Revisit of the Week: The Smashing Pumpkins - Rotten Apples: Greatest Hits (2001)
I've been listening to two greatest hits compilations from seminal 90s alternative rock acts from the US this week: R.E.M.'s In Time for my music review site, and Rotten Apples for this side hustle. Both attempt to summarise the imperial phases of their respective bands as they conquered the airwaves in the 1990s, both come with a brand new song that deservedly fits in with the rest of the big hits, both have a slightly eyebrow-raising inclusion of a song from a soundtrack, and both have a deluxe edition that comes with a bonus disc of b-sides & rarities - though I opted not to listen to Jesus O, the Pumpkins bonus disc, this week as I just wanted to focus on disc 1 for once, which I do less often. But despite their similarities they both arrived at very different acts of their respective bands' careers. In Time was timed perfectly with the R.E.M.'s waning popularity in one region while experiencing a new career high in another, effectively celebrating a continuing hot streak of albums that wasn't about to stop. Rotten Apples meanwhile marks the end of one journey as the Pumpkins had announced their split a year earlier, so there's a mark of finality to it - or would've been anyway, had Corgan not resurrected the band moniker in the late 2000s. At least in real life; in my bubble the Pumpkins finished in 2000.
The other big difference is that In Time mixes up its 15 years of music from various different eras and sounds: it creates a sonic journey with its own unique dramatic flow and narrative to reward the listener, rather than simply lists the songs in the order of release. Rotten Apples does just that, and plays things out chronologically. I've always been a bigger fan of former approach because it ultimately makes for a more interesting listen, and I think listening to these two compilations around the same time is really highlighting what a difference it makes. There is little to no flow to Rotten Apples and the transitions between the album eras - or even between the songs from the same albums as they're listed in order of their single release - are jarring. It feels like a haphazardly made playlist - and as someone who's a genuinely insufferable arse about tracklists, it irks me. The Pumpkins' singles catalogue deserves a better treatment than that, especially as in the early days their singles were more statements of intent rather than ones with real hit potential, so the start of this compilation goes awfully slowly all things considered.
But what a great singles band they were, too. Almost all of them are featured here, with only three skips: out of these "Rocket" is a little surprising but maybe would've been a bit too much of the same after the Gish/Siamese Dream singles all being lumped together, and though "Thirty-Three" is one of my favourite SP songs I can understand why the drumless daydream ballad released as the fifth single from Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness didn't make the final cut. The most annoying exclusion is "The End Is the Beginning Is the End", the promotional single for the 1999 Batman & Robin film which 1) is a banger and 2) would've been great to collect in a compilation like this as a non-album single. Maybe it was a rights issue but it's missing, and in its place is "Eye" from the Lost Highway soundtrack, which is a decent bit of pre-Adore Pumpkinstronica - but it's no "The End Is...". Aside from that, there's just so many classic songs here, both the ones you know ("Tonight, Tonight" really is one of the greatest rock songs of all time) and the ones you might not (the three-single run from Machina is phenomenal and maybe one day I'll spend several paragraphs talking about the album itself too, given it is their best). "Untitled", the very last song at the end and the only brand new song of the compilation ("Real Love" is billed as brand new but was part of Machina II released for a small group of fans only), is brilliant as well. It does the difficult thing of sounding both sentimental and wistful, but also joyous and celebratory at the same time. It's a poignant farewell of a song, but it explodes with warmth and love, waving goodbye with a big smile rather than a tearful eye. It makes a wonderful final full stop for the group's run (big smile).
A couple of weeks ago I was lamenting the demise of b-sides & rarities compilations in an era where those aren't really a thing anymore, and this week I've been thinking a lot about how much I miss greatest hits albums. That's absolutely an irrational attachment because obviously in the streaming era there's absolutely no reason for an artist or a label to spend money on a collection when they can just chunk in a playlist on Spotify for free. But as an overanalytical music nerd there's a romantic aspect to them. A well-done compilation is a celebration, a milestone at which point the artists - and the fans - can take a moment to appreciate the achievements they've made so far. The token brand new songs, frequently a point of derision with people who just don't get it, were often exciting glimpses of where the artists would go next as they tested out new ideas before they were ready for a full album, or testaments to the present day and where they stood at the point in time when they found themselves in a studio laying down something new for the purposes of a compilation. I love compilations not because I necessarily listen to them often (though I vouch that there are artists who are perfect for a compilation and I do listen to those), but because of what they represent in a poetic manner. But that is, indeed, a projection of my own fantasies when it comes to musical myth-making (all my imaginary bands have compilations, naturally) - but in a way it has also been a lot of fun to dual-wield a couple of collections this week and listen to these discographies I love dearly in a different, if truncated way.
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