Hidden Jukebox

Snoop Doggy Dogg, 1993

In 1992, a new video debuted on MTV, and suddenly America couldn’t stop talking about two things: cars that bounce, and a cornrowed rapper with a lovable lazy drawl and the improbable name of Snoop Doggy Dogg. We can't stop talking about him either.

Green Day’s Dookie (1994) was punk rock your parents could enjoy in the car. Deceptively upbeat (until you listen to the lyrics), Dookie’s strong hooks and clever lyrics brought punk to a mass audience—and is still loads of fun today.

Maria, carry a rifle.

We should be okay and we won't get in a muddle.

This month, once again we talk about an obscure 90s album you've never heard of. Pretty good.

A stone-cold classic that's as relevant, progressive, and weird as it was in 1995. These are loud, smart hope-from-the-gutter tunes, and we're kind of in love.

This album is out of print, but used CDs are readily available.

0898 Beautiful South, The Beautiful South, 1992

Matthew really puts Laura through the wringer on this one. 0898 is an overproduced, saccharine mess of sad drunks, cannibals, and codependents, and Matthew couldn't love it more. (Except for that one frustratingly catchy misogynistic track.) Laura, on the other hand....

Mezzanine, Massive Attack, 1998.

On this episode, we chill out after the rave and talk nicknames, musical diversity, fade-ins, buildups, and teenage weirdos. We also say "Bristol" many times as if we know where that is.

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On our fourth episode we listen to Luna’s Penthouse, Laura Loe’s favorite album of the 1990s. We discuss lush recording, embarrassing lyrics, shameless Velvet Underground rip offs, and the absence of early rock shows for aging Gen-Xers.

There are a lot of amazing things about doing our Hidden Jukebox podcast.

Tonight I'm listening to Luna's Penthouse for the millionth time with completely different ears--this is a super special rare gift.

Thank you Matthew Amster-Burton for this amazing opportunity to re-hear the music that is so central to me.

Some albums aren’t remarkable the first time you hear them. This is one of those albums.

Over the years I have become more and more and more obsessed with it.

From the first notes of Chinatown, I am transported to a particular moment in a person’s life when they think they are really fucking cool—I think this whole album mocks a certain New York rocker pretentious hipsterism…

The lyrics get funnier and funnier the more you spend time with them. And some lyrics which seem playful at first can turn sinister after the 50th listen.

Released in August 1995, this is the third album by Luna, produced by Pat MacCarthy who the interwebs tell me mixed Madonna’s Ray of Light.

On Hidden Jukebox we usually ask...

Where did you hear this album the first time?

I was living in Evanston, homesick for Santa Monica and also homesick for a version of New York City--where I had never lived--but I was increasingly realizing was out of my reach. I’d grown up in the suburbs of NY till I was 13 and in my mind my 20’s would be spent there…

Certain albums make me long for a New York that probably only exists in my daydreams. (The most obvious is probably Lou Reed's New York... but the most vivid for me is PJ Harvey’s Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea...)

The songs on this album all run together for me. I almost never don’t listen to this album start to finish. The tempo of the songs is all just a little bit slower than any “hit single” will ever be. It is languid af and all feels like it must have been written and recorded on an ecstasy come down.

The bass playing is exquisite and buried so deep in the mix. It is hidden. I didn't even pay attention to it till I became a bass player.... Another aspect of this album that requires many listens to really hear it.

I’ve tried over the years to get various people to fall in love with this album as hard as I have. Almost never succeeded.

This album makes me think about the times you call out of work or skip school or tell a lover you’re working late at the office but really what you’ve done is stolen a moment for yourself. Where no one knows where you are and it feels delicious.

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Hole, Celebrity Skin, 1998.

We take a deeper look at ourselves while listening to this 1998 classic. If this album is considered by some to be a "guilty pleasure," we clearly don't have any guilt about it. This was a foundational soundtrack to our 90's SoCal lives. From hanging with dolphins at the beach and midnight jaunts to the "Rock n' Roll Ralph's" grocery store to being trapped in college life in the valley, this summery, power pop, ironic album speaks to a particular GenX sensibility like nothing else.

(other topics touched on: women in rock, how to relate to your fans, amazing bridges in songs, commercial drum sounds, the names of bands we've been in, emotional macaroni and cheese)

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