Discord & Rhyme continues its slow walk through the world of Post-Rock with an examination of the 1996 album Millions Now Living Will Never Die by the Chicago-based group Tortoise. John has been fascinated by the concept of Post-Rock for many years (even if many of the acts associated with it, Tortoise included, rejected it as a useful descriptor), and a large part of this fascination stems from a love he has had for this album for over 20 years. In this episode, John, Mike, Rich, and Dan try to make sense not only of how one should define one of the most ambiguous genres out there, but also of why an instrumental album in that genre (possibly), mostly lacking clear traditional melodies and traditional song structures (the opening “Djed” is 21 minutes by itself), is clearly one of the best albums any of us have ever heard.  Regardless of whether Tortoise is Post-Rock, Prog, both, or neither, this is an album worth learning about, and Discord & Rhyme is up to the challenge.

Before they were flattened into part of the public’s collective generic memory of the 1960s, and before an astonishing level of in-fighting and tragedy turned the group’s story into one of the bestVH1: Behind the Music episodes, The Mamas and the Papas released one of the best debut albums of the 1960s. It produced three massive hits you’ve heard hundreds of times a piece if you listen to oldies radio, but it also produced a handful of worthwhile deeper cuts, with interesting songwriting (most of the time) and top-notch singing throughout. John leads a discussion with Amanda, Phil, and Ben about the collection of musicians who created one of his favorite 1960s albums and one of the most jaw-dropping soap-operas of the decade.

Peter Gabriel is a favorite artist of many of us here at Discord & Rhyme, but we’ve saved him for our own 138th Episode Spectacular. Peter Gabriel III (aka Melt, so called because half of Gabriel’s face on the album cover looks like a melting candle) isn’t just John’s favorite Peter Gabriel album; it’s an album that made him reconsider (in a favorable light) the entirety of popular music in the 1980s and the concept of using the production studio to create entirely new sounds, and John leads a very enthusiastic discussion on an album that we love very much. Join John, Amanda, Rich, and Mike as we gush over an album that transformed solo Peter Gabriel into something greater than “the guy who used to sing for Genesis”; a dark noisy hellscape frontier of an album full of burglars, assassins, and not one cymbal anywhere.

Gentle Giant comes up so often on Discord & Rhyme, especially considering how obscure they are outside the world of hardcore prog rock fandom, that it’s amazing we haven’t covered them yet. Many 1970s prog rock bands aspired to combine rock with classical (and jazz among other things), but unlike most of their contemporaries, Gentle Giant actually knew enough about classical music to make the combination something more than rock crossed with a touch of 19th century Romanticism. John’s pick for their best album is Octopus of 1972, an album that fires ideas at the listener so rapidly that the various songs (and these are all songs, in the 3-6 minute range) become extremely memorable, even as they’re sometimes among the most complex and bewildering music to come out of the 1970s. Come listen to John, Mike, and Phil tell you why they’ve fallen in love with this band and with this album.

Part two of the Discord & Rhyme celebration of King Crimson brings us to the 1974 album Red, the band’s final studio(-ish) album before it disbanded for 7 years. John’s history with King Crimson began with this album, and while he didn’t initially like it, it’s long become his favorite King Crimson album, and the ‘72-’74 King Crimson lineup especially has long become one of his favorite bands. This episode examines how everything in King Crimson’s turbulent history to this point made this album possible, and how the band’s refusal to get pigeonholed as “progressive rock” allowed it to create some of the heaviest, most powerful, and most awe-inspiring music ever made under the general umbrella of “rock” music. Also, “Starless” might be the best song ever recorded, and we're happy to tell you why.

Phil Ochs, perhaps more than anybody else in the 1960s Greenwich Village folk scene, believed that he could end the Vietnam War and change the world through his music. He offered deeply critical insight both of mainstream society and of the folk scene itself, calling out hypocrisy where he saw it and asking his listeners to consider questions and issues without easy solutions. He did this through a combination of exceptional songwriting gifts and a blazing intensity, but this intensity also limited his ability to appeal to a wide audience, and he largely faded into obscurity after his untimely 1976 death. In this episode, John leads a discussion on the 1966 live(ish) album In Concert, which he has loved for nearly 20 years, and the tenor of the discussion ranges from serious to silly in a way that mirrors the album itself. Join John, Ben, Phil, and Amanda as they cover an essential album from one of the most complicated figures ever to pick up an acoustic guitar and declare his truth.

In 1977, Marvin Gaye divorced Anna Ruby Gordy (against his wishes), and as part of the divorce settlement he agreed to pay Anna a portion of the royalties of his next album. Marvin responded by recording and releasing Here, My Dear, a 72-minute double album about his divorce, his feelings about his ex-wife, and a lot of other topics weighty and otherwise. The album was initially a critical and commercial dud, but over time the album gained a reputation as a classic and possibly Gaye's best. In this episode, John (as host) stakes a position in favor of the album and its improved reputation, while Ben stakes a position that maybe listeners and critics got it right with their initial skeptical reaction (Rich takes a middle position, generally in favor of the album but with some reservations), and this makes for a spirited conversation about an album that can't help but prompt strong emotional response. Everybody needs love, and everybody needs to hear us talk about this complicated album from one of the most complicated men ever to sing beautifully into a microphone.

John was always going to tackle a classical work for the podcast at some point, it was just a matter of finding the right piece. For our first visit to the orchestral hall, Discord & Rhyme is also taking a trip to the circus by covering The Carnival of the Animals, a 25-minute suite of musical jokes that 19th century French composer Camille Saint-Saëns wrote to put off writing the symphony he’d been paid to write. The Carnival of the Animals was John’s introduction to classical music as a kid, and when he fell back in love with classical music in his late 20s he was delighted to find that he still loved this piece (even without the silly poems in his version from when he was a kid). John (host), Mike (moderator), and returning special guest Sean Rodgers had a wonderful, in-depth conversation, ranging from the niche (like John’s love of birdsong in classical music), to the serious (like Saint-Saëns’ feelings about the musical world changing around him more than he liked), to the ridiculous (the notion of a tortoise doing the world’s slowest can-can). Come listen to us make the case that classical music is for everyone, and that The Carnival of the Animals is one of the funnest gateways to classical music anyone has ever written.