience. As soon as it becomes safe to start going to concerts again, I plan on making it to at least one show a month.

More Merch

In a perfect world, I would own a t-shirt for every artist I put on my playlist. But since I live in a world limited by cost and closet space, I only buy merch every once in a while. Luckily, band tees aren’t the only product on the market. I don’t think I’ll ever be a full-on vinyl nerd (which wouldn’t solve the cost issue), but I would like to start buying the occasional physical copy of an album. Not only is it awesome to have a piece of music you can hold in your hands or display on a bookshelf, it’s also a better way of supporting an artist you love financially.

Less Streaming

There are a lot of things to love about streaming, and at the top of the list is the massive amount of music you can listen to for just a few bucks a month. There are also a lot of things to hate about streaming, and at the top of THAT list is the massive number of musicians who have to share and live off those few bucks a month.

Moving forward, I’d like to rely less on the traditional streaming services and get more of my music from sites like Bandcamp. Maybe I’ll even throw it back and start buying songs on iTunes again. Either way, I want to see more of the money I spend going to the artists themselves, rather than the corporations that exploit them. I think I owe them that much.

Less Lists

As of the writing of this piece, I’m about 300 albums into the 1001 Albums Challenge. And I’m exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret taking on the challenge. I’ve found some cool stuff I’d never been exposed to before, and I appreciate the crash course in music history I’m receiving (though most crash courses aren’t ~700 hours long). But at this point in the list, I’m pretty confident in saying that I’m never going to do anything like this again. Instead, I want to keep the majority of my listening to stuff I love and stuff I’m excited about, rather than a predetermined list of things I ‘have’ to listen to. I want to stay firmly in the “fan” camp and not become too much of a scholar.

P.S. I know, it should be “fewer” and not “less.”

Mix It Up A Little

Of all the art/entertainment I consume, music is the media form I tune into the most. That doesn’t mean it’s the only one I have strong opinions about. Moving forward, I’d like to branch out into writing about some other subjects I’m passionate about, like sitcoms and stand-up specials. I’d also like to fill in some of my media blind spots by reading more books and watching more movies (that aren’t just an excuse to listen to more music). Music will always be my focus, but I think there’s a lot of benefit in a little variety.

Thank you to everyone who has read this and any other article I’ve posted in the last year. It wasn’t the year I expected it to be (again, hot take), but I’m looking forward to continuing to step up my blog game and keeping Off Pitch running for years to come.

Lyle B.

Bests and Mosts

Well, it’s the end of the year, and you know what that means: time for the bests and the mosts. Every publication worth its salt is making a list and checking it twice to decide who put out the best music this year, and every acquaintance you follow on Instagram is flexing their streaming stats through Spotify Wrapped and Apple Music Replay. It’s an exciting season for everyone from the casual fan to the hardcore snob.

For me, who falls somewhere on that spectrum (depending on who you ask), it’s also a season of anxiety. Whenever I read one of those end-of-year lists, with album after album I either never got around to or never even knew existed, I’m gripped with overwhelming musical FOMO. And when I see randos on social media who absolutely crushed my minutes listened, I feel like a total fraud. I’m getting attacked on two fronts: by what I listened to, and by what I didn’t.

As is the case with many of the music industry’s issues, a big chunk of the blame falls on streaming services. Spotify Wrapped is cool, sure, but it’s also uncomfortably revealing. If you want everyone to see how many sick indie artists you discovered this year, they’re also gonna see how many times you played Hanson’s “MMMBop.”

And you know what’s weird? 364 days out of the year, I will proudly proclaim my love for a song like “MMMBop.” I’ll saddle up on my high horse, a paragon of acceptance, and say, “there’s no such thing as a ‘guilty pleasure!’ Like what you like, and don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks!” But on the day Spotify Wrapped drops, my tune changes. Every single year, there’s at least one song or artist in my top five that makes me cringe. And since it’s cold, hard, data that brings about these playlists, I can’t claim any sort of misrepresentation.

It doesn’t stop there. After a brief period of denial about my own listening habits, I usually turn to social media to see what everyone else listened to this year (which I like seeing, though I know many people do not). That’s when the imposter syndrome kicks in. As I scroll through post after post of people who listened to a greater quantity and variety of music than me, I feel less and less qualified to base so much of my identity around being knowledgeable about music.

Spotify and social media aren’t the only things that trigger this identity crisis. Pretty much every music publication (and a few non-music ones too) puts out a thoughtfully prepared list of the best music of the year. I have a love/hate relationship with these lists. They’re a great overview of the year’s musical highlights, but they’re also a reminder of how much material I let slip through the cracks. This year, across the handful of lists I read through, I counted over a hundred albums that A) I never listened to and B) I probably would have liked. That’s an overwhelming number. Even after my usual December sprint through a Top Ten or two, I can’t help but feel like I’m not qualified to share a song on Instagram, much less write a music blog.

But every January, after the year-end hype dies down, I reel myself in a little. I remind myself that listening to music is a hobby. If anything, it should be bringing my anxiety levels down, not contributing to them. This year, I’m trying to adopt that mindset BEFORE I go into a tailspin. I couldn’t resist writing down some albums I definitely want to get to at some point, but I’m not going to rush through them just for the sake of checking an imaginary box.

I know there are plenty of people out there who don’t give a damn about the music they listened to and the music they didn’t. But I also know I’m not alone:

If you’re a fellow member of that 42%, try and remember why you listen to music in the first place. For most of us, music is an escape from the worries of the world, so don’t stress too much about statistics, or guilty pleasures, or being a completionist. Like what you like, and don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks.

Now let’s see if I can follow my own advice.

Lyle B.

P.S. Apologies to Hanson. “MMMBop” is a masterpiece.

The 1001 Albums Challenge: 1966 - 1970

Six months ago, in a fit of quarantine-induced boredom, I committed to a daunting task: listening through the entire list of albums from the 2005 book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die. It was a formidable challenge, but I had plenty of both time and enthusiasm for the endeavor. I declared my commitment on Twitter and jumped right in. And after just a few short weeks and almost 60 albums, I had an article’s worth of new musical experiences to share with my tens of loyal followers.

That was six months ago.

It didn’t take long after that first article for fatigue to set in. As I’ve mentioned before, my motivation to listen to new music took a pretty serious hit as weeks of quarantine turned into months. Especially for the 1001 albums challenge, which A) started to feel more like a chore and B) often involved sitting through hours of music I had little interest in. There’s only so much 1950s jazz a guy can take.

But a man is only as good as his tweet, so I’ve picked the challenge back up. My article updates going forward will be mostly the same, with one tweak: the chunks will be five year periods instead of ten. There were THREE TIMES as many albums between 1966 and 1970 as there were between 1956 and 1965, so I knew working through another five years of albums would force me to gloss over too many great albums and artists. Also, I didn’t want to wait another six months to add an installment to the series.

So for those reasons, today’s albums were released between 1966 and 1970. These are by no means deep cuts, but rather albums that I personally was not familiar with and/or appreciative enough of.

The Kinks, Face to Face (1966), Something Else by The Kinks (1967), The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society (1968), Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire) (1969)

I’ll be honest: I don’t think I could have named a single Kinks song aside from “You Really Got Me” before this challenge. I had a vague understanding of their importance to the evolution of rock n’ roll, but I never bothered to hear it for myself. Apparently this didn’t sit well with the authors of 1001 Albums, who stuffed four Kinks albums into this five-year period. Though I can’t say they’re my favorite British Invasion band, I still appreciated the entertaining lyrics, ear-catching harmonies, and poppy, jangly guitar sound that went on to define British rock for decades. Definitely a discography I’ll be revisiting in the future.

Favorite Tracks: “Party Line,” “Love Me Till The Sun Shines,” “Picture Book,” “Victoria”

Simon and Garfunkel, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme (1966), Bookends (1968), Bridge Over Troubled Water (1970)

I’ve been a casual fan of Simon and Garfunkel for a while, so my hopes were high when I went into Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. Even so, I didn’t expect to add so many of their songs to my regular playlists. Not only were these guys great songwriters, their music sounds so GOOD. The rich, often haunting atmospheres Simon and Garfunkel created on songs like “Scarborough Fair” is unparalleled, and their more upbeat songs like “Cecilia” sound just as great. Not every album on this list has aged well, but Simon and Garfunkel has stood the test of time.

Favorite Tracks: “Scarborough Fair/Canticle,“ “Mrs. Robinson,” “Cecilia”

Sly and the Family Stone, Stand! (1969)

Funk and soul are two of my biggest musical weak spots, and I couldn’t have asked for a better crash course than Stand! Every single track on this album sounds fantastic, but that isn’t all Stand! has going for it. While the music on here is energetic and jubilant, the lyrics are heavy with social commentary. If you can only listen to one album from this article cover-to-cover, make sure it’s this one.

Also, it’s outside this date range, but since we’re on the subject: There’s A Riot Goin’ On (1971) is just as good.

Favorite Tracks: “Stand!” “I Want To Take You Higher,” “Everyday People”

Van Morrison, Astral Weeks (1968), Moondance (1970)

For years (and God knows how many listens of “Brown Eyed Girl”), I thought I hated Van Morrison. But as the sweet strumming of Astral Weeks’ titular opening track faded into my headphones, I realized how badly I’d misjudged him. From the gorgeous folk instrumentation to the slow-building undercurrent of energy to Morrison’s passionate vocals, everything about the album hit with me. And while I found the poppier Moondance a bit less endearing, I still respected the hell out of his compositional skill, and quite a few songs from both albums have made it into my regular rotation.

Favorite Tracks: “Astral Weeks,” “Sweet Thing,” “And It Stoned Me”

Deep Purple, Deep Purple in Rock (1970)

If you’re not familiar with Deep Purple, yes you are. They’re responsible for one of the most (in)famous guitar riffs of all time: “Smoke on the Water.” And believe it or not, they actually have albums and albums full of other songs! In Rock is probably my least favorite on this list of favorites, but I thought it was worth including just because of how much it surprised me. I had no idea how much influence Deep Purple had on heavy metal until I heard this album. They’re almost like a less gloomy Black Sabbath. Which, admittedly, is a low bar. This one’s a must for rock/metal historians.

Favorite Tracks: “Bloodsucker”

After wrapping up this installment of the 1001 Albums Challenge, I’m even more convinced that five year chunks are the way to go for this series. I had trouble remembering my favorite songs from the most notable albums, and there were even a few records that I just plain did not recognize. This is a hell of a commitment, but if I’m going to do it, I want to do it right. So while I want to keep my listening pace high, I’m going to make sure that I have a more careful ear and consistent writing schedule.

See you next time.

Lyle B.

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00s Nostalgia

As of the writing of this article, I am freshly 24 years old. In the grand scheme of things, that’s still young, but I can’t help but feel like I’m totally out of the loop. I’m no longer part of the group making things cool, but since I’m not old enough to be totally wrapped up in my career/family/etc, I’m painfully aware of how quickly culture is progressing. And one of the most jarring parts of this is being a bystander to the latest wave of nostalgia: the mid-2000s.

This isn’t my first run-in with rampant nostalgia. When I was a kid (which feels like about ten minutes ago), the 90s were all that. And though I wasn’t old enough yet to articulate my pop cultural musings, something about the glorification of a bygone era confused me. Particularly the “90s kids” who were born in ‘95 and couldn’t tell a Tamagotchi from a Giga Pet. And of course, companies like Hot Topic  who cashed in on the throwback trend by marketing Nirvana t-shirts to every edgy teen who wanted to telegraph their “unique” taste in music.

“Wow, Lyle,” some of you may be thinking. “Pretty sure this is not your gate to keep. Also, isn’t there a Nirvana t-shirt hanging in your closet at this very moment?”

First of all, stop going through my closet. And second of all, yes: I am proud to say that my stances on MANY issues have evolved since I was still in the single digits. My annoyance with 90s kids has diminished greatly, and not just because of my own appreciation of the decade and its music. The way I see it now, if someone wants to rep old-school band merch for the aesthetic, who is it hurting? One of two things will happen: they’ll wear the shirt without a second thought, and the world will continue to turn as it always has, or they’ll be intrigued enough by the design that they’ll check out the music. Either way the band gets a little free publicity and a little royalty revenue. And yeah, cool guy, I get it. We all hate posers. But these are kids we’re talking about! Let ‘em figure it out on their own time.

It’s harder to maintain that happy-go-lucky attitude with this round of 00s nostalgia. And that’s because for the first time, I was around for the era being romanticized. I remember hearing those bands being spoofed in viral TikToks on the radio. So every time I see a reference to something from my childhood, the urge to gatekeep rears its ugly head. Even when I had no appreciation for (or awareness of) said thing at the time.

I promise, I’m doing my best to fight that urge. It’s easy to look down from my lofty late-millennial tower and lord my four to zero years of seniority (depending on how you define generations) over a legion of teenagers engaging with culture in greater depth than I ever did, just as a defense mechanism against the feeling of aging out of the conversation. 

Instead, I’d rather appreciate the net benefit of nostalgia. It’s fun to see the music I have my own soft spot for getting attention from a new generation of fans. It’s affirming to know that the music that influenced my life-long passion for the art form hasn’t been cast away as just another product of its time. And most of all, it’s cool to see how the music of the 2000s has informed the musical trends of today.

So if you’re as cynical as I am, I encourage you to put aside your urge to gate-keep and embrace the nostalgia. Maybe even cash in on it yourself! I hear blogging is a good place to start.

Lyle B.

Pop Picks - "Teenage Dirtbag"

“Teenage Dirtbag,” the early-00s smash hit by power pop band Wheatus, is possibly the most iconic high school loser redemption anthem since Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way.” And somehow, I managed to avoid hearing it until my 20th birthday.

Oh well, better late than never. Though I missed the crucial window for maximum appreciation of a song like “Teenage Dirtbag,” I could immediately see why the song has become so perennial. It’s catchy, endearing, and thematically timeless. And because of “Teenage Dirtbag”’s universality, it’s been a popular cover choice for artists across the spectrum of genres. So for this installation of Pop Picks, I’d like to focus on three versions: the original (along with its famous music video), the 2013 One Direction cover, and the 2018 cover by Phoebe Bridgers.

The Original

Like many great pop songs, “Teenage Dirtbag” keeps it simple. In my last Pop Pick, I mentioned how Oasis’s “Wonderwall” makes minor tweaks to a basic songwriting formula, giving what would be a bare-bones chord progression some artificial flashiness. “Teenage Dirtbag” pulls a similar move, but it avoids an endless lineage of coffee shop covers by adding some big fat electric guitar riffage to the mix. In fact, the acoustic/electric interplay is one of my favorite parts of the song. It’s got a little bit of that acoustic-guitar-on-the-quad energy going for it, but that chorus demands to be belted out at your local Emo Night.

And what’s a classic song without a classic music video to go along? The “Teenage Dirtbag” video hits a lot of the notes you’d expect in a music video for a song by its name, but it has a secret ingredient: Jason Biggs. You probably know Biggs from sex comedy classic American Pie, but even if you don’t, you’ll be able to recognize his talent at portraying the type of high school stereotype at which song like “Teenage Dirtbag” is aimed. My one gripe: the dirtbag label and Iron Maiden references in “Teenage Dirtbag”’s lyrics imply more of a metalhead outcast, while Biggs portrays more of a right-down-the-middle nerdy loser. But this is just me being nit-picky. The general theme of an unpopular loner getting the popular girl holds up either way.

The One Direction Cover

First of all, let me make this clear. I’m not 13 years old, and this isn’t 2011, so this isn’t going to be a whiny rant on how much I hate One Direction. At worst, I’m indifferent to the lads, and at best, well, we’ve all heard “Watermelon Sugar.” But I just don’t think this one is in their wheelhouse. One Direction’s cover sounds good, but I just can’t buy into a bunch of rich, good-looking, wildly successful pop superstars singing about being lonely on prom night. No points away from them for covering the song, I just can’t consider it as anything more than a fun one-off cover for a big live show.

The Phoebe Bridgers Cover

I’m a well-established fan of Phoebe Bridgers, from her solo work to Better Oblivion Community Center to indie-rock supergroup boygenius. But even though I’m approaching this cover with a bit of bias, I’m confident in saying this is objectively an incredible reimagining. “Teenage Dirtbag” works just as well as a wistful ballad as it does a power pop anthem, and Bridgers’ beautifully haunting voice almost tricks you into believing this could be her own song. It’s a rare example of a cover that I like just as much as the original.

“Teenage Dirtbag” is an all-timer, no matter who’s singing it. And even if you’re like me and your teenage years are behind you, give this song a shot. Because all of us have our teenage dirtbag moments, no matter how old we are.

Lyle B.