Opposite words are expressions in the language where each term conveys contrasting meanings. Killer is a superlative that is being used to describe the tracks of the highest quality of an album. Filler is a superlative that is being used to describe the tracks of a lesser quality on an album, used for example in order to make it up to an album length of say 45 minutes. It's in the nature of things that there are far more filler than killer albums. It's not an academic exercise to distinguish the one from the other. You will know them by their fruits. My list of killer albums comes with no surprises. Vol. 4 (Black Sabbath), Desire (Bob Dylan), Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd), Ziggy Stardust (David Bowie), The Boatman's Call (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds), Greetings from Asbury Park NJ (Bruce Springsteen), Parallell Lines (Blondie), The Queen is Dead (The Smiths), Marquee Moon (Television) and Rumours (Fleetwood Mac). There's no all killer no filler album in the gothic country genre. This kind of music is an aquired taste, imperfection is part of perfection. The 10 killer albums mentioned above are different amongst themselves, but there are three common denominators: theme, coherence and execution. Many people think that adding an extra feature or additional layer always improves quality. On the contrary. "Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."

The book "High Fidelity" by british author Nick Hornby is one of my favorites. I don't really know why, but it could be that it's elegant truffled with recognition, references, moments and spot-on lines. The book has been adapted to film (and takes place in the US). This transfer works unexpectedly well. One of many colourful characters in the book (and film) is "Ray" Raymond, former neighbour, conflict resolution counselor and the romantic rival to the protagonist, Rob Gordon. When Rob's girlfriend, Laura, leaves him, his whole world falls apart. Laura moves temporarily in with the rival. Rob's portrait of Ian "Ray" Raymond isn't particular nice. "I'm starting to remember things now: his dungarees; his music (African, Latin, Bulgarian, whatever fucking world music fad was trendy that week); his hysterical, nervous, nerve-jangling laugh; the terrible cooking smells that used to pollute the stairway; the visitors that used to stay too late and drink too much and leave too noisily. I can't remember anything good about him at all." Rob humiliates himself beyond comprehension and ultimately lapse into stalking. In the book he is confronted by Ian "Ray" Raymond. Rob tries to defend himself and says that he has stopped stalking. "We've noticed, and we're glad. But, you know... how are going to make peace here? We want to make things easier for you. What can we do? Obviously I know how special Laura is, and I know that things can't be good for you at the moment. I'd hate it if I lost her. But I'd like to think that if she decided she didn't want to see me any more, I'd respect that decision. D'you see what I'm saying?" In the film the role of Ian "Ray" Raymond is played by Tim Robbins. He doesn't hold back. In fact, he plays out the whole register and gives all the conflict resolution counselors of the world a bad name. Counseling may sound serious, adult and mature. But, being calm, understanding and Zen-like comes at a price, which is repressed agression. Not an admirable trait for a counselor. 

Salter Cane was formed around 2002/2003. They have relased two full-length albums and one EP between 2006-2010. Then the albums stopped coming. Now they are, without prior notice, back with a new album "Deep Black Water". I'm very surprised, partly because of the rarity of the occurrence in itself and partly because of the album sound. It sounds like the band has slept in an oxygene tent for the last 15 years and then just stepped out and resumed their thing, totally unaffected by time and space. In the article about Salter Cane on this site, it's stated that their thing is "gothic country", "melancountria", "country noir", "folk noir" and "alt-country darkmeisters". The new album is more gothic western influenced than their previous ones. There's a lot of guitar going on. I don't mind. On the contrary. I have a weak spot for gothic western music, especially when it's performed so well. The best songs are "Something Underwater", "Daylight Too Soon", "Lighting House", "Carry Her Home" and "Send Down The Floods". Executive summary: surprisingly good album from Salter Cane. My only complaint is that there are no cd copies for sale. You can listen to "Deep Black Water" and buy it in digital format at Bandcamp, just click here (opens in a new window).     

Have you ever seen social media posts where a person is challenging another person to post an album for, let us say, 30 consecutive days? No explanations or comments, just the album covers. These challenges are chain letters in a modernized form. Challenge accepted and will be completed? Not quite. An average person typically publish 3-4 posts and then falls short. Maybe these kind of challenges, to a lesser extent, activates the brain's reward center. Or could it be that nowadays our attention span is way shorter and our endurance more limited. Under all circumstances, it’s not possible to rank more than 10 objects, read more here (opens in a new window). I like to make lists. And, I like to yap about lists. I challenged two friends to make a "10 Albums I Can't Live Without" list. No social media nonsense, just pen and paper. It’s hard to summarize 50 years of music listening, including changes in music taste and aesthetic preferences. Which selection criteria should be used? Then it came to me. The selection criteria must be the albums that I have played the most and still finds brilliant. It's been a long and winding road. To paraphrase the quote "I can tell you how I got from Deep Purple to Howling Wolf in just 25 moves" from "High Fidelity" by Nick Hornby, I can say: "I can tell you how I got from Slade to gothic country in just 25 moves". Some important milestones: Black Sabbath, David Bowie, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave and Johnny Cash. Some of their albums made it to the list. Only one gothic country album succeeded, "Built with Bones” by Christian Williams. A deserving seventh place.

The number one album I can't live without is Vol. 4 by Black Sabbath. All killers, no fillers. From the opening song “Wheels of Confusion” to the closing song ”Under the Sun”. The album cover is sublime in black and orange with singer, band name and album title, vertically and horizontally. And when you opened the vinyl gatefold sleeve: concert photos of the band members and, the centre spread: a concert photo of the full band. Some emerging fans seriously discuss which lineup was the best. Unbelievable. If this is even a discussion then we are in trouble as a species. Everybody knows that after Sabotage it was downhill. I never saw them in their haydays, but I came close in 1977. The touring schedules in those days were insane. After completing the album "Technical Ecstasy" they went on tour from October 1976 to February 1977 in the US, followed by a European tour in Mars-April 1977. Black Sabbath were supposed to play at Konserthuset, Stockholm on April 26th, 1977. I was eager as a diehard fan could be. Unfortunately, it got cancelled as well as the remaining concerts on the tour (Oslo, London and Helsinki). At the time, the rumour was that the singer was not fit for purpose. Ozzy Osbourne had checked himself into Stafford County Asylum (St. George's Hospital) north of Birmingham before the tour. I don’t know if this stay had anything to do with it or if they were just exhausted. Anyway, it took nearly 20 years until we (the original lineup) finally met. It was at Stockholm Globe Arena, Stockholm on July 3, 2005. Black Sabbath were older and chastened, but still managed to put on a good show. Vol. 4 is the album I can't live without when all is said and done. 

I used to be a proud owner of a red Puch Dakota 1969 (it looked like the one in the image). Not anymore. I bought it in the spring of 1977. The price was 900 SEK (which is about 5000 SEK or $450 in today's money). I asked my father, who was a brilliant mechanic, for advice. Don't buy it, he said. It's got a lot of problems that needs to be fixed. Of course, I didn't listen. However, my father helped me innumerable times with dismounting and mounting, and fixing problems that I couldn't solve on my own (which initially meant every conceivable problem). To name a few: faulty kickstand because of a missing locking ring, faulty exhaust pipe support, missing bolts in the motor mount (quite dangerous), missing rubber on the kickstarter, which meant that you slipped and the kickstarter hit you hard on your calf. There were so much I didn't know. Clutch- and gaswires were consumables to me, until my father told me that they should be greased to avoid friction. I wasn't allowed to ride the moped initially. I was only 14 and you had to be 15 years old to ride a moped. I rode it anyway. There were two strong contenders to Puch Dakota: Zündapp KS 50 and Suzuki K50. A friend got a new Yamaha from his mother. It had blinkers. The very modern and expensive moped was scornfully nicknamed "the sewing machine" because it was silent, which was in contradiction with the very idea of a moped. I chose Puch Dakota for its looks, stylishness and roaring sound. The highest allowed speed was 30 km/h (19 mph). Speed was an obsession. How fast does is go? No one told the truth and we all exaggerated. In the small town where I grew up your unduly estimate were met by the hard and boorish phrase: "Yeah right, downhill and with diarrhea". Obsession with speed led to an obsession with souping up. There were basically five methods 1) sprocketing (changing to a front sprocket with more cogs than the original). A front sprocket with more cogs will lead to a higher top speed at the cost of quick initial acceleration, 2) jack the piston (filing a jack in the lower edge of the piston). Hereby, the motor will get more fuel, 3) removing the plug from the intake manifold. This will create a higher effect, 4) flatten the cylinder head. This will lead to better compression, 5) removing the insert plug from the exhaust muffler. There were other methods, but this goes beyond the concept of souping up according to my conservative view. Souping up meant engine wear, but we were young and lacked the basics of consequence thinking.   

In those days, riding a moped had a twofold purpose: as a means of transportation and as a vehicle (no pun intended) to impress girls (limited success). Owning a moped wasn't without incidents. One time someone had attached tin foil to the spark plug (prank). Another time someone had disconnected the fuel hose and opened the valve (evil deed). We rode all year on bald tires, which meant hard tumbles when you were riding on snowy and icy roads. I had a red seat warmer in artificial fiber which looked like the remains of a run over Afghan coat (it was the 1970s). Riding in cold winter climate meant freeezing. I've never frozen so much in my life. I still remember a tough guy who rode 10 km (about 6 miles) in just a thin leather jacket and jeans to a remote discoteque. It was minus 20 Celsius (-4 Fahrenheit) equivalent to a speed/wind cooling effect of minus 35 Celsius (-31 Fahrenheit). The guy had to be lifted off the moped and brought inside for defrosting. Later that night when feeling and movement had returned to his limbs he casually sat up again and rode home. Appearance is everything. There were so many peculiar Swedish slang words: "snutjag" (cop chase), "soppatorsk" (run out of gas) and "xxxxxxxxxx" (unprintable obscene word for moped seat warmer). We revved our engines. We broke all traffic rules. We were born to be wild. What we didn't know was that the popularity was about to end. A law of mandatory crash helmets was introduced 1978, which meant that the "born to be wild" vibe was gone. Anyway, I had begun upper secondary school. A moped wasn't compatible with my new preppy style. I sold the moped. To whom, I don't remember. But, I remember that it was a bad deal since prices had plummeted. I could have kept it, but I didn't. Today, you will have to pay about 25-30000 SEK or $2250-2700 for a Puch Dakota on the used market. All I have left is the lyrics: "Like a true nature's child / We were born, born to be wild / We can climb so high / I never wanna die".