I Got A Girl/Drug Problem

That is the least accurate depiction of Mark E. Smith I have ever seen

This week sees the release of The Believer's annual Music Issue, the time of year when the magazine detours from all things of the page and focuses on that other favored pursuit of all the sad young literary men: indie rock. Well, usually anyway: this year the corresponding CD comp spotlights music from "beyond the bounds of post-Shins indie rock," as Pitchfork has it, keeping with the issue's focus on the intersection of western artists and their non-western inspirations. As such, we have tracks from Tartit, Googoosh, Mahmoud Ahmed, and Ya Bounma, none of whom I, or people who actually read The Believer regularly, have heard of; of course, by way of a life preserver, we also have indie standbys Animal Collective, Gang Gang Dance, and Dirty Projectors, but even these choices decided do not fall on the "post-Shins" continuum. Now, I haven't heard the CD (trying to track down The Believer in suburban N.J. has proven surprisingly difficult), but Michaelangelo Matos, who would presumably know from such things, has declared the comp "probably the best cover-mount CD [he's] ever heard." Also, the magazine itself - you know, the reading part - includes features on such worthwhile topics as Ian MacKaye (most famously of Minor Threat and Fugazi, but that Embrace CD is pretty fucking mind-blowing), Norwegian black metal (is that...Brandon Stosuy's music I hear?), and rap CDs purchased on the street. Probably worth looking into, that.

So, back in 2005, I went on a magazine subscribing binge: The New Yorker, The New Republic, Index, Foreign Affairs, and The Believer. Of these, I still receive The New Yorker and The New Republic, Index apparently folded (and still owes me either two issues or my fucking money back), Foreign Affairs at roughly $32 for six issues seemed like a lot of money for so infrequent an experience, and The Believer...well, as it turns out, I didn't really read enough books to make a magazine predominantly preoccupied with the medium worthwhile. (I will say this - I checked out Dennis Cooper's God, Jr. due to The Believer and it remains one of my favorite novels. After all, how many books basically take place inside of a copy of the N64 game Banjo-Kazooie?) Still, in summer '05, I got the Music Issue, and the CD that entails.

Intriguingly, the conceit then was au courant bands covering their peers: Spoon covering Yo La Tengo, Colin Meloy covering Joanna Newsom, Wolf Parade covering Frog Eyes, et cetera. And believe me, there was some brilliant shit on there. The Constantines' cover of Elevator to Hell's "Why I Didn't Like August '93" might just rate as the best 2 minutes, 5 seconds of rock and roll this decade (Mick Jagger disclaimer: "That's not really true"). CocoRosie's recorded-on-an-answering-machine rendition of Damien Jurado's "Ohio" is unequivocally the best thing they've ever done, allowing them for once to fully realize the implications of their ghost-hop aesthetic. And hell, while we're at it, Devendra Banhart's rollicking version of Antony and the Johnson's "Fistful of Love" actually made me forget why I wrote off Devendra Banhart; probably because on this record he sounds as loose and sexy as he thinks he does when he's sloppy and irritating. Also worthwhile: The Shins' reading of labelmates Postal Service's "We Will Become Silhouettes" (originally included on the EP of the same name) and Jim Guthrie's muted interpretation of The Constantines' "Nighttime/Anytime (It's Alright)" (man, it's easy to forget how "big" they were in 2005 before Tournament of Hearts failed up Shine a Light's ante). Good times.

If you can still find it anywhere, the issue is worth picking up for the CD alone (unfortunately it doesn't appear to be available via the McSweeney's store). Plus you also get a flow chart laying out the hierarchy in the kingdom of singing drummers (Rex: Phil Collins, Regina: Mo Tucker), Douglas Wolk's meditation on The Fall's six disc Peel Sessions box set (which remains the least explicable yet wholly unregretted music purchase I've ever made), and an interview with Smoosh (pronounced smush), a pair of sisters - then 13 and 11, now 16 and 14 - who played reasonable rock and roll and were thus embraced by the Daniel Johnston/Wesley Willis crowd. Fucking twee bro.