Whether you’re a fan of ‘60s jazz, ‘70s funk, ‘80s electro, or things inspired by any of the above (or you just watched a lot of Sesame Street growing up), the music of Herbie Hancock has probably affected your life in some way. So Mike thought it was time to take us all on a good old fashioned head hunt. 1973’s Head Hunters redefined the course of Hancock’s career, was enormously influential on music as a whole, became the first jazz album to ever go platinum, and to this day remains a blast to listen to. If you’re a rock fan who’s long been intimidated by jazz, this warm, funky, colorful album just might be the one that captures your head.

If you only know Talk Talk for their ‘80s night staple “It’s My Life,” you might well wonder what an experimental weirdo like Mike is doing hosting an episode about them. However, if you know a little more about their strange and fascinating career trajectory, it makes perfect sense. The sparse, atmospheric Spirit of Eden couldn’t be more different from Talk Talk’s synth-pop origins or from anything else in the musical landscape of 1988, and it more or less doomed the band’s career when it came out, but the sound of rock music in the 21st century wouldn’t be the same without it. Listening to Spirit of Eden is an experience that’s almost impossible to relate by means of such quotidian devices as “words,” but Mike, Phil, Rich, and John are all going to try anyway.

Hello, Cleveland! This week, Producer Mike continues his quest to make Discord & Rhyme more metal by turning it up to 11 with an episode on England’s loudest band, Spinal Tap. The fictional Spinal Tap consists of guitarists David St. Hubbins and Nigel Tufnel, bassist Derek Smalls, and a series of cursed drummers, whose misadventures are chronicled in the 1984 mockumentary This Is Spinal Tap. The real Spinal Tap consists of Michael McKean, Christopher Guest, and Harry Shearer, three exceptionally gifted comedians who know what makes metal tick and are very smart at playing dumb. And that extends to the movie’s soundtrack, whose songs walk the line between sophisticated songwriting and sounding like they could conceivably have been written by three boneheads. Because why waste good music on a brain?

Hear that? There goes the siren that warns of the air raid – or maybe that’s just Bruce Dickinson’s voice. This week, Mike continues his quest to make Discord & Rhyme more metal with the album Powerslave by Iron Maiden. In the popular consciousness, Maiden are known for their goofy album covers and hits like “Bring Your Daughter … to the Slaughter.” But if you dig just a little deeper, they were vanguards of the new wave of British heavy metal, with a seven-album run in the ‘80s that ranks among the greatest winning streaks of the album era, metal or otherwise. Powerslave is arguably their peak, boasting some of their greatest compositions and brainiest lyrics, with subjects running the gamut from The Prisoner to the military-industrial complex to the dawn of British Romanticism. But most importantly, it rocks, and Mike has invited Phil, John, and Rich to discuss eight amazing songs that will put you at a losfer words.

For this year’s Halloween episode, we wanted to go with an artist who scares the living daylights out of us, and what better choice than Nick Cave? After all, this is a man who once recorded an entire album of murder ballads, and whose legendary single “The Mercy Seat” charts a killer’s stream of consciousness as he is led to the electric chair. We could have picked almost any of Cave’s albums with the Bad Seeds, but Mike threw a curveball and chose the covers album Kicking Against the Pricks, because sometimes the best way to get to the essence of an artist’s work is examining the way they interpret and curate the work of other artists. The album boasts a truly eclectic set of songs, with pitch-dark Delta blues sharing a tracklist with light pop by Tom Jones, Gene Pitney, and the Seekers, all cloaked in the one-of-a-kind, macabre atmosphere that Cave’s fans have come to know, love, and fear. Yet by the time this carnival is over, you’ll have a sense of the light that glows beneath the darkness of his music. Happy Halloween!

It's only talk! This week, Mike rounds out our fifth-anniversary triad of King Crimson discussions with some dialogue, duologue, diatribe, dissension, and declamation about the band's 1981 album Discipline. On this album, bassist Tony Levin and guitarist and vocalist Adrian Belew joined Crimson veterans Robert Fripp and Bill Bruford to produce some of the most complicated music in the Crimson oeuvre, with every musician devoted to making their instrument produce sounds you’ve never heard. But paradoxically, it's also one of their catchiest albums, dabbling in new wave and world beat in the same musical sphere as Talking Heads, who were part of the same New York scene as Fripp in the late ‘70s. Discipline may sound like a sharp, disorienting left turn for King Crimson on first listen, but the album did a lot to cement the band’s music as a living document to be iterated upon. Join us as we break it down, frame by frame!

Even if you’ve never heard the music of Richard D. James, alias Aphex Twin, you’ve probably heard music that bears his stamp: he’s influenced artists as wide-ranging as Radiohead, Björk, Skrillex, and Billie Eilish, and his warped approach to electronica has become part of the fabric of popular music writ large. Every Aphex Twin album is a little different from his others, including the airy soundscapes of Selected Ambient Works Volume II and the ear-splitting tinnitus of I Care Because You Do, and his eponymous 1997 release Richard D. James Album features an intriguing mix of ethereal strings layered over dirty drum-and-bass beats. An expert knob twiddler himself, Producer Mike has long admired Aphex Twin’s skill at conjuring up sounds and textures you’ve never heard, and he’s invited Rich, Phil, and returning guest Shivam Bhatt to discuss Cornish geography, the milkman and his wife, and snare drums that go BRRRRRRRRR!

We talked about our first classical suite a few episodes back, so now it’s time for Discord & Rhyme to talk about its first symphony! Electric Light Orchestra have been going through something of a resurgence in the 21st century, but in the ‘70s, music critics savaged Jeff Lynne’s attempts to mix pop songwriting with orchestral pomp. But with 1974’s Eldorado, Lynne was attempting to please his harshest critic of all, his classical-loving father, who claimed that ELO’s songs “have got no tune.” The result was a fascinating, overblown concept album about a Walter Mitty-esque character who escapes the real world through the power of fantasy, and whether the concept holds for the entire album (it doesn’t), it dazzled Producer Mike as a child and continues to dazzle him today. So join our hosts for an evening at the symphony, as we fight some of the holiest wars and smash some of the holiest jawrs(?!!).