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There are moments on the Gris Gris' self-titled debut record in which tape hiss is the loudest discernible instrument. It could simply be that the sound of magnet on plastic is the only audible element that's not completely obscured by a hollow cavern's worth of echo, but I'd like to imagine the Gris Gris' tape hiss-as-instrument aesthetic as something considerably more deliberate than that--a consistency that unites the muddily mired disparity of the band's vision. At first listen, the Gris Gris has an eerily voyeuristic quality; its sound so distant and remote that it almost feels as if taped surreptitiously at a linoleum hallway's distance--a sensibility only enhanced by the glaring irregularities that occasionally blemish the tape. Which isn't by any means to suggest that the Gris Gris are a band of the traditional lo-fi intention--and in spite of how much the technical fidelity of their music seems to play a role in their sound, the Oakland four-piece seem about as far away from the bedroom as one could possibly image.

Formed from the ashes of a solo project surrounding Houston native Greg Ashley, the Gris Gris of their hazy 2004 debut could be accurately described as a garage band--though such an assessment would probably prove grossly misleading. By the same token, it's nearly impossible to hint at the essence of Gris Gris without evoking a dangerously ambiguous qualifier like "psyche"--but again, that's not really it either. There are so many ghosts between the listener and the dank, yawning cathedral from which the Gris Gris seems to echo that the sounds can't help but melt into one another. Galaxie 500 evaporates into Roky Erickson, who in turn fuses with moments of Cale-era Velvet Underground--but with air so heavy, such plain influences do a good deal to obscure one another. And somehow, through this wash of disparity, the record's squelches and swells bond together in glorious, syrupy cohesion.

I have to start off by apologizing to Zac, Marisa, all guest writers who have contributed to the Greatest Band of All Time, all readers who enjoyed and up until this point maybe even trusted this place. I killed it. I just HAD to go there. I have ruined any credibility we had. I'm sorry.

RIP GBoAT.

Yet, I'm totally serious. This is not a joke in any way. At some point, for some reason The Grateful Dead became the most stigmatized band in the world in the minds of independent rockers the world over. I had the very same negative connotations about the Dead for many many years myself. At some point a little more than five years ago I just decided that there might be something there for me. Well, this isn't exactly true. Jake Longstreth and I had a talk about how the Dead are so stigmatized, and we both held these conceptions to a certain degree, but also were supremely curious. At that point it was declared the summer of 2000 would be Grateful Dead summer.

Grateful Dead summer was filled with mockery, exploration, shame, giggles, arguments, and total inspiration. We soon became these Dead Disciples trying to explain to all of our friends how all the preconceived notions about the Dead are wrong. A lot of our arguments were based on this concept that the Grateful Dead was very similar to Pavement and had totally inspired Malkmus. Jake and I would go on and on about this drawing correlations between Pavement and Dead songs and albums. People were not buying it. We went so far as to ask Malkmus whether he really liked the Dead at a "secret" Jicks show that summer. His answers to our question were not as enthusiastic as we had hoped. So, this whole entry might be in vain. I might not change any one's mind or get anybody new into the Dead, but I need to put it out there. The opposition voice must be heard. No more musical tyrannies.

Many taboo bands or genres have become accepted in the last few years (disco music, the band Yes, being a freaky folker) but the taboo on The Grateful Dead does not seem to lessen. What makes this band taboo? Is it the jamming? This is confusing because this is something that indie rock and underground music has really embraced in the last few years (Black Dice, freakier folks, freer/spacemins like Yume Bitsu). Is it the trips/silly/weird artwork and visual stuff?? This can't really be true because the Grateful Dead art style has totally inspired the raddest and deepest of new art like Paperrad dudes. Seriously. Look at stuff like this, or the amazing animation that opens The Grateful Dead Movie(which is my favorite concert movie of all time). Is it the Deadheads?? Okay, it might be the Deadheads. One does not have to be a cliche to enjoy a band, though.

I'm not gonna give a long history or discography of The Grateful Dead, not that I don't know, because hey I have read a Jerry Garcia oral history biography and it was totally killer. I just think that it might be a tad boring. Let's just say these dudes started playing music together as a bluegrass band in the early 60s. Then they turned into a trippy rock band. They did stuff in SF. Acid Tests. Free shows. Known for "powerful" live shows. Was not able to make that translate to studio albums for a while. Made two country folk rock records in one year, and they were both amazing. Played music for 20 more years.

The Grateful Dead had a period (around 65 to 75) that is really unparalleled by any band in terms of creativity. They made social history. They made very weird experimental records that fused live recordings with studio recordings in a very amazing way (Anthem of the Sun). They made two of the best albums of the 70s in one year (American Beauty and Workingmans Dead) after having been called big dissapointments in the studio for their first three albums. Their hit records (Beauty and Workingmans) were complete departures for the psychidelic rock band. They were focused on concise song craft and recording, and not on explorative performance, and they have some truly lasting songs on them. They toured more than any band in the world and have the most extensive recorded live catalog to show for it and this is the period where they built rabid their fanbase that employed hundreds for decades. They built the largest sound system in the world at the time called the Wall of Sound. They tried very hard to make something different and new and special for every album (which led them to wildly go into debt to record companies for deeper studio experimentation time), every concert, and every thing they did in general. I may never be respected by my peers again, but I'll be damned if The Grateful Dead aren't the Greatest Band of All Time.

The two front dudes have beards. The drummer dude doesnt have a beard but his last name is BEARD. For real. They just played at Madison Square Garden at the republican national convention. But really, what band could turn down a gig at the Gardens, huh?

Just to get things started, here are the lyrics to one of my favorite ZZ Top songs "Cheap Sunglasses":

" When you get up in the morning and the light is hurt your head
The first thing you do when you get up out of bed
Is hit that streets a-runnin' and try to beat the masses
And go get yourself some cheap sunglasses
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Spied a little thing and I followed her all night
In a funky fine levis and her sweater's kind of tight
She had a west coast strut that was as sweet as molases
But what really knocked me out was her cheap sunglasses
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

(solo)

Now go out and get yourself some big black frames
With the glass so dark thay won't even know your name
And the choice is up to you cause they come in two classes:
Rhinestone shades or cheap sunglasses
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah"

How many people HAVENT felt like that, huh? Sun glasses are universally cool.

Can you think of any other songs about awesome sunglasses, except for that wack-ass "Sunglasses at Night" bullshit?: the answer is NO!

Only ZZ Top could do it, because they are the greatest band that ever existed or ever will exist. They have taken their truth vision across the galexy in their magical flying lowrider. They have shown the children of the world:

-they tell boys what their mother could never get through theur heads: that women appreciate sharp dressed men: legit
-a little phaser on an old blues riff: legit
-mystic southern wizards whose magic car keys can get any dork laid by feather-haired hotties: legit
-picture of 100,000 fans at your show with the caption "an old fashioned texas BBQ": legit
-the psychedelic-waver-prog sleeper with pitch shifted vocals (predating ween by a good 10 years) about an crazy monster that will drag race you with his 'coon-tuned' 'vet known as "Manic Mechanic": fucking legit
-"slip inside my sleeping bag": legit
-fur covered spinning guitars: fucking legit
-a blues song about a girl who wants you to cum on her neck called "Pearl Necklace": kinda weird
-bringing traditional blues vibrations to the new wave crazed MTV generation: legit

The deeper you get into their lyrics, the weirder it gets:
"I met a shiek from Mozambique
who led me to the Congo.
He dreamed to go to Mexico
and sample a burrito."
Wha???

My old college buddy Dan, now doing time as an anthropologist in ethiopia getting ass-worms and getting drunk, has always wanted to start a ZZ Top cover band called Chocolate Cherry. I've always wanted to be in this band, but he will NEVER let me. i dont think he wants anyone who actually plays music to be in the band, just him and our other buddy Sean drunk at a party banging senslessly on instruments while slurringthe lyrics to "Tush" into an overdriven microphone as if it were a long lost Jandek classic. but seeing as Dan and Sean are both stuck in grad school for the rest of their dwindling youth, like a couple of sissy boys, the chances of this actually happening are about as slim as having ZZ Top throw them the magic keys to their magic wizard flying lowrider.

ZZ Top are OG beard-core. They made a guitar out of a piece of Muddy Water's shack and called it muddywood and took the guitar on tour to raise money for a delta blues museum: deeper.

This is what their own website has to say: "Since its formation in 1969, ZZ TOP has been recognized as....the most iconic American band of all time". I would propose an addition: ZZ Top are and forever shall be the Greatest Band of All Time.

Though Greatest Band of All Time does not condone plagiarism of any kind, I think that the following quote from a recent interview with McLusky does more to illuminate the true appeal of this band than any waxed poetic I could muster: "There are some albums out there that should be called The Pain of My Slender Cheekbones. It's just what they're about. I think some people just like wallowing in misery. Personally, I'm past puberty. I enjoyed that whole acne-ridden process, but I'd like to think we're in a better world now of regular showers, sound nutrition, still too much smoking."

Meet the great Welsh hope. Meet the greatest mid-90s band this century has yet to birth. Ladies and Gentlemen: McLusky.

Formed in Wales in 1998, McLusky debuted with the first of their many amazingly titled works, 2000's My Pain and Sadness is More Sad and Painfully Than Yours, with song titles like "whiteliberalonwhiteliberalaction," "Rock Vs. Single Parents," and "Friends Stoning Friends." Despite the band's deeply caustic core, a ton of apt Pixies comparisons followed only complicated by their choice to record My Pain's follow up with Steve Albini. But where the Pixies were college kids aping an abstract impression of aggression, McLusky intention never seems obscured. much more metallic, much more brutish, much more direct.

Besides that, the band's frontman (one Andrew Falkous) has a persona on record that measures alongside some of Rock's true curmudgeons, largely reminiscent of Steve Albini, with a touch of Mark E. Smith's self-righteousness. with a soft spot for smart men of terrible attitude, McLusky cracked my eggs on the strength of one song, whose refrain is rarely far from my head: "my love is bigger than your love."

With McLusky Do Dallas the band delivered their masterpiece, with two irresistible singles ("Lightsaber Cocksucking Blues" and "To Hell With Good Intentions"), and an albums worth of clever, sarcastic bile. this years follow-up, the more intentional, poppy The Difference Between You and Me Is That I'm Not On Fire, was something of a letdown, but as usual, delivered several haunting refrains ("Our Old Singer is a Sex Criminal," "Every where I go I want to travel by boogie board") that make the entire album worthwhile.

I'm convinced that if McLusky were from America, they'd be one of the biggest bands in the world. For now, the Greatest Band of All Time.

(My greatest friend is moving away tomorrow. It makes me sad but we will still be great friends and she will better her life. It is an amazing honor to have her amazing writing on this website I call home. God bless Marianna Ritchey.)

I have known Led Zeppelin was the greatest band of all time for about 3 years, though my relationship with them stretches all the way back to the late eighties, when I was given a cassette copy of "Houses of the Holy" for Christmas in 7th grade. That album, along with Bob Marley's "Legend," blew my mind for a full year, until I lost it in the great Boarding School Move of 1991. After that, Zep didn't resurface in my life until senior year, when I realized that I should have lost my virginity to "IV," rather than to some terrible Jimmy Buffet album.

It's hard to put your finger on the essence of what makes Led Zeppelin the greatest band of all time. Is it the musicianship? Sure, each member is almost preternaturally gifted at playing their instrument; from the brainy reclusiveness of John Paul Jones to the outrageous, hairy, tank-topped and mindfucking power of the late John Bonham to the gentle vibe control of golden-maned Robert Plant to the life-altering brilliance of silent and hostile Jimmy Page, of whom Katy Davidson once said, "thinking about him sitting in his room writing those riffs makes me literally cry," no one could argue that Led Zeppelin doesn't showcase a bewildering display of technical skill. But so do a lot of bands. Eddie Van Halen once claimed he could play 164th notes, which, aside from the fact that the speed of note subdivisions is not concrete and therefore impossible to brag about (since 164th notes could conceivably be played at the rate of one per minute, for example), is a really dumb thing to say. But even if it were true, and not dumb--that's not special. It's sure as hell not enough to make something The Greatest Of All Time. Think of it this way: I type 117 words per minute. That's pretty goddamn fast. But does it make me the greatest WRITER of all time? No. No, it doesn't. So it must be something else that makes Led Zeppelin better than all other bands in this or any other century.

Is it the songwriting? Sure, it's good. It's VERY good. For a band which relied so heavily on sexual innuendo, alcohol abuse obtuse JRR Tolkien references and 7 minute prog songs about heaven for their lyrical content, Zep remained incredibly fresh and innovative throughout its career; constantly challenging previous conceptions of what their "sound" was; changing, progressing, moving through dirty blues to painfully long stoner jam sessions to tight, crystal-clear concept epics to all out rock and fucking roll. But lots of bands have amazing songwriting. Cat Stevens is an amazing songwriter. But he's not the Greatest Band of All Time. Hildegarde of Bingen was inspired by visitations from angels, demons, and apocalyptic visions of the fall of Lucifer--but she's not the Greatest Band of All Time. Dmitri Shostakovich wrote the "Leningrad" symphony while Nazi bombs fell all around him, but he's not the Greatest Band of All Time.

It's not popularity, either. Though it's hard to argue with the legions of wall-eyed, swaying hippies that packed Madison Square Garden during John Bonham's 20 minute drum solo in 1973, the fact remains that Motley Crue packed the Civic Auditorium in Los Angeles with thousands of screaming fans before they had recorded a single note or been approached by a single label--yet they're not the Greatest Band of All Time.

No, it's something else that makes Led Zeppelin so special. It's something else that causes the band to rise from the mere brilliance wherein so many great bands languish, that causes them to ascend, glistening, to the top of the smooth pedestal upon which they stand, alone, as The Greatest Band Of All Time. And it's something I find impossible to explain.

My friend Adam Forkner and I share this love of Led Zeppelin, along with an undying appreciation for Ween in a time when most of our friends claim to have "outgrown" them. Perhaps my assertion that Led Zeppelin is in fact the Greatest Band of All Time is best affirmed by the following statement, which Mr. Forkner sent to me via email:

"when i was a kid my parents went to the store and left
me alone in the house so i took out my dads zep one
record, turned the stereo up all the way and started
rocking out with a spoon for a mic and then, in the
middle of a jimmy page solo with my foot on the back
of the couch, ready to do some theatrical flip in time
with 'whole lotta love" they came back and i was
embarassed but they were mostly proud to have raised a
son who knew the meaning of rock and fucking roll."

A few months ago I grabbed a handful cds from my former employer's promo bin with the passive intention of making a few dollars on a record review, or if nothing else, trading in for in-store credit. The results were even more marginal than expected, and with the exception of a handful of keepers (Camera Obscura, Ghost to Falco), most everything ended up in the "wouldn't keep it for free" stack.

wait, let me explain (as if it weren't self-evident)--when sorting promos, there are three distinct categories that I have developed for clear, organized pilings: the "I'd buy it used" pile (these are keepers), the "Maybe, since i'm not paying for it" pile, and the "wouldn't keep it for free" pile. Now, with this particular promo round, there weren't too many keepers, and even less maybes. among them was a CD by a band called The Hold Steady entitled Almost Killed Mean ugly-as-sin promo from hit-and-miss New York label Frenchkiss. It came on high recommendation, and despite a few reservations, I held on to it.

One day I played it for my roommate, and his reaction was classic: "This sounds like the kind of music that only bored music journalists could get into." There might be some truth to that. But I was sold.

Following the break-up of their Minneapolis powerhouse Lifter/Puller (whose fans are famously obsessive), singer Craig Finn and bassist Tad Kubler moved to New York, and soon formed The Hold Steady. If you're familiar with/not particularly moved by Lifter/Puller, don't be scared away immediately--I've never really been a fan either. But what might rightly scare you are following (and very apt) phrases: bitchin' licks, sax solos, and "positive jams." And, well, I certainly can't blame you.

The Hold Steady is a self-professed reactionary statement: upon moving to NY, the Lifter/Puller's felt incredibly alienated by the predictability of the NOW New York movement (electro/disco/no-wave), and committed themselves to the noble task of "not writing anything for the sake of being weird, artsy, or unconventional." The result is even less cool than you might imagine--some place between where Classic Rock meets Bar Band--but with surprising earnesty. Where bands like the Darkness embrace irony as a means of distancing themselves from the responsibility of sincerity, there isn't a moment of Almost Killed Me that comes off feeling contrived. And that includes songs that sound like Meatloaf anthems. and songs that sound like the E Street Band.

Now, you must remember: I hold no nostalgia what-so-ever for the majority of Classic Rock's musings, nor patience for irony-based musicianship, but for some reason, The Hold Steady really strike an unfamiliar chord with me. The thing that keeps the Hold Steady from toppling over into the ridiculousness of these seemingly insurmountable trappings are the rasped vocals of frontman Finn--a literate storyteller with rapid-fire, surprisingly compelling narratives. He's brash, abrasive, and funny, but never pandering. The result feels surprisingly like the better moments of their Minnesota brethren Husker Du, and their little brothers the Replacements, who are quite possibly the greatest Bar Band of all time.

So, while the Hold Steady may not be moving mountains, it's an admirable calling to take on the "silliest and most predictable musical movement since the third wave Ska revival of the late 90s"--however fruitlessly. Keep on keeping the 'Mats alive, Greatest Band Of All Time.

As a person much more inspired by the recorded medium than by live music, the idea of the self-contained, definitive statement is really intriguing to me, thus accounting for my somewhat irrational obsession with the self-indulgent "concept record." All of my favorite records are anchored by some divining force, narrative or otherwise, adding a certain level of depth missing from just a random song cycle.

Which brings us, however clunkily (I'm really writing this in a hurry today, friends), to Lou Reed's solo masterpiece, Berlin. Apparently it's sad sap concept records week here at GBoAT. Though I disagree slightly with age old suggestion that the album, a narrative about the desperate affairs of drug-addled Germans, is the most depressing album of all time (I mean, a record with that many bitchin' licks could hardly beat out somebody like Joy Division or Codeine in the Emo department), I will admit that there are few records I reach for more quickly when I want to wallow in self-pity. Which says something, considering my record collection.

The studio follow-up to Transformer, Reed's ultra-successful, Bowie-produced glam comeback record, Berlin was a hard pill to swallow--with critical and commercial responses resoundingly negative upon it's initial release. Using the Berlin wall as a metaphor for the emotional barriers men and women raise between one another, Berlin is in no way a concept in the Pink Floyd sense; its narrative escaping the grandiose with simplicity and humanity. Themes include: drug abuse, child neglect, physical abuse, and eventually suicide.

It's unlike any of Reed's other works, and still stands as the pinnacle of his post-Velvet's career--aided largely by the re-workings of three then-unreleased Velvet Underground-era songs ("Stephanie Says" becomes "Caroline Says II," "Oh Gin" is engulfed into "Oh Jim," and "Sad Song" is expanded to an orchestral giant)--though all of the songs arguably better in their pre-Berlin forms. And that's another odd thing about Berlin--although the concept works strictly on a narrative sense, four of its ten songs were written independently several years before the record was conceived (with the title track appearing on Reed's oft-forgotten first solo record). Still, the record works with surprising consistency.

another fun fact that i just learned this morning: there is a "lost" instrumental track, a segue between the first and second songs on the album, that only appears on the 8-track version of Berlin. Very awkward format. Weird call, Lou.

Though perhaps not living up to its hype as the Most Depressing Album of All Time, Berlin has no trouble maintaining its crown as the Greatest Album of All Time.