Yuri
10-28-2008, 09:17 AM
1,000 albums to hear before you die
Author Tom Moon has good reasons why albums did, and didn't, make the cut for book
http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/article/525528
October 28, 2008 GREG QUILL
ENTERTAINMENT COLUMNIST
When Tom Moon sat down to lunch recently to discuss his massive new book, the 1,007-page 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die (Workman Publishing, $22.95), I wanted to pick a fight with him.
But then, so does just about everyone Moon meets since his book hit the shelves.
It comes with the territory. Whenever someone makes what purports to be a definitive list, it's the omissions that offend, particularly when you're dealing with something as personally valuable as music.
As a working musician and a career music critic with a 20-year tenure (he recently parted company with the Philadelphia Enquirer) and regular contributor to Rolling Stone, America's National Public Radio, Spin, GQ and Esquire over the years, Moon has credibility up the wazoo.
In 1,000 Recordings, Moon writes about Canadians Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell and Arcade Fire. But why no Lightfoot, I wanted to know? Or Bruce Cockburn? Or Ian Tyson? Does Moon know anything about Canadian music?
He seems equally dismissive of the music of my native land. Not a word anywhere about Australia's Dingoes, Daddy Cool, Spectrum, Midnight Oil, or Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs. Nothing about New Zealand's Split Enz or Crowded House ... jeez, what a nerve.
The simple answer is, of course, that no one list can accommodate all tastes.
With Tyson, Lightfoot and Cockburn, Moon said he could find "no collection that defined their work, or that would give the listener a way in."
As for the music of the Antipodes, he simply pled ignorance.
"I do love Midnight Oil's Diesel and Dust, but nothing that band ever recorded matched the intensity of their live performances, so they're not on the list," he said.
Nor is Billy Joel.
"In the pop and rock area I was looking for stuff that moved the goal posts. And popularity isn't enough. There are great Billy Joel songs, but not one great Billy Joel album, and since I'd chosen albums as my medium Billy didn't make the cut."
Why albums instead of single pieces of music?
"I have issues with the 99-cent download culture," Moon explained. "You can't expand your world by cherry-picking. You have to take a ride."
Even though his book took three years to compile and research – yes, he listened to every album more than once before compiling his 1,000, 350-words essays – no one could possibly hope to come across the untold millions of pieces of recorded music that have been released worldwide in the last 120 years, even with the help of expert advisers and music finders, as Moon had.
"I realized from the start that the choices I made couldn't be my favourites, or the music that has been rubber-stamped as `the best' of its kind," Moon began in his own defence. "I had to choose only the music that I felt everyone should hear, music that belongs in every collection.
"Of course, that implies a certain arrogance. I have to trust my own ear as a musician and a student of music. The idea was to turn people on in a general way to music that provided some powerful revelation, that Eureka moment.
"Not everything I chose came up to that level, but that's what I was aiming for."
Though he's a seasoned saxophonist and has worked jazz gigs from bar mitzvahs to Maynard Ferguson, Moon's musical tastes, particularly when it came to compiling his controversial list, are surprisingly catholic.
You'll find a little bit of just about everything in 1,000 Recordings, from Bach and Baby Huey, to El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico and Woody Guthrie, from Oum Kalthoum and Alison Krauss, to Ricky Nelson and Tete Montoliu.
The book, which lists its entries alphabetically and without any rating scheme, may have a few too many obvious selections – does The Eagles' Hotel California need yet another rave review, or six Beatles albums? – but it's certainly inclusive and generous in spirit. And Moon's infectious, breathlessly excited writing style imbues each essay with the wonder of discovery.
"I'm a generalist," he said, "but I tried not to pick the perceived favourites. My only yardstick was: is it pleasurable? Even if on any other level it's not considered great work, is it illuminating or uplifting?"
And if Moon's written critiques failed to make his editors tingle, out they went.
"I couldn't write 350 words that made the argument for Supertramp's Crime of the Century, I'm sorry to say. There were 70 reviews like that."
Other surprise non-starters were victims of Moon's self-professed critical arrogance. The 1970s one-hit power-pop studio band Boston makes the grade and three James Brown albums, but nothing by Dave Brubeck.
"Brubeck's the ultimate jazz composer," Moon said. "But on record he's too cool, he's not relaxed, he doesn't swing."
Moon, who took a buyout at the Philadelphia Enquirer when the paper refused to extend his leave-of-absence when 1,000 Recordings went into overtime, has few regrets about his list – or few he'll admit.
"Little Feat came really close," he said. "I think they should have been included. And if I had it to do over again, Kris Kristofferson would be in there, too.
"But I'm not beating myself up. I've given people the keys to begin their own journey of exploration. In an age when music has become so commoditized, and the means of distribution so fragmented, someone has to point the way. I think I've done that."
Author Tom Moon has good reasons why albums did, and didn't, make the cut for book
http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/article/525528
October 28, 2008 GREG QUILL
ENTERTAINMENT COLUMNIST
When Tom Moon sat down to lunch recently to discuss his massive new book, the 1,007-page 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die (Workman Publishing, $22.95), I wanted to pick a fight with him.
But then, so does just about everyone Moon meets since his book hit the shelves.
It comes with the territory. Whenever someone makes what purports to be a definitive list, it's the omissions that offend, particularly when you're dealing with something as personally valuable as music.
As a working musician and a career music critic with a 20-year tenure (he recently parted company with the Philadelphia Enquirer) and regular contributor to Rolling Stone, America's National Public Radio, Spin, GQ and Esquire over the years, Moon has credibility up the wazoo.
In 1,000 Recordings, Moon writes about Canadians Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell and Arcade Fire. But why no Lightfoot, I wanted to know? Or Bruce Cockburn? Or Ian Tyson? Does Moon know anything about Canadian music?
He seems equally dismissive of the music of my native land. Not a word anywhere about Australia's Dingoes, Daddy Cool, Spectrum, Midnight Oil, or Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs. Nothing about New Zealand's Split Enz or Crowded House ... jeez, what a nerve.
The simple answer is, of course, that no one list can accommodate all tastes.
With Tyson, Lightfoot and Cockburn, Moon said he could find "no collection that defined their work, or that would give the listener a way in."
As for the music of the Antipodes, he simply pled ignorance.
"I do love Midnight Oil's Diesel and Dust, but nothing that band ever recorded matched the intensity of their live performances, so they're not on the list," he said.
Nor is Billy Joel.
"In the pop and rock area I was looking for stuff that moved the goal posts. And popularity isn't enough. There are great Billy Joel songs, but not one great Billy Joel album, and since I'd chosen albums as my medium Billy didn't make the cut."
Why albums instead of single pieces of music?
"I have issues with the 99-cent download culture," Moon explained. "You can't expand your world by cherry-picking. You have to take a ride."
Even though his book took three years to compile and research – yes, he listened to every album more than once before compiling his 1,000, 350-words essays – no one could possibly hope to come across the untold millions of pieces of recorded music that have been released worldwide in the last 120 years, even with the help of expert advisers and music finders, as Moon had.
"I realized from the start that the choices I made couldn't be my favourites, or the music that has been rubber-stamped as `the best' of its kind," Moon began in his own defence. "I had to choose only the music that I felt everyone should hear, music that belongs in every collection.
"Of course, that implies a certain arrogance. I have to trust my own ear as a musician and a student of music. The idea was to turn people on in a general way to music that provided some powerful revelation, that Eureka moment.
"Not everything I chose came up to that level, but that's what I was aiming for."
Though he's a seasoned saxophonist and has worked jazz gigs from bar mitzvahs to Maynard Ferguson, Moon's musical tastes, particularly when it came to compiling his controversial list, are surprisingly catholic.
You'll find a little bit of just about everything in 1,000 Recordings, from Bach and Baby Huey, to El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico and Woody Guthrie, from Oum Kalthoum and Alison Krauss, to Ricky Nelson and Tete Montoliu.
The book, which lists its entries alphabetically and without any rating scheme, may have a few too many obvious selections – does The Eagles' Hotel California need yet another rave review, or six Beatles albums? – but it's certainly inclusive and generous in spirit. And Moon's infectious, breathlessly excited writing style imbues each essay with the wonder of discovery.
"I'm a generalist," he said, "but I tried not to pick the perceived favourites. My only yardstick was: is it pleasurable? Even if on any other level it's not considered great work, is it illuminating or uplifting?"
And if Moon's written critiques failed to make his editors tingle, out they went.
"I couldn't write 350 words that made the argument for Supertramp's Crime of the Century, I'm sorry to say. There were 70 reviews like that."
Other surprise non-starters were victims of Moon's self-professed critical arrogance. The 1970s one-hit power-pop studio band Boston makes the grade and three James Brown albums, but nothing by Dave Brubeck.
"Brubeck's the ultimate jazz composer," Moon said. "But on record he's too cool, he's not relaxed, he doesn't swing."
Moon, who took a buyout at the Philadelphia Enquirer when the paper refused to extend his leave-of-absence when 1,000 Recordings went into overtime, has few regrets about his list – or few he'll admit.
"Little Feat came really close," he said. "I think they should have been included. And if I had it to do over again, Kris Kristofferson would be in there, too.
"But I'm not beating myself up. I've given people the keys to begin their own journey of exploration. In an age when music has become so commoditized, and the means of distribution so fragmented, someone has to point the way. I think I've done that."