Elvis Costello - 'My Aim is True' (Columbia)

The black and white pattern on the front cover of My Aim is True makes a moire pattern that is somewhat dizzying, and also suggests some two-tone ska bullshit, which Elvis Costello most definitely is not. (Although 'Watching the Detectives' gets close with its reggae groove). Things aren't so black and white for young Declan McManus, but given the decades-long career that would follow from this, he's remarkable confident in his songwriting in our earliest recorded output. Some would even say his aim was true. This is a record that launched a million imitators, while itself being a perfect pastiche of British pub-rock, punk attitude, and 60's hooks. I have always liked these early Elvis Costello records a lot despite how often I've had to hear them; the songs are simple, short, and there's a lot of them -- a few too many, maybe, as I could live without 'Sneaky Feelings' or 'Pay It Back'. All great bitter rock songs are made greater when that bitterness is so obviously motivated out of fear. They become infinitely adaptable; when you're young, you can rage along with it all and when you're older you can infuse the tunes with your own experiences. The sentiments on My Aim is True are not exactly teenage, but definitely laced with more fire than resignation. I actually really like the punchiness of the backing band, Clover - there's a rough edge that fits perfectly with the Stiff records sound that I didn't appreciate either when I was back in college. 'Miracle Man' is absolutely rifftastic; even the hit ballad 'Allison' has some lovely guitar intertwining in the intro passage. Nowadays I don't listen to these records much, but they're nice to have around when I'm in the mood. I usually overlook this and Armed Forces in favour of This Year's Model, but there's a reason this has so much fame and notoriety.

Big Black - 'Atomizer' (Homestead)

No, it's not the soundtrack to the Michel Houllebecq book, nor do they use the more attractive (in this correspondant's opinion) British spelling of Atomiser, but this isn't a record for being attractive. It's pure brutality, or at least pure misanthropy, or, at least, to use some more commas, as pure as misanthrophy in music can be that still adheres to pop/rock song structures and 4/4 rhythms. I think 'Jordan, Minnesota' is still my favorite Big Black song (and this is my favoite Big Black record, by a mile) perhaps because the topic is so heavy. Albini obviously felt strongly enough that he designated a full 50% of the liner notes to this tune. And it has a strong moral agenda whereas the hits like 'Kerosene' are more situational. But they're all great. So here's a question- do you think if you were a sports team, but say a really fucked up sociopathic sports team like the Oakland Raiders or something, then you would play the ending of 'Strange Things' through the PA at your games to get the crowd worked into a frenzied meléé? Cause when I listen to this song, even though the liner notes say it's bad, it's like a reworking of 'Rock and Roll part 2' by Gary Glitter. A bit of circular logic here cause don't Mr. Glitter's problems make you want to crank up 'Jordan, Minnesota'? This will stay with you until you die, and Atomizer is a fucking intense fist of industrial-indie-punk-metal fury, the sound of 1986 as I imagine it because, let's be honest, Big Black were before my time. I love that the liner notes (which I've already mentioned twice) are not merely lyrics but instead "about" the songs. I love that a song like 'Passing Complexion' has such a catchy, octave-pedal pop hook in it yet it's still angry and punchy and about something. Maybe it's my loss, but I don't really listen to anything else Albini's done anymore. That first Shellac record is great (though I don't own it) and I don't dislike any of his output, but whenever I get that urge to listen to music that recalls the misplaced emotions I had in high school (and suggests a grimy, Midwest city of industry) then I just go back to this one, even though it's as familiar as apple pie now. It all musta been so different on 5 October 1985 when this was recorded. And what a thanks list! Sonic (fucking) Youth, Squirrel Bait, Byron and Jimmy (still quite the partnership in those days), Jack Rabid, the Butthole Surfers, Killdozer and the entire city of Minneapolis (including Prince, I guess). And "anybody who likes the bishops" -- meaning Alan and Rick? It's not really a thanks list, but a list of "hellos to" -- yet, does anyone really think 'hello' is the right sentiment for this band? Such pleasantries seem beyond Albini and co., as they seem more likely to greet you by stabbing you in the stomach with a Phillips screwdriver. This will stay with you until you die, and Atomizer will too.