1992 Pazz & Jop Ballot
Albums
(15) Body Count
(15) REM, Automatic for the People
(11) Afghan Wigs, Congregation
(11) Basehead, Play With Toys
(11) kd Lang, Ingenue
(11) Dr. John, Goin’ Back to New Orleans
(11) Beastie Boys, Check Your Head
(5) Pearl Jam, Ten
(5) Sir Mix-a-Lot, Mack Daddy
(5) Neil Young, Harvest Moon
Videos
House of Pain, “Jump Around”
U2, “One” (the one with the buffalo)
Weird Al Yankovic, “Smell Like Nirvana”
Guns N’ Roses, “November Rain”
Elton John, “Last Song”
Singles
Unrest, “God Gave Rock & Roll to You”
KWS, “Please Don’t Go”
Paula Abdul, “Vibeology”
Sinéad O’Connor, “Success Has Made a Failure of Our Home”
Naughty By Nature, “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright”
Matthew Sweet, “Girlfriend”
Das EFX, “They Want EFX”
Sophie B. Hawkins, “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover”
Trisha Yearwood, “Wrong Side of Memphis”
Swing Out Sister, “Am I the Same Girl”
EPs
Urge Overkill, The Stull EP
Eddie Money, Unplug It In
Tori Amos, “Crucify” maxi-single
Nine-Inch-Nails, broken
Reissues
Various Artists, Pimps, Players, and Private Eyes
The Chi-Lites’ Greatest Hits
The Essential Johnny Cash
4-5. Randy Travis, Greatest Hits Vols. 1 & 2
Comments
While watching Tabitha Soren stumble through an explanation of the electoral college was depressing as shit, kudos overall to MTV for recognizing what it is: the primary journal of my generation. Dave Mustaine’s and Ted Nugent’s convention reports were indispensable, and Bill Clinton was more impressive on his Choose or Lose forum than anywhere else save Arsenio. His promise to come back on MTV if elected actually gave me an quick thrill of legitmation - no politician’s ever treated us twentysomethings like an interest group before. Hopefully, the impressive results of the coverage - a substantial increase in young voter turnout - will encourage future MTV projects. And don’t anybody let Clinton forget his commitment!
While the jaded connesseurs of media manipulation weighed Madonna’s savvy against her narcissisim in wave after wave of backlash and counter-backlash, Sinéad O’Connor showed that mooning the world takes a lot more guts, and kicks up a more interesting fuss, when you haven’t first covered your ass with an internationally coordinated marketing strategy. Mediafuck of the Year to O’Connor, for making a political statement so intensely personal it was embarassing to watch. And Gentleman of the Year awards to old folkies Kris Kristofferson and Johnny Cash, for being the only artists at the Dylan tribute to treat a protest singer with decency.
What got lost in the “Cop Killer” controversy is that Body Count is one of the funniest rock records ever made. After a song in which Ice-T, discovering his mother is a racist, clubs her to death with “my Louisville Slugger that she had bought me for my twelfth birthday,” chops her up with “that handy carving knife that we only use on special occasions like bullshit Thanksgiving,” then locks her in the trunk and drives her body parts to cities around the country on one last family vacation, it’s hard to take “Cop Killer” at face value. On the other hand, when, after the Newsweek cover story, I tried explaining all this to my parents, my mom didn’t find “Momma’s Gonna Die Tonight” funny at all. So I have trouble simply dismissing the police protests of “Cop Killer;” how would you feel if it were “Rock Critic Killer?” (And yes, I know about “I Killed Christgau With My Big Fucking Dick.”) And while a strong case could be made that the world would be a better place without rock critics, I’m going to need a few more album cuts before I’m convinced that LA would be safer with no police at all.
Of course, Ice-T has the Constitutional right to threaten any profession he likes; the bluster of “Cop Killer” - one of my least-favorite cuts on the record - just reminds me that symbolic violence can only take you so far as a political program. Hip-hop prepared those who were listening for the L.A. Riots, but I’m still waiting for an artist to honestly take stock of the destruction, and think through rap’s complicity in it. I’m ready to believe it was a revolutionary uprising, but I want to hear more than Ice Cube and Dr. Dre comparing Uzi sizes. At their best, the excesses of Body Count produce a gonzo, big-dick humanism that, while perhaps still a touch patriarchal, may lead the way out of the gangsta dead end. The villains in these songs aren’t women or white people, but hate-mongers of any stripe. And as Ice-T explains on “KKK Bitch,” “what we really tryin’ to say is Body Count loves everybody… . If you from Marx and you got a pussy, we will fuck you.”
Kurt Cobian quickly transformed from twentysomething godhead to everybody’s least-favorite spoilsport: the self-pitying sell-out. And while the rush to blame Courtney certainly does smell of Yoko-syndrome, I don’t really care why Kurt’s turned into a butthead; that’s his problem. On the other hand, the band did provide a defining image for my generation this year: the moment when tk tossed up his bass at the MTV Awards and it bonked him on the head. I think it’s highly probable that in 5 years, Nirvana will primarily be remembered as pathbreakers for Pearl Jam and the Afghan Wigs.
I doubt anyone else will care, but I was highly amused by the success of Toad the Wet Sprocket, who took over the niche traditionally held by Brit pseudo-soul bands like Johnny Hates Jazz and Cutting Crew. It means that finally, Amerindie bands don’t have to be groomed just for AOR play, but can skip straight to Adult Contemporary. And if the bands practice their fake accents, Anglophile VH1-viewers may never notice the switch. It may be time for Too Much Joy to grow their hair out …
The REM record is really pretty. I don’t know what it means, but it’s really pretty.
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