With this entry, I’ll have reviewed one hundred records since starting this little project back in May. Whether anyone else is enjoying the project or not, I’ve been having a good time revisiting old music and fond memories through the exercise. If nothing else, it gives me something original to write about beyond commentary on the politics of the day and the things Fred, Amanda, and John write about more abley on their more heavily-trafficked blogs. There are plenty more records that remain unremarked upon, and I always seem to be acquire a few more now and then; so as long as I keep having fun, I’ll keep writing.

This particular collection doesn’t have one cohesive theme, necessarily, but at least half of the acts here are Canadian, and I think there’s something to be said about how three of these selections, in their own way, represent defining elements of certain musical eras, either as trendsetting recordings that influenced others, or doing their best to capture the defining characteristics of an era gone by.

♦ Rock Sugar – Reimaginator: I picked this one up last year online after being pointed at the video of “Don’t Stop the Sandman.” I’m not sure quite what to call this record: comedy, novelty, tribute record, or something else. Whatever it is, I like it, and it’s become quite popular amongst my group of friends. For those not aware, Rock Sugar is a handful of studio musicians and voice actors who do “mash-ups” of 80s metal and pop tunes. They’ve created a whole fictional mythology for the band, involving boat wrecks, desert islands, and the record collection of a 13 year old girl. In practice, the record is a clever combination of pop saavy, incredible vocal mimicry, and solid musicianship. The aforementioned “Don’t Stop The Sandman” is a seamless combination of Metallica and Journey, with a dead-on recreation of Steve Perry by frontman Jess “Wakko Warner” Harnell. Not all the combinations are as inspired, but it’s hard to beat “Shook Me Like A Prayer” (AC/DC + Madonna), “Crazy Girl” (Rick Springfield + Ozzy) or “Straight to Rock City” (KISS + Paula Abdul) for sheer entertainment value. The most effective and catchy track, for my money, though, is “Voice In The Jungle,” incorporating “Voices Carry” by ‘Til Tuesday and two different Guns ‘n Roses tunes.

♦ The Vanity Project: This record is, essentially, a Steven Page solo project cobbled together from recordings he made apart from Barenaked Ladies in the early 00s. I say “essentially”, because it could just as easily be considered a collaborative project with English songwriter (and founding member of Duran Duran) Stephen Duffy, a long-time writing partner with Page going back to BNL’s Maybe You Should Drive in 1994. Page performs all the lead vocals, and performs most of the instruments, though Duffy contributes some instrumental performance and co-wrote all but one of the tunes, which, for the most part, feel a lot like the stuff written for BNL (a couple of tracks are leftovers from Maroon like “That’s All, That’s All”), but not entirely, as so much of the definitive BNL “sound” comes (or came, as Page left the band in 2009) from the collaboration between Page and Ed Robertson. If the work on this record is any indication, much of the quirk and whimsy came from the Robertson side of the equation – most of the stuff here is played straight without a much of the trademark silliness and lyrical gymnastics, more “Jane” or “The Flag” than “One Week” or “Be My Yoko Ono”. Still, it’s a solid folk rock record, with standout tracks like “Wilted Rose”, “Thank You For Sharing” and the haunting “By The Roadside”, which continues one of Page’s traditional songwriting tics; the pretty, delicate ballad about a brutal crime, death and/or murder.

♦ Liz Phair – Exile in Guyville: This is one of those records that I always knew about, though not being in any way “alternative” when it came out in 1993, I didn’t encounter it until much later, during one of my occasional fits of flailing around seeking new (to me) and interesting stuff (it didn’t hurt that Ms. Phair is a very attractive woman, pulling off that sort of trashy-sexy look that people like Ke$ha try, and completely fail, to manage). The first few tracks of this record I heard came into my posession during the Wild West/Napster era of internet file sharing, including “Divorce Song” (which has a great bass line) and “F*ck and Run.” I picked up my copy at an indie record store a few years later, only to find it half-unplayable on delivery, leading me to acquire the tracks digitally and manually re-create a physical disc. Today, I rather love the low-fi and ambient sound – not always technically proficient, but loaded with attitude and emotion. I love the atmospheric instrumental opening of “Shatter,” the in-your-face agressive sexuality AND the overdub layering on “Flower,” and the crisp Michael Sweet-eque power pop of “Never Said.” There’s a reason this record consistently ends up on “Top *Whatever* Albums of All Time” lists, because it belongs there, and for many people, it pretty much defines the sound of the era.

♦ Alanis Morrissette – Jagged Little Pill: Though I haven’t mentioned it as much in this series as Tuesday Night Music Club, this record is probably just as responsible for defining the sound of female rock artists throughout the 90s and early 00s. To be fair, much of Morrisette’s “sound” (a serious departure from her early career as the real-life Robin Sparkles) can be traced directly back to the kind of thing that Liz Phair was doing a few years earlier, though it’s a bit more polished and radio-ready (I’d attribute some of this to Alanis’s applying the lessons learned from her experience being a packaged teenage pop star), but carried a lot of the same attitude; clearly evident on the signature track “You Oughta Know” (which, legend tells was written about Full House’s Dave Coulier, and features Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Flea and Dave Navarro on bass and guitar). Not that the whole record is an angry screed; tracks like the comparatively polished “You Learn” and the much-maligned single “Ironic” are reasonably sedate and tuneful in comparison. Like Phair’s “Exile…” this record ends up on many “best of” lists, and deservedly so, as it’s generally excellent front-to-back, particularly, in my opinion, tracks like the reluctant love song song “Head over Feet” and “Your House”, the a capella hidden track, which both highlight’s Morrissette’s formidable vocal chops, and manages to straddle the line between devoted lover and creepy stalker the way so many great songs do.