The pitfalls of artist compilations

Artist compilations are one of the notorious pitfalls of the music business.

There's a never-ending list of questions that come up before the album is listened to or even released. What's the motivation, commercial or artistic?

Should an artist release a greatest hits or best of when they're still together?

And most of all - what should you include, and what shouldn't you?

To try and figure this out, let's take a look at some of the good and bad best ofs, and some of the ones in between.

Let's start off with a band I've touched upon in a previous blog - Nirvana, fronted by everyone's favourite shotgun enthusiast.

Nirvana are a band who'd suit a compilation. So many of their essential songs are b-sides, offcuts or one-off singles on Sub Pop, but 2002's Nirvana compilation was pretty pathetic.

At less than an hour long, the compilation doesn't even make the best use of its space - but the little space it does use is filled with inessential songs.

It also has unreleased song 'You Know You're Right,' which makes it essential for hardcore fans (sigh). It's a very good song but not really worth the asking price alone.

A much better Nirvana compilation could be stitched together by anyone with a passing knowledge of their catalogue - namely me. And even I wouldn't be stupid enought to omit 'Aneurysm' but still put 'Rape Me' on it.

Who else has managed to epically fail at the compilation?

What's that, another band I've already mentioned?

Yes, the Panic Fleet Teachers.

I really must stop making jokes that only I will find remotely funny.

Yes, Manic Street Preachers, after running out of creative juices in 2001 decided to put out a compilation in 2002 called Forever Delayed. (The creative juices must have reeeeally run dry considering the debacle of an album that followed).

Now on song-strength alone, Forever Delayed is predominantly brilliant. What's more, it mops up a couple of single-only releases, 'Motown Junk' and 'The Masses Against The Classes' which were well worth including on an album somewhere.

But it's also an example of what can go terribly wrong with such releases.

It has two new songs tacked onto it. I've noticed a pattern when it comes to having two new songs on your compilation; if you have one song, it might be alright.

If you have two, then one will be great, the other will suck. REM's 2003 compilation In Time had that problem ('Bad Day' was great, 'Animal' was not) and so does this one.

'There By The Grace Of God' is an elegaic, wistful number with a beautiful guitar figure. 'Door To The River' is so forgettable that I might just forget that I'm writing this sen-...

The rest of the album is apparently the bizarre result of committee thinking. Four cuts are taken from 1996's magnificent masterpice Everything Must Go. But only one song is taken from the brilliant, if disturbing, Holy Bible.

How does that work?

There is no fathomable reason for the tracklisting. It doesn't play like a live gig. It's not chronological, and it doesn't have only the big hits (just look at where they charted in the liner notes). And it doesn't seem to consist of band favourites or fan favourites, otherwise as already stated there'd be more Holy Bible.

We end up with room for 'Tsunami,' but no room for 'Ifwhiteamericatoldthetruthforonedayitsworldwouldfallapart?'

Join us next week (or whenever else I bother to write another blog) to find out some of the better artist compilations that've been released.

1001 albums, continued

In my last blog, I discussed Iggy Pop's The Idiot.

This time round, I want to discuss Nirvana's In Utero.

I could write a whole other blog entry about Nirvana in general, but In Utero is a fascinating album in and of itself.

Nevermind, as heavy as it was on songs like 'Stay Away' or 'Breed,' had a production that the band weren't happy with, and they enlisted famous Pixies producer Steve Albini.

Trapped by fatherhood and mired in a heroin-enabling relationship with Courtney Love - both of which I'm sure made him very happy at times as well - Kurt Cobain struggled to reconcile his punk ethics with the millions of records Nevermind sold (referenced in the excellent 'Radio Friendly Unit Shifter').

The result is an extraordinary record, a howl into the abyss that was Cobain's life at that point.

On my first few listens, I didn't really see a great deal of difference between the two albums. But when I listened to them back to back, I realised that if the most commercial song and lead single on your album is 'Heart Shaped Box' maybe this isn't as much of a pop record.

The lacerating, metallic riffs on this album are set to wilfully sardonic lyrics from Cobain, claiming on 'Scentless Apprentice' that 'you can't fire me 'cause I quit.'

Indeed, the very opening line of the album is 'teenage angst has paid off well, now I'm bored and old.'

But oddly, alongside these blasts of glorious noise are understated, possibly even bluesy tunes like 'Dumb,' 'Pennyroyal Tea' or the highlight of their MTV Unplugged setlist, 'All Apologies'.

All in all, Nevermind may be the poppier album, but it's by no means the better one. In Utero is a bruising, jagged but at times serene ride - and by far the better album.

Faking it in journalism

Not twenty minutes ago, my Print Journalism Practice lecture was completed. The lecture constituted a list of invaluable tips for interviewing as a journalist, such as checking the facts and doing your homework ahead of time.

On the way home, I discussed with everyone's favourite Cambridge native some of the things that weren't mentioned in the lecture that might be useful.

As a music journalist myself, I had one big tip - contextualise what you're doing.

My somewhat cynical tip I've given to other music journos before is that our job is 50% knowing what you're talking about and 50% pretending that you do. But I think maybe that's more accurate than I'd otherwise like to admit.

Yesterday on our way to another lecture, an amusing argument broke out amongst my friends and I over whether Trivium sound like Megadeth.

I am no fan of either band. I listen to plenty of Metallica - though not enough to call myself a fan, my favourite song is 'Mama Said' after all - but never Megadeth. And Trivium I just hated from the few notes of their music I had heard.

However, through my hours of background reading online and in press releases, I know enough about both bands to distinguish between the two without even knowing their music.

Megadeth are icons of thrash, probably second only behind Metallica themselves. They've been around since the 1980s and they still sell respectable amounts of records.

Trivium have existed for about a week and a half, aren't particularly acclaimed and are infamous among most 'real' metal fans for sounding like a rubbish version of Metallica.

I'm not about to kick at Trivium here, nor am I going to defend them, because whether or not the above statement is true is irrelevant. The point is, public opinion is against them.

If I was to write a biography of them in ten years time, the early chapters would involve discussion of how much 'real' metal fans hated them alot of the time.

Megadeth are hugely respected, Trivium are not; Megadeth are original, Trivium are not. They may have some similarities in sound at a basic level - and to the untrained ear - but they are by no means the same group.

Now this may all seem a bit roundabout, but it illustrates my point pretty well. I could contribute to this argument - and indeed write a blog post - despite having virtually no knowledge of either group.

Knowing historical context is vital in music, and not knowing it can make you easily look like an idiot. This is something even mainstream news sources and papers get wrong - such as when E! news managed to refer to Nirvana's Nevermind as their debut album.

So there you have it. My big tip for music - or at least, creative media - journalists; know what you're talking about even if you don't know what you're talking about.