The Top Favorite Best Greatest Blog of All-Time (Pt. 8--It's Like A Jungle Sometimes, It Makes Me Wonder How Pitchfork Hasn't Gone Under)

So yeah, Pitchfork busted out not one but two lists of "The 100 Best Rap Albums of All-Time," one courtesy of the site, one courtesy of the site's readership. One is considerably more entertaining than the other. 

Per the preamble, these are "the most essential and influential albums" of the genre. Words such as "essential" and "influential" suggest, to me anyway, a greatest list...y'know, those wreck-hards that maybe you really love, maybe you really don't, but they're important, and can't be ignored. Words such as "essential" and "influential" do not suggest, to me anyway, artistic excellence. The word "best," however, suggests nothing but. 

Oh well!

Of the 100 choices on P-fork's official list, 59 of them belong. Among the 41 fakers are records released within the last five years (Ka's Descendants Of Cain), records that are just not good (Suga Free's Street Gospel) and records released within the last five years that are just not good (Sexxy Red's Hood Hottest Princess). The readers fare worse--a clean 50-50 split. 

Pitchfork's Top 10 is solid, save for a wildly-overrated 400 Degreez and Rich Gang, the latter of which wins the coveted "We Don't Really Believe This, But It'll Get People Talking Online" slot (which I'd feared momentarily might go instead to an outside-the-top-10 Illmatic. Guess the PF offices go for that rotisserie chicken with minimal additives). 

Terrible omissions from both lists: any MC Lyte, any Kool Keith, Funcrusher Plus (the single most influential independent hip-hop album ever), Big Pun's debut, any BDP/Krs-One, It Was Written, The Future Is Now. PF's readers had the common sense to include 3 Feet High and Rising and Midnight Marauders, as well as to rank the Wu debut over any subsequent member solos. Do not understand this as a blanket celebration of the non-professional opinion, however; readers put seven whole-ass Kanye albums in the top 100 and zero Redman. 

Of course the official top 100 is receiving much more attention, as it should. Pitchfork has a rich creamery history of these "definitive" rankings painstakingly designed to send the average clicker on a roller coaster ride of emotions. In their eagerness to represent every region, era and sound, they've put together as inessential a list as possible. 

 

 

Snoopy Presents: A Summer Musical

 

AIRDATE: 8/15/2025

STORY:  Charlie Brown's final year of summer camp is here, and in classic Chuck Biz fashion, he can't have too much fun before the worry warts pop up. Decreasing attendance means his beloved Cloverhill Ranch will soon make way for the marvels of progress, and his little sister Sally won't know the joys of bonding with nature. The solution? A music festival. 8

MUSIC: Is the thing. This is the third Peanuts musical, and first in 37 years. The five songs here shine bright and sweet, even Sally's hilariously Schulzian protest "A Place Like This." Although that song, and the opener "Best Time Ever," are the tunes that hung around my mind after watch #1, the other three offerings (written by Ben Folds) only improved upon subsequent listening/viewing. 8.5

ANIMATION: Nature's beautiful bounty (bountiful beauty?) is rendered gorgeously throughout. "When We Were Light"--arguably the slowest grower on the soundtrack--is enhanced by the visuals, including a captivating night sky over the lake waters that rates among the finest animation ever seen in a Peanuts special. 10

VOICES: Salute to Etienne Kellici, who is now narrating Mutual of Omaha's Wild Puberty, and probably won't be called back for another go as Charlie Brown. (Additional hand-on-head to Jayd Deroche, who provided CB's singing voice.) Isabella Leo is a fine Lucy as always, but Hattie Kragten's Sally steals the show. If the mind is a playground, Sally's is nothing but swing sets. Grumpy forth, despairing back. Smitten forth, indignant back. 9's all around. 

 

 

 

WE ARE FANS OF PROGRESS 

--Snoopy's side-shenanigans actually affect the main plot! 

--The flashbacks of Charlie Brown's earlier camp excursions feature animated versions of OG Chuck and puppy Snoopy (although not for the first time).

--So, Sally hates camp so bad she'll sing about how much she hates camp, but she runs into a horse and then all of a sudden camp's great? Uh, yeah. 

 

 

I WAS JUSTIFIED IN BEING WARY 

--The plot does feel rushed, and an extra five to ten minutes would've helped quite a bit. 

--No human voice for Snoopy! Third time truly is the charm.

--The eco-friendly messaging may strike some viewers as heavy-handed and borderline insulting to audience intelligence. I call these viewers, "offline."

--The Snoopy siblings make an appearance, and that's wonderful, but Olaf on drums? Schulz would not allow this Andy disrespect, and Homer Simpson would not allow this jug disrespect.  

 

 

Although pacing issues keep A Summer Musical from joining the likes of One-of-a-Kind Marcie and Welcome Home, Franklin, it's still a cute way to pass forty minutes. The earnestness and hope on display may cause some more cynical observers to bristle, to which I say, real life is giving us enough crap. Don't be afraid to smile, laugh, sing, or give a damn. 

 

 

Mind The Gash (Bottlecap Press)

 My first chapbook, now on sale!

 

25 poems, real and raw, celebrations of strength and struggle. Head over to the Bottlecap webstore! (And if you buy two chapbooks, you can get a third free--just use discount code BTGO)
 

Fall Down On The World, Risk Burns

LITTLE ROPE

1/19/2024 

Album Eleven is Ten Strong, Thirty-Four Long, More Songs About Our Collapsing World, produced by The Paper Chase Guy. On the surface, a familiar equation. 

Sleater-Kinney were halfway through the writing process for Little Rope when Carrie Brownstein received word her mother and stepfather had died in an auto accident while vacationing in Italy. The resultant recording is not a soaring lament or a sour tantrum. Little Rope is, first last and foremost, the whistles of a warrior hobbling along the battlefield. 

"Hell"- Some of you have never gotten older, and it shows.

For whatever "trademarks" S-K have seemingly abandoned (the dual vocal lines, the snotty snoots, the jagged journeys to right front quadrants), the yearning choruses are still full-throttle. This here Hereafter is choked with scentless smoke and methanol flames.

"Needlessly Wild"- For Portland's finest to put the word "needless" in a song title given the mess of slop certain former acolytes have found fit to fling in their general direction since the departure of drummer Janet Weiss is pretty bold. 

Oh, the song? A self-aware Cars-ian bop, mixing straw and sound under the influence of Grenadine syrup. 

"Say It Like You Mean It"- Flexes the lean muscle of the heart one minute, injects a slow-acting paralyzing agent the next. It's easy to wallow and ring hollow, harder to find salvation in the sparks.

"Hunt You Down" - Everything, everything is dangerous. Including dancing. One trip, one slip and it's RIP. Carrie sounds scared the music might swallow her up, and there's something oddly reassuring about so venerated a flyer still demonstrating doubts in their co-pilot. 

 "Small Finds" - Vibe on red honey, vibe on.

"Don't Feel Right" - There's not thing one inherently wrong with the nag, the catch, the cajole, the hook so thickly-baited the steel bends. 

 "Six Mistakes" - Probably deserves better verses; definitely not to be confused with Six Murderous Beliefs. 

This is racket-gang Sleater-Kinney, and I love love some racket-gang S-K.

"Crusader" - Echoes contain multitudes. Now, more than ever, more than when this album was released, the wretched must die. 

"Dress Yourself" - The new-girl march, complete with synthesized chants. One thing this band will never abandon is their belief in sound as the purpose, the panacea, the pretty little monster.

"Untidy Creature" - Carrie did not run from music when tragedy struck; she picked the guitar up and played more than ever before, to know that she could, do it and good, and she also needed her band. Specifically: "I needed to hear Corin's voice."

More of the world needs to hear Corin Tucker's voice. Siren, separator, scintillating. All music, of whatever quality, evokes mortality. A song I love makes me want to live forever. And this, "Untidy Creature," is a song I love, another brilliant album-closer from a band who's gotten especially good at them. 

 

Sleater-Kinney have now released two albums since their drummer's rough, public departure, two sonically and emotionally distinct albums that navigate their unchosen minefields with a dexterity and passion that is admirable at worst. They've dug in here, feet planted in the dirt even as their legs tremble.