Stars: 2.75
Favorite Song: ATLiens, E.T. -> 13th floor Getting Old
Show: 33$
ATLiens is not the freakiest in OutKast’s discography, but it may be deepest. ATLiens was still too young to have their signature eclecticism and playfulness found on Aquemini through The Love Below/Speakerboxxx, but it is a launch pad for that style which has made them so famous. Knowing Aquemini and Stankonia so well, I must say I was a little underwhelmed with ATLiens, but I at least appreciated the OutKast history lesson.
I will argue that this is a much deeper album that any else I have heard by them. Lyrically, you can see Big Boi and Andre beggining to steer away from pimps and ganstas, and falling into discussions on life. This isn’t to say that these two guys from Atlanta didn’t don’t talk about that lifestyle anymore, because that would be a lie; they just approach it with a sense of maturity and retrospect here. Here are two lines from “E.T.”: “We was little nappy headed niggas in the projects, but now they carjacks and wait on income tax and unsafe sex. They get the tecs to flex… no no, not this time. Niggas around my way can rhyme so fuck that country shit.” “Holding on to memories like roller coaster handle bars…I may appear to be your average Joe, but little do you know that even Joe got problems that he gots to joust with.” The production on this track is also uniquely reserved. For one, there are no drums. The beat is inferred from the spoken-word raps and light background melodies.
But let’s be real. ATLiens has still got that Dirty-South mentality. The title track, “ATLiens,” seriously bumps—and it’s got a funny hook, too: “Now throw your hands in the air and wave 'em like you just don't care. And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit, then everybody say ‘Oh Yeah-er.’” And their flow is incredible. Andre and Big Boi can fly through syllables and rhymes without anyone blinking an eye. They still have their own distinctive styles, though. Big Boi is faster and a little dirtier, and Andre is a touch more graceful and he can mix his style up.
This album charges out of the gates funky and stylish and then sort of cools off in the middle until it slows down completely with the last two tracks. I like the variety, but the order seems a little top-heavy.
25.5 Rating Old Albums
I thought I would go back and rate all of the old albums. A few notes on this before I start, though. I am finding that because I am so broke, the “how much would I pay to see them live” category is almost pointless. It is completely un-relatable unless you too live below the poverty line. What is interesting about it, though, is that there are certain bands where I didn't like the album, but would rather see live over a band whose album I did like. For example, I would WAY rather see Rhapsody than Bright Eyes.
Also, so we’re clear on the star grading: 0 is unlistenable, 1 is bad, 2 is "meh", 2.5 okay, 3 is good, 4 is amazing, 5 is a perfect album.
Rhapsody – Live in Canada
Stars: 2.5
Favorite Song: The Village of Dwarves
Show: 25$
Robert Glasper - Double Booked
Stars: 2.5
Favorite Song: Yes I’m Country (and That's Okay)
Show: 7$
Jay-Z Reasonable Doubt
Stars: 4
Favorite Song: Brooklyn’s Finest
Show: 35$
Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago
Stars: 3.5
Favorite Song: re: stacks
Show: 8$ (Good album, but I can’t see how this would be a good show.)
Deer Tick – War Elephant
Stars: 2
Favorite Song: These Old Shoes
Show: 8$
Dawes – North Hills
Stars: 4.25 (These guys are my favorite right now.)
Favorite Song: That Western Skyline
Show: 40$
Antlers – Hospice
Stars: 2.5
Favorite Song: Epilogue
Show: 15$
Beck – Mutations
Stars: 3
Favorite Song: Canceled Check
Show: 15$
Bright Eyes – Cassadaga
Stars: 3.5
Favorite Song: Four Winds
Show: 10$
Gorillaz – Plastic Beach
Stars: 4
Favorite Song: Stylo, Rhinestone Eyes
Show: 30$
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros – Up From Below
Stars: 3.75
Favorite Song: Home, 40 Day Dream
Live: 15$
Polaris – Music from the Adventure of Pete and Pete
Stars: 3
Favorite Song: Hey Sandy, Saturnine
Show: 3$
Fanfarlo – Resevoir
Stars: 1
Favorite Song: Harold T Wilkins, or How to Wait for a Very Long Time
Show: 1$
Gangstarr – Moment of Truth
Stars: 3.5
Favorite Song: You Know My Steeze, Work
Show: 12$
The National – Boxer
Stars: 2
Favorite Song: Fake Empire
Show: 10$
Beruit – Gulag Orkestar
Stars: 2.75
Favorite Song: Postcards from Italy
Show: 5$
The Raincoats – Self Titled
Stars: 3.25
Favorite Song: You’re A Million
Show: 7$
LCD Soundsystem – This is Happening
Stars: 3
Favorite Song: Home
Show: 13$
Also, so we’re clear on the star grading: 0 is unlistenable, 1 is bad, 2 is "meh", 2.5 okay, 3 is good, 4 is amazing, 5 is a perfect album.
Rhapsody – Live in Canada
Stars: 2.5
Favorite Song: The Village of Dwarves
Show: 25$
Robert Glasper - Double Booked
Stars: 2.5
Favorite Song: Yes I’m Country (and That's Okay)
Show: 7$
Jay-Z Reasonable Doubt
Stars: 4
Favorite Song: Brooklyn’s Finest
Show: 35$
Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago
Stars: 3.5
Favorite Song: re: stacks
Show: 8$ (Good album, but I can’t see how this would be a good show.)
Deer Tick – War Elephant
Stars: 2
Favorite Song: These Old Shoes
Show: 8$
Dawes – North Hills
Stars: 4.25 (These guys are my favorite right now.)
Favorite Song: That Western Skyline
Show: 40$
Antlers – Hospice
Stars: 2.5
Favorite Song: Epilogue
Show: 15$
Beck – Mutations
Stars: 3
Favorite Song: Canceled Check
Show: 15$
Bright Eyes – Cassadaga
Stars: 3.5
Favorite Song: Four Winds
Show: 10$
Gorillaz – Plastic Beach
Stars: 4
Favorite Song: Stylo, Rhinestone Eyes
Show: 30$
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros – Up From Below
Stars: 3.75
Favorite Song: Home, 40 Day Dream
Live: 15$
Polaris – Music from the Adventure of Pete and Pete
Stars: 3
Favorite Song: Hey Sandy, Saturnine
Show: 3$
Fanfarlo – Resevoir
Stars: 1
Favorite Song: Harold T Wilkins, or How to Wait for a Very Long Time
Show: 1$
Gangstarr – Moment of Truth
Stars: 3.5
Favorite Song: You Know My Steeze, Work
Show: 12$
The National – Boxer
Stars: 2
Favorite Song: Fake Empire
Show: 10$
Beruit – Gulag Orkestar
Stars: 2.75
Favorite Song: Postcards from Italy
Show: 5$
The Raincoats – Self Titled
Stars: 3.25
Favorite Song: You’re A Million
Show: 7$
LCD Soundsystem – This is Happening
Stars: 3
Favorite Song: Home
Show: 13$
Day 24 + 25, Cocorosie - La Maison de Mon Reve, Cat Power - You are Free
Stars: Cocorosie – 2.25 Cat Power - 1
Favorite Track: Cocorosie – I like the melody to “Tahiti Rain Song,” but I don't like like the way it's put together, nor do I think it is really a complete track, so I will have to go with “By Your Side.” Cat Power - Good Woman
Show: 0$ for either.
Neither of these two albums interested me. I fell asleep three out of four times through You Are Free, and one out of three for La Maison de Mon Reve. I am grouping these two together because I don’t feel I can write a legitimate review on them. So, instead of writing two unproductive bashings, I thought I’d condense it down to one.
I don’t believe that Cat Power’s or Cocorosie’s song writing chops are strong enough to warrant a 12 or 15 track album of virtually nothing but vocals. For example, in “Names,” Cat Power's lyrics and melody are so terribly mismatched that she has to force extra syllables into the lullaby-like melody. Cat Power’s melodies are either uninspired or kitschy, as if she was selling pain medication or Japanese bubblegum. Here is a quick run through of her lyrical triumphs: “Take a chance on true romance when you dance…FREE!” “His name was Charlie. He said he was in love with me. We were only 14. I had to move away. Then he started to smoke crack.” “We do the best we can, so we can do one more thing. We can all be free.” “You were swinging your guitar around because they wanted to hear that sound." “When I see that moon movin' through the clouds in the sky, I get a crazy feelin' an' I wonder why. Oh the werewolf, Oh the werewolf, comes travelin' along. He don't even break the branches where he's been goin’.” Okay, yes, those are taken out of context, and yes, if Bob Dylan wrote those lyrics, I wouldn’t blink an eye. But there is a reason they stick out so much. Cat Power writes these melodramatic, three chord, slow-as-molasses, solo piano or guitar pieces that sound like they should be so goddamn important. But they’re not.
Lyrically, Cocorosie is a little more self-aware and toungue-and-cheek: “And for a diamond ring, I'll do these kinds of things: I'll scrub your floor, never be a bore. I'll tuck you in, I do not snore.” “Skittles are the rainbow. And every color's popular though red gets the most invitations to the Jr. High celebrations.” In their defense, both Coco and Cat always have a message hidden within these seemingly sophomoric lyrics, or a least a moment that makes you go “huh…” but I’m still not sold.
Most of You Are Free is solo guitar/piano and vocal peices, which makes it feel super empty. Actually! You know how it is common for the last song on a pop album to be that quiet, sentimental, heart-to-heart solo performance? Well, that is the best way to describe 3/4s of You are Free. It makes you want the album to end.
Coco and Cat are two female, rock/pop, singer-songwriter groups, and although very different in nature—La Maison... is full of worthless effects and weird production with world music influences and You are Free has punk and pop influences—they also have this in common: their albums aren’t finished. Every song is a taste of what it could be. And I don't mean unfinished in that rugged and raw way; they just don’t seem to be complete musical thoughts. Coco flirts with the use of effects and samples, but never truly runs with it all the way, and Cat doesn’t have enough chords/movements in her songs to warrant being so slow and sentimental—they just come off spiritless. Also, Cat doesn’t have enough juice to really push the albums high-points. “Speak for Me,” one of four attempts at “rocking out” on the album, still seems thin and unfinished, as if she were just cutting a demo to prove to her A&R man that she can write a hit.
Favorite Track: Cocorosie – I like the melody to “Tahiti Rain Song,” but I don't like like the way it's put together, nor do I think it is really a complete track, so I will have to go with “By Your Side.” Cat Power - Good Woman
Show: 0$ for either.
Neither of these two albums interested me. I fell asleep three out of four times through You Are Free, and one out of three for La Maison de Mon Reve. I am grouping these two together because I don’t feel I can write a legitimate review on them. So, instead of writing two unproductive bashings, I thought I’d condense it down to one.
I don’t believe that Cat Power’s or Cocorosie’s song writing chops are strong enough to warrant a 12 or 15 track album of virtually nothing but vocals. For example, in “Names,” Cat Power's lyrics and melody are so terribly mismatched that she has to force extra syllables into the lullaby-like melody. Cat Power’s melodies are either uninspired or kitschy, as if she was selling pain medication or Japanese bubblegum. Here is a quick run through of her lyrical triumphs: “Take a chance on true romance when you dance…FREE!” “His name was Charlie. He said he was in love with me. We were only 14. I had to move away. Then he started to smoke crack.” “We do the best we can, so we can do one more thing. We can all be free.” “You were swinging your guitar around because they wanted to hear that sound." “When I see that moon movin' through the clouds in the sky, I get a crazy feelin' an' I wonder why. Oh the werewolf, Oh the werewolf, comes travelin' along. He don't even break the branches where he's been goin’.” Okay, yes, those are taken out of context, and yes, if Bob Dylan wrote those lyrics, I wouldn’t blink an eye. But there is a reason they stick out so much. Cat Power writes these melodramatic, three chord, slow-as-molasses, solo piano or guitar pieces that sound like they should be so goddamn important. But they’re not.
Lyrically, Cocorosie is a little more self-aware and toungue-and-cheek: “And for a diamond ring, I'll do these kinds of things: I'll scrub your floor, never be a bore. I'll tuck you in, I do not snore.” “Skittles are the rainbow. And every color's popular though red gets the most invitations to the Jr. High celebrations.” In their defense, both Coco and Cat always have a message hidden within these seemingly sophomoric lyrics, or a least a moment that makes you go “huh…” but I’m still not sold.
Most of You Are Free is solo guitar/piano and vocal peices, which makes it feel super empty. Actually! You know how it is common for the last song on a pop album to be that quiet, sentimental, heart-to-heart solo performance? Well, that is the best way to describe 3/4s of You are Free. It makes you want the album to end.
Coco and Cat are two female, rock/pop, singer-songwriter groups, and although very different in nature—La Maison... is full of worthless effects and weird production with world music influences and You are Free has punk and pop influences—they also have this in common: their albums aren’t finished. Every song is a taste of what it could be. And I don't mean unfinished in that rugged and raw way; they just don’t seem to be complete musical thoughts. Coco flirts with the use of effects and samples, but never truly runs with it all the way, and Cat doesn’t have enough chords/movements in her songs to warrant being so slow and sentimental—they just come off spiritless. Also, Cat doesn’t have enough juice to really push the albums high-points. “Speak for Me,” one of four attempts at “rocking out” on the album, still seems thin and unfinished, as if she were just cutting a demo to prove to her A&R man that she can write a hit.
Day 23, Galactic - Ya-Ka-May
Stars: 4.25
Favorite Track: You Don’t Know
Live: $30
I remember grooving out to Galactic at jam festivals, like Bonnaroo back when it was a hippy-fest and Metallica would have been booed off the stage—or more likely ignored passive-aggressively by everyone sitting and braiding flower stems. As an aspiring jazz musician, I would make a point to stop and gawk at the incredibly talented keys player, Richard Vogel, and vibe to the gritty tone of guitarist Jeff Raines, but then leave in a hurry so to not miss Moe. or The String Cheese Incident or something.
Now that the bulk of my jam days are behind me, groups like Medeski, Martin and Wood, Soulive and Galactic are no longer my main source of motivation to become a better musician. My love for funky grooves, rippin’ 10 minute solos, and virtuosos has not completely subsided—I mean, I did just get back from a four-show run with Phish—but Galactic didn’t have that edge to make it last with me.
But that was the old Galactic; this is Ya-Ka-May. This is a completely different animal. In fact, if I hadn’t done a little research, I would have accredited Ya-Ka-May to a young producer who happened to go by the same name as the jazz-jam group. These guys went Mrs. Doubtfire on us and donned a magnificent costume that could fool anyone. But just how Natalie knew deep down that Mrs. Doubtfire was really her father all along, it is clear that Ya-Ka-May has grown up from Galactic’s roots.
Ya-Ka-May features a different local New Orleans artist on every track. It is almost like a pub-crawl through the city’s best venues. You have brass bands, hip-hop, rock, soul, blues, jazz and funk spread across 13 tracks. It is pretty forceful, too. There aren’t any slow numbers or any huge breaks in intensity, so make sure to have your dancing shoes laced.
Galactic made a choice to start off the album with a short track with a sample about a scientist and his students. The scientist talks about an invention that he made which has the ability to harness brain channels that represent talent, and then transfer the talent to someone else. On first listen, this seems like an arbitrary choice, but it is actually quite clever in that it foreshadows what Ya-Ka-May is all about. Galactic, a New Orleans style jazz-jam band whose previous albums all sound pretty much the same, harnesses the talents of other New Orleans musicians and develop an ability to perform hip-hop, soul, dance and other levels of music.
The album’s got party tracks like “Double It,” “Katey Vs. Knoby,” and “Do it Again,’ which sound like a mix of Lil’ John hootenannies, MIA bangers, and James Brown sex machinery. Some grooves get dirty and deep like “Dark Water,” “Liquor Pang,” and “Speaks His Mind.” The rest of the tracks fall somewhere in the middle, sitting on tight grooves with soulful melodies. This is where Galactic is most successful. My favorite track, “You Don’t Know,” is a beast that will shake your ass and the ground. Glen David Andrews and The Rebirth Brass band get on this one and blow the house down with popping horn lines and growling, blues vocals that sound like they came up from the grave for revenge.
And this album is tried and tested. I had a party last night up on my roof and we almost caved it in once this album dropped.
Favorite Track: You Don’t Know
Live: $30
I remember grooving out to Galactic at jam festivals, like Bonnaroo back when it was a hippy-fest and Metallica would have been booed off the stage—or more likely ignored passive-aggressively by everyone sitting and braiding flower stems. As an aspiring jazz musician, I would make a point to stop and gawk at the incredibly talented keys player, Richard Vogel, and vibe to the gritty tone of guitarist Jeff Raines, but then leave in a hurry so to not miss Moe. or The String Cheese Incident or something.
Now that the bulk of my jam days are behind me, groups like Medeski, Martin and Wood, Soulive and Galactic are no longer my main source of motivation to become a better musician. My love for funky grooves, rippin’ 10 minute solos, and virtuosos has not completely subsided—I mean, I did just get back from a four-show run with Phish—but Galactic didn’t have that edge to make it last with me.
But that was the old Galactic; this is Ya-Ka-May. This is a completely different animal. In fact, if I hadn’t done a little research, I would have accredited Ya-Ka-May to a young producer who happened to go by the same name as the jazz-jam group. These guys went Mrs. Doubtfire on us and donned a magnificent costume that could fool anyone. But just how Natalie knew deep down that Mrs. Doubtfire was really her father all along, it is clear that Ya-Ka-May has grown up from Galactic’s roots.
Ya-Ka-May features a different local New Orleans artist on every track. It is almost like a pub-crawl through the city’s best venues. You have brass bands, hip-hop, rock, soul, blues, jazz and funk spread across 13 tracks. It is pretty forceful, too. There aren’t any slow numbers or any huge breaks in intensity, so make sure to have your dancing shoes laced.
Galactic made a choice to start off the album with a short track with a sample about a scientist and his students. The scientist talks about an invention that he made which has the ability to harness brain channels that represent talent, and then transfer the talent to someone else. On first listen, this seems like an arbitrary choice, but it is actually quite clever in that it foreshadows what Ya-Ka-May is all about. Galactic, a New Orleans style jazz-jam band whose previous albums all sound pretty much the same, harnesses the talents of other New Orleans musicians and develop an ability to perform hip-hop, soul, dance and other levels of music.
The album’s got party tracks like “Double It,” “Katey Vs. Knoby,” and “Do it Again,’ which sound like a mix of Lil’ John hootenannies, MIA bangers, and James Brown sex machinery. Some grooves get dirty and deep like “Dark Water,” “Liquor Pang,” and “Speaks His Mind.” The rest of the tracks fall somewhere in the middle, sitting on tight grooves with soulful melodies. This is where Galactic is most successful. My favorite track, “You Don’t Know,” is a beast that will shake your ass and the ground. Glen David Andrews and The Rebirth Brass band get on this one and blow the house down with popping horn lines and growling, blues vocals that sound like they came up from the grave for revenge.
And this album is tried and tested. I had a party last night up on my roof and we almost caved it in once this album dropped.
day 22, Ghostface Killah - Supreme Clientele
Stars: 2.5
Song: Nutmeg (He drops rhymes with John McEnroe, Repunzel, and Shrimp Scampi… c’mon, that’s dope.), Wu Banga
Show: $0, already had the opportunity and passed it up.
Ghostface Killah is one of my favorite members of Wu Tang Clan, but on his own, he overwhelms me. He is by far the most intense guy of the Clan, not necessarily lyrically, but definitely his in your face, relentless, high-flying style is. It’s dope, for sure, but it will wear you out to get through the full one hour, 21 track album, Supreme Clientele.
From the get-go you know this guy means business. Nutmeg throws a rhyme every three words in the first verse, and at a fast tempo, too. And he’ll spit just about anything. He’ll drop pop culture knowledge, like “Waiting for the vulture, like Caster Troy laying for Travolta,” but he keeps it raw and doesn’t hesitate to rip “He smiling with his teeth missing, begging for mercy.”
No question this is an extraordinary display of talent, with rapid fire rhymes and enough raw energy to spark a gang war at the Special Olympics, but as a whole album, it leaves hardly any room to breathe. Even the skits are brutal. “Crackhead Shit” may be the wildest drug ramble ever recorded, unless the other incoherent tirade, “Clyde Skit,” takes the cake.
Pop on “Buck 50” any day and I’ll get down to the old-school, simple, sample-heavy beats and the dirty verses traded between Ghost, Method Man, Redman, and Cappadonna. “We Made It” will get things crackin’, too. But put ‘em all together and you’re going to need a cold shower afterward. But I have to ask you…”The fuck you wanna do? Crack a brew, smoke an L or two.”
Song: Nutmeg (He drops rhymes with John McEnroe, Repunzel, and Shrimp Scampi… c’mon, that’s dope.), Wu Banga
Show: $0, already had the opportunity and passed it up.
Ghostface Killah is one of my favorite members of Wu Tang Clan, but on his own, he overwhelms me. He is by far the most intense guy of the Clan, not necessarily lyrically, but definitely his in your face, relentless, high-flying style is. It’s dope, for sure, but it will wear you out to get through the full one hour, 21 track album, Supreme Clientele.
From the get-go you know this guy means business. Nutmeg throws a rhyme every three words in the first verse, and at a fast tempo, too. And he’ll spit just about anything. He’ll drop pop culture knowledge, like “Waiting for the vulture, like Caster Troy laying for Travolta,” but he keeps it raw and doesn’t hesitate to rip “He smiling with his teeth missing, begging for mercy.”
No question this is an extraordinary display of talent, with rapid fire rhymes and enough raw energy to spark a gang war at the Special Olympics, but as a whole album, it leaves hardly any room to breathe. Even the skits are brutal. “Crackhead Shit” may be the wildest drug ramble ever recorded, unless the other incoherent tirade, “Clyde Skit,” takes the cake.
Pop on “Buck 50” any day and I’ll get down to the old-school, simple, sample-heavy beats and the dirty verses traded between Ghost, Method Man, Redman, and Cappadonna. “We Made It” will get things crackin’, too. But put ‘em all together and you’re going to need a cold shower afterward. But I have to ask you…”The fuck you wanna do? Crack a brew, smoke an L or two.”
day 21, The Flaming Lips and Stardeath and White Dwarfs - Dark Side of The Moon
Stars: 3
Favorite Track: Breathe, On the Run
Show: 25$, but that’s just because I’ve seen them before.
I love The Flaming Lips, and I love most of what they have done to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. They have taken one of the best rock and roll albums of all time and made it Lips-like: funky, weird, flooded with effects and electronics, and driven by bass riffs. If this album was an original, no doubt it would be a hit and earn a Selby 5 star (or 4.5, because I don’t really ever give 5s), but since this is a remake, it is held to a higher standard.
The ultimate question is: Does it enhance, recreate, and revitalize the album? A big “yes” to only one: recreate. A “maybe” and an “eh” to the other two. Other than vital melodies and chord changes and the album’s general structure, The Lips have completely given Pink Floyd’s 1973 release a makeover. Tracks like “Breathe” and “Money” balance on a completely different groove, and showcase different features. For one, there isn’t a guitar solo on the entire album. For Pink Floyd devotees, this is blasphemy. I myself missed the epic moments in “Money” or “Time” where David Gilmore soloed his way into rock and roll history, but in truth, the fact that The Lips didn’t attempt to match this keeps them from turning into a bad cover band you might catch at a community lobster bake in Bumblefuk, Maine, or at a wedding in a Milwaukee tavern.
The most interesting thing for me was that my favorite moments from the Floyd version are my least favorites on the Lips version, and visa-versa. Take “On the Run.” On the original, it is simply a noise and effect, spaced-out, album-filler that was probably put in place when the acid kicked in, also right around the time they decided to synch it up with The Wizard of Oz, I'm sure. It is not really a song and I usually skip it. The Lips took this as an opportunity to do what they do best: be The Flaming Lips. So they just jammed something completely unrelated to Pink Floyd's version, except making sure to maintain the flight attendant nonsense in the background. Also unlike the 1973 version, the jam has a lot of bite. It sits on a heavy bass groove that is pieced together by a high energy dance beat. All in all, it may be the most rockin’ track on the album.
The way Roger Waters sings “Time” is no doubt one of the most awesome performances on the album, but The Lips somehow manage to completely subdue the vocals, smothering it under a layer of reverb and sleepy instrumentation. I ask myself “why?” And why did they decide to dull down the explosive chorus of “Us and Them” to a high pitched croon? Why no climactic jam on "Money?" Did The Flaming Lips purposefully restrain themselves from over-indulging in the epic moments that Pink Floyd had already created in order to make their own by focusing on Floyd’s low points? I can see the hesitation to simply copy an album note for note and work hard to make something fresh, but this self-awareness may be going slightly overboard.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the new twist they put on the songs like “Great Gig in the Sky,” but perhaps I would have liked it more if they just used these tools to do their own album. The style they conquer here in this remake is unmistakably groundbreaking, but it may have a greater impact if it was done with original material.
Favorite Track: Breathe, On the Run
Show: 25$, but that’s just because I’ve seen them before.
I love The Flaming Lips, and I love most of what they have done to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. They have taken one of the best rock and roll albums of all time and made it Lips-like: funky, weird, flooded with effects and electronics, and driven by bass riffs. If this album was an original, no doubt it would be a hit and earn a Selby 5 star (or 4.5, because I don’t really ever give 5s), but since this is a remake, it is held to a higher standard.
The ultimate question is: Does it enhance, recreate, and revitalize the album? A big “yes” to only one: recreate. A “maybe” and an “eh” to the other two. Other than vital melodies and chord changes and the album’s general structure, The Lips have completely given Pink Floyd’s 1973 release a makeover. Tracks like “Breathe” and “Money” balance on a completely different groove, and showcase different features. For one, there isn’t a guitar solo on the entire album. For Pink Floyd devotees, this is blasphemy. I myself missed the epic moments in “Money” or “Time” where David Gilmore soloed his way into rock and roll history, but in truth, the fact that The Lips didn’t attempt to match this keeps them from turning into a bad cover band you might catch at a community lobster bake in Bumblefuk, Maine, or at a wedding in a Milwaukee tavern.
The most interesting thing for me was that my favorite moments from the Floyd version are my least favorites on the Lips version, and visa-versa. Take “On the Run.” On the original, it is simply a noise and effect, spaced-out, album-filler that was probably put in place when the acid kicked in, also right around the time they decided to synch it up with The Wizard of Oz, I'm sure. It is not really a song and I usually skip it. The Lips took this as an opportunity to do what they do best: be The Flaming Lips. So they just jammed something completely unrelated to Pink Floyd's version, except making sure to maintain the flight attendant nonsense in the background. Also unlike the 1973 version, the jam has a lot of bite. It sits on a heavy bass groove that is pieced together by a high energy dance beat. All in all, it may be the most rockin’ track on the album.
The way Roger Waters sings “Time” is no doubt one of the most awesome performances on the album, but The Lips somehow manage to completely subdue the vocals, smothering it under a layer of reverb and sleepy instrumentation. I ask myself “why?” And why did they decide to dull down the explosive chorus of “Us and Them” to a high pitched croon? Why no climactic jam on "Money?" Did The Flaming Lips purposefully restrain themselves from over-indulging in the epic moments that Pink Floyd had already created in order to make their own by focusing on Floyd’s low points? I can see the hesitation to simply copy an album note for note and work hard to make something fresh, but this self-awareness may be going slightly overboard.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the new twist they put on the songs like “Great Gig in the Sky,” but perhaps I would have liked it more if they just used these tools to do their own album. The style they conquer here in this remake is unmistakably groundbreaking, but it may have a greater impact if it was done with original material.
day 20, Tinariwen - Aman Iman
Stars: 3.25
Favorite Track: Cler Achel
Show: $35
Tinariwen is a band of gypsies (literally) from the deserts of Algeria. I’ll save the biography for the professionals and keep it plain and simple: Aman Iman is Algerian rhythm and blues that features guitar, repeating one or two chord structures, and a vocalist that trades off with a chorus and/or guitar solos.
Aman Iman was actually one of the four albums which was suggested more than once. (Beach House Teen Dream, Jonathan Richmond's Rockin' and Romance and Flying Lotus Cosmogramma were the other three.) By the brief description given to me by one of the suggesters, I was immediately intrigued. I went online and checked out a few tracks and read a few articles. I suggest you do the same. Their story is very unique—maybe not for Algerians growing up in wartime, but at least for popular musicians.
Most of the tracks groove in one or two chords, but Aman Iman stays interesting. The guitar playing can get heavy at times in tracks like “Soixante Trios” which is a deep and dark, funky, blues groove where the electric guitar and vocals trade verses, as is done in traditional American blues. The guitar cries along with the singer in the same rough and ready tone, also just like the blues.
My favorite track, “Cler Achel,” is an outstanding display of confidence and energy. Of course I have no idea what they are talking about, but the attack of the guitar and blunt volume of the chorus and vocalist proves a self-assured attitude. Tinariwen are not trying to be anything; the music is simply an extension of who they are. Later tracks on Aman Iman are not quite as strong, but they still leave a lasting impression.
Favorite Track: Cler Achel
Show: $35
Tinariwen is a band of gypsies (literally) from the deserts of Algeria. I’ll save the biography for the professionals and keep it plain and simple: Aman Iman is Algerian rhythm and blues that features guitar, repeating one or two chord structures, and a vocalist that trades off with a chorus and/or guitar solos.
Aman Iman was actually one of the four albums which was suggested more than once. (Beach House Teen Dream, Jonathan Richmond's Rockin' and Romance and Flying Lotus Cosmogramma were the other three.) By the brief description given to me by one of the suggesters, I was immediately intrigued. I went online and checked out a few tracks and read a few articles. I suggest you do the same. Their story is very unique—maybe not for Algerians growing up in wartime, but at least for popular musicians.
Most of the tracks groove in one or two chords, but Aman Iman stays interesting. The guitar playing can get heavy at times in tracks like “Soixante Trios” which is a deep and dark, funky, blues groove where the electric guitar and vocals trade verses, as is done in traditional American blues. The guitar cries along with the singer in the same rough and ready tone, also just like the blues.
My favorite track, “Cler Achel,” is an outstanding display of confidence and energy. Of course I have no idea what they are talking about, but the attack of the guitar and blunt volume of the chorus and vocalist proves a self-assured attitude. Tinariwen are not trying to be anything; the music is simply an extension of who they are. Later tracks on Aman Iman are not quite as strong, but they still leave a lasting impression.
day 19, Brian Eno - Here Come The Warm Jets
Stars: 3.75
Favorite Song: Baby’s on Fire
Live: $31
Here Come the Warm Jets was the first rock-and-roll Brian Eno album I’ve heard. I’ve kicked around a couple “atmospheric” albums of his as well as the David Byrne collaboration that came out a few years ago, but he never struck me as a guitar solo kinda guy. As it turns out, Brian Eno (or at least the guitarists he rolls with) rips it with the best of them.
Here Come the Warm Jets is, no question, a rock-and-roll album. It does, however, cover many bases. It is part nerdy freak-out with tracks like “Dead Finks Don’t Talk,” part Eric Clapton with “Needles in the Camel’s Eye,” part Primus with “Baby’s on Fire,” and part atmospheric rock with “Here Come the Warm Jets.” Put it together and you have an exciting album with a lot of idiosyncrasies to keep you on your toes.
My two favorite tracks on Here Come the Warm Jets have nothing to do with each other musically. “Cindy Tells Me” may be a huge hit on your classic pop/rock station, while it would be a stretch for “Baby’s on Fire” to even make it on your hard rock/alternative station. “Cindy Tells Me” trots along with clinky pianos, tight guitars and light drums like an early Beatles song. “Baby’s on Fire” is on a completely different page—more like a different book. Vocally, it is much harsher, with a raspy whining that is almost frightening. Lyrically, too, it is intense. “Baby’s on fire, better throw her in the water. Look at her laughing, like a heifer to the slaughter.” But most intense of all is the four minute guitar solo played by Robert Fripp of King Crimson. It pounces all over the simple two chord demonic oscillation and kicks dirt it its face. Note for note, it fights dirty, but the tone is so well soaked in overdrive, reverb and other effects that you notice how obviously well crafted it is.
The only reason this album didn’t get four or five stars is because I can’t seem to pin Here Come the Warm Jets down. Being so all over the place with styles, effects and whatnot, I would sometimes get lost. Listening back, I find myself skipping a lot of tracks then going back to them later. Also, I find “Blank Frank” and “Dead Finks Don’t Talk” virtually unlistenable, but the beautiful tag-team holding up the rear, “Some of Them are Old” and “Here Come the Warm Jets” are enough to force me to get through them.
Favorite Song: Baby’s on Fire
Live: $31
Here Come the Warm Jets was the first rock-and-roll Brian Eno album I’ve heard. I’ve kicked around a couple “atmospheric” albums of his as well as the David Byrne collaboration that came out a few years ago, but he never struck me as a guitar solo kinda guy. As it turns out, Brian Eno (or at least the guitarists he rolls with) rips it with the best of them.
Here Come the Warm Jets is, no question, a rock-and-roll album. It does, however, cover many bases. It is part nerdy freak-out with tracks like “Dead Finks Don’t Talk,” part Eric Clapton with “Needles in the Camel’s Eye,” part Primus with “Baby’s on Fire,” and part atmospheric rock with “Here Come the Warm Jets.” Put it together and you have an exciting album with a lot of idiosyncrasies to keep you on your toes.
My two favorite tracks on Here Come the Warm Jets have nothing to do with each other musically. “Cindy Tells Me” may be a huge hit on your classic pop/rock station, while it would be a stretch for “Baby’s on Fire” to even make it on your hard rock/alternative station. “Cindy Tells Me” trots along with clinky pianos, tight guitars and light drums like an early Beatles song. “Baby’s on Fire” is on a completely different page—more like a different book. Vocally, it is much harsher, with a raspy whining that is almost frightening. Lyrically, too, it is intense. “Baby’s on fire, better throw her in the water. Look at her laughing, like a heifer to the slaughter.” But most intense of all is the four minute guitar solo played by Robert Fripp of King Crimson. It pounces all over the simple two chord demonic oscillation and kicks dirt it its face. Note for note, it fights dirty, but the tone is so well soaked in overdrive, reverb and other effects that you notice how obviously well crafted it is.
The only reason this album didn’t get four or five stars is because I can’t seem to pin Here Come the Warm Jets down. Being so all over the place with styles, effects and whatnot, I would sometimes get lost. Listening back, I find myself skipping a lot of tracks then going back to them later. Also, I find “Blank Frank” and “Dead Finks Don’t Talk” virtually unlistenable, but the beautiful tag-team holding up the rear, “Some of Them are Old” and “Here Come the Warm Jets” are enough to force me to get through them.
day 18, The Shop Assistants - Will Anything Happen
Stars: 2.25
Favorite Track: Nature Lover, because it rocks the hardest.
Concert: 15$
The shop assistants are a Scottish punky, pop group from the 80’s. They have two very distinguishing features: a talk/sing female vocalist and a lot of guitar. Every song is drenched in overdriven, full-chord, strumming that creates a really thick mattress for the rest of the music to bounce on. The issue, though, is that they are on two sides of one fence. Will Anything Happen has the attitude, rhythm and sometimes lyrics of a lively punk group, but the chords and harmony (not necessarily vocal harmony) and energy is much like pop-rock, leaving it feeling kind of soft.
The first track shows what I’m talking about. It is powered by guitars and a driving beat, and it has snide lyrics to boot. But the vocals and the chord changes are simple and almost pleasant, which puts it in a strange middle-ground. “I don’t Want to be Friends With You,” talks about a guy trying to tell a girl they’d be better off as friends instead of lovers after some history, but the girl is not pleased: “If you leave me I’ll scratch your eyes out.” In the classic punk-rock tradition, you get simple feelings expressed plainly here, but it comes out like a lullaby.
Favorite Track: Nature Lover, because it rocks the hardest.
Concert: 15$
The shop assistants are a Scottish punky, pop group from the 80’s. They have two very distinguishing features: a talk/sing female vocalist and a lot of guitar. Every song is drenched in overdriven, full-chord, strumming that creates a really thick mattress for the rest of the music to bounce on. The issue, though, is that they are on two sides of one fence. Will Anything Happen has the attitude, rhythm and sometimes lyrics of a lively punk group, but the chords and harmony (not necessarily vocal harmony) and energy is much like pop-rock, leaving it feeling kind of soft.
The first track shows what I’m talking about. It is powered by guitars and a driving beat, and it has snide lyrics to boot. But the vocals and the chord changes are simple and almost pleasant, which puts it in a strange middle-ground. “I don’t Want to be Friends With You,” talks about a guy trying to tell a girl they’d be better off as friends instead of lovers after some history, but the girl is not pleased: “If you leave me I’ll scratch your eyes out.” In the classic punk-rock tradition, you get simple feelings expressed plainly here, but it comes out like a lullaby.
Day 17, Sigur Ros - Takk
I thought it may be fun to implement a grading system to the blog. There will be three categories: Stars, which will be a number one through five; favorite track; and would I see them live, and if so, for how much. The last one will be fun and little more personal in that it will openly reflect my financial misery.
So let’s start it up here with Sigur Ros – Takk
Stars: 4
Best Track: Gong -> Gong Endir
See them live: 65$. I’ve actually heard that seeing this band live leads to spiritual enlightenment…which I dig.
I’ve owned Takk for years. A friend of mine in college gave it to me and demanded I get stoned and listen to it in the dark in bed—which I still have not done, to this day. I put it on in the background once and didn’t vibe on it, most likely due to circumstance, and then abandoned it with a promise to return. Throughout college, more conversations about music and god and peace and truth and passion and excitement and energies and sadness and rock and roll went down than I can even bare to remember, and somehow Sigur Ros found its way into enough of them that I felt like I was constantly reminded that I was due for a revisit. It never happened until today, though.
The album is a cinematic, dramatic, epic, triumphant piece of work that conquers you. If you are caught in the right mindset, it could swallow you up, but in the wrong one, it may just sound pretty, and quiet, and then suddenly big, but always pretty. I listened to it once while driving into the heart of East New York, Brooklyn and it didn’t sit right. I was all on edge from the drive and the fact that I was in one of the ugliest places in the nation, and I was actively ignoring it. But later, I listened to it on my headphones, exhausted after a long day, and it washed me clean. Since the lyrics are Icelandic, I had no idea what they were talking about, so I developed my own narrative, like you would with any good instrumental music. My narrative was about the battle you have to fight to find peacefulness.
Every moment is well tailored to a very specific sound. There are strings—real and synthetic—gobs of reverb, massive guitars when necessary, piano, etc. It is well shaped, to say the least, as no song outlays the rest of the album. It is one complete body of work, which is unusual these days. This entity will seep out of the speakers and tickle you with quiet, emotional noises, and then build to a steady rhythm and melody, and then finally explode like fireworks. They create this wave very naturally, too. There are no abrupt peaks—in fact you usually have to wait through a couple tracks to get one—and the valleys are slowly climbed down into.
But if you aren’t ready for it, Takk may be a little hard to take. It is much better balanced than, say, The National’s Boxer, but there are still some subdued moments that might turn off the over-eager beaver. There is a lot of empty space in between songs that leaves things sounding…well…empty. You may also find the male squeaky falsetto singer off-putting, like a eunuch with a nosebleed.
But Takk is not going to be one of those albums you really have to work at to love. There isn’t a lot up it’s sleeve. This isn’t to say that it is dry or uninteresting, though. Just think of listening to a Charlie Parker recording: it is infinitely complex, intricate and interesting, but you know what you’re getting into after the first listen.
So let’s start it up here with Sigur Ros – Takk
Stars: 4
Best Track: Gong -> Gong Endir
See them live: 65$. I’ve actually heard that seeing this band live leads to spiritual enlightenment…which I dig.
I’ve owned Takk for years. A friend of mine in college gave it to me and demanded I get stoned and listen to it in the dark in bed—which I still have not done, to this day. I put it on in the background once and didn’t vibe on it, most likely due to circumstance, and then abandoned it with a promise to return. Throughout college, more conversations about music and god and peace and truth and passion and excitement and energies and sadness and rock and roll went down than I can even bare to remember, and somehow Sigur Ros found its way into enough of them that I felt like I was constantly reminded that I was due for a revisit. It never happened until today, though.
The album is a cinematic, dramatic, epic, triumphant piece of work that conquers you. If you are caught in the right mindset, it could swallow you up, but in the wrong one, it may just sound pretty, and quiet, and then suddenly big, but always pretty. I listened to it once while driving into the heart of East New York, Brooklyn and it didn’t sit right. I was all on edge from the drive and the fact that I was in one of the ugliest places in the nation, and I was actively ignoring it. But later, I listened to it on my headphones, exhausted after a long day, and it washed me clean. Since the lyrics are Icelandic, I had no idea what they were talking about, so I developed my own narrative, like you would with any good instrumental music. My narrative was about the battle you have to fight to find peacefulness.
Every moment is well tailored to a very specific sound. There are strings—real and synthetic—gobs of reverb, massive guitars when necessary, piano, etc. It is well shaped, to say the least, as no song outlays the rest of the album. It is one complete body of work, which is unusual these days. This entity will seep out of the speakers and tickle you with quiet, emotional noises, and then build to a steady rhythm and melody, and then finally explode like fireworks. They create this wave very naturally, too. There are no abrupt peaks—in fact you usually have to wait through a couple tracks to get one—and the valleys are slowly climbed down into.
But if you aren’t ready for it, Takk may be a little hard to take. It is much better balanced than, say, The National’s Boxer, but there are still some subdued moments that might turn off the over-eager beaver. There is a lot of empty space in between songs that leaves things sounding…well…empty. You may also find the male squeaky falsetto singer off-putting, like a eunuch with a nosebleed.
But Takk is not going to be one of those albums you really have to work at to love. There isn’t a lot up it’s sleeve. This isn’t to say that it is dry or uninteresting, though. Just think of listening to a Charlie Parker recording: it is infinitely complex, intricate and interesting, but you know what you’re getting into after the first listen.
Day 16, LCD Soundsystem - This is Happening
LCD Soundsystem has been accredited by Rolling Stone for bringing the hipsters back to life. They feel that This is Happening is a masterpiece (or something like that, I don’t have the article with me so I can’t put it in quotes) because it has brought dance music back into the “cool” scenes. This is one hell of a feat, considering this generation of concert-goers is notably one of most led-footed. No moshing. No hippy dancing. No skank. No break dancing. No mashed potato. Just a lot of cool noise without any good way for us to express our love for it, so we just stand around and say we’re having fun. Personally, I am remedying myself of this deficiency by seeing Phish a bunch this summer, and I suggest you do the same to get some swing back into your step.
Although I feel moderate-to-positive about This is Happening, I am not sure that it is all that danceable after-all, and even if it is, if that fact alone warrants a resounding applause. No doubt this album is hinged on heavy beats, but I don’t think LCD is starting the next big craze. No macarana here, although I bet everyone is fine with that.
I cannot picture myself dancing to a lot of these tracks, though. Am I going to cut loose to “One Touch,” with it’s marching, techno-style, four-to-the-floor rhythm and the singer who sounds like a German porn star? Probably not. “Drunk Girls,” Somebody’s Calling,” and “All I Want” definitely aren’t making it onto Club Dry-Hump’s mega-mix, either. The club-bangers here are “I Can Change,” “You Wanted a Hit,” and “Pow Pow.”
But there is an issue: these are three of the worst tracks on the album. “I Can Change” has an off-putting 80’s synth line that sounds as if a kid wanted to make a noise to represent Dracula in his 5th grade play. In its defense, this song does have one of the best vocal performances on the album. But that isn’t too hard, given what else he’s doing. Both “Pow Pow” and “You Wanted a Hit” feature an awkward, half singing/half talking technique which is just uncomfortable.
Quick antidote: I put This is Happening on while my girlfriend and I were sitting down to dinner. I popped the album on, starting where I had left off at “You Wanted a Hit.” Holly cringed at first, but I ignored her initial response and kept chatting. Then “Pow Pow” came on and conversation ceased and we both stared at the Ipod as if was asking us a stupid question. When the fake-yelling, “POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!” started up, she said to the speakers with as much sarcasm as possible, “Wow. Real cool, man.” So I skipped to the next track. Then to me with as little sarcasm as possible, “Can you please make that stop?”
Sure, discussing my girlfriend’s bashing isn’t a real effective way to credibly describe This is Happening, but it shows something that I thought was worth mentioning: the album is sort of awkward. When listening on my headphones, I rather enjoyed myself. It was walking me along through my day, head bobbing from side-to-side, quite contently. But right when I heard it on speakers when other people were listening too, I felt real uneasy. It was just like that feeling you get when you show someone a piece of writing, or song, or painting or whatever, of yours that you originally felt really proud of until that moment when someone else is looking at it with you and everything falls apart.
There are a few songs on here that still hold themselves up, though. “Home” is great. It talks, rather candidly too, about old friends and advice. “You might forget the sound of my voice, but you should not forget, yeah don’t forget, the things we laughed about.” Also, “Drunk Girls” is a nice departure from the rest of the album. It is much more punk-rock, lyrically as well as musically, and the energy is there to back it up.
Although I feel moderate-to-positive about This is Happening, I am not sure that it is all that danceable after-all, and even if it is, if that fact alone warrants a resounding applause. No doubt this album is hinged on heavy beats, but I don’t think LCD is starting the next big craze. No macarana here, although I bet everyone is fine with that.
I cannot picture myself dancing to a lot of these tracks, though. Am I going to cut loose to “One Touch,” with it’s marching, techno-style, four-to-the-floor rhythm and the singer who sounds like a German porn star? Probably not. “Drunk Girls,” Somebody’s Calling,” and “All I Want” definitely aren’t making it onto Club Dry-Hump’s mega-mix, either. The club-bangers here are “I Can Change,” “You Wanted a Hit,” and “Pow Pow.”
But there is an issue: these are three of the worst tracks on the album. “I Can Change” has an off-putting 80’s synth line that sounds as if a kid wanted to make a noise to represent Dracula in his 5th grade play. In its defense, this song does have one of the best vocal performances on the album. But that isn’t too hard, given what else he’s doing. Both “Pow Pow” and “You Wanted a Hit” feature an awkward, half singing/half talking technique which is just uncomfortable.
Quick antidote: I put This is Happening on while my girlfriend and I were sitting down to dinner. I popped the album on, starting where I had left off at “You Wanted a Hit.” Holly cringed at first, but I ignored her initial response and kept chatting. Then “Pow Pow” came on and conversation ceased and we both stared at the Ipod as if was asking us a stupid question. When the fake-yelling, “POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!POW!” started up, she said to the speakers with as much sarcasm as possible, “Wow. Real cool, man.” So I skipped to the next track. Then to me with as little sarcasm as possible, “Can you please make that stop?”
Sure, discussing my girlfriend’s bashing isn’t a real effective way to credibly describe This is Happening, but it shows something that I thought was worth mentioning: the album is sort of awkward. When listening on my headphones, I rather enjoyed myself. It was walking me along through my day, head bobbing from side-to-side, quite contently. But right when I heard it on speakers when other people were listening too, I felt real uneasy. It was just like that feeling you get when you show someone a piece of writing, or song, or painting or whatever, of yours that you originally felt really proud of until that moment when someone else is looking at it with you and everything falls apart.
There are a few songs on here that still hold themselves up, though. “Home” is great. It talks, rather candidly too, about old friends and advice. “You might forget the sound of my voice, but you should not forget, yeah don’t forget, the things we laughed about.” Also, “Drunk Girls” is a nice departure from the rest of the album. It is much more punk-rock, lyrically as well as musically, and the energy is there to back it up.
Day 15, The Raincoats - Self Titled
So far, today’s self titled album by the Raincoats is the oldest I’ve listened to. Which got me thinking. Looking at the list, there are only a handful of albums from past generations. There was nothing in my original e-mail that I sent out to all of my friends when asking for suggestions about “new” or “fresh.” I simply asked for two, must hear albums. Nobody mentioned Dylan, the Beatles, or even Michael Jackson, and there were no antiquities, like a Bach or Beethoven. Had my friends completely turned their back on history?
Since the average age of the people I asked for recommendations was around 25, it could be that everyone is just sick of being force-fed canonical works of art, like we were all through college. The most optimistic answer to this is that everyone is in the stage of their lives where they are beginning to clear their own paths in life and finding new ways to satisfy themselves. Maybe this has an influence over their music tastes?
Or maybe my friends just know me too well. Although I never mentioned it in the original e-mail, it was my intention to only spend a whole day on an album I had never heard before. Maybe they had the sense to guess. Also, if you know me well at all, you may know I had almost given up on “new music” years ago, so perhaps they were trying to enlighten me to regain faith. Or maybe it is all coincidence.
Regardless, the Raincoats’ self titled debut released in 1979 came out 17 years before anything else I’ve listened to so far (Jay-Z’s reasonable Doubt in 1996). It felt great to get out of hipsterdom and revisit the origins of a style and sound often mimicked today. The Raincoats are an all girl post-punk band from London. Their album is clunky, thin and awkward, but not because they did a half-assed job recording it. They are simply hell-bent on sounding like they way stick-figures look: thin, simple, overtly expressive (slanted eyebrows, smiley-face, etc.) and when used correctly, it’s all you need.
The Raincoats have bass, drum and guitar like any other punk band, but this album features a violin—and there is nothing honky-tonk about it. In fact, I didn’t even know that it was a violin until I got halfway through the album, and then I still had to double-check online. The violin is often wrapped in serious fuzz, and she turns it into a shrieking cow. It is also the only sound-modified instrument on the album. The rest of the instruments sound like they were mic-ed once for the demo and then plopped right into the final cut. The guitar twangs along with little-to-no overdrive, the drums are clinky, and the bass sort of plods along like C3PO in serious need of oil.
But this almost amateurish sound is not indicative of the maturity of the band. The arrangements are actually very interesting and well thought-out. The harmonies and interactive vocals on “No Side to Fall In,” and “Black and White” disserve more credit than their tin-can sound would grant on its own. My favorite track, “You’re a Million,” rises with a dramatic, open and drawn-out section and then falls into a hectic, speedy dance-beat, like a tidal wave slowly approaching and then crashing.
The lyrics, too, prove that the band isn’t just playing around. They can get pretty heavy when the time is right: “Rolling in pain/discovered what hurts/and tasted hell/infatuated by madness/I danced in flames/and drunk in the depth of love.” But the Raincoats can be fun, too. They do a cover of The Kinks’ “Lola,” which they strip down and bang out extraordinarily well. This version may even be little more believable, too, as if Lola is singing the song about the guy she picked up.
Since the average age of the people I asked for recommendations was around 25, it could be that everyone is just sick of being force-fed canonical works of art, like we were all through college. The most optimistic answer to this is that everyone is in the stage of their lives where they are beginning to clear their own paths in life and finding new ways to satisfy themselves. Maybe this has an influence over their music tastes?
Or maybe my friends just know me too well. Although I never mentioned it in the original e-mail, it was my intention to only spend a whole day on an album I had never heard before. Maybe they had the sense to guess. Also, if you know me well at all, you may know I had almost given up on “new music” years ago, so perhaps they were trying to enlighten me to regain faith. Or maybe it is all coincidence.
Regardless, the Raincoats’ self titled debut released in 1979 came out 17 years before anything else I’ve listened to so far (Jay-Z’s reasonable Doubt in 1996). It felt great to get out of hipsterdom and revisit the origins of a style and sound often mimicked today. The Raincoats are an all girl post-punk band from London. Their album is clunky, thin and awkward, but not because they did a half-assed job recording it. They are simply hell-bent on sounding like they way stick-figures look: thin, simple, overtly expressive (slanted eyebrows, smiley-face, etc.) and when used correctly, it’s all you need.
The Raincoats have bass, drum and guitar like any other punk band, but this album features a violin—and there is nothing honky-tonk about it. In fact, I didn’t even know that it was a violin until I got halfway through the album, and then I still had to double-check online. The violin is often wrapped in serious fuzz, and she turns it into a shrieking cow. It is also the only sound-modified instrument on the album. The rest of the instruments sound like they were mic-ed once for the demo and then plopped right into the final cut. The guitar twangs along with little-to-no overdrive, the drums are clinky, and the bass sort of plods along like C3PO in serious need of oil.
But this almost amateurish sound is not indicative of the maturity of the band. The arrangements are actually very interesting and well thought-out. The harmonies and interactive vocals on “No Side to Fall In,” and “Black and White” disserve more credit than their tin-can sound would grant on its own. My favorite track, “You’re a Million,” rises with a dramatic, open and drawn-out section and then falls into a hectic, speedy dance-beat, like a tidal wave slowly approaching and then crashing.
The lyrics, too, prove that the band isn’t just playing around. They can get pretty heavy when the time is right: “Rolling in pain/discovered what hurts/and tasted hell/infatuated by madness/I danced in flames/and drunk in the depth of love.” But the Raincoats can be fun, too. They do a cover of The Kinks’ “Lola,” which they strip down and bang out extraordinarily well. This version may even be little more believable, too, as if Lola is singing the song about the guy she picked up.
Day 14, Beirut - Gulag Orkestar
I was happy to mix things up today with Beirut’s Gulag Orkestar. It was great to get some “world” music into this project, even though this album was recorded by an American grad student in a New Mexico University dorm room. Songwriter Zach Condon writes Balkan/Eastern European influenced music. The songs are very simple and very catchy. They repeat two—maybe four if you’re lucky—chords over and over again while the singer and trumpets trade verses. The songs stand on their own quite well, so if you put “Postcards from Italy,” or “Gulag Orkestar” on, your friends will not only be mighty impressed, but enjoy themselves. But a whole album of two or four chord oscillations is a little redundant, and leaves me waiting for a “real” song. But it never comes. Although I am a little disappointed that there are not any huge movements within each song, thinking back, a more complex song structure would blow the whole vibe of the album, and probably ruin the Balkan authenticity.
The best thing about this album are the trumpets—especially the harmonization. Their melodies take center stage here-even over the vocals-mostly because they are so extravagant. He gets up to five part harmony at one point! They are really well blended, probably because they are played by the same guy, but the sound is still really raw. It sounds like you bumped into this band on the streets of some random Baltic city…or Santa Fe.
The best thing about this album are the trumpets—especially the harmonization. Their melodies take center stage here-even over the vocals-mostly because they are so extravagant. He gets up to five part harmony at one point! They are really well blended, probably because they are played by the same guy, but the sound is still really raw. It sounds like you bumped into this band on the streets of some random Baltic city…or Santa Fe.
Day 13, The National - Boxer
This project is intrinsically flawed. It is not conducive to writing reviews. Even though I go through an album twice at bare minimum, the fact that I am shoving gobs of new music into my ears every day on a crowded, loud, and miserable city subway doesn’t give certain albums a chance. First and foremost, it is simply hard to hear some lyrics. Second, after spending an entire day listening to and writing about an album, I am thrust into a new one with barely any time to enjoy what I had been hearing or decompress and ready myself for what’s next.
But it still holds water. When hearing a song or album for the first time in the real-world, it comes to you quickly and unexpectedly, like when a buddy pulls you aside at a party, throws a pair of headphones on you and plays 30 seconds of his new favorite track. We are expected to make a judgment, even here. The initial reaction to this new-music-bum rush will decide whether or not you listen to the album again, whether you like the artist, whether you think your friend has whack taste, etc.
I have a friend who hits up all the hot music blogs every day to see what is what. He’ll have two windows open on his computer: Itunes music store and whatever blog he is taking advice from. He’ll read a music blurb on the blog, then find the album on Itunes, click on the second song, listen to the 20 second sample, then the seventh song sample, and then decide if it sucks or if he should get the album. And honestly, he is not a complete moron for this. There is a lot of music out there, and how can anyone really decide for themselves what is going to get us off? Although this guy tries, nobody truly ever does. In fact, when review writing used to be an art and an authority, people trusted their critics. And best of all, we had all the guess-work done for us. Now, with instant access on the internet and armies of cranky, pretentious, know-it-all bloggers (I am very much included in this), then who do we trust? We pretend to trust ourselves, but what will a 20 second clip really teach us about the music? But I am not saying that our generation’s music listeners are lazy. I think the opposite. We have become over-active in our search for new pleasures. We don’t have to take a critics word for it anymore, because we can easily go online and find some obscure band to fall in love with/hate on our own.
Last week, my girlfriend, Holly, brought up an interested point. She is a fiend for NPR’s science/sociology program Radio Lab and recently listened to a program on how we process music. Apparently, there is an entire area of our brain dedicated to processing new sounds. This area is extremely active in some people, and less so in others. So off the bat, there are certain people who are more likely to enjoy new music. The conclusion of the study proved that no matter what, people are more likely to enjoy music after they become familiar with it and learn to process the new sounds. So, is twice or three times through an album really enough to grant a review? Probably not, but since nobody these days really takes the time to sit with an album for weeks on end, this is the most true-to-life way to write a review, albeit not the most accurate.
But the real question is whether it is our duty to give every album its due time and listen to it until we can claim we are comfortable enough with it to make a “worthy” judgment. My answer: no. You don’t sit in front of a painting for 6 hours a day for two weeks before you make a judgment; you walk into the gallery, look up and say “hmm, yeah, I don’t dig that,” maybe you come up with a few good reasons why, and then you move on. You don’t watch a movie 15 times before you say whether or not you like it. But unless you’re writing a 50 page thesis on the thing, art shouldn’t be that academic anyway. It should be beautiful.
There was a reason that I opened today’s entry with this discussion. On the subway home to Brooklyn from hanging in Central Park outside the Simon and Garfunkel tribute concert, I was telling a buddy my thoughts on the album of the day: Boxer. He loved the album and the rest of the band's catalog, and hoped I felt the same. I said I was felt luke-warm on it, and found it kind of subdued. His response was, “You just gatta give like, at least 10 more listens. I didn’t like it at first, either.” This is a very common response when trying to prove your favorite band to a skeptic. (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to convince someone that Joanna Newsom’s voice “grows on you.”) But is it really my fault if I don’t want to give it 10 more times? If this is an album that you have to learn to love, then is my twice-through criticism worth a dime?
I agree that Boxer is a georgous album with lush rock-and-roll textures behind a mysterious and melancholy singer. But the lyrics, which are well written and relatable, get lost in the singers lack-luster expressions. I have a hard time believing in a vocalist who sings about his emotions as if he were giving a 10th grade algebra lecture. The melodies box themselves in a short range of notes, which limits their diversity. The album is very sleepy, even though most of the songs have a driving rhythm. The drums save the album from falling into a coma. They kick the band into a higher-gear than the music achieves on it’s on. Just listen to “Squalor Victoria” and you will know exactly what I mean.
The album is very well produced, too. There is a lot of ambient noise which fills up space to make their sound come off much larger than it actually is. Listen to my favorite song on the album, “Start a War,” and try to count the instruments. I can really only hear drums and few guitars, but there are about 20 other sounds going on in the background which I cannot identify. It’s a little bit of a cop-out for a band to make up all these sounds in the studio, but this tactic has been around for years, so there is no point arguing now. But regardless how you feel about the way the sound was made, there is no arguing that it is a beautiful, ear-gasms inspiring, effect.
So no, I do not love The National’s Boxer, but perhaps that’s just because my “new sounds brain-area” is undeveloped and I need to give Boxer more time, right?
But it still holds water. When hearing a song or album for the first time in the real-world, it comes to you quickly and unexpectedly, like when a buddy pulls you aside at a party, throws a pair of headphones on you and plays 30 seconds of his new favorite track. We are expected to make a judgment, even here. The initial reaction to this new-music-bum rush will decide whether or not you listen to the album again, whether you like the artist, whether you think your friend has whack taste, etc.
I have a friend who hits up all the hot music blogs every day to see what is what. He’ll have two windows open on his computer: Itunes music store and whatever blog he is taking advice from. He’ll read a music blurb on the blog, then find the album on Itunes, click on the second song, listen to the 20 second sample, then the seventh song sample, and then decide if it sucks or if he should get the album. And honestly, he is not a complete moron for this. There is a lot of music out there, and how can anyone really decide for themselves what is going to get us off? Although this guy tries, nobody truly ever does. In fact, when review writing used to be an art and an authority, people trusted their critics. And best of all, we had all the guess-work done for us. Now, with instant access on the internet and armies of cranky, pretentious, know-it-all bloggers (I am very much included in this), then who do we trust? We pretend to trust ourselves, but what will a 20 second clip really teach us about the music? But I am not saying that our generation’s music listeners are lazy. I think the opposite. We have become over-active in our search for new pleasures. We don’t have to take a critics word for it anymore, because we can easily go online and find some obscure band to fall in love with/hate on our own.
Last week, my girlfriend, Holly, brought up an interested point. She is a fiend for NPR’s science/sociology program Radio Lab and recently listened to a program on how we process music. Apparently, there is an entire area of our brain dedicated to processing new sounds. This area is extremely active in some people, and less so in others. So off the bat, there are certain people who are more likely to enjoy new music. The conclusion of the study proved that no matter what, people are more likely to enjoy music after they become familiar with it and learn to process the new sounds. So, is twice or three times through an album really enough to grant a review? Probably not, but since nobody these days really takes the time to sit with an album for weeks on end, this is the most true-to-life way to write a review, albeit not the most accurate.
But the real question is whether it is our duty to give every album its due time and listen to it until we can claim we are comfortable enough with it to make a “worthy” judgment. My answer: no. You don’t sit in front of a painting for 6 hours a day for two weeks before you make a judgment; you walk into the gallery, look up and say “hmm, yeah, I don’t dig that,” maybe you come up with a few good reasons why, and then you move on. You don’t watch a movie 15 times before you say whether or not you like it. But unless you’re writing a 50 page thesis on the thing, art shouldn’t be that academic anyway. It should be beautiful.
There was a reason that I opened today’s entry with this discussion. On the subway home to Brooklyn from hanging in Central Park outside the Simon and Garfunkel tribute concert, I was telling a buddy my thoughts on the album of the day: Boxer. He loved the album and the rest of the band's catalog, and hoped I felt the same. I said I was felt luke-warm on it, and found it kind of subdued. His response was, “You just gatta give like, at least 10 more listens. I didn’t like it at first, either.” This is a very common response when trying to prove your favorite band to a skeptic. (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to convince someone that Joanna Newsom’s voice “grows on you.”) But is it really my fault if I don’t want to give it 10 more times? If this is an album that you have to learn to love, then is my twice-through criticism worth a dime?
I agree that Boxer is a georgous album with lush rock-and-roll textures behind a mysterious and melancholy singer. But the lyrics, which are well written and relatable, get lost in the singers lack-luster expressions. I have a hard time believing in a vocalist who sings about his emotions as if he were giving a 10th grade algebra lecture. The melodies box themselves in a short range of notes, which limits their diversity. The album is very sleepy, even though most of the songs have a driving rhythm. The drums save the album from falling into a coma. They kick the band into a higher-gear than the music achieves on it’s on. Just listen to “Squalor Victoria” and you will know exactly what I mean.
The album is very well produced, too. There is a lot of ambient noise which fills up space to make their sound come off much larger than it actually is. Listen to my favorite song on the album, “Start a War,” and try to count the instruments. I can really only hear drums and few guitars, but there are about 20 other sounds going on in the background which I cannot identify. It’s a little bit of a cop-out for a band to make up all these sounds in the studio, but this tactic has been around for years, so there is no point arguing now. But regardless how you feel about the way the sound was made, there is no arguing that it is a beautiful, ear-gasms inspiring, effect.
So no, I do not love The National’s Boxer, but perhaps that’s just because my “new sounds brain-area” is undeveloped and I need to give Boxer more time, right?
Day 12, Gang Starr - Moment of Truth
Gang Starr is made up of MC Guru and DJ Premier. They hold a high place in the New York hip-hop “underground” scene of the mid 90s (but I was glad to hear Guru hails from Boston, my home town). They are raw, funky, jazzy, even playful at times, but they do not go too far from their roots. They sound a lot more old-school than they really are, too. Even though Moment of Truth was released in 1998, it sounds a lot closer to A Tribe Called Quest’s 1993 release Low End Theory than Jay-Z’s 1998 release Vol. 2…Hard Knock Life.
But Premier and Guru both have very distinct styles which doubly sets them apart from other artists of their era. First off, Premier is a sampling god. But he is not over-the-top, overactive, or showy. Unlike some of the modern sampling masters like MadLib or DJ Shadow, he doesn't overdo it with flair and rarely deviates from the beat. Some of the songs off of Moment of Truth don’t have a real hook or chorus, so the song relies on Premier’s cuts from other hip-hop songs or from old Motown samples to fill in the space. Check out “You Know My Steeze” to see what I'm talking about. It is sample-heavy, but straightforward enough to keep a strong foundation. This sets a wonderful landscape for Guru to run around in.
But Guru does very little running, and a lot more lounging. His flow is real slow, especially compared to other powerhouse songs of 1998: “Still Not a Player,” by Big Pun, or Jay-Z’s “Nigga What, Nigga Who.” Guru is unique in that he takes the time to enunciate every syllable of every word, without a lot of filler or fudging to make rhymes fit. This vocal approach was a lot more common back with groups like Tribe, or even NWA. However, since Guru’s lines are often complete sentences, and with his precise diction, he can sometimes get a little jumbled. But I think that is what makes Guru so great. His flow seems slightly vulnerable, like you are not sure how is going to take it, or if he is really going to make it work. There are examples all over the album where he will be rapping a line, get half way through the phrase and realize that he doesn’t have enough syllables left to fill up the bar, so he just rests and picks it back up a beat and a half later. Super funky.
Gang Starr is a great to listen to when you want some solid, funky, stripped down hip-hop, and not something too abrasive with arbitrary gun blasts thrown around.
But Premier and Guru both have very distinct styles which doubly sets them apart from other artists of their era. First off, Premier is a sampling god. But he is not over-the-top, overactive, or showy. Unlike some of the modern sampling masters like MadLib or DJ Shadow, he doesn't overdo it with flair and rarely deviates from the beat. Some of the songs off of Moment of Truth don’t have a real hook or chorus, so the song relies on Premier’s cuts from other hip-hop songs or from old Motown samples to fill in the space. Check out “You Know My Steeze” to see what I'm talking about. It is sample-heavy, but straightforward enough to keep a strong foundation. This sets a wonderful landscape for Guru to run around in.
But Guru does very little running, and a lot more lounging. His flow is real slow, especially compared to other powerhouse songs of 1998: “Still Not a Player,” by Big Pun, or Jay-Z’s “Nigga What, Nigga Who.” Guru is unique in that he takes the time to enunciate every syllable of every word, without a lot of filler or fudging to make rhymes fit. This vocal approach was a lot more common back with groups like Tribe, or even NWA. However, since Guru’s lines are often complete sentences, and with his precise diction, he can sometimes get a little jumbled. But I think that is what makes Guru so great. His flow seems slightly vulnerable, like you are not sure how is going to take it, or if he is really going to make it work. There are examples all over the album where he will be rapping a line, get half way through the phrase and realize that he doesn’t have enough syllables left to fill up the bar, so he just rests and picks it back up a beat and a half later. Super funky.
Gang Starr is a great to listen to when you want some solid, funky, stripped down hip-hop, and not something too abrasive with arbitrary gun blasts thrown around.
Day 11, Fanfarlo - Reservoir
I listened to Fanfarlo’s Reservoir today and I don’t like it. It seriously does nothing for me. (Just to remind you that this is a blog and not a real source of literature or journalism.) Fanfarlo has all the right parts, but not the right attitude. They come off over-sentimental, trite, forced, trendy, too perfect, calculated, and heartless. I feel like these guys hired a couple of professional musicians who could make nice sounds with their instruments, put them up in a baller recording studio and went off to make some money. Skip Fanfarlo and listen to Arcade Fire, or the Talking Heads, or Calexico even if you really need some horns.
It isn’t all bad. Reservoir is beautifully mixed, and it produces a pleasantly strong wave. The horn lines are very fluid, the pianos and acoustic guitars blend well, they nail the harmonies, and they have a super driving bass and drum section. But they seem to culminate every trend in music right now: mysterious vocalist, token female back-up singer, random instrumentation like trumpets and synthesizers, sadness, and that thumping downbeat drumming. It is funny that this bothers me, because this could be the exact reason somebody else would like it: it has everything that is good! I guess I’m too rock-and-roll for that sentiment. (HA!)
Just listen to the “hey!”s (or “say!”s?) on the track “Harld T. Wilkens, or How to Wait for a Very Long Time.” They start at 3:09. Such a poor attempt at showing energy. And not to mention that its a huge Arcade Fire rip. Which, if you listen to “No Cars Go,” (0:36, 1:11, etc.) you can tell the difference. But if I had my way, the “hey!”s would be left in punk music all together. But let’s face it; musically there is nothing bad about this album. It’s got a nice sound and a good beat. Everything comes together like how a scoop of ice cream falls on top of a piece of warm apple pie. mmmMMMmmMMMmmmMMMmmmMMMmmm...
But this is sad because I know of at least two of my good friends who really like Reservoir. Just remember, you two, I love you, and it is Friday and I had a shitty day at work so what I’m saying right now doesn’t really count.
Right?
Hope this doesn’t blow my cred. I mean…if anyone reads this anyway.
It isn’t all bad. Reservoir is beautifully mixed, and it produces a pleasantly strong wave. The horn lines are very fluid, the pianos and acoustic guitars blend well, they nail the harmonies, and they have a super driving bass and drum section. But they seem to culminate every trend in music right now: mysterious vocalist, token female back-up singer, random instrumentation like trumpets and synthesizers, sadness, and that thumping downbeat drumming. It is funny that this bothers me, because this could be the exact reason somebody else would like it: it has everything that is good! I guess I’m too rock-and-roll for that sentiment. (HA!)
Just listen to the “hey!”s (or “say!”s?) on the track “Harld T. Wilkens, or How to Wait for a Very Long Time.” They start at 3:09. Such a poor attempt at showing energy. And not to mention that its a huge Arcade Fire rip. Which, if you listen to “No Cars Go,” (0:36, 1:11, etc.) you can tell the difference. But if I had my way, the “hey!”s would be left in punk music all together. But let’s face it; musically there is nothing bad about this album. It’s got a nice sound and a good beat. Everything comes together like how a scoop of ice cream falls on top of a piece of warm apple pie. mmmMMMmmMMMmmmMMMmmmMMMmmm...
But this is sad because I know of at least two of my good friends who really like Reservoir. Just remember, you two, I love you, and it is Friday and I had a shitty day at work so what I’m saying right now doesn’t really count.
Right?
Hope this doesn’t blow my cred. I mean…if anyone reads this anyway.
Day 10, Polaris - Music from the Adventure of Pete and Pete
Polaris came to me on a bad day. Music from the Adventure of Pete and Pete should put a smile on my face, but I was suffering from a brutal allergy attack. I’ve never gotten serious allergies before, so I was convinced I had been poisoned. Turns out Clariton fixes poisonings. This actually happened on Wednesday, but I couldn’t half ass this one, so I put off writing the review and revisiting it until today.
It may simply be because of my nostalgic love for this album’s correlated television show, but I felt determined to really enjoy it. I had “Hey Sandy,” the first track on this album and coincidentally the song featured in the Pete and Pete opening credits, on my Ipod for years and it often found its way onto my playlists. Though I found that this album is much more than one hit, it didn’t quite live up to be the gem I had hoped it to be.
Polaris, and more notably their real band called Miracle Legion, and other bands like R.E.M. defined the “low-fi” movement out of the early nineties. Music from the Adventures of Pete and Pete is no exception. It is all basic rock songs with bass, drums and two guitars that sound thin and coated with a light layer of that classic 1990’s chorus effect. The album seems to sound like it was recorded in somebody’s basement with a 6 track. The parts are tastelessly washed with reverb, but this is what it’s all about. It is so rock-and-roll, even though there is not a single heavy drum fill, no blazin’ guitar solos, and no fat distortion. This raw-ness carries the album because it makes you forgive the out of tune vocals and poorly mixed guitars.
And the songs are pretty good, too. Lyrically, you’re not going to be blown away by anything here—we’re not hanging out with Bright Eyes anymore. And to be honest, it is very refreshing. “She is Staggering” and “Everywhere” are both honest, relatable love songs—as if you were having a conversation with your buddy. Literally. The first lines from “She is Staggering” are “Are you crazy, man? You didn’t notice her?”
But I get the most pleasure from their up-tempo songs. “The Monster’s Loose,” “Waiting for October,” “Saturnine,” and of course “Hey Sandy” bring that child-like playfulness that is not only inherent in their image, but in their garage-band sound and their honest-to-god lyrics. But when it is all said and done, the nostalgia I have for “Hey Sandy” and the TV show sets it up for failure. Nothing is ever as good as you remember it.
It may simply be because of my nostalgic love for this album’s correlated television show, but I felt determined to really enjoy it. I had “Hey Sandy,” the first track on this album and coincidentally the song featured in the Pete and Pete opening credits, on my Ipod for years and it often found its way onto my playlists. Though I found that this album is much more than one hit, it didn’t quite live up to be the gem I had hoped it to be.
Polaris, and more notably their real band called Miracle Legion, and other bands like R.E.M. defined the “low-fi” movement out of the early nineties. Music from the Adventures of Pete and Pete is no exception. It is all basic rock songs with bass, drums and two guitars that sound thin and coated with a light layer of that classic 1990’s chorus effect. The album seems to sound like it was recorded in somebody’s basement with a 6 track. The parts are tastelessly washed with reverb, but this is what it’s all about. It is so rock-and-roll, even though there is not a single heavy drum fill, no blazin’ guitar solos, and no fat distortion. This raw-ness carries the album because it makes you forgive the out of tune vocals and poorly mixed guitars.
And the songs are pretty good, too. Lyrically, you’re not going to be blown away by anything here—we’re not hanging out with Bright Eyes anymore. And to be honest, it is very refreshing. “She is Staggering” and “Everywhere” are both honest, relatable love songs—as if you were having a conversation with your buddy. Literally. The first lines from “She is Staggering” are “Are you crazy, man? You didn’t notice her?”
But I get the most pleasure from their up-tempo songs. “The Monster’s Loose,” “Waiting for October,” “Saturnine,” and of course “Hey Sandy” bring that child-like playfulness that is not only inherent in their image, but in their garage-band sound and their honest-to-god lyrics. But when it is all said and done, the nostalgia I have for “Hey Sandy” and the TV show sets it up for failure. Nothing is ever as good as you remember it.
Day 9, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros - Up From Below
Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zero’s put out an album this year called Up From Below . I know nothing about these guys, as has been the case for most of these bands so far, which has been a massive detriment to my credibility during all of these reviews. But isn’t that sort of the reason this is exciting?
This group is interesting, perhaps not because they are innovators, but maybe because the way they play with musical familiarities: traditional instrumentation but made to sound distant and archaic at times, vocals with many back-up singers that can sometimes sound like an entire chorus of college students, retro sounding recordings but still deeply layered. You know they are talented musicians (sick little piano fill between track one and two) but they don’t use their technique for anything other than to promote the melody and over-all sound. They very song-driven, with very few out-standing noises, blips, trickles, or spazes.
Nine out of twelve songs (I have the Bonus Track version—don’t know what the difference is) have a seriously emphasized 2 and 4 down beat. The other three are a waltz and two folky tunes, and they don’t stress any beat that hard at all. And you notice this change. “Black Water,” “Simplest Love” and “Brother” are good songs and have their purpose on the album, but the whole machine sort of skips gears and jerks when they come on. But this is only a testament to Up From Below’s awesome power throughout. And this is not the sort of drive you get from fast drums or heavy guitars, but from this emphatic down beat and catchy melodies.
For the most part, Up From Below is an absolute pleasure. In fact, I got a little upset when my Bay Ridge bound R train pulled up to my stop at Prospect Ave. Take, “Home” for example. The song is so goddamn endearing. Four chord verse and chorus, another four chords for the instrumental bridge, powerful horns, repeating chorus about love and contentment, girl and boy trading love stories about each other. You will be stomping your foot and hugging your neighbor in no time. And it has this chorus that you never want to stop repeating.
Generally, I think they are most successful with their joyous songs, such as “Home,” or “Carries On,” but their only groovy song “Come in Please” is actually pretty hot, although there is nothing else on the album like it. But don't get me wrong, this is not all sunshine and rainbows, just check out "Babylon Kisses."
This group is interesting, perhaps not because they are innovators, but maybe because the way they play with musical familiarities: traditional instrumentation but made to sound distant and archaic at times, vocals with many back-up singers that can sometimes sound like an entire chorus of college students, retro sounding recordings but still deeply layered. You know they are talented musicians (sick little piano fill between track one and two) but they don’t use their technique for anything other than to promote the melody and over-all sound. They very song-driven, with very few out-standing noises, blips, trickles, or spazes.
Nine out of twelve songs (I have the Bonus Track version—don’t know what the difference is) have a seriously emphasized 2 and 4 down beat. The other three are a waltz and two folky tunes, and they don’t stress any beat that hard at all. And you notice this change. “Black Water,” “Simplest Love” and “Brother” are good songs and have their purpose on the album, but the whole machine sort of skips gears and jerks when they come on. But this is only a testament to Up From Below’s awesome power throughout. And this is not the sort of drive you get from fast drums or heavy guitars, but from this emphatic down beat and catchy melodies.
For the most part, Up From Below is an absolute pleasure. In fact, I got a little upset when my Bay Ridge bound R train pulled up to my stop at Prospect Ave. Take, “Home” for example. The song is so goddamn endearing. Four chord verse and chorus, another four chords for the instrumental bridge, powerful horns, repeating chorus about love and contentment, girl and boy trading love stories about each other. You will be stomping your foot and hugging your neighbor in no time. And it has this chorus that you never want to stop repeating.
Generally, I think they are most successful with their joyous songs, such as “Home,” or “Carries On,” but their only groovy song “Come in Please” is actually pretty hot, although there is nothing else on the album like it. But don't get me wrong, this is not all sunshine and rainbows, just check out "Babylon Kisses."
Day 8, Gorillaz - Plastic Beach
Today’s listening was an extreme departure from what I’ve been hearing lately. But it doesn’t stop there. Gorillaz’s Plastic Beach is an extreme departure from a lot of musical norms. My first listen felt a lot like looking into a rich kid’s toy chest: a chaos of flashy, bombastic, but super-cool and unique things. But when it finished, all I could say was, “What the f?” I was very intrigued, just thrown off my guard.
So I took some time until I went through it again. Having just listened to a storm of Americana rooted in the traditional verse-chorus-verse-chorus song structure, I felt a little ungrounded with Plastic Beach after the first time through. But when I put it back on, I realized I was not lost at all and I, in fact, remembered almost every melody.
Plastic Beach is a dizzying blend of sounds and styles. The first track opens with a beautiful string arrangement, which then bursts into a RJD2-esq techno/hip-hop groove with…yes, believe it…Snoop Dogg on the mic. They throw structure the window right from the first track. Snoop never takes a full verse, but sort of sticks in a few lines where there is space in the groove. A very interesting technique, but it actually sounds very natural—like the rap comes second to the fat horns and electro-groove.
The next 3 tracks, “White Flag,” “Rhinestone Eyes,” and “Stylo,” and are wild and unstoppable. Again, none of them follow a traditional structure or style; they are curiously peculiar kitchen sink concoctions, yet damn catchy. “White Flag” is slightly similar to the Snoop track in that it blends string arrangements and hip-hop, but there are two rappers, and one of them sounds like a Jamaican Brit. They trade verses, lines, and even signle words in what seems like random order, but the flow is impeccable. The next two tracks, “Rhinestone Eyes” and “Stylo” may be my favorite two on the album. The story is the same: strange blends of electronic sounds and instruments, unstructured vocals, unstructured everything, but always some sort of hook.
The whole album is very exciting, and although it can be erratic at times, it does not sacrifice melody or musicality. Plastic Beach is even a departure for the Gorillaz. I haven’t checked the charts lately, but I don’t think it produces any “hits,” which is usually something the Gorillaz can easily manage.
So I took some time until I went through it again. Having just listened to a storm of Americana rooted in the traditional verse-chorus-verse-chorus song structure, I felt a little ungrounded with Plastic Beach after the first time through. But when I put it back on, I realized I was not lost at all and I, in fact, remembered almost every melody.
Plastic Beach is a dizzying blend of sounds and styles. The first track opens with a beautiful string arrangement, which then bursts into a RJD2-esq techno/hip-hop groove with…yes, believe it…Snoop Dogg on the mic. They throw structure the window right from the first track. Snoop never takes a full verse, but sort of sticks in a few lines where there is space in the groove. A very interesting technique, but it actually sounds very natural—like the rap comes second to the fat horns and electro-groove.
The next 3 tracks, “White Flag,” “Rhinestone Eyes,” and “Stylo,” and are wild and unstoppable. Again, none of them follow a traditional structure or style; they are curiously peculiar kitchen sink concoctions, yet damn catchy. “White Flag” is slightly similar to the Snoop track in that it blends string arrangements and hip-hop, but there are two rappers, and one of them sounds like a Jamaican Brit. They trade verses, lines, and even signle words in what seems like random order, but the flow is impeccable. The next two tracks, “Rhinestone Eyes” and “Stylo” may be my favorite two on the album. The story is the same: strange blends of electronic sounds and instruments, unstructured vocals, unstructured everything, but always some sort of hook.
The whole album is very exciting, and although it can be erratic at times, it does not sacrifice melody or musicality. Plastic Beach is even a departure for the Gorillaz. I haven’t checked the charts lately, but I don’t think it produces any “hits,” which is usually something the Gorillaz can easily manage.
Day 7, Bright Eyes - Cassadaga
Cassadaga by Bright Eyes continues this country/folk/rock chain that has linked a lot of this journey together, but it is not without its own virtues and personality.
I first came across Bright Eyes on an unlabeled mix CD of my girlfriend’s favorite tracks. I knew most of the songs on the CD pretty well (she is a huge Jethro Tull, Led Zeppelin, and Tool fan…doesn’t she rock?) but there was one major outlier. I was first struck by the singer’s unique choked-up voice, then comforted by the familiar folk/rock sound, and lastly intrigued by the weighty and complex lyrics. I inquired about it and I learned it was Bright Eyes’ “We are Nowhere and It’s Now,” from the album Motion Sickness.
Bright Eyes is striking, if you get the right song. “We are Nowhere…” still sits on the tip of my brain with its legs dangling off the edge, whistling along constantly. Now, the track “Four Winds,” is sitting right beside it. “Four Winds” sounds like a country hoe-down on steroids, and is lyrically like a young poet’s wild dream. It opens with three full choruses of violin solo. An odd number for a solo, for one, but since this is the first real song of the album, the delay seems exaggerated. This was a cool choice, because it both sets the mood and builds the tension. So here you are: head-banging, two-stepping, and curious until you are hit hard with “Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe - There's people always dying trying to keep them alive.” It would be one of the most badass openings to an album I’ve ever heard, but for some reason they decided to include a three minute ambient ramble as the first track. I don’t really know how this fits—perhaps to remind people that Bright Eyes really isn’t a country group, they just play one on TV.
But the whole album falls short after “Four Winds.” I do not mean to say that the rest of the album is poor; they just played their cards too early. “If the Brakeman…,” “Hot Knifes,” “Classic Cars,” are all killer tunes, but just shadowed. Also, the album is little tiring. Oberst’s songs have some of the most trying lyrics I’ve ever heard. Every thought is an illusion to a moment, which is a reference to a theme, which relates to the song. It’s gorgeous, but exhausting. I listened to Cassadaga five times over the past few days (I cheated over the weekend…again) and I am only beginning to understand what the songs are about. I actually had to sit down and read the lyrics to get the idea. But this is not really a criticism, more of a warning. It is rewarding when you get there.
A solid album with a bunch of good songs, one amazing song, and a lot of words to think about.
I first came across Bright Eyes on an unlabeled mix CD of my girlfriend’s favorite tracks. I knew most of the songs on the CD pretty well (she is a huge Jethro Tull, Led Zeppelin, and Tool fan…doesn’t she rock?) but there was one major outlier. I was first struck by the singer’s unique choked-up voice, then comforted by the familiar folk/rock sound, and lastly intrigued by the weighty and complex lyrics. I inquired about it and I learned it was Bright Eyes’ “We are Nowhere and It’s Now,” from the album Motion Sickness.
Bright Eyes is striking, if you get the right song. “We are Nowhere…” still sits on the tip of my brain with its legs dangling off the edge, whistling along constantly. Now, the track “Four Winds,” is sitting right beside it. “Four Winds” sounds like a country hoe-down on steroids, and is lyrically like a young poet’s wild dream. It opens with three full choruses of violin solo. An odd number for a solo, for one, but since this is the first real song of the album, the delay seems exaggerated. This was a cool choice, because it both sets the mood and builds the tension. So here you are: head-banging, two-stepping, and curious until you are hit hard with “Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe - There's people always dying trying to keep them alive.” It would be one of the most badass openings to an album I’ve ever heard, but for some reason they decided to include a three minute ambient ramble as the first track. I don’t really know how this fits—perhaps to remind people that Bright Eyes really isn’t a country group, they just play one on TV.
But the whole album falls short after “Four Winds.” I do not mean to say that the rest of the album is poor; they just played their cards too early. “If the Brakeman…,” “Hot Knifes,” “Classic Cars,” are all killer tunes, but just shadowed. Also, the album is little tiring. Oberst’s songs have some of the most trying lyrics I’ve ever heard. Every thought is an illusion to a moment, which is a reference to a theme, which relates to the song. It’s gorgeous, but exhausting. I listened to Cassadaga five times over the past few days (I cheated over the weekend…again) and I am only beginning to understand what the songs are about. I actually had to sit down and read the lyrics to get the idea. But this is not really a criticism, more of a warning. It is rewarding when you get there.
A solid album with a bunch of good songs, one amazing song, and a lot of words to think about.
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