Around mid-September, I had an idea pop into my head. I’d pick a random year, listen to a bunch of music released within those twelve months, and come out the other side with some enriched understanding of that time. The results of this exercise could eventually find their way to Undrcurrents. Sounded like a good enough way to pass the time.
I ended up picking 1990 as the year for nonrandom reasons. First and foremost, it’s the year I was born. After months of solitude and introspection, it felt like an appropriately personal spin on the task at hand. The year also appealed because it was the beginning of a decade, which always feels like a transition period bridging whatever came before with whatever comes next. You think of it as both an end and beginning, but not necessarily as a nexus of anything.
I spent a few hours building out a list of albums to check out. I listened to a few of them. I started to lose steam quickly. Because of my perfectionistic tendencies, the whole endeavor began to seem futile; any understanding I built seemed so fragmented and partial that it wasn’t worth the time. I started to get distracted by newer releases I wanted to cover on the site, and ended up abandoned the project. In spite of that, I’d still find myself randomly scrolling through my iTunes and throwing some of these albums over the next few months.
The internet has spent the past month putting a bow on 2020. We’ve documented the sounds we loved the most or we thought were the most important or the most accomplished. Even having just lived through that year, these lists will undoubtedly miss many crucial releases that will be eventually be rediscovered. They will never be anything more than a snapshot of what we think happened.
This project feels far from over; I still have many more albums on my list, and I’m have no doubt I’ve missed many others that deserve attention. And this is only a single year! One of the biggest joys of loving music is that there’s always more to hear. Nonetheless, given that it’s my birthday this week it seems as appropriate a time as ever to share some of the results of this endeavor, however partial they may be. Below are seven albums I’ve discovered and returned to over the past few months that were released in 1990; although these albums weren’t the soundtrack to my 1990, there were certainly part of the soundtrack to my 2020.
Soundtrack From Twin Peaks – Angelo Badalamenti
I’ve mostly forgone including albums that are undisputed classics from 1990 (see Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet, Cocteau Twins’ Heaven or Las Vegas, etc) but I can’t help myself with this one. Twin Peaks is one of my favorite shows ever, and its soundtrack is probably the my favorite of all time. It’s beautiful. It’s dramatic, It’s mysterious. It’s got dream pop chanteuse Julie Cruise. As if this isn’t enough, it soundtracked one of the most influential and far-reaching pieces of pop culture of the past thirty years. Enough said.
Lovregana: Music From a Tasmanian Rainforest – Ron Nagorcka
Ron Nagorcka is one of the true discoveries of this whole project. A Tasmanian experimental musician, he uses field recordings (mainly of birds), homemade didjeridus and electronics to sculpt soundscapes that feel simultaneously earthly and alien. The real magic comes from the interplay between the natural and artificial; at some points birdsongs start to sound like industrial bleeps and bloops, at others the electronics take on an almost lifelike timbre. It’s unique and beautiful music unlike anything I’ve heard before.
Ya Habib – Sabri Brothers
I’ve always found qawwali mesmerizing. A form of Sufi Islamic devotional singing that originated in the Indian subcontinent, it gained international popularity in the late 20th century. Perhaps the best known practitioner of the genre is Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, who also released an album in 1990. However, I prefer this one by the Sabri Brothers, which veers more traditional compared to the Western fusion of Khan’s Mustt Mustt. Across the album’s four substantial tracks, there’s a feeling of collective ecstasy; although there’s a single lead singer, the entire group participates in clapping and call and response vocal passages. It’s the rare album that feels shorter than its seventy minute runtime. These are enthralling performances that you’re guaranteed to lose yourself inside.
Gangster Chronicle – London Posse
From Public Enemy to Ice Cube to LL Cool J, 1990 isn’t lacking in classic hip hop albums. Gangster Chronicle may be less known than any of these releases, but it’s no less seminal. Considered one of the first UK hip hop albums, London Posse took the language of American rap and put a uniquely British spin on it. They were one of the only groups at the time to use British accents and vernacular in their music; they were also heavily influenced by Jamaican soundsystem culture. The end result is a delight from start to finish, an early mutation of rap that should be better known today.
Mysteries of America – Anna Domino
Anna Domino traffics in the kind of late 80s and early 90s “sophistipop” that more often than not feels like a relic. While this occasionally holds true for Mysteries of America, it mostly feels out of time; the production is lush, airy, and frequently breathtakingly beautiful. Despite being called Mysteries of America, there’s a distinctly international feel to much of the music; the closest comparison I can come up with is Kirsty MacColl’s Tropical Brainstorm, although with more of a European flair than Latin American. Highly recommended for anyone who digs the lusher side of early Suzanne Vega.
Wind of Pain – Bastard
I’m generally not much of a hardcore person, but the power of some albums in the genre is undeniable. Put plain and simple, Wind of Pain fucking rips. From the opening moments of the album, Bastard go full throttle and never let up. The band is razor sharp throughout, playing each riff at warp speed and never missing a beat. It’s an album that demands you submit to its power, pummeling you with wave after wave of riffs. Although the internet seems somewhat divided as to whether this album was first released in 1990 or 1992, it’s good enough that I’m willing to risk the integrity of this list to include it.
Corazones – Los Prisioneros
As an American who only speaks English with any fluency, a lot of information can be lost when listening to music in other languages. I tend to not really mind, since lyrics are often my last area of focus; I’m more than happy to luxuriate in the sound of language rather than the meaning. Los Prisioneros are an example of a band where this approach fails. I recently watched Rompan Todo, a Netflix documentary about Latin American rock history (which I highly recommend), which informed me of how intertwined much of this music is with the politics of Latin America. Los Prisioneros were censored by the Pinochet regime for the political nature of their songs and gave voice to many who struggled in Chile and beyond. Corazones is one of their later albums, a soaring set of synth pop that mixes in traditional Chilean instrumentation. It’s stellar on sound alone, but taking some time to dig into the lyrics and history is worth your time.