Desert Island Discourse

WE'RE BACK Y'ALL! The long national crisis that was Barenaked Ladies is now firmly in our rearview mirror, and we're blazing into the future with two of our favorite things in the universe: Andy McAlpine, and The Replacements. Do we even need to introduce The Replacements? Few bands have ever come close to matching the hooks, hedonism, and heart of these lovable lads from Minneapolis. From their raw punk beginnings to their sad, folky denouement, The 'Mats produced an incredible stretch of music that was at worst fascinating and at best utterly transcendent, cementing their legacy as one of the greatest bands of all time. We literally don't know anyone who hates them—even Christgau liked them sometimes, and he's an actual monster. So with the help of bearded bundle of joy Andy McAlpine, we recorded nearly two hours of almost entirely ecstatic power pop discourse. It's literally the exact opposite of talking about Barenaked Ladies. We think you'll like it. Also: dumb coke stories, brief returns to hell, and

Listeners, it's been a bad month. We're in distress, and we need a caress. So what do we get? Well, sleepless nights, to be honest. But also one of the world's best "greatest hits" albums: Singles Going Steady by The Buzzcocks. The Buzzcocks occupy a weird place in Punk orthodoxy. They're considered the progenitors of pop-punk, and have been covered by world-renowned sellouts like The Offspring and Green Day (bands that, incidentally, we love). But they were also there from the very beginning, their first ep is one of the most legendary DIY releases in the medium, and Kurt Cobain brought them on their last tour. If you want to look at them through the lens of "credibility", you have your work cut out for you. But this is Desert Island Discourse, where we believe two things: that credibility is for losers, and that The Buzzcocks are better than The Beatles. After founding member and incorrigible suffragette Howard Devoto left the band to start post-punk weirdos Magazine, Pete Shelley took over primary songw

I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert... near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings; Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

In spite of what our last (and next) episode might lead you to believe, Canada is capable of producing good music. In fact, in the early oughts, fully 98% of all indie rock was imported from the Great White North, in strict defiance of America's foreign policy at the time. And to prove it, this week we're taking on one of Montréal's finest one-album wonders, The Unicorns.  Their death-obsessed first (and only) album, Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone?, is still an utterly unique artifact in music, filled with songs that combine the sheer hook-tossing ADD of Guided by Voices with the proggier impulses of Fiery Furnaces. Their compositions often completely eschew the verses and choruses that have long been the cornerstones of pop music, instead drifting thematically through different catchy passages until you end up somewhere far away from where you started, confused and dazzled. The partnership of Nick Diamonds (née Nick Thornburn), Alden Ginger (née Alden Penner), and later J'aime Tambeur (née Jamie Thom

I guess this is just a tradition now. Last April Fools, we decided to play a prank on ourselves by covering a terrible band that became a joke on someone else's terms. This April Fools, we're covering a band that wanted to be a joke, but also serious, and failed at both, while still being wildly successful. This week, we're covering the first half of the discography of Canada's greatest musical crime: Barenaked Ladies. If you're American, you probably know Barenaked Ladies as the "chickety china" guys, thanks to the breakout success of "One Week." But in Canada, they actually have a hugely devoted fanbase, dating all the way back to the incredible success of their first album, Gordon. To this day, you can find both diehard enthusiasts and actual critics earnestly praising and defending their work. Millions of people love this band. We do not. We didn't go into this band hating them—neither of us really listened to them before, and we were hoping to find some hidden gems and surprises in their impressively l

It’s been a little over a year since our Mount Eerie episode, but more importantly, it’s been a little over a year since the release of A Crow Looked at Me, Phil Elverum’s bleak, uncomfortably direct meditation on the death of his wife, Geneviève Castrée. And in a way the period of time since that work…

Oh God. They did it. The bastards finally did it. We're doing the Rolling Stones.  Which is a bit of a departure for us. We've been vocal about our distaste for the classic rock songs of the 60's and 70's, to the point where we avoided long-time Rolling Stones adversaries The Beatles by hitting their solo albums instead. But this was a direct request from ever-popular recurring guest Caroline Rayner, and when the prospect of bringing on both her and her partner/long-time friend of the island/driest of dry-wits Caroline Stewart, it sounded too fun to resist. So don't worry Stones fans—this episode won't just be Max ranting about how much she hates British blues (although there's plenty of that). Caroline and Caroline are the best kind of fans—conflicted, self-aware, and still incredibly enthusiastic for a bunch of old white dudes even in the face of all opposition and reason. And with their expert tutelage, we're taking on what's often considered the prime swath of the Rolling Stones discography: Aftermath t

The latest episode of our ongoing "Catching Up!" series is here, and this time I think we can be forgiven for dropping the ball. When we first covered The Breeders with cover artist Haley Thompson way back in Episode 16, it had been over 9 years since their latest album. Of course, we should've known that that's just a typical album interval for the Deal sisters, as proven by the release of their fifth album, All Nerve, earlier this month. For a certain kind of Breeders fan, this is a momentous occasion, as its the first album recorded by the original Last Splash lineup (not the Pod lineup, presumably because Tanya has a Belly reunion to plan) since, well, Last Splash. And while that was nearly 26 years ago, you'd never know it to hear this latest blast of warm, salty Breeders charm. All Nerve is an album that reminds you of everything you love about The Breeders—their casual élan, complex-yet-catchy chord structures, and goofily surreal lyricism—while still avoiding the trap of just re-treading old ground.

It's sort of a sad occasion that brings this episode to you, dear listeners: as of about a week ago (when this episode was recorded), it's been 8 years since Mark Linkous died outside of his new Nashville home. As the singer, songwriter, and often sole member of Sparklehorse, Mark left behind him a legacy of curiously underrated music that nonetheless meant a lot to those who were fortunate enough to hear it. Today, we bring on Caroline Rayner to help us celebrate his life and work. Born from the ashes of a failed music career in LA, Sparklehorse made the kind of indie rock that you'd usually find in the holds of wrecked steamboats or haunting ancient attics, combining deft pop sensibilities with a deep love of broken things, junk, and detritus. You're often as likely to hear a toy plastic saxophone as a scorching guitar riff on his songs, and it's all put together with a genuine enthusiasm and pathos that keeps it from devolving into the sort of kitschy cuteness that such descriptions often evoke.  Over fi

At this Desert Island Discourse, we always strive to make our episodes as thorough and complete an examination of an artist's discography as possible (broader surveys notwithstanding). However, so many of our favorite artists are rebellious sorts who care not for our mission, and continue to release excellent albums after we've recorded. So in an effort to keep up with their output, every so often we'll be releasing B-Sides to talk new albums released by artists we've already covered. We're calling it "Catching Up With..." because we are unimaginative hacks. First up: Catching Up With the Mountain Goats This is really all our fault—Goths, the most recent album from John Darnielle and company, came out only a month after we recorded those episodes, and we knew it was coming. But we were younger, more impatient castaways back then, and simply could not wait. And it's a shame, because Goths isn't just a great album, but an album that adds new context to the Mountain Goats discography as a whole, solidifying wha

Wellp, it finally happened—Max is officially an old maid. And in a desperate attempt to fend off thoughts of her own mortality, she's looking as far back as possible, to her very first favorite band: Depeche Mode.  Depeche Mode has always been the kind of band that inspired fervent devotion, which is apparent in the fans that take over their Facebook account and the rabid crowds that still pack arenas to see them. But they're also a band that became defiantly less accessible over time, starting with a sugary sweet synth pop album (courtesy of a pre-Erasure Vince Clark) and evolving over the course of two decades into a dark, pseudo-industrial act with impeccably arranged songs about addiction, suicide, and S&M. So, the perfect band for an 11 year old kid to obsess over. Of course, one's taste can change a lot after 19 years, and Andrew's exposure to the band amounts to his Dad's poorly assembled copy of one of their least popular albums. Will they come to their own personal Jesus? Or decide to enjoy th

The world is a cold, dark, terrible place y'all—and we're not just saying that because Max is about to hit the existential crisis point that is "turning 30". So we're returning to the two things that have always brought us joy in troubled times: ridiculously obscure EPs and post-punk. While this podcast started as a celebration of the discography above all else, that criteria excludes some of our favorite music, and no genre has been more slighted by that than Post-Punk. Even with our multi-album survey last year, so much of the best music under that umbrella is left out, relegated to 12" singles and EPs that went out of print more or less immediately. So this week, we're making an excuse to finally dig into that esoteric crate, starting with Max's absolute favorite examples of the form (it is, after all, her birthday week). We start with The Chameleons' gorgeous swan song, Tony Fletcher Walked on Water La La La La La-La La-La-La (around here we like to pretend Why Call It Anything? never happened), move in

Happy anniversary to us! As of today, we have been stranded on this disc-filled island for a year, and what better way to commemorate the occasion than to bring back our first ever guest for one of the most love-filled episodes in our catalogue? Yep, this fortnight, Caroline Rayner makes her triumphant return to our nerdy shores to talk about possibly her favorite musicians ever: Allison and Katie Crutchfield (spoiler alert, we like them a lot too).  And what's not to love? From their first band together (when they were teenagers!) to the continued evolution of their respective solo careers, Allison and Katie have left an indelible mark on the world of indie rock with their heart-stabbing lyrics and the kind of rock-solid hooks you can set your watch to. There's so much to love here, you can hear us grasping for the language to capture it, gasping and going silent in the wake of so many stunning songs. This music is also just really damn fun, as is apparent from our unbridled enthusiasm and inability to shu

On January 15th, 2018, Dolores O’Riordan passed away, and we found ourselves devastated once again. As the lead singer and co-songwriter for The Cranberries, her voice has been a part of our collective consciousness for decades now, coloring the childhoods of your good good music pals to the point where we didn’t even realize how deep her art had reached. In memory of her incredible talent, we’re rectifying that, and digging into what we think is the best album of the entire Cranberries discography: No Need to Argue After Everyone Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We? blew up on the backs of classic singles like “Dreams” and “Linger”, the Cranberries simultaneously widened and deepened their focus, branching out into fuzz tones, synths, and all the other colors of the jangle-pop spectrum while turning their lyrical gaze to the horrific violence scarring their native Ireland. The result is weirdly controversial—“Zombie” is treated more like a punchline these days than a stirring statement—but also a gorgeous, co

It's been a long time coming, but this week we're finally talking about Andrew's favorite upright piano players/erstwhile neighbors: The Walkmen. As one of the few bands to make it out of the New York post-punk revival intact (although not without some Harry Nilsson-centric stumbles), The Walkmen hold a rarefied place in indie rock history. They escaped the bounds of their own scene to create album after album of solid, ever-evolving, critically acclaimed music right up to their 2014 hiatus But the methods by which they achieved this are the very ones that have often split this island in twain, shifting from the cold, lonely, angry music of their youth to increasingly streamlined and downright old-fashioned rock n' roll. Will Andrew's album-by-album autobiography be enough to show Max the Lisbon light? Or will her dad-rock biases blind her to the later albums of one of her favorite post-punk bands? Also: Punctuation is observed, oats are eaten, and Max and Andrew lock horns over horns.

Has the winter fog settled in where you are? We wouldn't know, since our island is in a permanent state of miserable sunshine. But we've found a pretty close approximation in World of Echo, by famed composer/cellist/disco-ist Arthur Russell. As the one official album released in his tragically short lifetime, World of Echo holds a unique place in his mostly posthumous discography. Where the vast majority of the albums that have built up his legacy were thematically curated by the heroic archivists at Audika, World of Echo was a purposeful release, designed, composed, and recorded to be an album. As such, it is, in many ways, his most definitive artistic statement.

CW: Homophobia, mention of r*pe We're mid-way through the first month of 2018, and already we're beset with strife on all sides. At times like these, we must ask ourselves the eternal question: can we kick it? To find our answer, we're going on a leader quest mission with Max's all-time favorite hip-hop group, A Tribe Called Quest. Like most journeys, this one starts all sunshine and roses and De La Soul shout-outs—but the ending may surprise you. Started in 1985 by teenage MC's Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, and Jarobi, as well as DJ-turned-NPR host Ali Shaheed Muhammed, A Tribe Called Quest quickly made a name for themselves as positive jammers with a relentlessly innovative aesthetic. Over the course of their first five albums they would pioneer a (mostly) progressive lyricism, bring jazz to the hip-hop world, and team up with a little-known producer named J Dilla to create some of the weirdest albums of the era. And it's that latter fact that makes them such perfect candidates for the island—they were one of the fe

Happy New Ye! It’s 2018, and we’re frankly in disbelief that we’ve made it here alive, much less still podcasting. So it only makes sense to start the year by covering Kanye West, an artist whose made it his job to defy belief since the very beginning. From his much-anticipated debut to an album that was finished in front of its own audience, the path of Kanye West from soul-sampling upstart to pop icon is wild and wooly, packed with unexpected detours and massive, genre-defining singles. But how do the albums themselves hold up in a post-Pablo world? And how on earth did Kanye get from sampling terrible Steely Dan songs to transforming Arthur Russell into a modern banger? Only Andrew’s suddenly hi-fi voice knows the truth. Also: Crispy Cothren debuts, Foil Cat returns, and a special surprise awaits potential reviewers.

If you are reading this, you have made it through this year, and it didn't kill you, and dammit we're all going to celebrate that fact. Of course, being a music podcast, we can only celebrate this occasion by doing what we do best—picking the albums of this year that helped us get here. So in this part two, we pick our most disappointing albums, our most surprising, and, yes, our Top 5 Albums of 2017. You'll also hear even more returning guests revealing their own top fives, including a blast from our very distant past. So join us in salvaging the only things worth keeping from this blasted hellscape of a year, secure in the knowledge that we have survived, and that we may continue to survive, at least long enough to hear the next Guided By Voices album. Also: impersonations of dear friends, hardcore emotional realness, and the official sign of every song on Lorde's Melodrama.

Thom looks awfully sad up there, and for good reason—2017, as a year, mostly served to prove that no dumpster fire is so heinous that it can't be made even more dumpster-fiery. But because the universe is just packed with ironic twists, this was also one of the best years in music in recent memory (and not just because this was the year when your illustrious hosts first crashed on this awfully esoteric island). So, starting on this fine Saturnalia, we're taking a break from our discographic discourse to look back at all the music that made existence just a little more bearable, even as the walls crumbled down around us. The one issue with our format is that, while we get to explore so much music history in-depth, we rarely get to talk about all the contemporary artists that are making history right now. So there's a lot of pent-up joy coming out in this episode, as we discuss top 40 surprises, the continued relevance of Flying Nun, and whether not having heard something really does make it new enough. And li