Tom Waits + Shakespeare Stout = So so cool. Seriously, that's all there is to this. The consumption of both of these will make you cooler and more appealing to peers and/or members of the opposite sex, see below.
Step 1: Buy a couple of bottles of this excellent beer from the always impressive Rogue put them in the fridge for just a bit.
Step 2: Pick up Swordfishtrombones, Rain Dogs, and Mule Variations (preferably on vinyl, not because I am a complete believer that all things sound better on vinyl, but because Mr. Waits voice and music certainly do).
Step 3. Invite a handful of friends over for some dominoes and general rocking.
Step 4. Throw one of the records on at decent volume.
Step 5. Pour yourself a glass of this wonderful nearly jet black stout.
Step 6. Sit yourself down comfortably in a chair and wait.
Result: Friends will arrive and be immediately impressed by your new-found awesomeness. They likely will not be able to place it. Some may even ask if you have been working out. But no, you know you have not been. You know the overwhelming smell of cool is radiating from that voice and timeless instrumentation that is Tom Waits and the confidence that can only come from sipping on a beer that is so unashamed of throwing straight coffee, chocolate, and bitter malts into a bottle and leaving well enough alone. But it can be your secret, enjoy the increased respect/flirtation...you've earned it simply through your appreciation of these finest of offerings. Nothing fancy here, just two things that are completely unfuckwithable...that is all, and sometimes that is all that is needed to make a classic.
"OutKast, pronounced outcast. Adjective meaning homeless, or unaccepted in society. But let's look deeper than that. Are you an OutKast? If you understand and feel the basic principles and fundamental truths contained within this muzik, you probably are. If you think it's all about pimpin hoes and slammin cadillac doughs you probably a cracker, or a nigga that think he a cracker or maybe just don't understand.
An OutKast is someone who is not considered to be part of the normal world. He's looked at differently.He's not accepted because of his clothes, his hair, his occupation, his beliefs or his skin color.Now look at yourself, are you an OutKast? I know I am. As a matter of fact, fuck being anything else."
Words from the first Outkast record, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, that dropped back in 1994. Words that laid out the mission statement from the beginning. Outkast wasn't just for the Gs, the backpackers rocking Native Tongues shit, the southern boys looking for their own voice, they were here to represent everyone on the fringes and they have done just that for almost twenty years now, along the way cementing themselves as musical innovators, media assassins, trendsetters, icons, legends, the greatest rap group of all time...no scratch the rap, they transcend that, one of the greatest groups of all time period.
Over a seven year period from 1994-2001 Outkast released four top-notch records (Southerplayalistic, Atliens, Aquemini, Stankonia) that pushed the boundaries of what hip-hop could be each time pushing the envelope a little farther. These records stand against other powerhouses of the time (Radiohead, Pavement, and on any given day might crush them in my opinion.
To really put it in perspective you have to look at how much harder they had to work. In 1994 the idea of a "Dirty South" subgenre was a pipedream. Everything was still all east-west, and here come these kids out of College Park with a cadence and wordplay unlike anything that Billboard had seen in years. Yet, "Players Ball" with it's live funk backbone brokethrough to hit number one on the rap charts. That track immediately hinted at what was to come. It showed these guys spent more time listening to Sly and the Family Stone and A Tribe Called Quest than they did The Chronic and were never going to be mere imitators.
On ATLiens Andre raps about being an artist and keeping his head clear...no weed, no booze...this was during the Master P heyday when New Orleans was nothing but Cris and 8-balls (which is unfortunate as the argument can certainly be made that The Dungeon Family opened the door for all that followed in the south). Aquemini dropped and got hit with 5 mics from The Source, there were Bristol-influenced beats, George Clinton straight funk, and let's not forget furry ass pants and football pads. This was not a rap record, this record was rock and roll attitude for days.
Well, then came on Stankonia. Do I need to say anything? B.O.B might be a top five single of all time. It blew minds worldwide. They dropped the heartfelt Ms Jackson, showed that songwriting ability there, and then still kept the party rolling with So Fresh...there had never been a record like that. Now, I will admit, post-Stankonia results have been a mixed bag musically, a few highlights, some throwaway (though that Luscious Leftfoot record was fucking dope from front-to-back), but it's been during this time I think we have really seen the cultural impact of Outkast. Right now there is a Gillette commercial on ESPN with Andre walking alongside Adrien Brody, Lebron and D. Wade have completely embraced that over-eccentric fashion that Dre brought to the masses, Cee-Lo (Dungeon Family member) is a household name with songs popping up on Glee. Musically they blew the door open for Luda, Nappy Roots, all the southern boys, crossed over the rap-rock worlds without ever fully committing to a watered down blend of both styles, they have as much cred on the street as they do in grad-school circles. They destroyed boundaries, had fun doing it, and never strayed from that original mission statement: they are now and forever have been for all of the outcasts in the world, just now they have helped bring those outcasts from counter-culture to the forefront of popular culture.
So, how does this relate to of all things a Sour Apple Saison? Well, this particular Saison comes from Epic Brewing located in Salt Lake City, Utah. Not excatly a mecca for craft-brewing. The rules and regulations imposed by the city certainly limit what these guys are able to do. But they persevere, they are breaking the rules in their own little way. They continue to follow their passion for brewing REMARKABLE beers in spite of the culture that largely surrounds them, I certainly think this parallels the path Andre and Big Boi could have taken growing up in College Park, giving in to the dope dreams and hood rich life. But instead they just stayed their path and found their voice.
Also, really what is better in the summer than a crisp Saison? Nothing. The bit of apple on this makes it just that much more crisp and good god it goes down easy. This is a big beautiful bomber that I will without shame admit I drink straight from the bottle. 22 oz bottle tipped up hard--that's how we do. This thing is seriously sweet, but on the back end is all that FUNK from the brett that is just barely balanced out. So, we have sweet, summer, funk...sounds like an Outkast record to me.
Epic has this great sense of humor about them also...as evidenced by the production of this beer, but also check their great Big Bad Baptist Stout and the label for their Elder Brett which might be the best beer label ever. While these are all great beers; true craft, great flavor, they don't take themselves too serious which is a huge element of Outkast's appeal. They have that swagger for sure, but still aren't afraid to drop a chorus like "Roses".
Now I am not going to say that Epic has reached legend status, but I do think they are an inspiring little brewery. Maybe some guy home brewing in Idaho right now is thinking if they can do it, so can I. I know they got me thinking that. It's that ability to inspire, regardless of where or who you are that makes these two go so well together. Everybody likes Outkast (and if you don't I don't want anything to do with you probably, just not my kind of people) and who doesn't like apples and beer (see above for my take on you if you don't), serve these two up at your next cookout, and don't forget to toast the guys from ATL and the guys out in Salt Lake--true outcasts for sure...I know I am, always will be, fuck being anything else.
There may have never been a better 1-2 punch than Sonic Boom and J Spaceman. What they created together defies categorization and stands up as truly timeless. They wore their influences on their sleeves no question; Velvet Underground, Suicide, Doors, gospel, drugs, tremolo, and they mixed it all up and out came this blissed out bit of troubled brilliance that left us in the end with a catalog full of slow burning hazy classics.
Choosing a smoked beer as the perfect companion to Spacemen 3 is kind of obvious, there has never been any question about the drug use of the band, and through a staggering use of an array of effects everything they did had this feel of being enveloped in this thick smoke, where everything slows down and is all pitch bends and technicolor.
So why a porter vice something like a smoked lager? Simple, I am of the opinion that no style of beer says rock and roll like a porter does. That jet black pour like dark sunglasses, that dirty-peaty taste is perfect for layers of gritty distortion and fuzz, the chocolate matching the sexed up overdrive, coffee for the comedown, big ABV because if you're going to do it you might as well as do it up proper, but when a porter or a great psych band hits just right, as this offering from Left Hand does and everything from Spacemen 3 did, it can also be so sweet and fucking smooth.
Every Spacemen 3 record deserves to be played at a pretty decent volume, as such any beer has to match that volume, it needs to be full of big flavors. With Smoke Jumper you get that huge roasty flavor and loads of big smoke, coffee, caramel, brownies even (making it even more fitting). But in spite of being fuzzed out and all rock, there was never a real rush to get anywhere with a Spacemen record, everything just rolled along and got where it was going whenever it got there. That makes this beer even more perfect for them as I can pour a tulip of this and just sip away for 45 minutes or so, just building my buzz slowly but very surely (at 9+% this will do some damage).
It's unfortunate that we will never see a Spacemen reunion, Jason just isn't going to have it. But their legacy and influence is stunning. From the post-rock blitz that occurred the latter part of the 90s into the early part of this millennium, to the blissed out drones of Emeralds, and the stunning minimal guitar work of guys like William Fowler Collins, they have reached across the spectrum of artists making challenging, exciting, music for over twenty years now and their influence continues to grow as people go in reverse from Spiritualized and Sonic Boom's solo projects and find themselves rediscovering this band. Similarly, I expect at some point in the near future we will see the porter explode within the craft beer market. The IPA and APA have been just about hopped to death, stouts have been pushed to crazy limits the past few years, but the porter has continued to not get the respect it deserves, it has kind of sat on the shelf and largely been ignored. When that time comes I am pretty sure Smoke Jumper will hold up as a gold standard and many of the flavors and the balance found here will be touched on by other brewers trying to create black gold.
I started this by stating that there may have never been a better 1-2 punch than Sonic Boom and J Spaceman. Sure there are a lot of contenders there; Marr and Morrisey, Yorke and J Greenwood, Lee and Thurston, Kim Deal and Frank Black, Dre and Snoop, the list could go on forever, and I won't deny that anyone can make a legitimate case for any of those and many others. But for me, Spacemen 3 have always touched a certain nerve that no other band can. I don't really know what it is, it's kind of like that feeling of sitting on your couch across the room from your wife but you're not really engaged with her. She is reading and you are working out a new synth patch but there's comfort and warmth in knowing she is still there. That strange but wonderful feeling of being completely alone in the loving company of someone else...that is Spacemen 3 for me, and nothing goes better with that feeling than this jet black pour of a damn near perfect beer; sweet, warming, heady...just bliss.
Let's just get right to it here; Unwound were fucking amazing. Even as I write this I can't understand why I have them all the way down at #24 (there is a formula used here adapted from one John Sellers came up with a while back that I will get around to explaining at some point). I will sadly admit however, that I initially missed the bus with this band and had never heard a note of their music prior to their last album. With that said, I will unapologetically admit that this was the first band that I developed a completely unhealthy obsession with and found myself transformed into Unwound Super Fanboy #1 overnight.
After my first listen to Leaves Turn Inside You I immediately went on a mad scramble to track down everything I could find by these guys. I found myself involuntarily having to share the gospel of Unwound to complete strangers who had the good fortune of stopping next to me at traffic lights; Me with car stereo turned up vulgarly loud: "Dude, you hear this?" Guy in car next to me: blank stare. Me: "It's Unwound. They're pretty much the best band ever." Guy in car next to me: horrified stare rolling window up. Me: "You're welcome, dude". This went on for months...okay, it is still going on, only now I have this blog that apparently five people read, which is five times more powerful than that one guy at the stoplight on Nimitz Highway headed into Honolulu. I'm still pretty sure I changed his life though.
Anyways, Unwound were fucking amazing. There was so much thought and craft and balance in everything they did. The perfect blend of dissonance and harmony, drones danced alongside pounding drum beats, synths and guitars played off of each other in times and tunings that I will never understand--this is songcraft. Similarly, with the release of Matt, Hair of the Dog produced a great example of what is meant by "craft beer." Layers upon layers of flavor, perfectly synched, complicated, it's a beer that requires you to think about it while enjoying it, something Unwound does to me. Both of these are very cerebral experiences in my opinion.
I am going "The Light at the End of the Tunnel is a Train" here for comparison sakes (though I could have easily chosen any of fifty or so other songs). The opening on that track with the dilapidated syncopated guitar in the forefront, the hook behind, then the theremin-esque entrance, it's so smooth and pretty. In the same way the nose on Matt is just leather, smoke, dark fruits, and just a touch of apple--dense and layered but earthy and still feels grounded. Smells that are familiar, pleasant, pretty, thereby for me comforting and relaxing even.
Around the 2:30 minute mark though the drums kick in. The guitars start to swirl and sweep things start going in a different direction. There is noise and excitement and attitude--it's that weird combination of brash and tempered that Unwound did so well. Again with Matt it's a very similar experience. The nose will draw you into this lull, and then that first sip things immediately pick up, so much happening. You get vanilla up front, chocolate on the finish, molasses from beginning to end, a hint of bourbon, caramel, cherry, fig, and that golden apple again. It's a total heady swirl of flavor that can send you absolutely reeling for a second.
Well, around the 5:00 mark Unwound gives you a bit of a comedown. Synth pads just kind of roam around, feedback buzzes in the background, a sort of recovery moment to let things sink in, and to establish pace. This works well with Matt as this provides a moment to really take in that flavor. Decide if they went too far or if they balanced this perfectly (I will tell you now it's the latter, save yourself some thought).
The comedown doesn't last long though. Somewhere around 6:30 minutes the drums come back in and pick up the pace, pounding, pulsing, and then immediately switching to an almost primitive beat with some plinkering in the background. Lo-fi samples come layered in and find their place in the perfectly orchestrated mess and there is just this excitement and rock 'n roll feel that comes shining through. For me, it is a similar feeling with Matt. There is so much here, it is exciting to know that someone out there put that much thought into making this beer. Every sip tastes just a bit different than the last. Each time it threatens to all just fall apart but something brings it back and makes it all work here. Something that Unwound did better than just about anyone, flirt with disaster and find perfection.
This is the spirit of rock people, push the fucking limits, take chances, put everything you have into defining your sound. Unwound did this on every song. They never rested on their laurels. They were noise, punk, post-what-the-fuck-ever...screw that...they were just Unwound. Nothing will ever be like them again. I fell the same way about Matt. I get that it technically falls into the Strong Ale world, but it certainly does not play by the rules. This beer is a golden standard of craft brewing. Unmistakably independent in spirit and probably won't be appreciated by as many people as it should be...something that can certainly be said about Unwound. I figure though, neither them or Hair of the Dog did it for anyone else but regardless it makes me happy to know that bottles of Matt and Unwound LPs exist in the world. It can't be too bad of a place with that, right?
I have been slacking on this project, apologies. As an attempt to move forward this kicks off a countdown of sorts. The next 25 posts will be my 25 favorite bands paired with 25 of my favorite beers. The order will be based on the bands vice the beer, but all quality guaranteed regardless.
To kick this whole project off at #25 is CAN. This may seem odd to take their catalog as a whole as you can definitely split CAN's output from the Malcolm Mooney records to the "classic" records when Damo came on board. However, I am of the opinion that though both front men deserve credit for being two of the best of their time, the backbone of the band with Shmidt, Czukay and Liebezit were what made CAN truly great. As such, it doesn't matter if you throw on Monster Movie or Ege Bamyasi, you are still going to have your mind blown.
Chances are if you are reading this I probably don't need to really convince you of CAN's brilliance. It is generally accepted (and deserved). However, if for some unknown reason you need convincing take a listen to "Yoo Doo Right" and "Oh Yeah". A listen to each of those will do way more for you than any amount of praise I can levy here on this page.
So, jumping ahead to the pairing explanation here. CAN is so often hit with the "krautrock" tag which I just don't buy into honestly. The influence of Terry Riley and LaMonte Young and Velvet Underground and just smoky hazy New York underground of the time is so prevalent, but they took it a step further and blended it with that extremely technical sort of exploration that was happening in Germany at the time and the result is unlike anything that had occurred before or since. It's strange, difficult music, but oddly accessible. Those rhythms are just so sweet and propel things along with a sort of sensibility that still allow a 22 minute side to feel like just a great song vice some sort of epic bit of exploratory wankery which is often the downfall of extended psych freak outs. I don't even like the freak out word there, as they were always in control, which again comes back to that technical ability and restraint--maybe the result of the Stockhausen teachings, I don't know. Wherever it came from it is perfect.
How does that relate to the excellent Allagash offering here? Well, it's a Bourbon Barrel Aged Tripel--not something you see too often. The idea of taking that very American bourbon and blending it with the technical brewing that is so common with Belgians is a huge risk, but in this case has huge dividend. The whiskey comes through, you get that smoky American hit (the NY influence if you will) with that perfectly spice cake sweet unmistakable Tripel taste (the technical playing of the band here) and the result is unlike any other beer out there. In addition, this thing sits at a killer 11%. A bomber of this should be a task to get through, but it goes down so easy. You can just find your pace with a bottle of this and kill a couple of hours no problem, much like what CAN accomplished with their ability to move their albums/tracks along, it's all in the rhythm.
I recommend undertaking this pairing alone, maybe with a significant other. Pour the Curieux into a tulip glass, get that nice hazy straw/goldenrod color leveled out, and then let the hazy tones of CAN come through the speaker. Just fucking chill, listen, nod your head and drink.
Unarguably there is one word that will always bind beer and music; sex. It's what made rock and roll what it is. It's what fills the bars with twenty-something singles every Friday and Saturday night. This record and this beer should probably both come with a warning label because of it--this is for when shit get serious, take your Whiz Kalifa mixtape and $1.50 drafts elsewhere--no amateur hour here y'all.
This record, from the second you pull that slab of black wax (and yes, you better have this on vinyl for chrissakes) out from the white sleeve and drop that needle, immediately brings the heat. That deep, slow, pounding bassline and hard kick drum attack that open Angel just beg for low lights, lace, and leather. It sets the pace for this whole record as the whole track moves along with such restrained ferocity, a bit of a tease right before that filthy guitar comes in to call off all bets. The vocals all smoked out and fuck-me-eyed in their delivery just send this over the top right away--but did we learn nothing from Xavier McDaniel in Singles. Be patient as this is track after track of hard-dank-ass beats and beautiful melody, experimentation and familiarity, gruff male aggression and female frailty. Just sexed up as can be from bottom to top.
Now where does the porter come in? Well, in case you hadn't gathered the name of this beer could be the entire adjective bank for the record, Dark, Rich, Sexy, and this offering from Founders delivers on all fronts. This thing pours just jet black, and gives you that earthy, smoky yet sweet, rebellious smell and taste that only a good porter can. It's a slow drinker for sure, matching the pace of the record flawlessly. It's thick and creamy and the flavor just hangs on your breath on lips for what seems like forever. It's aggressive and up front and unrestrained but still so got-danged smooth and full of roasted chocolate that it's hard to not want more.
When put together these create that perfect hazy kind of euphoria. That feeling of only being slightly conscious but fully aware--blissed the fuck out. All senses firing at max capacity for two glasses, sixty-minutes of classic trip-hop. Draw the curtains--no regret.
