Abel’s 4000 Albums That Matter: Part Thirty-Seven
Yes, finally. The World Cup is over and I can finally get back to following all the individual leagues without having to worry about the inequality of all Brazilians and how they’ve pumped so much money into looking good for TV and the Olympics haven’t even occurred yet.
Can’t wait for the vitriol that will garner.
Oh well. Here are a few more entries into this little project of mine; a simple project based entirely on the notion of making me look good to the internet. A labor of love that one day will hopefully garner me the spoken bile of my many enemies.
At least I haven’t offended the PETA people yet. That’s where the real bucks are.
631. Moby – Animal Rights. I can’t nor have I ever tried to keep up with this guy and his glasses but this album from ’96 was fun to listen to. I think it endeared him to the animal rights activists of progressive cities. I think Eminem still hates him but quite frankly, I can’t say that I care about their little titty fits.
632. The Ramones – It’s Alive. The original rhythm section is finally reunited in Heaven with the other two guys that could never see eye to eye. Tommy’s passing recently has finally shown the world that Gods can be mortal too. I wish this entire project was about the Ramones. In close to thirty years of blasting their racket, I can’t say I’m anywhere near tired of their youthful and naïve idealism. From the drums out baby.
633. Boris the Sprinkler – ”Kill the Ramones” / “Kill the Sex Pistols”. In this whimsical venture, the venerable Rev. Nørb and company managed to kill off literally and figuratively the one outfit of the two that really deserved a little more time under the sun. Good 45 by this Green Bay band that was the cataclysmic equivalent of an e. e. cummings’ punkified jizz-out.
634. Gomez – It’s Yoda Not A Gremlin. This gem from Texas continues to be one of my favorite pop punk albums from the ‘90s. A real goddamned shame that they didn’t get a little bigger and/or recorded another full-length. A shame really. This is nothing but catchy hooks about pretty girls idealized into alabaster wet dreams who do their laundry in lonesome and poetically-charged launderettes in the middle of your mind’s eye night. Ah… to be young again.
635. Gal Costa – Caras e Bocas. Gal Costa was one of the few Brazilian MPB/Tropicália artists that it took me a little while to warm up to. I’m a weirdo but now that the Cup is over, I’m ready to get back into the swing of things. This album from ’77 is as good as any to begin with or reacquaint yourself with at this point. It’s never too late for good music, no matter what they tell you.
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