Short post this time, here's what I'm geeking on lately...
Teitur - Hailing from Denmark's Faroe Islands, singer, songwriter; imagine rainy days, the North Sea, cups of tea by the fireplace, acoustic guitars- this is the world of Teitur Lassen. Emotive without being annoying, heartfelt without making you uncomfortable, he'll slowly seep into your mind and is damn-near impossible to shake. Please check him out!
Cassette tapes - Berkeley, CA is the unquestioned king of junk sales. Yard sales, garage sales, "tag" sales, whatever... And there's an over-abundance of cassettes, and my car just happens to have a cassette player. Sweet! So when I'm sitting in horriffic Bay Area traffic, I just pop in Fugazi's Margin Walker or The Cure's Boys Don't Cry and am immediately taken back to my childhood of the 1980s...
Stars Of Track & Field, Centuries Before Love And War - this is the band that Coldplay should've become, instead of that "band" they're pretending to be now.
(Side note on Coldplay: when I first heard Parachutes back in 2001, that became one of my go-to albums, probably my biggest album of that year. I fell in love to that album, had my heart broken to that album, and picked up the pieces of aforementioned shattered heart to that album. Then A Rush Of Blood To The Head came out and I started to back away. The Live DVD was okay, but by the third time I listened to X&Y in its entirety, I knew this band was done. I hate you Chris Martin...)
But anyway, Portland, Oregon's Stars Of Track & Field, named after the Belle & Sebastian song, have all the elements that make a band huge- except for some reason they're not. They've got the right tone and tenor, the ability to shape mood, and the focus and scope to grow into an awesome band. And they're on Wind-Up Records, a subsidiary of Sony/BMG, so they should be enjoying near-major label status and success. So what gives?
Six Organs Of Admittance - I've been having a deepening and heartfelt connection since January to Devendra Banhart and his music. Call it freak-folk, psych-folk, acid-folk, New Weird America, whatever- I call it good music. So as I pour myself into his music, I'm also finding a connection to Vetiver, Joanna Newsom, Jana Hunter, Espers, Brightblack Morning Light, along with a deepening appreciation for other associated and more established acts like Will Oldham and Iron & Wine. But recently I watched an interview on YouTube with Devendra, and he said that Ben Chasny and Six Organs of Admittance was at the fore-front of whatever you'd like to call this experimental-folk music coming up from the bowels of the American independent music scene. So I checked out his music and was not disappointed. Their album Dark Noontide is full of ambient and creepy atmospheres, abound with hurdy-gurdys and earth-colored textures, and School Of The Flower, possibly Six Organs' masterpiece, a mysterious and beautifully executed series of airy, yet mysterious vocal and instrumental songs. You don't need drugs when you have psychedelic music like this- the music itself is your drug. I'm tripping so hard, man...
This week's reviews:
Dntel, Dumb Luck
Charlotte Gainsbourg, 5 55
Feist, The Reminder
...also, I'm in the middle of moving into a new apartment, so don't hold me to any of these until at least Thursday-slash-Friday.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
Laura Veirs' Saltbreakers
I can't believe it's almost May. I miss east coast springs. It's been spring since January here in the Bay Area, and it pretty much stays spring year round. Not that I'm complaining, I miss complaining about the weather. It's just one thing to take out of the equation- oh yeah, today it was 80 degrees and sunny. I spent the day at Stinson Beach getting a tan...
Laura Veirs- Saltbreakers, (Nonesuch Records, released 4-10)
So I'm listening to this album's opening track, Pink Light, which starts off with the line: "Sorry I was cruel, I was protecting myself..." signaling the cathartic, if not classic, "everyone's got to write one" patented break-up record. Coming back with a much more focused and mature sound here, Miss Veirs takes on producer-extraordinaire-slash-sought after session drummer Tucker Martine, as Martine is fresh off of producing The Decemberists' The Crane Wife, my 2006 Album of the Year. Being blessed with a full-on band for the first time, Miss Veirs takes much more time in her wonderful lyric writing and focuses less on music, leaving it up to the boys to hash out her ideas this time. And the formula clicks beautifully (and at times a bit awkwardly, but that's her plan now, isn't it?) Her stark and sometimes sterile approach, presaged by that opening line and the eventual denouement solved by the closing line, "...we can do some wrecking here and find something to love in this broken place."
Saltbreakers, the term for big, foamy waves, has stocked Veirs' memory of a lost love, and this album is chock full of the imagery of the mighty Pacific; of ocean waves pummeling the shores at night, the flight of lost seabirds and the blue blues of water and what may lie beneath it. It's also the title track, falling in the middle of the album, serving to split it up nicely- the first half is the good-bye to the last life, the second half is the "hello" to the new one. The first half of the album is rife with imagery of water, the second half, a depature to land. Not that Miss Veirs doesn't revisit the ocean in the second half of the record (her ode to the mer-man who caught her heart in Cast A Hook is quite the opposite of a "land" song, but Phantom Mountain seems to recall something far inland, "I could not tell the truth from the mirage..." she beckons.)
With song titles like Cast A Hook, Ocean Night Song and Drink Deep, the ocean is well represented here. Portland, Oregon is quite a sea-shanty little town- just search through the lyric sheets of bands like The Decemberists' and The Shins' latest effort and you can see exactly what kind of effect the greatest ocean has on the collective psyche of the Pacific Northwest's greatest songwriters. To The Country, with a lovely little backing chorus, may be the most beautifully done song, the most "Veirs-like" of all the tracks. Just a violin, guitar and piano to guide Laura into the middle section of the song, then hand claps and a softly plucked bass become faintly and unobtrusively emergent.
Year Of Meteors, Veirs' last album, was a beautiful little collection of songs, each standing alone as strong examples of accomplished songwriting, but coalescing together to make it the most cohesive album in Laura's catalog. On Saltbreakers, the standout tracks are Pink Light and Don't Lose Yourself, which don't necessarily fit into the theme of water, and, sadly the newer batch of songs only mildly disappoints. The second half of the album also features less and less of The Saltbreakers, waning finally into a guitar and double-tracked vocal arrangement to end the album with Wrecking. The string quartet backing also ends all too abruptly, but that just may be Veirs' point; that relationships, love, friends, and even life itself- all end much too quickly, most of the time with out warning.
Overall rating: 81
Laura Veirs- Saltbreakers, (Nonesuch Records, released 4-10)
So I'm listening to this album's opening track, Pink Light, which starts off with the line: "Sorry I was cruel, I was protecting myself..." signaling the cathartic, if not classic, "everyone's got to write one" patented break-up record. Coming back with a much more focused and mature sound here, Miss Veirs takes on producer-extraordinaire-slash-sought after session drummer Tucker Martine, as Martine is fresh off of producing The Decemberists' The Crane Wife, my 2006 Album of the Year. Being blessed with a full-on band for the first time, Miss Veirs takes much more time in her wonderful lyric writing and focuses less on music, leaving it up to the boys to hash out her ideas this time. And the formula clicks beautifully (and at times a bit awkwardly, but that's her plan now, isn't it?) Her stark and sometimes sterile approach, presaged by that opening line and the eventual denouement solved by the closing line, "...we can do some wrecking here and find something to love in this broken place."
Saltbreakers, the term for big, foamy waves, has stocked Veirs' memory of a lost love, and this album is chock full of the imagery of the mighty Pacific; of ocean waves pummeling the shores at night, the flight of lost seabirds and the blue blues of water and what may lie beneath it. It's also the title track, falling in the middle of the album, serving to split it up nicely- the first half is the good-bye to the last life, the second half is the "hello" to the new one. The first half of the album is rife with imagery of water, the second half, a depature to land. Not that Miss Veirs doesn't revisit the ocean in the second half of the record (her ode to the mer-man who caught her heart in Cast A Hook is quite the opposite of a "land" song, but Phantom Mountain seems to recall something far inland, "I could not tell the truth from the mirage..." she beckons.)
With song titles like Cast A Hook, Ocean Night Song and Drink Deep, the ocean is well represented here. Portland, Oregon is quite a sea-shanty little town- just search through the lyric sheets of bands like The Decemberists' and The Shins' latest effort and you can see exactly what kind of effect the greatest ocean has on the collective psyche of the Pacific Northwest's greatest songwriters. To The Country, with a lovely little backing chorus, may be the most beautifully done song, the most "Veirs-like" of all the tracks. Just a violin, guitar and piano to guide Laura into the middle section of the song, then hand claps and a softly plucked bass become faintly and unobtrusively emergent.
Year Of Meteors, Veirs' last album, was a beautiful little collection of songs, each standing alone as strong examples of accomplished songwriting, but coalescing together to make it the most cohesive album in Laura's catalog. On Saltbreakers, the standout tracks are Pink Light and Don't Lose Yourself, which don't necessarily fit into the theme of water, and, sadly the newer batch of songs only mildly disappoints. The second half of the album also features less and less of The Saltbreakers, waning finally into a guitar and double-tracked vocal arrangement to end the album with Wrecking. The string quartet backing also ends all too abruptly, but that just may be Veirs' point; that relationships, love, friends, and even life itself- all end much too quickly, most of the time with out warning.
Overall rating: 81
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Arctic Monkeys' Favourite Worst Nightmare
Arctic Monkeys- Favourite Worst Nightmare (Domino Records, released 4-24)
Before I get started here, let me get all these cliches associated with this album out in the open and expand upon them briefly: highly anticipated (debut album sells more in its first week than both Oasis and the Beatles, so obviously, yes; highly anticipated), sophomore jinx (this is the term that writers apply to a band's second album, hoping they fail miserably so they can be the first to say "I told you so...", like these assholes), they sold out (every fucking venue in every fucking city they play) and et cetera and so on. You can insert your favorite (American spelling) cliche here: ________________________________.
Arctic Monkeys conventional wisdom cliche: English guitar rock that's danceable.
Yes, and this is the follow-up that Bloc Party should've made this year, but alas; Arctic Monkeys is the band with big enough balls to actually expand on their sound and take it a bit further, not go into unchartered territory and get all "accessible" on me. The songs on Favourite Worst Nightmare fit that same vibe: the downtrodden young Brit, soiled apron, walking home in the rain: here's to you, keep your head up, never let those bastards get you down!
The thing I love about Arctic Monkeys is their unabashed love for (and what I see as an unwavering devotion to) the plight of the English working class- more specifically, the 18-to-24 set that didn't go off to university, the kids who stayed at home to work a shitty grocery-bagging job and live in mum's flat in Lancashire- the "new" working class. Maybe that's why they have gone absolutely ape-shit for the Monkeys across the pond; like hip-hop here in the states, they've become the voice of their respective generation. Nothing like starting off life knowing that you're fucked for all eternity, the Monkeys are the soundtrack to that ennui, that "spend your whole week's cheque at the pub on a Saturday, maybe mosh a bit, maybe meet a lovely little Emma, take her home, blacked-out, and do it all over again next week", the bleak view afforded to too many youngsters whether it be here or in jolly old England.
Sociological ramifications aside, the songs here are relatively cohesive, as in: now that we're more popular than the prime minister, what do we do with all this (perceived) power? Put it into our music, as the grinding and churning opener Brianstorm presents. It's a bit different stylistically, a bit grungier and grimier, but there's a bit of raw power here, and suffice it to say it does the lads well. That's right, it's Brian-storm, as the song follows this twit named Brian through a series of his trials, being such an awesome guy that he is, such a righteous innovator, what with his t-shirts and ties combo. Then there's Teddy Picker, Brit-slang for a whore? I don't know, so have a look at the lyrics and you decide: "...and it's the thousandth time that it's even bolder / don't be surprised when you get bent over / they told ya / but you were gagging for it / Let's have a game on the teddy picker / not quick enough can I have it quicker? / already thick, can you get in quicker?" All that Cockney and slang aside, it's pretty much exactly what I'd expect, nay- what I would want to hear from the Monkeys.
D Is For Dangerous, Balaclava and Fluorescent Adolescent all contend for the best track on the album, and it's that last track that'll probably be the one that turns the most heads. Done in the ska stylings of Mardy Bum, the debut album's most accessible track, I can see this taking over Indie rock playlists for the months of May and June. Only One Who Knows, lead singer Alex Turner's vocals are run through a roto-leslie effect, giving it a mild but effective "other-worldly" feel, as if he's the only one who really knows. Do Me A Favour (Anglo-centric spelling here, love it!) has a nice little faux-surf guitar riff in it and a stacatto-laden bridge worthy of a pub-stomping. This House Is A Circus, a Police-esque tune that meets a Pixies-type rocker, where drummer Matt Helders' work is impressive, but not worthy of a Stewart Copeland comparison just yet. If You Were There, Beware is a certified banger, and chills itself into a megaphone & circus organ bridge, which both showcases the band's musical ability and serves to further creep me out.
The Bad Thing, the one "throw-away" track on here, confuses me as to why it would work here- maybe it would've been better towards the front of the tracklist. But it's here, and sometimes these questions are best left to the album's producer. Old Yellow Bricks, possibly an ode to dead English towns- "She said I want to sleep in the city that never wakes up / and revel in nostalgia". Another reason I love the English; it's that melancholy feeling that's directly tied into the failings of imperialism. Imagine sitting in a classroom, somewhere in Great Britain, learning that at one time "the sun never sets on the Queen's empire", and then to keep reading your history book to find that now, it's America who "owns" the world.
505, the album's closer, is my favorite track on the album, as was A Certain Romance, the last track on Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. I used to hate when bands did this, especially before CDs; we had these things called "cassettes" that played music, maybe you've seen pictures or heard stories of them? If a band had their beast song at the end of Side 2, you either had to sit through the whole thing or fast-forward to get to it. Not anymore. But when you listen to Favourite Worst Nightmare, you can hear the best song first, which is technically last, wait, err, are you confused? I'm confusing myself, but one thing I'm not confused with is the fact that this is a pretty decent album. Above average to say the least... Overall rating: 87
Next up: Laura Veirs' Saltbreakers...
Before I get started here, let me get all these cliches associated with this album out in the open and expand upon them briefly: highly anticipated (debut album sells more in its first week than both Oasis and the Beatles, so obviously, yes; highly anticipated), sophomore jinx (this is the term that writers apply to a band's second album, hoping they fail miserably so they can be the first to say "I told you so...", like these assholes), they sold out (every fucking venue in every fucking city they play) and et cetera and so on. You can insert your favorite (American spelling) cliche here: ________________________________.
Arctic Monkeys conventional wisdom cliche: English guitar rock that's danceable.
Yes, and this is the follow-up that Bloc Party should've made this year, but alas; Arctic Monkeys is the band with big enough balls to actually expand on their sound and take it a bit further, not go into unchartered territory and get all "accessible" on me. The songs on Favourite Worst Nightmare fit that same vibe: the downtrodden young Brit, soiled apron, walking home in the rain: here's to you, keep your head up, never let those bastards get you down!
The thing I love about Arctic Monkeys is their unabashed love for (and what I see as an unwavering devotion to) the plight of the English working class- more specifically, the 18-to-24 set that didn't go off to university, the kids who stayed at home to work a shitty grocery-bagging job and live in mum's flat in Lancashire- the "new" working class. Maybe that's why they have gone absolutely ape-shit for the Monkeys across the pond; like hip-hop here in the states, they've become the voice of their respective generation. Nothing like starting off life knowing that you're fucked for all eternity, the Monkeys are the soundtrack to that ennui, that "spend your whole week's cheque at the pub on a Saturday, maybe mosh a bit, maybe meet a lovely little Emma, take her home, blacked-out, and do it all over again next week", the bleak view afforded to too many youngsters whether it be here or in jolly old England.
Sociological ramifications aside, the songs here are relatively cohesive, as in: now that we're more popular than the prime minister, what do we do with all this (perceived) power? Put it into our music, as the grinding and churning opener Brianstorm presents. It's a bit different stylistically, a bit grungier and grimier, but there's a bit of raw power here, and suffice it to say it does the lads well. That's right, it's Brian-storm, as the song follows this twit named Brian through a series of his trials, being such an awesome guy that he is, such a righteous innovator, what with his t-shirts and ties combo. Then there's Teddy Picker, Brit-slang for a whore? I don't know, so have a look at the lyrics and you decide: "...and it's the thousandth time that it's even bolder / don't be surprised when you get bent over / they told ya / but you were gagging for it / Let's have a game on the teddy picker / not quick enough can I have it quicker? / already thick, can you get in quicker?" All that Cockney and slang aside, it's pretty much exactly what I'd expect, nay- what I would want to hear from the Monkeys.
D Is For Dangerous, Balaclava and Fluorescent Adolescent all contend for the best track on the album, and it's that last track that'll probably be the one that turns the most heads. Done in the ska stylings of Mardy Bum, the debut album's most accessible track, I can see this taking over Indie rock playlists for the months of May and June. Only One Who Knows, lead singer Alex Turner's vocals are run through a roto-leslie effect, giving it a mild but effective "other-worldly" feel, as if he's the only one who really knows. Do Me A Favour (Anglo-centric spelling here, love it!) has a nice little faux-surf guitar riff in it and a stacatto-laden bridge worthy of a pub-stomping. This House Is A Circus, a Police-esque tune that meets a Pixies-type rocker, where drummer Matt Helders' work is impressive, but not worthy of a Stewart Copeland comparison just yet. If You Were There, Beware is a certified banger, and chills itself into a megaphone & circus organ bridge, which both showcases the band's musical ability and serves to further creep me out.
The Bad Thing, the one "throw-away" track on here, confuses me as to why it would work here- maybe it would've been better towards the front of the tracklist. But it's here, and sometimes these questions are best left to the album's producer. Old Yellow Bricks, possibly an ode to dead English towns- "She said I want to sleep in the city that never wakes up / and revel in nostalgia". Another reason I love the English; it's that melancholy feeling that's directly tied into the failings of imperialism. Imagine sitting in a classroom, somewhere in Great Britain, learning that at one time "the sun never sets on the Queen's empire", and then to keep reading your history book to find that now, it's America who "owns" the world.
505, the album's closer, is my favorite track on the album, as was A Certain Romance, the last track on Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. I used to hate when bands did this, especially before CDs; we had these things called "cassettes" that played music, maybe you've seen pictures or heard stories of them? If a band had their beast song at the end of Side 2, you either had to sit through the whole thing or fast-forward to get to it. Not anymore. But when you listen to Favourite Worst Nightmare, you can hear the best song first, which is technically last, wait, err, are you confused? I'm confusing myself, but one thing I'm not confused with is the fact that this is a pretty decent album. Above average to say the least... Overall rating: 87
Next up: Laura Veirs' Saltbreakers...
Monday, April 23, 2007
Truant, They'll All Say!
Since I always seem to include an apology for either my a) ignorant and thoughtless previous stances towards a band's body of work (Bright Eyes & Modest Mouse, again: I'm sorry!) or my b) lack of professionalism by not doing reviews in a timely manner (this album is six weeks old), I must say this: this album came out at the same week as both my beloved Arcade Fire and Explosions In The Sky, also Air's Pocket Symphony and a week before LCD Soundsystem. I'm really sorry !!! got squeezed out. Next year, I'll review them before anyone else. Unless they put an album out the same week as Radiohead or Moz, then I reneg this promise.
!!!- Myth Takes (Warp Records, released 3/6)
Dance-punk's finest outfit come back with one of the most supreme offerings of the year, blistering listeners' eardrums with popping basslines and some of the most heavily dance-able grooves since Sly got his family Stoned. Okay now- don't flame me because I'm close to 6 weeks late with this review, actually, most of it was finished shortly after its intended due date. But I got caught up in the michigoss of apartment hunting and a brief lapse into the nether regions of the soul (the details of which are pretty inconsequential, I'll just say that California has highly potent and very available cheap weed. Hell- it's practically legal out here...) that I kept putting it off until I got sick this week and couldn't venture much outside the confines of my bedroom. So I'm finishing this intro to the review, which is how I usually work it. Backwards, ass backwards.
The album starts with the title track, and in actuality it starts out like it's already halfway through the song, slinking its way along to a snarky little bassline, working its way up and down the spine of the song. Nic Offer's vocals likewise bob along on top of the track, mimicking the tune's creepiness. All My Heroes Are Weirdos is something more comfortable to !!!'s regualr modus operandi, those call-and-response dance hall jams with a tempo that forces you to dance dance dance at 120 bpm. Likewise Must Be The Moon, the "I'm too cool for this party" jam, reminiscent of a late-70's George Clinton P-Funk banger.
Digression from review: !!! is pronounced Chk Chk Chk, but I'm sure you knew that at least, right? Anyway, that name is a total misnomer- I saw these guys last year, and there weren't a whole lot of chick chick chick at all, they should call them selves dude dude dude. For real. Okay, back to the article...
A New Name recalls all those synth-funk disco tracks from Time-Life's Sounds Of The 70s collections relentlessly hawked on late-night infomercials. That's not necessarily a dis- it's riff heavy, both vocally and musically- think Nile Rodgers and Chic, and at the same time smooth, like Earth, Wind & Fire. Heart Of Hearts goes back to the same-old, tried and true formula !!! has relied on for both Louden Up Now and their eponymous debut in 2001, except making itself uber-updated and dance friendly by adding female vocals, courtesy of Shannon Funchess- and those lovely little stop-start jams only !!! can pull off- it's really something to see these guys live: stopping on the drop of a dime, freezing, waiting a beat and then- BAM! all coming back in together, right where they left off.
A rock song? Sweet Life is the closest I've ever heard chk chk chk coming to an actual guitar-driven rock song, and it suits the band well to break the album in half- maybe signaling a turn in stylistic musing for these self-made party-monsters? The winds of change blow us into Yadnus, with its rah-rah-sis-boom-bah drum pattern and squonky synth-driven lead, sort of like what I imagine the texture of Gumby to be. Would Gumby even have a texture? (He's claymation for Christ's sake!) Anyway, it's nice to see !!! focus on structure here, a lot of their older stuff focus on 10 minute-plus ecstasy-excursions, and there's only one song over 8 minutes, the album's best jam, Bend Over Beethoven. In fact, if Beethoven were alive to see what !!! was doing with funk grooves like this, he'd shit in his hat and eat it for lunch. When I say hot damn, believe you me that Bend Over Beethoven just plain brings it.
Which brings me to: my first nomination for Song Of The Year, 2007. Come midway point of the year, sometime in June, I'll throw my top-ten songs out into the fray and we can jump all over them, but pound for pound, Bend Over is my jam of the year, so far*, and here's why: at 8:06, not one second is even remotely boring. Every instrument is doing double duty, all harmonizing into a frenzy of funk, an unstoppable F5 tornado of groove that eventually resolves itself back to the chorus and a perfect segue into Break In Case Of Anything, where the horn section is finally showcased for what it is: awesome. I love when bands "bottom-load" their albums, putting the best tracks towards the end. It's basically a "here's what we go out on, you fucking know you want some more of this..." and I, the respective listener, am eating out of the palm of their hand. All sycophantism aside, this may be the best dance album ever made. I couldn't imagine going to a club/party and not hearing at least one of these tracks.
The album ends on melancholy, piano tinged Infinifold, which forces me to reiterate that !!! must be taken seriously from now on- they're not simply that "let's take a bunch of E and dance our asses off, all night long!" band, much like Oingo Boingo was in perennial 80s-favorite movie Back To School. This is a much more forward thinking album than what I expected from !!!, and I hope they release either a live album or another set of remixes very shortly, this album can only whet my appetite for so long.
Overall rating: 93
* - I wrote this part of the review back on March 9th.
Do Make Say Think- You, You're A History In Rust (Constellation Records, released 2/27)
If post-rock is considered an "official" genre, then Toronto's Do Make Say Think is at or near the top of their game. Be forewarned that I'm an unabashed cheerleader for Explosions In The Sky, and if they're the pinnacle of excellence in said genre, than DMST is their milder, easy going little brother. I have a bunch of "sleep" records, you know, albums that you fall asleep to, and their 2002 offering, &Yet&Yet, is one of them. Unfamiliar with Do Make Say Think's body of work? They're somewhere between classic rock and modern jazz, balancing themselves between light melodies while capturing a dark and brooding moodiness.
This being said, let's get on with an actual review, shall we?
Bound To Be That Way, the album's introductory track, starts with a lo-fi and jazzy drum beat which fades back into a piano-woodwind-brass-guitar section, which sounds a lot like an orchestra quieting itself down while waiting for the maestro's cue. But then, at a little over two minutes, the song begins; all instruments in perfect harmony- engaging simultaneously in a beautiful melody, structured around a ferocious but refined arrangement. So okay, I've complained in the past that "it's pretty hard to review an instrumental album", which is really a cop-out that needs to be addressed, mainly for the following reasons- One: instrumental music conveys just as much emotion as music that contains lyrics; and reason Two: there are lyrics on this album- so there's always a first time for everything. Except the band doesn't lend their own vocal stylings to the album's second track, A With Living- apparently it's freaksters Akron/Family singing here. Nevertheless, it was definitely weird to hear singing on a DMST album, so I apologize for ever saying that it's tough to review an instrumental album, which this isn't. Not completely.
Then there's The Universe!, a bonafide stomper that leans more towards an actual rock song, eschewing the post-rock formula of using the guitar as a background instrument and just laying down chunky riff after riff, over a rolling drum with synth atmospherics. And speaking of atmosphere, A Tender History In Rust, the album's piece de resistance, is full of ambient texures at the outset but leads itself into a beautiful arrangement of acoustic guitar, strings, whistling and "barely there" vocals.
As melodies abound all throughout the album, there's also those lightly vocalized oohs and ahhs, recorded sound clips of children at a playground, embellished pleas of softened aggression, all the while awash in reverb and delay. Herstory Of Glory attacks the ears with a thorough and purely rhythmic driven sensibility- again, relying on a rock-and-roll approach. You, You're Awesome is almost a counterpoint to Herstory, placed after that driving and relentless track to confound the listener and to showcase that no style is off limits for DMST. Almost a funeral march, Awesome delivers more emotion in its three-and-a-half minutes than some albums can do in 45 minutes. And there's not a single word in this song.
While DMST's main influences may lie rooted in free-form jazz and classic rock, what sets them apart from the more popular (or accessible) acts is that they are largely experimental. Bands like Tortoise and Sea And Cake use tried-and-true formulas, giving them a much broader fan base. Do Make goes way out on a limb by eschewing any association to the "mainstream" by placing a different focus on sound, for example: sound as color, a concept frequently discussed by Caleb Gattegno. Executioner Blues relies more on a loping or circular brush stroke here, getting the canvas all mussed-up but conveying the message without the use of words, settling back into a very similar death march recounted in You, You're Awesome, but much more morose and brooding. The album's closer, In Mind, with its hi-hat, guitar and banjo interplay takes your mind off the subject and almost causes you to miss the trumpet snaking its way into the mix, eventually giving way to a train-like snare and more vocals, distorted to an almost undecipherability and melting away in a wash of static, leaving only the banjo at the end.
All in all, an excellent album- only to be listened to from start to finish, each song in context to the next. And as an album, each song stands alone as nothing; but together, as eight- an excellent album.
Overall rating: 88
Andrew Bird- Armchair Apocrypha (Fat Possum Records, released 3-20-07)
You may know Andrew Bird as the violinist extraordinaire who has honed his chops while on tour with the likes of Ani DiFranco and as a session man for swing-revivalists Squirrel Nut Zippers (remember them?), but as a soloist, Bird has been hard to peg. Perhaps he has created his own genre as much as he's left an imprint on whatever category he's been tagged with at each album's release. Seven albums, all different in their own right, all exploring avenues that most others (except obvious comparisons to Sufjan) would rightfully ignore.
The Mysterious Production Of Eggs, Bird's 2005 offering, was one of my favorites of the last few years, frequently trying to catch a sunset here or there as it plays in the background or ushering me home in serene comfort, when out much too late at night. Which comes to mind when seeing the title of his newest album- pertaining to the Apocrypha, one of the disputed books of the Old Testament and the adjective apocryphal; of doubtful authorship or authenticity. Is this Bird's "is there a god?" album? His Dark Side Of The Moon for the post-9/11 indie set? Oh, Mr. Bird... I feel now that I must psychoanalyze you now, for you are repressed somehow and God must be the one who feels your wrath, but alas, he never answers...
So, here goes my line of questioning, song-by-song:
Fiery Crash- a premonition of a plane crash in Bird's future? Does future fame entail more rides in jets for this singer-songwriter, raising his odds for impending doom? Or will he be the only one spared, a la Jeff Bridges in that movie Fearless?
Imitosis- strings and Playskool glockenspiels at play here; and Bird's neurosis extends all the way down intoa cellular level. Is he beckoning the sorrow of a self-fulfilling prophecy, "we are all basically alone, despite what all of your studies have shown.." relating his mitochondrial oxidative phosphorylation to the plight of modern man?
Heretics- a very similar string line as Nervous Tic Motion Of The Head To The Left. "Did I hear you say 'Thank god it's fatal'? That may be the most disturbing (or refreshing) line on the album...
Dark Matter- a familiar whistling intro, of which Mr. Bird has both a talent and fondness for; and crying out into the night "where's the dark matter?" over and over. Exercise demons or run them in a marathon, shall we?
Plasticities- strings and theremins "you're gonna grow old, you're gonna grow cold..." Ah, the innocence of youth.
Armchairs- starts with an orchestral mess leading into a plaintive guitar riff, which heads into a darker territory. Lyrically, it's a dark and stark mood here, please don't try to stop Andrew Bird. He's on a downward spiral, you shant relate to his pain now. And more crying out into the night: "Time's a crooked bow...", just as he settles himself, no, sturdies himself to exclaim (as the music crescendos to an explosive peak now), "...you didn't write, you didn't call, it didn't cross your mind at all."
Simple X- a new direction for the Bird-man; hip hoppy break beats under that spooky theremin, which is getting a lot of use on this album. He stretches his voice to mimic the ancient Russian electromagnetic instrument, somewhere between Tiny Tim and Antony (of the Johnsons...)
The Supine- just a short break here, instrumental, possibly setting the tone for...
Cataracts- this sounds like Mr. Bird has accepted his fate, he's leading headlong into harm, and he can't stop now if he tried. Like a man walking to the gallows, he's neither repentant or fazed, he's going to die and that's that. It's actually the most beautiful song on the album.
Scythian Empire- Macedonian kings and something something...
Spare-Ohs- "Finches and sparrows build nests and watch o'er me, what remains of small flightless birds you failed to protect..." Oh, now I see- the album cover should've tipped me off. You're talking about birds, Bird! It's like it all makes sense as I hear you sing this line now.
Yawny At The Apocalypse- Blah blah blah blah, and yes- I'm tired, too.
Basically, a half-assed review of a half-assed attempt at an album. I'm very disappointed in you Andrew- you were supposed to make an awesome album to follow up a previously awesome effort. The best thing that can be said is the one thing you can do so well is these moments of ephemera that are absolutely sublime, but you fail to sustain it over the length of the record. I'm trying to be nice here with this rating, but I took into account too much the grandiosity and near-perfection of The Mysterious Production Of Eggs. If it's any consolation to you, everyone else loved your album, even Entertainment Weekly!
Overall rating: 69
Next post: Laura Veirs' Saltbreakers, Dntel's Dumb Luck, Charlotte Gainsbourg's 555, and Arctic Monkey's Favourite Worst Nightmare. Not all at once, slowly- over the course of the week. I suppose...
!!!- Myth Takes (Warp Records, released 3/6)
Dance-punk's finest outfit come back with one of the most supreme offerings of the year, blistering listeners' eardrums with popping basslines and some of the most heavily dance-able grooves since Sly got his family Stoned. Okay now- don't flame me because I'm close to 6 weeks late with this review, actually, most of it was finished shortly after its intended due date. But I got caught up in the michigoss of apartment hunting and a brief lapse into the nether regions of the soul (the details of which are pretty inconsequential, I'll just say that California has highly potent and very available cheap weed. Hell- it's practically legal out here...) that I kept putting it off until I got sick this week and couldn't venture much outside the confines of my bedroom. So I'm finishing this intro to the review, which is how I usually work it. Backwards, ass backwards.
The album starts with the title track, and in actuality it starts out like it's already halfway through the song, slinking its way along to a snarky little bassline, working its way up and down the spine of the song. Nic Offer's vocals likewise bob along on top of the track, mimicking the tune's creepiness. All My Heroes Are Weirdos is something more comfortable to !!!'s regualr modus operandi, those call-and-response dance hall jams with a tempo that forces you to dance dance dance at 120 bpm. Likewise Must Be The Moon, the "I'm too cool for this party" jam, reminiscent of a late-70's George Clinton P-Funk banger.
Digression from review: !!! is pronounced Chk Chk Chk, but I'm sure you knew that at least, right? Anyway, that name is a total misnomer- I saw these guys last year, and there weren't a whole lot of chick chick chick at all, they should call them selves dude dude dude. For real. Okay, back to the article...
A New Name recalls all those synth-funk disco tracks from Time-Life's Sounds Of The 70s collections relentlessly hawked on late-night infomercials. That's not necessarily a dis- it's riff heavy, both vocally and musically- think Nile Rodgers and Chic, and at the same time smooth, like Earth, Wind & Fire. Heart Of Hearts goes back to the same-old, tried and true formula !!! has relied on for both Louden Up Now and their eponymous debut in 2001, except making itself uber-updated and dance friendly by adding female vocals, courtesy of Shannon Funchess- and those lovely little stop-start jams only !!! can pull off- it's really something to see these guys live: stopping on the drop of a dime, freezing, waiting a beat and then- BAM! all coming back in together, right where they left off.
A rock song? Sweet Life is the closest I've ever heard chk chk chk coming to an actual guitar-driven rock song, and it suits the band well to break the album in half- maybe signaling a turn in stylistic musing for these self-made party-monsters? The winds of change blow us into Yadnus, with its rah-rah-sis-boom-bah drum pattern and squonky synth-driven lead, sort of like what I imagine the texture of Gumby to be. Would Gumby even have a texture? (He's claymation for Christ's sake!) Anyway, it's nice to see !!! focus on structure here, a lot of their older stuff focus on 10 minute-plus ecstasy-excursions, and there's only one song over 8 minutes, the album's best jam, Bend Over Beethoven. In fact, if Beethoven were alive to see what !!! was doing with funk grooves like this, he'd shit in his hat and eat it for lunch. When I say hot damn, believe you me that Bend Over Beethoven just plain brings it.
Which brings me to: my first nomination for Song Of The Year, 2007. Come midway point of the year, sometime in June, I'll throw my top-ten songs out into the fray and we can jump all over them, but pound for pound, Bend Over is my jam of the year, so far*, and here's why: at 8:06, not one second is even remotely boring. Every instrument is doing double duty, all harmonizing into a frenzy of funk, an unstoppable F5 tornado of groove that eventually resolves itself back to the chorus and a perfect segue into Break In Case Of Anything, where the horn section is finally showcased for what it is: awesome. I love when bands "bottom-load" their albums, putting the best tracks towards the end. It's basically a "here's what we go out on, you fucking know you want some more of this..." and I, the respective listener, am eating out of the palm of their hand. All sycophantism aside, this may be the best dance album ever made. I couldn't imagine going to a club/party and not hearing at least one of these tracks.
The album ends on melancholy, piano tinged Infinifold, which forces me to reiterate that !!! must be taken seriously from now on- they're not simply that "let's take a bunch of E and dance our asses off, all night long!" band, much like Oingo Boingo was in perennial 80s-favorite movie Back To School. This is a much more forward thinking album than what I expected from !!!, and I hope they release either a live album or another set of remixes very shortly, this album can only whet my appetite for so long.
Overall rating: 93
* - I wrote this part of the review back on March 9th.
Do Make Say Think- You, You're A History In Rust (Constellation Records, released 2/27)
If post-rock is considered an "official" genre, then Toronto's Do Make Say Think is at or near the top of their game. Be forewarned that I'm an unabashed cheerleader for Explosions In The Sky, and if they're the pinnacle of excellence in said genre, than DMST is their milder, easy going little brother. I have a bunch of "sleep" records, you know, albums that you fall asleep to, and their 2002 offering, &Yet&Yet, is one of them. Unfamiliar with Do Make Say Think's body of work? They're somewhere between classic rock and modern jazz, balancing themselves between light melodies while capturing a dark and brooding moodiness.
This being said, let's get on with an actual review, shall we?
Bound To Be That Way, the album's introductory track, starts with a lo-fi and jazzy drum beat which fades back into a piano-woodwind-brass-guitar section, which sounds a lot like an orchestra quieting itself down while waiting for the maestro's cue. But then, at a little over two minutes, the song begins; all instruments in perfect harmony- engaging simultaneously in a beautiful melody, structured around a ferocious but refined arrangement. So okay, I've complained in the past that "it's pretty hard to review an instrumental album", which is really a cop-out that needs to be addressed, mainly for the following reasons- One: instrumental music conveys just as much emotion as music that contains lyrics; and reason Two: there are lyrics on this album- so there's always a first time for everything. Except the band doesn't lend their own vocal stylings to the album's second track, A With Living- apparently it's freaksters Akron/Family singing here. Nevertheless, it was definitely weird to hear singing on a DMST album, so I apologize for ever saying that it's tough to review an instrumental album, which this isn't. Not completely.
Then there's The Universe!, a bonafide stomper that leans more towards an actual rock song, eschewing the post-rock formula of using the guitar as a background instrument and just laying down chunky riff after riff, over a rolling drum with synth atmospherics. And speaking of atmosphere, A Tender History In Rust, the album's piece de resistance, is full of ambient texures at the outset but leads itself into a beautiful arrangement of acoustic guitar, strings, whistling and "barely there" vocals.
As melodies abound all throughout the album, there's also those lightly vocalized oohs and ahhs, recorded sound clips of children at a playground, embellished pleas of softened aggression, all the while awash in reverb and delay. Herstory Of Glory attacks the ears with a thorough and purely rhythmic driven sensibility- again, relying on a rock-and-roll approach. You, You're Awesome is almost a counterpoint to Herstory, placed after that driving and relentless track to confound the listener and to showcase that no style is off limits for DMST. Almost a funeral march, Awesome delivers more emotion in its three-and-a-half minutes than some albums can do in 45 minutes. And there's not a single word in this song.
While DMST's main influences may lie rooted in free-form jazz and classic rock, what sets them apart from the more popular (or accessible) acts is that they are largely experimental. Bands like Tortoise and Sea And Cake use tried-and-true formulas, giving them a much broader fan base. Do Make goes way out on a limb by eschewing any association to the "mainstream" by placing a different focus on sound, for example: sound as color, a concept frequently discussed by Caleb Gattegno. Executioner Blues relies more on a loping or circular brush stroke here, getting the canvas all mussed-up but conveying the message without the use of words, settling back into a very similar death march recounted in You, You're Awesome, but much more morose and brooding. The album's closer, In Mind, with its hi-hat, guitar and banjo interplay takes your mind off the subject and almost causes you to miss the trumpet snaking its way into the mix, eventually giving way to a train-like snare and more vocals, distorted to an almost undecipherability and melting away in a wash of static, leaving only the banjo at the end.
All in all, an excellent album- only to be listened to from start to finish, each song in context to the next. And as an album, each song stands alone as nothing; but together, as eight- an excellent album.
Overall rating: 88
Andrew Bird- Armchair Apocrypha (Fat Possum Records, released 3-20-07)
You may know Andrew Bird as the violinist extraordinaire who has honed his chops while on tour with the likes of Ani DiFranco and as a session man for swing-revivalists Squirrel Nut Zippers (remember them?), but as a soloist, Bird has been hard to peg. Perhaps he has created his own genre as much as he's left an imprint on whatever category he's been tagged with at each album's release. Seven albums, all different in their own right, all exploring avenues that most others (except obvious comparisons to Sufjan) would rightfully ignore.
The Mysterious Production Of Eggs, Bird's 2005 offering, was one of my favorites of the last few years, frequently trying to catch a sunset here or there as it plays in the background or ushering me home in serene comfort, when out much too late at night. Which comes to mind when seeing the title of his newest album- pertaining to the Apocrypha, one of the disputed books of the Old Testament and the adjective apocryphal; of doubtful authorship or authenticity. Is this Bird's "is there a god?" album? His Dark Side Of The Moon for the post-9/11 indie set? Oh, Mr. Bird... I feel now that I must psychoanalyze you now, for you are repressed somehow and God must be the one who feels your wrath, but alas, he never answers...
So, here goes my line of questioning, song-by-song:
Fiery Crash- a premonition of a plane crash in Bird's future? Does future fame entail more rides in jets for this singer-songwriter, raising his odds for impending doom? Or will he be the only one spared, a la Jeff Bridges in that movie Fearless?
Imitosis- strings and Playskool glockenspiels at play here; and Bird's neurosis extends all the way down intoa cellular level. Is he beckoning the sorrow of a self-fulfilling prophecy, "we are all basically alone, despite what all of your studies have shown.." relating his mitochondrial oxidative phosphorylation to the plight of modern man?
Heretics- a very similar string line as Nervous Tic Motion Of The Head To The Left. "Did I hear you say 'Thank god it's fatal'? That may be the most disturbing (or refreshing) line on the album...
Dark Matter- a familiar whistling intro, of which Mr. Bird has both a talent and fondness for; and crying out into the night "where's the dark matter?" over and over. Exercise demons or run them in a marathon, shall we?
Plasticities- strings and theremins "you're gonna grow old, you're gonna grow cold..." Ah, the innocence of youth.
Armchairs- starts with an orchestral mess leading into a plaintive guitar riff, which heads into a darker territory. Lyrically, it's a dark and stark mood here, please don't try to stop Andrew Bird. He's on a downward spiral, you shant relate to his pain now. And more crying out into the night: "Time's a crooked bow...", just as he settles himself, no, sturdies himself to exclaim (as the music crescendos to an explosive peak now), "...you didn't write, you didn't call, it didn't cross your mind at all."
Simple X- a new direction for the Bird-man; hip hoppy break beats under that spooky theremin, which is getting a lot of use on this album. He stretches his voice to mimic the ancient Russian electromagnetic instrument, somewhere between Tiny Tim and Antony (of the Johnsons...)
The Supine- just a short break here, instrumental, possibly setting the tone for...
Cataracts- this sounds like Mr. Bird has accepted his fate, he's leading headlong into harm, and he can't stop now if he tried. Like a man walking to the gallows, he's neither repentant or fazed, he's going to die and that's that. It's actually the most beautiful song on the album.
Scythian Empire- Macedonian kings and something something...
Spare-Ohs- "Finches and sparrows build nests and watch o'er me, what remains of small flightless birds you failed to protect..." Oh, now I see- the album cover should've tipped me off. You're talking about birds, Bird! It's like it all makes sense as I hear you sing this line now.
Yawny At The Apocalypse- Blah blah blah blah, and yes- I'm tired, too.
Basically, a half-assed review of a half-assed attempt at an album. I'm very disappointed in you Andrew- you were supposed to make an awesome album to follow up a previously awesome effort. The best thing that can be said is the one thing you can do so well is these moments of ephemera that are absolutely sublime, but you fail to sustain it over the length of the record. I'm trying to be nice here with this rating, but I took into account too much the grandiosity and near-perfection of The Mysterious Production Of Eggs. If it's any consolation to you, everyone else loved your album, even Entertainment Weekly!
Overall rating: 69
Next post: Laura Veirs' Saltbreakers, Dntel's Dumb Luck, Charlotte Gainsbourg's 555, and Arctic Monkey's Favourite Worst Nightmare. Not all at once, slowly- over the course of the week. I suppose...
Friday, April 13, 2007
What You Been Listening To? #3
Dear Reader,
Okay, here's another post from the slack one. Yes, it contains excerpts of half-assed reviews, current faves and as always it's chock full of glib interpretations of other people's musical abilities and what not.
But you will read it and like it. So here's a short list of what I'm geeking on these last few weeks...
Digital Underground- Sex Packets
Remember these guys? Holy shit, I do. I had slept on these guys until I recently got into a conversation about 2Pac's importance. Rather, my assertion was his un-importance to hip-hop, which is a huge malfeasance in this here Bay Area. I underestimated that Pac's followers are large and vocal here in Berkeley, especially to the under-21 crowd. He's something of a god 'round here. Whatev. Anyway, someone not directly involved in the argument had brought up his early work, and I said, "Yeah, he was a member of Digital Underground before his career lifted off and he was important enough to do movies and such..." Then I remembered being in 9th grade and wearing out my cassette tape of DU's Sex Packets, one of the greatest hip-hop albums of all time. You may remember The Humpty Dance and Doowutchyalike, the two monster jams from that jawn. But what this album really was, besides an homage to Parliament and Funkadelic, (not to mention mining riffs from Jimi Hendrix, Sly & The Family Stone, Herbie Hancock, Prince and The Meters) it was a hip-hopera about these "sex packets", which caused the user to hallucinate that they were having a sexual encounter, sort of like a virtual-reality sexcapade. It's witty, inventive and groundbreaking- all for a debut album. It seems that DU blew their collective load at the beginning of their career, however, because they only had one or two more hits after that and fell away into relative obscurity by the end of the 90s. But Sex Packets sits up there with Ice-T's The Iceberg and most Public Enemy albums as examples of old-school hip-hop concept albums. It seems every "underground" act nowadays (Aesop Rock, MF Doom, Jedi Mind Tricks, Subtle, etc.) uses this formula almost exclusively on their albums.
The Seaworthies
Just a little pop band from a little town up in Washington. Think twee, not unlike Mates Of State, Rilo Kiley, Mirah and Belle & Sebastian. Are they brother and sister or husband and wife? I don't know anymore- you can thank Jack and Meg White for blurring that line...
Bright Eyes- Cassadaga
(Apology preceding review:) Yes, I know I've often maligned Conor Oberst, most of the time undeservedly. Yes, I'm familiar with all of his work. I kvetched at his Fevers And Mirrors, wondered if it was healthy for someone to be such a whiny little bitch, but he was only 20 when he did that album. (I'm making excuses for him now?) And there's a few tracks from Lifted... that I kinda like, and the same for I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning. But overall, too much yelping and crying over folky/faux-country tunes for me to really like him as a serious artist. Maybe he's too serious for me to take him serious. But Cassadaga, the latest from Bright Eyes, has me eating my words- rather, redefining my stance. I'm not going to concede that those earlier records are great or awesome, but I can say that Cassadaga may just be the best of his career, and one of the best albums of the year. Excellent production values, lushly orchestrated string sections, more adult themes here- the growing up album that everyone in music has to make eventually. Maybe all that hanging with Bruce Springsteen and Michael Stipe forced Oberst to grow up quicker. Anyway, three tracks have grabbed my by my throat and forced me to pay attention- namely: Four Winds, Soul Singer In A Session Band and Coat Check Dream Song. Whoever told Conor to drop his "whine" and actually sing songs in man's voice gets mad props from me. Look for this to be near the top of my year-end list.
Overall rating: 91
Bishop Allen- Charm School
Think really hummable, stripped-down, basic pop music from Brooklyn's hipster set. It seems as if Brooklyn is the east coast's Portland, battling for bragging rights to which city is America's indie rock proving grounds. I'm thinking I'll do an expose soon on Portland bands vs. Brooklyn bands. But Bishop Allen brings it- check these guys out.
Sweden
The pop music scene in Sweden is approaching levels of Canadian intensity. Some name dropping here: Peter Bjorn and John, Jens Lekman, The Knife, Jose Gonzalez, I'm From Barcelona, Loney, Dear, and whoever's coming up next week. A rich pop history with its roots firmly grounded in soil of ABBA, and late 80s one-hit wonders Roxette, 90s crap-pop stalwarts Ace Of Base, cutesy-poppers The Cardigans, and other recent almost-goods Soundtrack To Our Lives, The Hives, and The Sounds. It's not just death metal in Scandanavia anymore.
Laura Veirs- Saltbreakers
Introducing the new Laura Veirs and her new band, The Saltbreakers. On her last two albums, she did almost everything herself, as she does live with the help of state-of-the-art looping equipment, she recalls a lo-fi, indie-folk-pop version of Keller Williams (without all the stinky hippies). Showcasing her excellent lyrics (to hide her, er, "weird" voice? Maybe weird is too harsh a word, it's just, uh, "unconventional". Yeah...), excellent production and a real live, full on band to help her work out these nice little guitar ditties. Being featured as the female lead voice on The Decemberists' Yankee Bayonet leaves her in good company and probably helped catapult her to headline her own tour this spring. It'll be interesting to see her on stage with real people behind her this time. I'm excited. As for the album, Saltbreakers is a term for ocean waves, but I also think (upon listening to the heartfelt emotive good-byes on here) that it's a classic break-up album. Pain = creativity. Hmmm, nice formula, Miss Veirs.
Overall rating: 87
Modest Mouse- We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank
Again, a band that I can say I don't really like all that much. But I like this album very, very much only after a few listens. Maybe it's the new guitar player, a Johnny-something from some band that was big a few years back. Actually, Mr. Marr is one of my guitar heroes and when I saw all the hoopla surrounding his addition to MM, I guffawed it to high heaven. But upon my first listen, I was like, "Whoa- do I have to say I like this now? Because I really don't want to like this, but..." Again, for the second time this week, I have to apologize about my preconceptions regarding a band's music- but in my defense, really: I must be excused- adding Johnny Freaking Marr to your band a) changes your band into a completely different band and b) it's Johnny Freaking Marr- he wrote the music to EVERY SMITHS SONG. That alone should make me just shut up and like Modest Mouse's new album, but I'm Irish and I'm a drunk. So that means: I have a great deal of contempt for things prior to investigating all the major points and facts. If jumping to conclusions was a sport, I'd medal every Olympics. Making a coherent concept album, which seems to be MM's modus operandi, is a tough task. But they tackle competently the ills and woes of modern living, from war to global warming to checkered pasts- we Americans love our heroes to have checkered pasts. So what if lead singer Isaac Brock has an annoying voice? He writes great (if not obtuse) lyrics, and his checkered past also makes for a great side story. And Johnny Freaking Marr is in your band! I wonder what Moz says about Marr's new endeavor? Maybe I'll ask him when I see him (at Oakland's Paramount Theater on May 1st...)
Overall rating: 89
So, that's it for this week. Be sure to check back next week for so real reviews- unless you like the capsule-sized reviews. Let me know what you think...
Possible forthcoming reviews:
Andrew Bird, !!! and Do Make Say Think (yeah, right...)
Okay, here's another post from the slack one. Yes, it contains excerpts of half-assed reviews, current faves and as always it's chock full of glib interpretations of other people's musical abilities and what not.
But you will read it and like it. So here's a short list of what I'm geeking on these last few weeks...
Digital Underground- Sex Packets
Remember these guys? Holy shit, I do. I had slept on these guys until I recently got into a conversation about 2Pac's importance. Rather, my assertion was his un-importance to hip-hop, which is a huge malfeasance in this here Bay Area. I underestimated that Pac's followers are large and vocal here in Berkeley, especially to the under-21 crowd. He's something of a god 'round here. Whatev. Anyway, someone not directly involved in the argument had brought up his early work, and I said, "Yeah, he was a member of Digital Underground before his career lifted off and he was important enough to do movies and such..." Then I remembered being in 9th grade and wearing out my cassette tape of DU's Sex Packets, one of the greatest hip-hop albums of all time. You may remember The Humpty Dance and Doowutchyalike, the two monster jams from that jawn. But what this album really was, besides an homage to Parliament and Funkadelic, (not to mention mining riffs from Jimi Hendrix, Sly & The Family Stone, Herbie Hancock, Prince and The Meters) it was a hip-hopera about these "sex packets", which caused the user to hallucinate that they were having a sexual encounter, sort of like a virtual-reality sexcapade. It's witty, inventive and groundbreaking- all for a debut album. It seems that DU blew their collective load at the beginning of their career, however, because they only had one or two more hits after that and fell away into relative obscurity by the end of the 90s. But Sex Packets sits up there with Ice-T's The Iceberg and most Public Enemy albums as examples of old-school hip-hop concept albums. It seems every "underground" act nowadays (Aesop Rock, MF Doom, Jedi Mind Tricks, Subtle, etc.) uses this formula almost exclusively on their albums.
The Seaworthies
Just a little pop band from a little town up in Washington. Think twee, not unlike Mates Of State, Rilo Kiley, Mirah and Belle & Sebastian. Are they brother and sister or husband and wife? I don't know anymore- you can thank Jack and Meg White for blurring that line...
Bright Eyes- Cassadaga
(Apology preceding review:) Yes, I know I've often maligned Conor Oberst, most of the time undeservedly. Yes, I'm familiar with all of his work. I kvetched at his Fevers And Mirrors, wondered if it was healthy for someone to be such a whiny little bitch, but he was only 20 when he did that album. (I'm making excuses for him now?) And there's a few tracks from Lifted... that I kinda like, and the same for I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning. But overall, too much yelping and crying over folky/faux-country tunes for me to really like him as a serious artist. Maybe he's too serious for me to take him serious. But Cassadaga, the latest from Bright Eyes, has me eating my words- rather, redefining my stance. I'm not going to concede that those earlier records are great or awesome, but I can say that Cassadaga may just be the best of his career, and one of the best albums of the year. Excellent production values, lushly orchestrated string sections, more adult themes here- the growing up album that everyone in music has to make eventually. Maybe all that hanging with Bruce Springsteen and Michael Stipe forced Oberst to grow up quicker. Anyway, three tracks have grabbed my by my throat and forced me to pay attention- namely: Four Winds, Soul Singer In A Session Band and Coat Check Dream Song. Whoever told Conor to drop his "whine" and actually sing songs in man's voice gets mad props from me. Look for this to be near the top of my year-end list.
Overall rating: 91
Bishop Allen- Charm School
Think really hummable, stripped-down, basic pop music from Brooklyn's hipster set. It seems as if Brooklyn is the east coast's Portland, battling for bragging rights to which city is America's indie rock proving grounds. I'm thinking I'll do an expose soon on Portland bands vs. Brooklyn bands. But Bishop Allen brings it- check these guys out.
Sweden
The pop music scene in Sweden is approaching levels of Canadian intensity. Some name dropping here: Peter Bjorn and John, Jens Lekman, The Knife, Jose Gonzalez, I'm From Barcelona, Loney, Dear, and whoever's coming up next week. A rich pop history with its roots firmly grounded in soil of ABBA, and late 80s one-hit wonders Roxette, 90s crap-pop stalwarts Ace Of Base, cutesy-poppers The Cardigans, and other recent almost-goods Soundtrack To Our Lives, The Hives, and The Sounds. It's not just death metal in Scandanavia anymore.
Laura Veirs- Saltbreakers
Introducing the new Laura Veirs and her new band, The Saltbreakers. On her last two albums, she did almost everything herself, as she does live with the help of state-of-the-art looping equipment, she recalls a lo-fi, indie-folk-pop version of Keller Williams (without all the stinky hippies). Showcasing her excellent lyrics (to hide her, er, "weird" voice? Maybe weird is too harsh a word, it's just, uh, "unconventional". Yeah...), excellent production and a real live, full on band to help her work out these nice little guitar ditties. Being featured as the female lead voice on The Decemberists' Yankee Bayonet leaves her in good company and probably helped catapult her to headline her own tour this spring. It'll be interesting to see her on stage with real people behind her this time. I'm excited. As for the album, Saltbreakers is a term for ocean waves, but I also think (upon listening to the heartfelt emotive good-byes on here) that it's a classic break-up album. Pain = creativity. Hmmm, nice formula, Miss Veirs.
Overall rating: 87
Modest Mouse- We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank
Again, a band that I can say I don't really like all that much. But I like this album very, very much only after a few listens. Maybe it's the new guitar player, a Johnny-something from some band that was big a few years back. Actually, Mr. Marr is one of my guitar heroes and when I saw all the hoopla surrounding his addition to MM, I guffawed it to high heaven. But upon my first listen, I was like, "Whoa- do I have to say I like this now? Because I really don't want to like this, but..." Again, for the second time this week, I have to apologize about my preconceptions regarding a band's music- but in my defense, really: I must be excused- adding Johnny Freaking Marr to your band a) changes your band into a completely different band and b) it's Johnny Freaking Marr- he wrote the music to EVERY SMITHS SONG. That alone should make me just shut up and like Modest Mouse's new album, but I'm Irish and I'm a drunk. So that means: I have a great deal of contempt for things prior to investigating all the major points and facts. If jumping to conclusions was a sport, I'd medal every Olympics. Making a coherent concept album, which seems to be MM's modus operandi, is a tough task. But they tackle competently the ills and woes of modern living, from war to global warming to checkered pasts- we Americans love our heroes to have checkered pasts. So what if lead singer Isaac Brock has an annoying voice? He writes great (if not obtuse) lyrics, and his checkered past also makes for a great side story. And Johnny Freaking Marr is in your band! I wonder what Moz says about Marr's new endeavor? Maybe I'll ask him when I see him (at Oakland's Paramount Theater on May 1st...)
Overall rating: 89
So, that's it for this week. Be sure to check back next week for so real reviews- unless you like the capsule-sized reviews. Let me know what you think...
Possible forthcoming reviews:
Andrew Bird, !!! and Do Make Say Think (yeah, right...)
Friday, March 30, 2007
...what you been Listening To? #2
My tastes change like the currents change. Which it's as if to say I change my tastes to fit the current trends, which couldn't be further from the truth. Case in point: whenever I go into a store, say, I don't know, Urban Outfitters and/or H&M, I am usually disgusted by what I hear coming out of the store's PA system. I'm not trying to get every new album by every new hipster band, although I will give it a sincere "couple o' listens" and actively try to engage the music, evaluating the goods and bads.
Latest example: Snowden, which I found out is on repeat at one of the aforementioned shops. I do not like this band. I can tell you why, but I need 300 words to explain this. I can say it in two: they suck.
Another example: Shiny Toy Guns. Again, 300 words are useless when I only need one: sucky. Thank you for reminding me why I hate L. A.
Enough crap-band bashing, I'm here to talk about what I'm loving at the minute. My girlfriend is trying to get me into the habit of every time I say something negative, to come back with three positives.
So, here are many postive things about the current state of my musical tastes.
Will Oldham- Palace Music, Palace Brothers, Bonnie "Prince" Billy, etc...
This man is fast approaching sainthood in my world, a spot safely reserved for only a select few. Yes, it's lonely at the top, and Mr. Oldham captures that loneliness like no one else and puts it to song. And to make matters worse, I didn't discover this amazing singer/songwriter/actor until a few months ago, much to the chagrin of my dear friend Raph who had been singing this man's praises for quite some time. I'm a resistant and defiant person, but I could save myself so much trouble if I just listened to other's suggestions. Also, he's one hell of an actor, check out his part in Old Joy.
Naked Eyes- Promises, Promises
Yes, that terrible 80s song. I love it so much right now, it's so awful I cringe. And then I play it again. Wanna see the video? It's even more tragic than just the song. Click here.
Gillian Welch- Black Star (Live)
A live, bluegrass version of one of my favorite Radiohead tracks, from Minneapolis way back in September of '04. It's so good you'll only notice the mistake in the solo if you're as anal as I am. (Read: music nerd- I really need a hobby.) How I found Gillian Welch? She's featured a few times on the next album:
O Brother, Where Art Thou? Soundtrack
It's so insanely awesome a film that works for the following reasons: a) Because the music is so integral to the cinematography-slash-storyline that there's just no way that movie would've worked without it. b) If you don't like this movie, you are completely dead inside... A modern classic, indubitably in my top 10.
Michael Jackson- Human Nature
Let's make pretend Michael Jackson didn't have the most crazy, slow burning descent into madness since Howard Hughes, and there's no doubt in my mind that he'd still be banging out hits with Quincy Jones, still carrying MTV on his back and still selling Pepsi like it was crack in Washington, DC circa 1988. Anyway, this is my favorite song in his catalog. But 10 years from now, everyone will be like "the real king of pop is Justin Timberlake". Plus, I really don't think we'll be hearing from Michael anytime soon, so if you're reading, Jacko, please turn your crown in.
Grizzly Bear- Knife
This song is so sexy, and these Brooklyn hipsters made one of the best sleeper albums last year. I'm calling it a sleeper album because I totally slept on it. Again, I should listen to advice given to me...
Memphis- A Little Place In The Wilderness
A beautiful and heartrending pastiche borrowed from his day job, Torquil Campbell of Montreal band Stars, one of my faves of the last few years, puts together a wonderful side project with Chris Dumont. It's happy and sad; melancholia sprinkled with touches of hope just around the edges. Oh Canada, you rule...
Her Space Holiday
If there was such a genre as emo-electronica, Marc Bianchi would be at the top. Intensely personal lyrics over heavily orchestrated strings, replete with trip-hoppy breakbeats and swinging basslines bouncing underneath. But the strength of HSH lies in Bianchi's lyrics: "So carry me around/ Like a picture in your purse/ Pull me out when things are at their worst/ You can show up at my house/ Completely unannounced/ We'll have that movie kiss we talked about..."
Joan As Police Woman
Silky smooth vocals over excellent instrumentation equals pop stardom. I often wonder aloud (much to the chagrin of anyone within earshot of me) how an act like Joan As Police Woman isn't ridiculously huge. And being that I'm so unique (yes, it's terminal, I can't be saved now, it's too late...), no one can ever answer my pleas. Her voice is like a cross between Leslie Feist and Regina Spektor, and her songwriter is intensely personal. Music this good can't stay a secret for too long.
The Pipettes- We Are The Pipettes
"Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, but it's better if you do." If Natalie Portman's character Jane (in the stunning movie Closer ) says it, then it must be true. (Nevermind that Panic! At the Disco used that line for not one but two song titles on their breakout album.) Listening to these three reformed riot grrrls take on an updated version of 60's girl pop is as refreshing as it's alarming- not only because they lie to guys, because they have a whole lot of fun doing it. Direct from the UK, bringing charming songs with titles like Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me, Because It's Not Love (But It's Still A Feeling), and One Night Stand, be prepared to see these lovely ladies all over the radar in '07.
Menomena
Take a three piece band, make them all multi-instrumentalists, give them a digital loop machine, and send them to Portland, Oregon. The resulting noise becomes pure beauty- it's part trip-hop, part jazz, part rock, all with that experimental, DIY indie attitude.
The Besnard Lakes- The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse
Again, I can't get off of Canada's dick just yet. Pretty much every band coming out of the Great White North is dominating my playlist recently, and The Besnard Lakes are just another example of the rampant creativity floating around in the cold air. Montreal is the spawning ground for fellow bands such as The Dears, Arcade Fire, Islands, Stars, Sunset Rubdown and Wolf Parade. Imagine atmospheric/dream-pop, like Brian Wilson fronting My Bloody Valentine. Call it baroque-pop, chamber-pop, whatever you want. I call it amazingly good music.
Next: ______________ (fill it in yourself!)
Latest example: Snowden, which I found out is on repeat at one of the aforementioned shops. I do not like this band. I can tell you why, but I need 300 words to explain this. I can say it in two: they suck.
Another example: Shiny Toy Guns. Again, 300 words are useless when I only need one: sucky. Thank you for reminding me why I hate L. A.
Enough crap-band bashing, I'm here to talk about what I'm loving at the minute. My girlfriend is trying to get me into the habit of every time I say something negative, to come back with three positives.
So, here are many postive things about the current state of my musical tastes.
Will Oldham- Palace Music, Palace Brothers, Bonnie "Prince" Billy, etc...
This man is fast approaching sainthood in my world, a spot safely reserved for only a select few. Yes, it's lonely at the top, and Mr. Oldham captures that loneliness like no one else and puts it to song. And to make matters worse, I didn't discover this amazing singer/songwriter/actor until a few months ago, much to the chagrin of my dear friend Raph who had been singing this man's praises for quite some time. I'm a resistant and defiant person, but I could save myself so much trouble if I just listened to other's suggestions. Also, he's one hell of an actor, check out his part in Old Joy.
Naked Eyes- Promises, Promises
Yes, that terrible 80s song. I love it so much right now, it's so awful I cringe. And then I play it again. Wanna see the video? It's even more tragic than just the song. Click here.
Gillian Welch- Black Star (Live)
A live, bluegrass version of one of my favorite Radiohead tracks, from Minneapolis way back in September of '04. It's so good you'll only notice the mistake in the solo if you're as anal as I am. (Read: music nerd- I really need a hobby.) How I found Gillian Welch? She's featured a few times on the next album:
O Brother, Where Art Thou? Soundtrack
It's so insanely awesome a film that works for the following reasons: a) Because the music is so integral to the cinematography-slash-storyline that there's just no way that movie would've worked without it. b) If you don't like this movie, you are completely dead inside... A modern classic, indubitably in my top 10.
Michael Jackson- Human Nature
Let's make pretend Michael Jackson didn't have the most crazy, slow burning descent into madness since Howard Hughes, and there's no doubt in my mind that he'd still be banging out hits with Quincy Jones, still carrying MTV on his back and still selling Pepsi like it was crack in Washington, DC circa 1988. Anyway, this is my favorite song in his catalog. But 10 years from now, everyone will be like "the real king of pop is Justin Timberlake". Plus, I really don't think we'll be hearing from Michael anytime soon, so if you're reading, Jacko, please turn your crown in.
Grizzly Bear- Knife
This song is so sexy, and these Brooklyn hipsters made one of the best sleeper albums last year. I'm calling it a sleeper album because I totally slept on it. Again, I should listen to advice given to me...
Memphis- A Little Place In The Wilderness
A beautiful and heartrending pastiche borrowed from his day job, Torquil Campbell of Montreal band Stars, one of my faves of the last few years, puts together a wonderful side project with Chris Dumont. It's happy and sad; melancholia sprinkled with touches of hope just around the edges. Oh Canada, you rule...
Her Space Holiday
If there was such a genre as emo-electronica, Marc Bianchi would be at the top. Intensely personal lyrics over heavily orchestrated strings, replete with trip-hoppy breakbeats and swinging basslines bouncing underneath. But the strength of HSH lies in Bianchi's lyrics: "So carry me around/ Like a picture in your purse/ Pull me out when things are at their worst/ You can show up at my house/ Completely unannounced/ We'll have that movie kiss we talked about..."
Joan As Police Woman
Silky smooth vocals over excellent instrumentation equals pop stardom. I often wonder aloud (much to the chagrin of anyone within earshot of me) how an act like Joan As Police Woman isn't ridiculously huge. And being that I'm so unique (yes, it's terminal, I can't be saved now, it's too late...), no one can ever answer my pleas. Her voice is like a cross between Leslie Feist and Regina Spektor, and her songwriter is intensely personal. Music this good can't stay a secret for too long.
The Pipettes- We Are The Pipettes
"Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, but it's better if you do." If Natalie Portman's character Jane (in the stunning movie Closer ) says it, then it must be true. (Nevermind that Panic! At the Disco used that line for not one but two song titles on their breakout album.) Listening to these three reformed riot grrrls take on an updated version of 60's girl pop is as refreshing as it's alarming- not only because they lie to guys, because they have a whole lot of fun doing it. Direct from the UK, bringing charming songs with titles like Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me, Because It's Not Love (But It's Still A Feeling), and One Night Stand, be prepared to see these lovely ladies all over the radar in '07.
Menomena
Take a three piece band, make them all multi-instrumentalists, give them a digital loop machine, and send them to Portland, Oregon. The resulting noise becomes pure beauty- it's part trip-hop, part jazz, part rock, all with that experimental, DIY indie attitude.
The Besnard Lakes- The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse
Again, I can't get off of Canada's dick just yet. Pretty much every band coming out of the Great White North is dominating my playlist recently, and The Besnard Lakes are just another example of the rampant creativity floating around in the cold air. Montreal is the spawning ground for fellow bands such as The Dears, Arcade Fire, Islands, Stars, Sunset Rubdown and Wolf Parade. Imagine atmospheric/dream-pop, like Brian Wilson fronting My Bloody Valentine. Call it baroque-pop, chamber-pop, whatever you want. I call it amazingly good music.
Next: ______________ (fill it in yourself!)
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Better Late Than Never...
Remember that time I was all, "Dude, this week I'm writing every day and blah blah blah..." and then I trailed off and did a bunch of other stuff, obviously preventing myself from writing and all that jazz?
Here's one of those overdue reviews:
Minus the Bear- Interpretaciones Del Oso (Suicide Squeeze, released 2-20-07)
Loosely translated: Interpretations of the Bear. Remix albums, man... Minus The Bear's 2005 magnum opus Menos El Oso gets the track-by-track pirate hijacking treatment from 11 DJs-slash-musicians, only because remix albums are so hot right now and so is Minus The Bear. One of the best live acts I've experienced in the last few years, a remix album doesn't do this band justice- perhaps a live album would've been a better choice for this band at this point in their career, but a bold move nonetheless. It's something for the real fans, and the energy of Menos El Oso is conserved for either the new album (currently being recorded; tentatively titled Planet Of Ice) or the eventual tour (sweet, dude!).
Speaking from a fan's point of view, this serves as an excellent reminder, a side-by-side companion to or a compliment to Menos El Oso. And if you haven't figured out yet that I only review albums that I'm a fan of, well then- you haven't been paying attention. At least not very closely. But mark my words: this band should be huge. Like Burt Reynolds huge. For real.
So does this album warrant a track-by-track review, or do I just give a skimmed review, cut the fat out and tell you what I think of the highlights? Overall, its vibe is very chilled, a down-tempo lesson in music booth production values, and a few tracks are even completely overhauled- Tyondai Braxton strips Fulfill The Dream of its skeleton and gives it a new structure entirely, as does Dark Baby with Hooray. FOG takes Memphis & 53rd and plays it at half speed over a distorted droned-out synth, which is basically a 4 minute wet-fart sound. Michio's Death Drive by Michio aka Monostereo, most closely resembles the original work of all the re-workings and The Game Needed Me, gets a Bjork-stylized Army Of Me bassline, courtesy of The Oktopus.
El Torrente gets spookied up by Jason Clark of Pretty Girls Make Graves, the only musician I've heard of prior to seeing the who's who on this album. So that leads me to this assumption: that I know what you're thinking, I've never heard of these DJs either, and they may as well be 16 year-old kids in their bedrooms armed with overly-expensive music production software a la ProTools or FruityLoops, underneath their posters of My Chemical Romance and Pam Anderson's plasticized rack.
But Pachuca Sunrise, the centerpiece of Menos El Oso, also becomes the most arresting remix on here. Equally engrossing is Morgan from Blood Brothers' O, Hunter Remix of The Pig War, done with clarinets (or oboes?) and Jake Snider's vocalized oohs and ahhs. So, my three favorite tracks: the opener, P.O.S.'s Drilling, which gets a very stuttered and choppy treatment, Alias' Pachuca Sunrise and J. Clark's El Torrente. Again, I can only restate my earlier advice- this album may come with the disclaimer: for true MTB fans only, but I would suggest giving it a listen. Overall rating: 84
Here's one of those overdue reviews:
Minus the Bear- Interpretaciones Del Oso (Suicide Squeeze, released 2-20-07)
Loosely translated: Interpretations of the Bear. Remix albums, man... Minus The Bear's 2005 magnum opus Menos El Oso gets the track-by-track pirate hijacking treatment from 11 DJs-slash-musicians, only because remix albums are so hot right now and so is Minus The Bear. One of the best live acts I've experienced in the last few years, a remix album doesn't do this band justice- perhaps a live album would've been a better choice for this band at this point in their career, but a bold move nonetheless. It's something for the real fans, and the energy of Menos El Oso is conserved for either the new album (currently being recorded; tentatively titled Planet Of Ice) or the eventual tour (sweet, dude!).
Speaking from a fan's point of view, this serves as an excellent reminder, a side-by-side companion to or a compliment to Menos El Oso. And if you haven't figured out yet that I only review albums that I'm a fan of, well then- you haven't been paying attention. At least not very closely. But mark my words: this band should be huge. Like Burt Reynolds huge. For real.
So does this album warrant a track-by-track review, or do I just give a skimmed review, cut the fat out and tell you what I think of the highlights? Overall, its vibe is very chilled, a down-tempo lesson in music booth production values, and a few tracks are even completely overhauled- Tyondai Braxton strips Fulfill The Dream of its skeleton and gives it a new structure entirely, as does Dark Baby with Hooray. FOG takes Memphis & 53rd and plays it at half speed over a distorted droned-out synth, which is basically a 4 minute wet-fart sound. Michio's Death Drive by Michio aka Monostereo, most closely resembles the original work of all the re-workings and The Game Needed Me, gets a Bjork-stylized Army Of Me bassline, courtesy of The Oktopus.
El Torrente gets spookied up by Jason Clark of Pretty Girls Make Graves, the only musician I've heard of prior to seeing the who's who on this album. So that leads me to this assumption: that I know what you're thinking, I've never heard of these DJs either, and they may as well be 16 year-old kids in their bedrooms armed with overly-expensive music production software a la ProTools or FruityLoops, underneath their posters of My Chemical Romance and Pam Anderson's plasticized rack.
But Pachuca Sunrise, the centerpiece of Menos El Oso, also becomes the most arresting remix on here. Equally engrossing is Morgan from Blood Brothers' O, Hunter Remix of The Pig War, done with clarinets (or oboes?) and Jake Snider's vocalized oohs and ahhs. So, my three favorite tracks: the opener, P.O.S.'s Drilling, which gets a very stuttered and choppy treatment, Alias' Pachuca Sunrise and J. Clark's El Torrente. Again, I can only restate my earlier advice- this album may come with the disclaimer: for true MTB fans only, but I would suggest giving it a listen. Overall rating: 84
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
LCD Soundsystem's Sound Of Silver...
So much music, so little time. I'm beating myself over the head for not finishing other reviews, which I won't name right now, but you, my loyal readers, know exactly what I'm talking about.
Better late than never, right?
LCD Soundsystem- Sound Of Silver (DFA Records, released 3/13/07)
Dear James Murphy,
Thank you for bringing electronic music back to me! It had been a while since I was interested in anything not made by guitar/bass/piano/drums, and I sincerely and honestly owe you a great deal of kudos. When I was a teen in the late eighties-slash-early nineties, New Order and Depeche Mode was all I had, and in the late 90s Massive Attack, Portishead and Bjork caught my ear. I even went to a few raves, and yes- I've familiarized myself with drum and bass and know who Paul Oakenfold is, even seen Sasha & John Digweed spin. Your last album made me once again appreciate Daft Punk, and I wondered aloud if they were really playing at your house as you claimed. But it doesn't really matter, now does it? I also lost my edge and tried so hard to get it back, all that posturing and posing and trying to get myself noticed- you were speaking to me, and in a lot of ways, you were there for me... Anyway, I really like your new album a whole bunch, and please keep those DFA Remixes coming!
Yours Truly,
Jimmy Mac of Berkeley, CA
PS- My city is both a sucker AND a creep!
I've only written fan letters to Morrissey and Salma Hayek, so Mr. Murphy should feel really special about this. It's not as if I'm actually going to send this and you will probably never read it, but I feel a sense of overwhelming shame because of it. But look at the company you're in- my two celebrity crushes. Okay, Salma went and got herself knocked up, ending any chance of romance between us. And Morrissey- well, that's a whole 'nother story...
...which, er, awkwardly leads me into a review of Sound Of Silver, LCD Soundsystem's latest release.
Get Innocuous starts off the album, almost too predictable in its style, and sounds like a cross between LeTigre and the Talking Heads, most notably the refrain from Crosseyed & Painless off of 1980's Remain In Light. That's not so much a knock as praise- I adore both of those bands. Let's just say that Murphy and Crew won't be called "groundbreaking" at any time in the near future. But what they do better than anyone in the game, is get the self-serious indie kids moving their hips to-and-fro.
Tongue-in-cheek suits LCD so well, as witnessed on the double album and here with the album's first single and video, North American Scum. Not as much as an apology for "us", it's a jokingly self-righteous and indignant stab at our own psyche, and I laugh my way through this song every time I encounter it. Self-aware but not self-important, this track details the why and how we are the way we are: "I hate the feelin' when you're looking at me that way- 'cause we're North Americans. But if we act all shy, it’ll make it ok- makes it go away." He excludes Canadians in this attack, however.
One thing James Murphy does well is his vocalization- he can get across his sincerity, melancholia, sarcasm, sexiness, etc. all by the tone he keeps. Not a great voice by any stretch of the imagination, it's the way he uses it; Murphy goes back and forth between his speaking voice, a disco falsetto and that "head register" to get his point across. It works especially well on the title track, with his dancehall-MC voice which calls attention to the lamentations of lost youth: "Sound of silver talk to me, makes you want to feel like a teenager- until you remember the feelings of a real life emotion of teenager. Then you think again..." I can agree, I definitely don't want to revisit those teenage emotions, all that confusion. These current "adult situations" are much more comforting...
New York, I Love You closes the album down, and lyrically, the best song in LCD's catalog. So caustic in its condemnation of new New York vs. old New York, Murphy longs for the days of trash and crime. But by the time he arrived, it was a clean, safe and hospitable city: "So the boring collect, I mean all disrespect; In the neighborhood bars I'd once dreamt I would drink." After reading Freakonomics and Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point, there's no real rhyme or reason to how Manhattan turned it around. Once the worst city in America, it's now one the safest places to raise a family. Whether it's stroller derby on the Upper West Side, the gentrification of TriBeCa, New York isn't the New York of Ghostbusters, circa 1984.
And LCD Soundsystem isn't the beatbox, synthesizers/sequencers and turntables of yesterday either- going for a full-band approach, relying more on live instrumentation than previous efforts, it seems as if Murphy has also gentrified his act, but still retaining his edge.
Overall rating: 87
I'm still all backed up...
I've been promising Minus The Bear, !!! and Do Make Say Think for weeks now. I'll get around to it, eventually. I'm waiting for Axl and G'n'R put out Chinese Democracy still!
Better late than never, right?
LCD Soundsystem- Sound Of Silver (DFA Records, released 3/13/07)
Dear James Murphy,
Thank you for bringing electronic music back to me! It had been a while since I was interested in anything not made by guitar/bass/piano/drums, and I sincerely and honestly owe you a great deal of kudos. When I was a teen in the late eighties-slash-early nineties, New Order and Depeche Mode was all I had, and in the late 90s Massive Attack, Portishead and Bjork caught my ear. I even went to a few raves, and yes- I've familiarized myself with drum and bass and know who Paul Oakenfold is, even seen Sasha & John Digweed spin. Your last album made me once again appreciate Daft Punk, and I wondered aloud if they were really playing at your house as you claimed. But it doesn't really matter, now does it? I also lost my edge and tried so hard to get it back, all that posturing and posing and trying to get myself noticed- you were speaking to me, and in a lot of ways, you were there for me... Anyway, I really like your new album a whole bunch, and please keep those DFA Remixes coming!
Yours Truly,
Jimmy Mac of Berkeley, CA
PS- My city is both a sucker AND a creep!
I've only written fan letters to Morrissey and Salma Hayek, so Mr. Murphy should feel really special about this. It's not as if I'm actually going to send this and you will probably never read it, but I feel a sense of overwhelming shame because of it. But look at the company you're in- my two celebrity crushes. Okay, Salma went and got herself knocked up, ending any chance of romance between us. And Morrissey- well, that's a whole 'nother story...
...which, er, awkwardly leads me into a review of Sound Of Silver, LCD Soundsystem's latest release.
Get Innocuous starts off the album, almost too predictable in its style, and sounds like a cross between LeTigre and the Talking Heads, most notably the refrain from Crosseyed & Painless off of 1980's Remain In Light. That's not so much a knock as praise- I adore both of those bands. Let's just say that Murphy and Crew won't be called "groundbreaking" at any time in the near future. But what they do better than anyone in the game, is get the self-serious indie kids moving their hips to-and-fro.
Tongue-in-cheek suits LCD so well, as witnessed on the double album and here with the album's first single and video, North American Scum. Not as much as an apology for "us", it's a jokingly self-righteous and indignant stab at our own psyche, and I laugh my way through this song every time I encounter it. Self-aware but not self-important, this track details the why and how we are the way we are: "I hate the feelin' when you're looking at me that way- 'cause we're North Americans. But if we act all shy, it’ll make it ok- makes it go away." He excludes Canadians in this attack, however.
One thing James Murphy does well is his vocalization- he can get across his sincerity, melancholia, sarcasm, sexiness, etc. all by the tone he keeps. Not a great voice by any stretch of the imagination, it's the way he uses it; Murphy goes back and forth between his speaking voice, a disco falsetto and that "head register" to get his point across. It works especially well on the title track, with his dancehall-MC voice which calls attention to the lamentations of lost youth: "Sound of silver talk to me, makes you want to feel like a teenager- until you remember the feelings of a real life emotion of teenager. Then you think again..." I can agree, I definitely don't want to revisit those teenage emotions, all that confusion. These current "adult situations" are much more comforting...
New York, I Love You closes the album down, and lyrically, the best song in LCD's catalog. So caustic in its condemnation of new New York vs. old New York, Murphy longs for the days of trash and crime. But by the time he arrived, it was a clean, safe and hospitable city: "So the boring collect, I mean all disrespect; In the neighborhood bars I'd once dreamt I would drink." After reading Freakonomics and Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point, there's no real rhyme or reason to how Manhattan turned it around. Once the worst city in America, it's now one the safest places to raise a family. Whether it's stroller derby on the Upper West Side, the gentrification of TriBeCa, New York isn't the New York of Ghostbusters, circa 1984.
And LCD Soundsystem isn't the beatbox, synthesizers/sequencers and turntables of yesterday either- going for a full-band approach, relying more on live instrumentation than previous efforts, it seems as if Murphy has also gentrified his act, but still retaining his edge.
Overall rating: 87
I'm still all backed up...
I've been promising Minus The Bear, !!! and Do Make Say Think for weeks now. I'll get around to it, eventually. I'm waiting for Axl and G'n'R put out Chinese Democracy still!
Friday, March 9, 2007
78% Nitrogen & 21% Oxygen Equals: AIR...
...and there's also some argon and carbon dioxide in that mixture, but hey, it keeps us alive, right?
I'm sure if I had to write a review on air I'd find something wrong with that, too. It might go something like this: the air in the Rocky Mountains smells sweet and light, whereas New York City air in the summer time smells like liquid garbage and really bad body odor. I'm giving air an overall rating of 88.
Then I'd surely go on to review water and then soil.
But music, that's what I do:
Air- Pocket Symphony (Astralwerks, released 3/6/07)
When a great chef makes a new dish, do they do it because they love the labor that goes into the art of cooking, or do they do it to see their diner's reaction? Like two great cooks, Air's Jean-Benoit Dunckel and Nicolas Godin serve up some new fare which can be described as silky and smooth, light and creamy, with just a hint of trip-hop-adelica. But mostly it's flaky and crisp around the edges, let's dive into the center, shall we?
As if there was anything else you'd expect from the masters of the chill out game, (I'll give them that title at least until Portishead gets back to us later this year...) Air comes at you with a subtle variety of textures- those sultry and always sexy female vocals, excellent production values a la Nigel Godrich (the "sixth" member of Radiohead), vocals from Pulp's Jarvis Cocker, new instruments (Godin learned how to play both the koto or Japanese floor harp and the shamisen from a master in Okinawa), and of course all those smooth down-tempo rhythms combined masterfully with sweet pop sensibilities abound over the course of the album.
Since I'm big on comparing artists to themselves (and I've already compared Air to another band already), I'm not going to do that here- you may be wondering where this album stands up in their body of work, and I'm going to leave my opinion out of this review on that subject. It wouldn't be fair to compare this to Moon Safari, (their magnum opus) but then again, it would be fair to compare this to 10,000 Hz Legend (creative doubt?). I'll leave that aside (in a passive-aggressive sort of way) and just get to the meat and potatoes of Pocket Symphony.
It's a more relaxed, hushed album overall, playing very well in the wee hours of the morn after a night out of sensory-overloaded debauchery, serving to center one's mindset in a Zen-like quiesence. Acoustic guitars, Japanese strings, and much less beat heavy than previous contributions, the French duo happens upon a personal and pensive posture- the title implies that you can in fact bring this symphony along in your pocket, a prix fixe for the iPod set.
Highlights of this album include: Mer Du Japon (en francais), or Sea Of Japan, one of the few songs that relies on driving bass and drum with a mid-song breakdown of wave sounds instead of a bridge, which to me is ironic- instead of going over an actual bridge, you get the sound of what's under it. Maybe I'm digging to hard, but iTunes has informed me that I've listened to this album 7 times in the last three weeks. I live with albums, they bend my psyche and become a part of my collective reality. And in turn I look too hard for the meaning in them.
Space Maker, the opener, picks up exactly where Air left off on Talkie-Walkie- trip-hoppy beats over synth washes and acoustic guitars, with an excellent breakdown: a familiar and comfortable bass and piano line which leads directly into Once Upon A Time, a revolving and steady piano and cymbal hit, and lovely vocals before the drums enter: "I'm a little boy, you'e a little girl, once upon a time..." And Left Bank, another acoustically driven number with no drums, could pass itself off as an Elliott Smith song, and Somewhere Between Waking And Sleeping lends its dreamy melody to a latter-day Nick Drake psych-folk excursion.
The songs are here, the production is remarkable as always, and thematically Pocket Symphony sticks to its intended point, but (here comes the knock) this album will surely only serve in this capacity: the late night, chill-out, let's get ready for bed album. It's not an album I could listen to while driving, not an album for a late-afternoon pick me up. This is Air, and that's pretty much what they do, and do it so well, but how many albums do I need to bring me into slumberland? Where Moon Safari and Premiers Symptomes serve that purpose, I'd rather listen to those than this.
I also said I wasn't going to compare Pocket Symphony to the rest of their back catalog, seeing how this is basically a leitmotif of the sum and scope of Air's body of work, I'm only going to throw down an average score for this album.
Overall rating: 81
Coming Up:
Minus The Bear
Do Make Say Think
!!!
LCD Soundsystem
I'm sure if I had to write a review on air I'd find something wrong with that, too. It might go something like this: the air in the Rocky Mountains smells sweet and light, whereas New York City air in the summer time smells like liquid garbage and really bad body odor. I'm giving air an overall rating of 88.
Then I'd surely go on to review water and then soil.
But music, that's what I do:
Air- Pocket Symphony (Astralwerks, released 3/6/07)
When a great chef makes a new dish, do they do it because they love the labor that goes into the art of cooking, or do they do it to see their diner's reaction? Like two great cooks, Air's Jean-Benoit Dunckel and Nicolas Godin serve up some new fare which can be described as silky and smooth, light and creamy, with just a hint of trip-hop-adelica. But mostly it's flaky and crisp around the edges, let's dive into the center, shall we?
As if there was anything else you'd expect from the masters of the chill out game, (I'll give them that title at least until Portishead gets back to us later this year...) Air comes at you with a subtle variety of textures- those sultry and always sexy female vocals, excellent production values a la Nigel Godrich (the "sixth" member of Radiohead), vocals from Pulp's Jarvis Cocker, new instruments (Godin learned how to play both the koto
It's a more relaxed, hushed album overall, playing very well in the wee hours of the morn after a night out of sensory-overloaded debauchery, serving to center one's mindset in a Zen-like quiesence. Acoustic guitars, Japanese strings, and much less beat heavy than previous contributions, the French duo happens upon a personal and pensive posture- the title implies that you can in fact bring this symphony along in your pocket, a prix fixe for the iPod set.
Highlights of this album include: Mer Du Japon (en francais), or Sea Of Japan
Space Maker, the opener, picks up exactly where Air left off on Talkie-Walkie- trip-hoppy beats over synth washes and acoustic guitars, with an excellent breakdown: a familiar and comfortable bass and piano line which leads directly into Once Upon A Time, a revolving and steady piano and cymbal hit, and lovely vocals before the drums enter: "I'm a little boy, you'e a little girl, once upon a time..." And Left Bank, another acoustically driven number with no drums, could pass itself off as an Elliott Smith song, and Somewhere Between Waking And Sleeping lends its dreamy melody to a latter-day Nick Drake psych-folk excursion.
The songs are here, the production is remarkable as always, and thematically Pocket Symphony sticks to its intended point, but (here comes the knock) this album will surely only serve in this capacity: the late night, chill-out, let's get ready for bed album. It's not an album I could listen to while driving, not an album for a late-afternoon pick me up. This is Air, and that's pretty much what they do, and do it so well, but how many albums do I need to bring me into slumberland? Where Moon Safari and Premiers Symptomes serve that purpose, I'd rather listen to those than this.
I also said I wasn't going to compare Pocket Symphony to the rest of their back catalog, seeing how this is basically a leitmotif of the sum and scope of Air's body of work, I'm only going to throw down an average score for this album.
Overall rating: 81
Coming Up:
Minus The Bear
Do Make Say Think
!!!
LCD Soundsystem
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Schedule? We Don't Need No Stinking Schedule!
I lied. I can't seem to do anything in a timely manner, and if you're annoyed, just imagine how I must feel. I have to live with me 24/7...
Arcade Fire- Neon Bible (Merge Records, released 3/6/07)
Only a quarter of the year has gone by, but I see a possible album of the year with the Arcade Fire's latest offering. A bold statement? Perhaps, but after the first listen to the leaked tracks I knew I was hearing something special, and it's the finest album of 2007 as of press time. I gave The Decemberists' The Crane Wife a perfect score last year, as if Colin Meloy and company could do no wrong. This year, Win Butler's crew looks as if the title of Perfect Score could apply. Read on...
Lyrically, Butler's words are as emotionally open as the wounds he's trying to heal through his art. It's a cathartic yet healthy soul-bearing, not like that screamo/emo shit that does way more damage than it's actually worth. I'll save that bashing for another day. I'll also save the "what's in the water in Canada?" question for another day also, but I would be remiss to not add that for the last few years, all the best bands come from that great country to the north.
I'd also be doing this album (and this review for that matter) a great injustice by not reviewing some of my favorite couplets. And in classic AP English style I'll go ahead and offer my opinion to what they may mean. Call it a psychoanalysis of Neon Bible if you will.
Intervention - "You say it's money that we need, as if we're the only mouths to feed- I know that no matter what you say, there are some debts we never pay..." I'm thinking this is one of those "Oh, George Bush, what have you done to the world?" songs. Hey, I'm all for outsiders' opinions on this stupid war on terror. Thom Yorke dedicated a whole album to it, Bloc Party has an opinion on it, and how about fellow Canadians Stars? It seems that the most insightful (or insipid) remarks made against our shitty president comes from a more worldly point of view.
Ocean Of Noise - "No way of knowing what any man will do, an ocean of violence between me and you. You've got your reasons and me I've got mine- But all the reasons I gave were just lies to buy myself some time. I'm gonna work it out- 'cause time wont work it out, I'm gonna work it out- 'cause time wont work it our for you. I'm gonna work it on out." These may be the most powerful lyrics on the entire album. A break-up? A death? What could it be? Oh, please tell me!
Windowsill - "Don't wanna give 'em my name and address, don't wanna see what happens next- Don't wanna live in my father's house no more; don't wanna live with my father's debt- You can't forgive what you can't forget. Don't wanna live in my father's house no more, don't wanna fight in a holy war- don't want the salesmen knocking at my door. I don't wanna live in America no more..." Pretty self-explanatory right there. Working on personal demons as well as the ills of society, from what I can gather. Strong introspection, self-effacement and resolution, all in 8 lines. Great songwriting!
My Body Is A Cage - "I'm living in an age that calls darkness light. Though my language is dead- still the shapes fill my head. I'm living in an age whose name I don't know. Though the fear keeps me moving- still my heart beats so slow." This theme is the theme of modern man, for more on this, read my review of TV On The Radio's Return To Cookie Mountain. To paraphrase myself: "...(it signals) man's divorce from romantic, individual thought and his embrace of technology and information. I think the relevant voices of modern society all echo a similar sentiment- that man becomes destitute by elevating himself, and (that Neon Bible) is the soundtrack for the impending apocalypse."
Musically, it's exactly what I expected, as in: excellent. Not to compare Neon Bible to Funeral, but stylistically speaking, it only differs slightly from what Arcade Fire does so well, and the title track closes in on a Joy Division-esque drone that would make Ian Curtis so very proud. (Antichrist Television Blues) suggests back to a little Springsteen-ish shuffle. Churning organs, strings, slowed-down rhythms, it's just what you know from Arcade Fire, plus a little added oomph in there for good measure.
The only knock I can lay on this album is the choice for the opener, Black Mirror. I'm not in love with it like the other 10 tracks here, and it may have served a better purpose wedged between songs toward the bottom of the playlist. If only I was a record producer. And sadly, that's my same knock on Funeral- that album should've opened with their concert opener, Wake Up. I'm a picky little bastard, ain't I? And was it totally necessary to re-record No Cars Go from their first EP? So, regretfully: because of these minor malfeasances, I can't give this album a perfect score. But it's so close...
Overall rating: 97
I'm not even going to post what's coming next. Tomorrow? A few days? Next week? Meh...
Arcade Fire- Neon Bible (Merge Records, released 3/6/07)
Only a quarter of the year has gone by, but I see a possible album of the year with the Arcade Fire's latest offering. A bold statement? Perhaps, but after the first listen to the leaked tracks I knew I was hearing something special, and it's the finest album of 2007 as of press time. I gave The Decemberists' The Crane Wife a perfect score last year, as if Colin Meloy and company could do no wrong. This year, Win Butler's crew looks as if the title of Perfect Score could apply. Read on...
Lyrically, Butler's words are as emotionally open as the wounds he's trying to heal through his art. It's a cathartic yet healthy soul-bearing, not like that screamo/emo shit that does way more damage than it's actually worth. I'll save that bashing for another day. I'll also save the "what's in the water in Canada?" question for another day also, but I would be remiss to not add that for the last few years, all the best bands come from that great country to the north.
I'd also be doing this album (and this review for that matter) a great injustice by not reviewing some of my favorite couplets. And in classic AP English style I'll go ahead and offer my opinion to what they may mean. Call it a psychoanalysis of Neon Bible if you will.
Intervention - "You say it's money that we need, as if we're the only mouths to feed- I know that no matter what you say, there are some debts we never pay..." I'm thinking this is one of those "Oh, George Bush, what have you done to the world?" songs. Hey, I'm all for outsiders' opinions on this stupid war on terror. Thom Yorke dedicated a whole album to it, Bloc Party has an opinion on it, and how about fellow Canadians Stars? It seems that the most insightful (or insipid) remarks made against our shitty president comes from a more worldly point of view.
Ocean Of Noise - "No way of knowing what any man will do, an ocean of violence between me and you. You've got your reasons and me I've got mine- But all the reasons I gave were just lies to buy myself some time. I'm gonna work it out- 'cause time wont work it out, I'm gonna work it out- 'cause time wont work it our for you. I'm gonna work it on out." These may be the most powerful lyrics on the entire album. A break-up? A death? What could it be? Oh, please tell me!
Windowsill - "Don't wanna give 'em my name and address, don't wanna see what happens next- Don't wanna live in my father's house no more; don't wanna live with my father's debt- You can't forgive what you can't forget. Don't wanna live in my father's house no more, don't wanna fight in a holy war- don't want the salesmen knocking at my door. I don't wanna live in America no more..." Pretty self-explanatory right there. Working on personal demons as well as the ills of society, from what I can gather. Strong introspection, self-effacement and resolution, all in 8 lines. Great songwriting!
My Body Is A Cage - "I'm living in an age that calls darkness light. Though my language is dead- still the shapes fill my head. I'm living in an age whose name I don't know. Though the fear keeps me moving- still my heart beats so slow." This theme is the theme of modern man, for more on this, read my review of TV On The Radio's Return To Cookie Mountain. To paraphrase myself: "...(it signals) man's divorce from romantic, individual thought and his embrace of technology and information. I think the relevant voices of modern society all echo a similar sentiment- that man becomes destitute by elevating himself, and (that Neon Bible) is the soundtrack for the impending apocalypse."
Musically, it's exactly what I expected, as in: excellent. Not to compare Neon Bible to Funeral, but stylistically speaking, it only differs slightly from what Arcade Fire does so well, and the title track closes in on a Joy Division-esque drone that would make Ian Curtis so very proud. (Antichrist Television Blues) suggests back to a little Springsteen-ish shuffle. Churning organs, strings, slowed-down rhythms, it's just what you know from Arcade Fire, plus a little added oomph in there for good measure.
The only knock I can lay on this album is the choice for the opener, Black Mirror. I'm not in love with it like the other 10 tracks here, and it may have served a better purpose wedged between songs toward the bottom of the playlist. If only I was a record producer. And sadly, that's my same knock on Funeral- that album should've opened with their concert opener, Wake Up. I'm a picky little bastard, ain't I? And was it totally necessary to re-record No Cars Go from their first EP? So, regretfully: because of these minor malfeasances, I can't give this album a perfect score. But it's so close...
Overall rating: 97
I'm not even going to post what's coming next. Tomorrow? A few days? Next week? Meh...
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