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Album Review: Cold Cave – Cherish the Light Years [Matador]

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On 04/05/2011

In album review, mp3, music


Remember when the 80s received a much-heralded comeback thanks to The Killers and a host of other synth-heavy pop/rock bands? The first year or two it was a great revival of a genre that many in a younger generation had never had the chance to fully experience before. But just like digging around a box filled with the toys your parents had when they were growing up, you’ll dig around and find some great stuff but after a brief while drop those for something newer and cooler. This is the cycle of music we’re living with these days, where trends come and go with the passing of the wind, and your only real responsibility is to try and keep up. So the 80s revival came and went, and the bands that helped to propogate it either changed their sound or died off like the proverbial dinosaurs they were. Still, the argument stands that good music is always good no matter the genre or time period, meaning that some band could well try and pull off a 50s revival and succeed purely on their own volition. Cold Cave isn’t quite going to do that, but instead they’re crushing hard on the 80s in the best and most respectful way possible. Unlike, say, Chromeo, who exploit every 80s cliche imaginable, Cold Cave are looking to actually rival some fo their synth-pop heroes, from New Order to Tears For Fears and The Cure. Their 2009 debut album “Love Comes Close” had a very lo-fi, minimalist 80s vibe to it, perhaps because that was the best they could do with the materials they had. Flush with some money thanks to lending a couple songs out to TV commercials the last couple years, their new record “Cherish the Light Years” shimmers, sparkles and explodes with all of the sheen that the 80s had to offer.

For those not familiar with Cold Cave, it’s the brainchild of Wes Eisold, former frontman for a couple of hardcore punk bands that includes Some Girls and Give Up the Ghost. Originally starting as a solo project a few years ago, he brought in a few people to help him realize his sonic vision, which was to craft synth-heavy pop with dark industrial undertones, much like many of his musical heroes from the 80s UK music scene. A big boost to the project came when former Xiu Xiu member Caralee McElroy got on board, adding a fascinating female vocal counterpoint to Eisold’s deep but emotionally complex croon. She only stuck around for about a year though, long enough to become a formidable presence in the band with her contributions to “Love Comes Close” and the subsequent tour supporting it. Former Mika Miko frontwoman Jennifer Clavin is her non-technical replacement, in that she handles McElroy’s vocal parts but does not sing on any of “Cherish the Light Years”. Instead, Eisold has fully taken the reins back as frontman, boosted by better production values and increased confidence and strength gained while touring in support of the first album. Looking at their situation from afar, there seemed to be good reason to worry that Cold Cave might not have that same magic once again with the lineup change. The lesson to learn here is to never count Wes Eisold out, because when life gives you oranges instead of lemons, you shut down your lemonade stand and start an orange juice one.

The very instant that “Cherish the Light Years” starts with “The Great Pan Is Dead”, you are completely bombarded with noise. The guitars are already turned up to 11 and raging as if you’re walking in on them mid-stride. It’s an auditory shock to the system not unlike the feeling you get when jumping into an ice cold swimming pool. As hard and harsh as that noise might be initially, once your ears become acclimated to it, the synths come soaring in mixed with a sprinkling of bells that are the sonic equivalent of stars strewn across the night sky. This is Cold Cave the stadium conqueror, a far cry from the meeker, more traditional approach the last record had. Eisold is clearly sold on that pattern of thinking too, as his vocals hit with that same vigor and ferocity needed to compete against all that’s going on around him. It’s an exciting start to an album that doesn’t get much less thrilling as you go, scoring body blow after body blow through sheer bombast and walls of noise. Cold Cave becomes New Order at the height of their popularity. They channel Suede one moment, The Cure the next and The Walker Brothers after that. All at once it preys on your nostalgia while simultaneously wowing you that a contemporary band can pull off that sound with equal parts conviction and perfection. The small tragedy is that for such expansive and addictive synth pop, it’s not going to get the popular support it needs to actually be played in stadiums and other massive venues around the world. Tracks like “Pacing Around the Church”, “Catacombs” and “Icons of Summer” have the gusto and hooks to be radio hits but sadly will never be because they’re not “contemporary”. It functions on a lot of the same principles that M83’s “Saturdays=Youth” exposed with its John Hughes-inspired manifesto, and will likely be treated the same way – respected only by those that can truly appreciate a classic for a classic.

“Cherish the Light Years” is not quite a perfect record, but by that same token it’s nice to know there’s some real humanity in Cold Cave. The pepper spray of horns on “Alchemy Around You” makes it stand out from the rest of the record just a little bit, and while the dash of variety is appreciated, it pulls you out of the singular track everything else is on. You wanted to take a straight shot down the highway, but construction has shut down part of it, so there’s a brief detour that adds 5 minutes to your trip. Despite the track being a small distraction though, it’s no less fascinating than anything else on the album and is yet another cut with “potential single” written all over it. One of the other issues this record has is the sheer force of it all. Nine tracks and 40 minutes really takes it out of you when there’s barely any slowing down. The race to the finish line leaves you exhausted before quite reaching the excellent closer “Villains of the Moon”, something that becomes all the more noticeable if you listen to these songs separately away from the contextual whole of the record. The mixing, too, has some issues because everything is thrust at such a high level competing for your attention. Sometimes it comes across like staring at a wall of TVs set to different channels but at the same volume. There’s only so much you can absorb and while one part of a particular song might appeal to you more than another, everything is whitewashed so any subtleties or nuances fail to exist. Those little bits are often what make the best songs continually rewarding, with the discovery of new elements that have been quietly buried beneath the main melody. So yes, “Cherish the Light Years” is a gothic new wave sledgehammer, forcibly spraying the guts of the 80s all over you whether you like it or not. The great news is there’s a whole lot to like, and even love. If this were 1984, Cold Cave would have just made a name for themselves. In our current musical landscape, they just earned themselves a load of stock as the question looms large as to if anyone else will buy it and drive that price upwards.

Cold Cave – The Great Pan Is Dead
Cold Cave – Villains of the Moon

Buy “Cherish the Light Years” from Matador Records

Album Review: The Kills – Blood Pressures [Domino]

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On 04/04/2011

In album review, music


A big welcome back to The Kills. It has been three years since their last record “Midnight Boom”, and while it certainly seems like a normal gap between albums, a lot has happened to the duo since then. Okay, well maybe not so much to Jamie Hince. He’s been spending a lot of time developing his relationship with supermodel Kate Moss to the point where they’ll be getting married in the near future. But running away from the paparazzi is work in and of itself, so that gives him something to do. Alison Mosshart is the real go-getter, joining up with Jack White and his motley band of dudes as frontwoman for The Dead Weather. They certainly attracted more attention than The Kills ever have, and they made not just one, but two albums and did lengthy tours to support each. At their rate of production, it wouldn’t have been surprising if The Dead Weather became a main project for all the members involved, leaving any other groups in the dust. Jack White is never content to sit in one place for too long though, and while there’s no apparent new Raconteurs record on the horizon, he’s got Third Man Records to run in the meantime. So Mosshart is free to do her own thing and her Kills bandmate Hince could probably use some extra cash to help pay for his wedding. They got together in Michigan, brought back the good old “Midnight Boom” production team, and recorded their fourth long player “Blood Pressures”.

The first 15 seconds of opening cut “Future Starts Slow” is exclusively drums of the loud and booming kind, something you wouldn’t normally hear from The Kills given their lack of an actual drummer. They’ve always had beats, be they from a drum machine or in pre-recorded samples, but never quite so vivid or dominant. Once Hince’s guitar comes grinding in and he launches into a dual vocal with Mosshart though, things immediately feel familiar in that Kills sort of way. The dark, almost witchy guitar fuzz of “Satellite” is eerily reminiscent of The Dead Weather, to the point where if you replaced Hince’s backing vocals with Jack White’s there really would be no difference. By way of contrast, “Heart Is a Beating Drum” is very distinctly a Kills song, though it stretches capacity to allow for little elements that made each of their first three albums stand on their own. The choppy, glitchy nature of “Midnight Boom”, complete with skittering percussion, meets the bluesy elements of “No Wow” and “Keep On Your Mean Side”. Unlike those previous records though, Mosshart’s lead vocal is a sheer force unto itself, definitely proving she’s learned a thing or two about her own abilities while off on her side project adventure. Amid washes of reverb, “Nail in My Coffin” starts off at a pretty strong pace, and it only picks up more steam as it works into a frenzy towards its conclusion. It also boasts one of the catchiest choruses on the entire record, even if a bunch of “oh oh ohs” aren’t the most lyrically above board.

Things on “Blood Pressures” start to take a hit right around “Wild Charms”, a Jamie Hince-fronted ballad that sits smack dab in the middle of the record. It brings the album to a screeching halt, but spares us from true torture by having a running time of a mere 75 seconds. Hince isn’t a bad singer, he just can’t seem to muster up the same passion and intensity that his partner in crime does every time she gets a microphone in front of her. Just because the song is a slow ballad doesn’t mean it needs to be sung like you just don’t care. The way you sell sweeping and slow sadness is best exemplified on “The Last Goodbye”, in which Mosshart dives into a deep croon that’s more 1950s than anything else. For The Kills it’s completely atypical, made even more so by the muted piano and sweeping strings. Just being dropped down towards the end of the record on its own little island is fascinating enough, but as it’s preceeded by a couple mediocre tracks that push it to stand out that much more. Though it fails to actively fit in with everything else, it does very much show that The Kills can be successful on a number of different levels beyond just moody, minimalist blues rock. Speaking of which, the spiky “You Don’t Own the Road” brings back that familiar Kills style, with Mosshart audibly sneering as Hince claws away at his electric guitar trying to wrangle it in. The record ends on a higher point with “Pots and Pans”, a track that essentially mixes everything that came before it in a bowl and stirs it up, It’s a plodding number appropriate to close out any record, and the use of a dusty acoustic guitar, drum machine and some signature electric makes it just a touch more refined than most everything else. Call it a testament to the subtle progression of the band over these four albums.

Though it might like to be, “Blood Pressures” is not quite the best Kills record to date. Alison Mosshart and Jamie Hince do sound refreshed and excited to be back, but despite that most of the songs lack the pop edge of their previous effort “Midnight Boom”. While it is slower and less marketable overall, the small adjustments the duo have made are worthwhile and justify their continued existence, Mosshart’s vocals stand out more than ever, dropping the hint that maybe Hince should keep quiet just a little more next time. The increased reliance on percussion or percussive elements is intriguing as well, particularly in the first half of the album where it practically rules over the catchiest and best songs. Finally there’s the songwriting, which has picked up significantly since the last album. Prior to now, The Kills have used mantras to burrow into your brain. The nonstop repetition of the same lines in “URA Fever” or “Tape Song” were fine because they were backed by equally memorable melodies. There’s a whole lot of verse-chorus-verse all over “Blood Pressures”, and it makes you want to pay closer attention to what they’re actually singing about instead of simply falling back to a hook. Good for The Kills for taking that progressive and more intelligent stance. It doesn’t quite clear them of the near crime scene that occurs for a couple moments in the later part of the record, but it makes them less grisly. The Kills may not win over any new fans as a result of this new album (outside of the ones showing up on account of The Dead Weather), but for those of us already familiar with their previous efforts, there’s certainly enough promise here to keep us coming back so long as they’re still willing to throw it out there.

Buy “Blood Pressures” from Amazon  

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Album Review: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart – Belong [Slumberland]

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On 03/31/2011

In album review, BNM, music


Some of the greatest things about becoming successful are the opportunities that come your way as a result. Two years ago, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart earned themselves a huge wave of buzz thanks to their self-titled debut album. As you need to do when being the recipient of such praise, they followed their record with extensive touring and a couple of stopgap releases to keep everyone from forgetting about them. So an EP and a 7″ single later, POBPAH have readied their sophmore full length “Belong”, and this time things are different. They’re still signed to one of the more decidedly indie record labels around in Slumberland, but that doesn’t mean the record sounds that way. The ultra lo-fi haze that hung over their debut has been cleaned up significantly this time around courtesy of a 1-2 heavyweight combo of uber-producer Flood and uber-mixologist Alan Moulder. Those two are basically a dream team for the band, given their long history helping make some of their favorite records by some of their favorite bands – from My Bloody Valentine and Ride to The Smashing Pumpkins and The Jesus and Mary Chain. Together they’ve been responsible for more than a dozen classic records, and the hope is probably that “Belong” will wind up among them.

The change in The Pains of Being Pure at Heart is immediately noticeable from the very first notes of “Belong”, leading straight out of the gate with a broad, energetic and fun title track. Granted, POBPAH have always been those three things, just a little hazier and with a more “head down” mentality prior to now. Here not only are the guitars more polished, but so are Kip Berman’s vocals and the hook. This newer, fuller and more confident version of the band comes across like an announcement of purpose – The Pains of Being Pure at Heart are going mainstream. Listen to the next two tracks on the album, “Heaven’s Gonna Happen Now” and the irrepressably catchy first single “Heart in Your Heartbreak” and those implied notions of going huge become that much more vivid. It also creates something of a debate amongst the independent music community about crossover acts and the consistent shunning of them. Embrace Kings of Leon when they put out “Youth and Young Manhood”, but patently reject them when “Sex On Fire” catapults them to fame and fortune. Just the use of the word “mainstream” has a taint to it, like bands that wear it are polluted with some sort of fungus. The thing about The Pains of Being Pure at Heart though, is that they’ve not yet reached the point of success on a massive scale. “Belong” sounds like it’s trying really hard to though, but before you have an adverse reaction to the thought, take under consideration that success on your own terms and from a tiny label such as Slumberland is an accomplishment thousands of bands can only dream of.

More importantly, the wealth of hooks and sheen on this record, translating to a super-easy-to-digest sound, only helps The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. Instead of hindering their intentions, “Belong” finally feels like the first time they’re actually able to fully realize their sound. Underneath the haze and shy demeanor of their debut was this juggernaut, and now its legitimately exposed. Not only that, but the songwriting has improved this time around too. Instead of implying a number of things and leaving the listener to reach their own conclusions, we get direct references and things spelled out, though never to the point of treating us with kid gloves. These are songs that feel personal and upfront rather than colder and mysterious, and that’s a great thing. With that also comes the risk of running afoul by being too vanilla or alternatively too conceptually strident, and this record has only a couple of those moments. Everything else is above board and smartly written, in line with all the other elements at work here. The slower ballads like “Even in Dreams” and “Too Tough” particularly stand out lyric-wise, mostly due to their under-reliance on hooks to get their point across and the necessary drama to warrant toning down the upbeat charm that’s pretty much everywhere else.

Given that Flood and Alan Moulder (many times in tandem) were responsible for some of the best records of the 90s and since The Pains of Being Pure at Heart take many of their influences straight from that decade, the coming together of all these parties was divinely inspired. “Heaven’s Gonna Happen Now” comes across like a direct decendent of Ride, while closing cut “Strange” bears a strong resemblance to the more pop-friendly side of My Bloody Valentine. Slices of shoegaze mixed with slacker rock and heartbreak pop congeal to make for a very special record that’s wildly interesting and majorly successful. The real shame would be if this album didn’t score POBPAH the exact things they seem to be aiming for, which is tons of radio airplay, placement in commercials, and a devoted fanbase of millions. Prior to this they were just indie darlings, but here they’ve proven they can play in the same league with the big dogs and do it better than most of them to boot. So long as they don’t fall prey to the pitfalls that normally handicap great indie bands that blow up huge (sign to a major label, give in to “pressure” to change, show no love to their earliest fans, etc.), things will be a-ok. Otherwise, we might wind up living out the heartbreaking tale that is “Anne with an E”.

The Pains of Being Pure At Heart – Belong

Buy “Belong” from Amazon

Album Review: Peter Bjorn and John – Gimme Some [StarTime]

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On 03/28/2011

In album review, music


Peter Bjorn and John are a curious trio. With the rise of bands out of Sweden making dynamic indie pop songs in English, their record “Writer’s Block” stood out amongst the fray and garnished a single that broke into the big time and was universally hailed by the music criterati. That song was “Young Folks” and the intense whisle-bound hook along with a guest vocal performance from Victoria Bergsman helped to seal off its brilliance and give the boys a little leeway when it came time for a follow-up. They took the opportunity and ran with it, the product of which was the all-instrumental “Seaside Rock”. As you might expect, not many people paid attention to it because there was no chance it’d yield another “Young Folks”. Around the same time, primary lyricist and vocalist Peter Morén put out his first solo album, which was full of quiet folk songs that didn’t win him any favors either. Peter Bjorn and John returned to vocals and pop music with 2008’s “Living Thing”, though they went very dark and percussion-heavy rather than lighter and catchier. For one reason or another they also seemed to feel like maybe dropping a whole bunch of f-bombs in the hook of a song would charm people, though it didn’t seem to be a problem for Cee-Lo Green last year. So five years and a host of failed experiments later, the guys seem to be making a much more conscious effort to reclaim the spotlight with their new record “Gimme Some”. In this case, it’d seem the titular “Some” is fame, fortune and hits.

“You can’t can’t count on the second try/the second try is such a comedown”, Morén sings on “Gimme Some”‘s first single “Second Chance”, which is practically modeled after the band’s subsequent failure when attempting to sustain their success. Ironically, it’s also Peter Bjorn and John’s strongest song since “Writer’s Block”, with a strong enough hook that it’s already earned some prominent commercial placement. It’s one of a few tracks with just the right spunk to break them out of their self-imposed funk. “Breaker Breaker” is pretty well charming too, with some fuzzed out guitars and a smattering of punk rock attitude. That same furious attack is also applied to “Black Book” and “Lies”, both of which show up later in the record and give it a much-deserved spike of fun and energy. “Lies” in particular is irresistably catchy and well-constructed to the point where it legitimately feels like one of Peter Bjorn and John’s best. Again, it’s no “Young Folks”, but most bands don’t even get one of those kinds of incredible songs, let alone two (unless that band is The Beatles). Even when they’re not playing the quick and catchy game, the hefty percussion, complete with handclaps and a descending guitar line makes a song like “Eyes” worthwhile and enjoyable. Whenever the band is able to develop a song into a solid groove that’s not necessarily fast but interesting and then sustains it for an extended period of time, it tends to pay off in spades. The final minute of “Eyes” is one of those moments, though the most exceptional example comes courtesy of the 5.5 minute closing track “I Know You Don’t Love Me”. The song may not have the chutzpah of a supreme PB&J like “Up Against the Wall”, but it’s probably their most engaging long form track since. There’s not really any better way to close out the record.

The start of the record is a different story. Coming out of the gate strong is important for many bands, but apparently not Peter Bjorn and John. “Tomorrow Has to Wait” can only muster up a mid-tempo pace amid a martial drum beat as Morén sings about a day so wonderful you want to postpone the next one. The hook is merely okay, as is the song, and you get the impression it might have functioned better were it positioned later in the record. The boys try to go a little calypso on “Dig A Little Deeper”, with a fun-in-the-sun guitar jangle and backing “oh-oh”‘s. All that’s really missing from the song are some steel drums, though the use of bongos pretty much handles that nicely. The track is interesting and fun to say the least, a little different from what we might otherwise expect, which is also what the song is coincidentally about. Their intentions may have been to throw a little spice into the record, but when you pair it with exceptionally weak lyrics (“all art has been contemporary”???) it doesn’t help things. Also, while it might be very light and a little silly, it’s also just a tiny bit cheesy and bland overall – ultimately a risk not worth taking. Other parts of the record are simply bland an ineffective, courtesy of tracks like “May Seem Macabre” (which can’t seem to decide if it is or isn’t macabre) and “(Don’t Let Them) Cool Off” (which does stay hot but sounds like it could have been written by any number of bands).

The full story with “Gimme Some” is that Peter Bjorn and John have made a recovery. Granted, it’s not nearly a full recovery, but they’ve created a record that will guarantee their longevity for at least two more, even if those turn out to be more crappy experiments. They’ve got a fair chance to score at least one more hit single, on which they’ve already made more headway than they have in years, and even besides that a few songs that are just generally good for their live shows. This is a far cry from “Writer’s Block”, but it’s also a significant step back in the right direction after the absolute mess that was “Living Thing”. Either PB&J have taken their time thinking about how to make this all right, or they’ve fallen on the sword and forced their own hands into a sonic direction they wanted to give up on a few years ago but are now only returning to with the hopes of cashing in. Whatever the reason, “Gimme Some” will indeed get them some as claimed, ranging from everything just mentioned to both popularity and unpopularity. At its simplest, those that have been sticking with the band through thick and thin know all too well what they’re capable of, though it’s been a string of consistent disappointment since then and up until now we’ve been left with only little bit of light remaining at the end of the tunnel. Now that things are getting brighter once more, maybe next time there will be a reason to break out the sunglasses.

Buy “Gimme Some” from Amazon

Album Review: The Mountain Goats – All Eternals Deck [Merge]

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On 03/24/2011

In album review, music


Yes, The Mountain Goats have finally reached lucky album number 13 in their discography. John Darnielle started the project in 1991, making this the 20th anniversary of the band, so by all counts with the numbers at play this could either be a very good thing or a very bad one. The album is titled “All Eternals Deck”, and it marks a couple of interesting changes for the band. Now on their third record as an official three-piece, The Mountain Goats have jumped record labels from 4AD to Merge, and peppered their studio sessions with a wide variety of producers. Darnielle has long admitted to an extreme love of death metal, and it was announced that uber-metal producer Erik Rutan, also of the bands Morbid Angel and Hate Eternal, would be behind the boards for a handful of tracks. That handful amounted to four of the (again) lucky 13 songs on the album, and if you were expecting heavy electric guitars and some gutteral screaming as a total change of pace for the band, it would have been interesting had they actually gone that direction. Apparently Darnielle hasn’t yet perfected the metal vocals. As much as a change of pace and style might have been nice, there are those satisfied with the way things currently are, with Darnielle and his cohorts Peter Hughes and Jon Wurster making intriguing and introspective folk rock. So guess what? “All Eternals Deck” is more of that.

If you’ve ever seen the movies “Near Dark” or “From Dusk Til Dawn”, you’ll recognize the plot of “All Eternals Deck”‘s opening cut “Damn These Vampires”. The main character is saddling up in the Old West, where apparently vampires have run amok and he’s been cursed with their “gift” of immortality, having been bitten. Audibly speaking, the song rolls along much like the dusty open plains, complete with somber piano, sedate acoustic guitars and just the light twittering of drums. The track is also a good microcosm of the record itself, though nothing else quite sticks in the realm of “Twilight” fan fiction. The focus is typically dark though, much like the pitch black album cover, and there are supernatural/spiritual elements at work for much of it. After the last Mountain Goats record “The Life of the World to Come” was Biblically strident and wholly conceptual, “All Eternals Deck” is a welcome respite from those constraints even as Darnielle continues to make references to religion. “Prowl Great Cain” is something of an ode to the first ever murderer in the Bible, attempting to dive into his mindset after being marked by God for murdering his brother. “Sometimes a great wave of forgetfulness rises up and blesses me/and other times the sickness howls and I despair of any remedy/And I feel guilty that I can’t feel ashamed,” Darnielle sings amid a dual guitar, high energy melody that defies the subject matter.

When not writing songs about murderers in the Bible, “For Charles Bronson” takes on the Hollywood legend and perennial badass star of classics such as the “Death Wish” series and “The Dirty Dozen”. The guy was known for “killing” people on camera, though the song itself tries to grasp how he handled his personal life. “Hit the gym each night/stay cool and seldom speak/keep the heart of a champion/let them never see you’re weak”, sounds about right for a guy that was so often confused with the characters he played that the actual lines between fantasy and reality were often blurred. There is a fascination with celebrity that permeates “All Eternals Deck” as well, from Judy Garland getting abused by a movie studio on “The Autopsy Garland” to slyly referencing the cult classic “The Warriors” on “High Hawk Season” to the totally obvious closing song “Liza Forever Minnelli”. What’s interesting is that even if those with “high artistic pursuits” are right in suggesting that pop culture’s obsession with celebrity is one of society’s biggest problems, Darnielle’s white hot wordplay turns that trash into gold. These aren’t songs about sex tape scandals or rampant drug use, but rather the perils of fame and the constant reminder that beyond the silver screen are real people with the same built in feelings that we all have.

Elsewhere on the album, Darnielle covers that age old topic of relationships, both romantic and non-romantic. “Sourdoire Valley Song” takes almost the opposite view of the fame concept by soliciting empathy for those with the belief they will have no impact on the world. If there’s one song that comes closest to actually “going metal” on the album, “Estate Sale Sign” provides the energy and the acid tongue. Replace the vigorously strummed acoustic guitars with electrics and you’ll have a loud and brash punk rock song. Darnielle also gives a tour-de-force vocal to match the heartbroken lyrics. The song is about how we divide things up after a relationship ends, along with the extreme bitterness we can have towards our exes. Beyond those many topics buried throughout this record, there are a couple of small moments that are cause to pay attention at a more instrumental level. “Age of Kings” makes for a pretty gorgeous song with the slow and deliberately subdued violins. Meanwhile “Outer Scorpion Squadron” winds up being the most complex track on the entire record, with a full orchestra sweeping in for an interesting change of pace. Other than those couple standouts, everything else is a combination of acoustic and light electric guitar, piano, and just enough drums to give you an idea of the beat.

After so many records, The Mountain Goats have become a band less about forward momentum and innovation and more about consistency. John Darnielle and the boys have taken the band to the place it needs to go and stay without really a dip in quality. The lyrics are the key, and Darnielle holds fast in his ability to very actively engage the listener with stories and emotional moments. The variety of topics addressed on “All Eternals Deck” is refreshing compared to the religious themes of “The Life of the World to Come” and “Heretic Pride” (to a degree). Prior to that you had the relationship-destroyed “Get Lonely”, which was an emotionally bare Darnielle solo record, so basically it’s been a few years since The Mountain Goats have released a non-concept album. That was just what the doctor ordered apparently, along with the support of multiple producers – even one that has a long-standing heavy metal background. And as dark as it goes, there are plenty of lighter, more carefree moments to try and balance that out, which is kind of nice. This may very well be the best Mountain Goats record since “The Sunset Tree”, and that’s saying something. In this particular case, it most certainly seems that 13 really is their lucky number.

Preorder “All Eternals Deck” from Amazon

Album Review: Heidecker & Wood – Starting from Nowhere [Little Record Company]

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On 03/22/2011

In album review, mp3, music


“Surely you’re not serious.”
“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”
Those two classic lines from the movie “Airplane!” best describe the debut album from the duo known as Heidecker & Wood. The Heidecker part of that is Tim Heidecker, best known for doing super oddball comedy on “Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!”. The Wood is for Davin Wood, who is the music supervisor on that exact same show. Given the comedy pedigree of these two gentlemen, it’s easy to think that their teaming up for a music project should be really funny. At the very least, you’d expect it to be that odd sort of funny the TV show is best known for. The title is “Starting from Nowhere”, and the worst thing about it is the impossibility of telling how serious or non-serious it’s trying to be. The music they make is essentially soft rock, but these days is better known as yacht rock, a genre that is notable because it tends to be earnestly cheesy. Artists like Steely Dan, Christopher Cross, The Doobie Brothers, Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins wrote and released record after record of this sort of music, which found a home amongst certain kinds of adults in the 70s and 80s that believed it to be really good stuff. Looking back on it now, the camp factor is through the roof – the look tends to involve bushy moustaches, Flock of Seagulls-type hair, bright pastel t-shirt and sport coat combinations, and every now and then a perm. In other words, this stuff is ripe for mockery – to the point where a rather funny web series called Yacht Rock got away with 12 episodes of parodying the lives of these artists. Now Heidecker & Wood are attempting to get away with 12 songs poking that same bear, but there’s just a little bit of mystery remaining as to whether this is legitimate comedy or respectful homage.

Heidecker & Wood whip out their best Simon & Garfunkel right at the start of the record courtesy of “Cross Country Skiing”, complete with the audience applause at the beginning and end of the song. A sprightly plucked acoustic guitar and the dual harmonies on every word strives for legitimacy, while the lyrics don’t really hint at any humor outside of some playful lines. The track concludes by finishing up a a cross country skiing adventure when the main character diverts from the main path and accidentally winds up in some hilly landscape. “Sliding down the hillside/these skis weren’t made for this”, they sing in perfect harmony. It’s worth about as much of a laugh as that time the dog stole the steak off the plate when that guy wasn’t looking. “Right or Wrong” is at its heart the theme song to an 80s TV show that never got made, complete with the smiling family members breaking out their best smiles while fuchsia-colored graphics insert their real names at the bottom of the screen. Take one part “Full House” and another part “Family Ties” and you’ll get the idea. “The crimson light of the morning light shining tall, as if in a dream”, is just one of the many descriptive nature images on “Grandest Canyon”, a tribute to the glorious beauty of the countryside. “Maybe a canyon’s just a canyon/and a man is just a man/and a canyon and a man can live in peace and share this beautiful land” is funny only in its sheer absurdity and nothing more. The horn section and carefree piano are just the beginning of where “Wedding Song” gets its gusto, as the sincerity and romance with which the line, “Well I hope there’s a preacher, cause I know there’s a groom” is delivered should tell you everything you need to know about the song.

Other tracks on “Starting From Nowhere” are more obvious straight artist tributes. “Life on the Road” naturally is about the weariness of touring, and one can’t help but think of Bob Seeger’s “Turn the Page” when listening to it. “Name a town/name a face/chances are I’ve played the place/get on the stage/put on your hat and do the same old friggin act”, Heidecker sings depressed even though the song itself has picked up in tempo. You may hear a little Jackson Browne on the album centerpiece “Weatherman”, which is ultimately what inspired the entire record. It’s a smooth 70s keyboard slow jam, complete with flute solo where the subject matter is a pretty bad car crash even though Heidecker seems more concerned about whether or not there will be a full moon that night (one of the more offbeat “funny” moments on the album). The acoustic “A Song for My Father” practically invites parallels to Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s in the Cradle”, though told from the perspective of a son carrying a love-hate relationship with his somewhat absentee dad. There’s a fair touch of The Eagles on “Right to the Minute”, and a blistering jazz sax solo that stands on a very even playing field with the most classic of soft rock saxophone solos. Then “She Left You” is one part Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Tuesday’s Gone” and another part Joe Cocker’s re-imagining of “With A Little Help from My Friends”, the result being a reasonably solid facsimile that at moments can seem just a little too overblown. The same could be said for the 7.5 minute closing track “Christmas Suite”, which contains a whole host of cliches and relatively botched attempts at humor. “Children are the makers of our destiny/Children are our future too/Children are the key to the universe/Children come from me and you” is just one sample of a number of goofy platitudes that break down the walls between parody and sincerity and ultimately leave you thinking this whole thing was probably for comedic effect.

When Ween makes a song like “Joppa Road”, you’re fully aware given their history that they’re just messing around with soft rock tropes. That is a legitimately funny but also wholly legit soft rock jam. Then there’s a collective like Gayngs, making non-winking soft rock music, but very purposely ensuring that each one of their songs is at a tempo of 69 bpm. See them live in their white suits and sunglasses and once again there’s humor even though the songs are pretty damn good. As for Heidecker & Wood, if you can stand nearly 60 minutes of soft rock and don’t particularly care if it’s funny or not, “Starting from Nowhere” might be a good record for you. The absurdist humor that often permeates Tim & Eric on TV generates a lot of laughs from simply being awkward, and there’s definitely moments you can feel those same sorts of weird emotions on this album, just be aware it lasts for much longer and you may not be able to take it for the duration. And while there is that silliness and intentional absurdity, you can also hear very clearly that Heidecker & Wood have respect and a strong liking of the soft rock genre. It’s so easy to parody and pile on the layers of cheese/camp, but at one point in time all these yacht rock artists took the material at face value, as did their fans. Just because it’s largely bullshit now doesn’t mean it’s any less compelling or catchy than much of the new stuff you hear on radio everyday anyways. You’re not required to be a fan of Tim & Eric shtick to like “Starting from Nowhere”, and even if you are this record can just as easily pass you by. No matter if you’re listening for the throwback sound or the humor or both, the ultimate goal of a record like this is to generate a smile. Hopefully even the most heartless person can muster up something more than a frown.

Heidecker & Wood – Right or Wrong
Heidecker & Wood – Wedding Song

Buy “Starting from Nowhere” from Amazon

Album Review: The Strokes – Angles [RCA]

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On 03/21/2011

In album review, music


Any number of labels can be affixed to The Strokes’ sound, and over the past decade they largely have. Their debut record “Is This It?” was (and still is) largely considered to be the beginning of a rock and roll movement in the early 00s where the ideas of the cool, leather-jacketed rock stars making garage rock was as novel as it was revivalist. Sure, they were ripping off a number of bands from the 70s, but listening to a lot of those classic albums and then The Strokes you’ll probably find less in common than you initially thought. But so many Strokes-esque bands did follow in their wake following the success of “Is This It?” that crediting them and (to a slightly different degree) The White Stripes with being revolutionaries doesn’t seem wrong. What’s more amazing is how quickly The Strokes flamed out. After an almost equally great sophmore record “Room On Fire” kept them atop the pile they’d created, by 2006 and their third album “First Impressions of Earth” they came across as a band barely able to remain standing, either in the face of overwhelming pressure or lack of new ideas or drug use or some combination of all three. This disheveled group of guys that looked like they rolled out of bed and accidentally stumbled upon brilliance were suddenly lost when it disappeared and started to get desperate when they couldn’t find it again. Enter critical backlash and a host of other fresh inter-band issues that emerged and the guys felt like taking some serious time away from one another was probably for the best. 2007 was when the hiatus began, and 2009 was when it unofficially ended, though not much would happen until last year. In between, there were side projects upon side projects, from Albert Hammond Jr. continuing to hold down a solo career and Julian Casablancas starting one himself to Fabrizio Moretti’s Little Joy and Nikolai Fraiture’s Nickel Eye. None made much of an impact though, which may be a big reason why the hiatus ended and the period of cashing in began.

From the looks of it, the reason why The Strokes took that extended hiatus was more to avoid killing one another. Interviews with band members all seemed to echo the same thoughts, that it was tough for them to share the stage anymore, let alone be stuck in the same room for even a brief period of time. Still, they pressed on with a reunion, and working with producer Joe Chicarelli probably seemed like a good idea back in 2009. After a few sessions of working with him however, one of the few things the band could agree on was that the pairing was not working out. Instead they went to Albert Hammond Jr.’s home studio and made their fourth record “Angles” there. Even then, the only real way they could get the record done was to have Casablancas record his vocals separately and then send them in upon their completion. One of the bigger changes of this revamped version of The Strokes is that everybody now has an influence over the sound and writing on the album, whereas Casablancas typically handled all of that previously. The reason they called the record “Angles” was to emphasize the different perspectives at play. Considering the surprisingly strong track record of bands making landmark albums under the most stressful and antagonistic atmosphere possible, it stood to reason that The Strokes could very well turn out something immensely great in spite of all the controversy. If The Beatles could do it with “Abbey Road”, why not The Strokes with “Angles”? In what should come as little surprise to no one, The Strokes are no Beatles.

“Angles” gets off to a promising start with “Machu Picchu”, even if it’s not exactly what’s expected from the band. There’s a distinct 80s reggae pop groove the track settles into that’s part Police and part Men at Work, which is just a little bit odd for The Strokes. Still, those guitars remain distinctive, as does Casablancas’ scratchy vocals, and the jangly chorus is pretty fun and catchy. Speaking of fun and catchy, first single “Under Cover of Darkness” is classic Strokes in the best way possible, and better than anything on “First Impressions of Earth”. As the first new material anybody heard from the band since 2006, it was like a welcome back party, a celebration and an elevator of hopes that maybe things really were going back to “normal”. The synth-heavy intro to “Two Kinds of Happiness” puts that thought to rest pretty quickly though, as for a few brief moments you may mistake it for a New Order or Cars song. The guitars do take over immediately after that intro, though the 80s vibe remains all the way through the soaring chorus that screams U2 to the point where Casablancas actually sounds like Bono if you pay close enough attention. The quick-picked guitar work is one of the best and most exciting things about the track, but considering how impressive previous Strokes guitar work has been, this is really nothing new. “Taken For A Fool” is new for the band though, as there’s a little twist on their traditional sound. The instrumentation is more dense and complicated than normal, in particular the funky bass line during the verse, and the chorus once again goes pretty big but avoids overreaching. Ultimately it makes for one of the best songs on the entire record.

The second half of “Angles” features more experiments and tries to offer hints at potential directions the band could go should they continue onward after this record. When you mix things up like they do here, keeping fans satisfied is a larger challenge and the hope is it doesn’t come off as too left field or just generally unfocused. The synths make a full-on return courtesy of “Games”, a track that sounds like it would have found a better home on Casablancas’ solo record “Phrazes for the Young”. Complete with handclaps and a dancefloor beat, New Order and Blondie did it better back in their day. Ultimately it’s one of the few genuine missteps on the record. The synths hang around for ‘Call Me Back”, though they’re more background fodder in what’s really a sparse ballad that’s intended to showcase vocals and a single guitar. There are no drums, as the staccatto guitar and the bass on the chorus hold a rhythm together instead, playing out like a song that could crack open and explode with a burst of noise and energy but never does. That is left to “Gratisfaction”, one of the most addictive and blatantly fun songs on the entire album, but also one of the most debt-riddled as well. Take Billy Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young” and “It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me” and mash it together with the double guitar attack and languid vocals of Thin Lizzy and you know exactly where this song came from. Still, the song does exactly as its title advertises, providing gratuitous satisfaction to the masses. “Metabolism” languishes in a mid-tempo paranoid hell, never quite fast enough to burn off the fat that it generates. Think a slowed down combination of “Heart In A Cage” and “Electricityscape” but less catchy or inspired. The Strokes prove they aren’t down for the count though thanks to album closer “Life is Simple in the Moonlight”, a song that’s almost a microcosm of everything that came before it. There’s a little bit of the old Strokes sound, some fresher and more experimental bits, a touch of 80s style synths, and a pretty manic Julian Casablancas. While it lacks bouncy energy, the chorus hook is relatively well put together even if the song is a downer.

“There’s no one I disapprove of or root for more than myself”, Casablancas sings on “Life is Simple in the Moonlight”. The sentiment could be shared by “Angles” as a whole. Most of us want The Strokes to turn in a record that lives up to the reputation they built for themselves, and when they fail to meet expectations we’re particularly hard on them. In this case it seems that they’ve managed to improve on “First Impressions of Earth” with a handful of songs that live up to that impressive legacy. The rest of the album is frought with problems however. The largest issue is how disjointed the whole thing is, jumping from style to style and experiment to experiment with the belief that the whole thing will sound good. “Angles” is aptly named because of the various directions all the band members came from when putting together these songs, but that’s also its biggest flaw – lack of cohesion. If The Strokes were a dictatorship before and are practicing socialism now, they’d be better served by returning the power and allowing the leather-clad Casablancas fist to rule once more. Naturally that was what caused the hiatus in the first place, so to reasonably expect them to do it again is probably a fool’s errand. Then it comes down to how well they can work together. If all five guys can get on the same page without a fistfight starting, there may still be hope left for this band. Otherwise break out the funeral gear because The Strokes will die, leaving only the question of whether it will be sooner or multiple crappy records later.

Buy “Angles” from Amazon

Album Review: Elbow – Build a Rocket Boys! [Polydor/Fiction]

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On 03/18/2011

In album review, music


As a foolhardy youth, many years ago I tackled the age-old tradition of the model rocket. It’s something that not many young people still do today, which is a shame. I only made a single rocket, painted it up and then launched it in the middle of a massive field. It was a rather shoddy design and it tooke a handful of tries to get the launch to actually work, but it was exhilarating to see that thick cardboard tube soar to the point where it was barely visible, then deploy a parachute and sail safely back to Earth. That I remember spending that one day making and launching the rocket at all should give a fair indication of the memory it planted within me. Perhaps the gentlemen in Elbow feel the same way, titling their fifth record “Build a Rocket Boys!” and putting a bunch of songs on it that pertain to the exciting times of being a kid, along with the sadness of not being able to return there.

Elbow is not exactly an upbeat band, and chances are if you’re listening to them your mood isn’t either. What they’ve lacked in positive vibes they’ve more than made up for with smart songcraft and honest lyrics. While they’ve not achieved what could be considered wide commercial success in America, chances are you heard the songs “Grounds for Divorce” or “One Day Like This” in an ad or on a soundtrack somewhere. Their last record “The Seldom Seen Kid” won them the prestigious Mercury Prize, and honestly after all those good things it’s just a little tough to write songs about how depressed you are. If you can’t find any dark material in your present, there’s always the past to mine from.

“Looking back is for the birds”, Guy Garvey mopes on the lengthy 8-minute opening track “The Birds”. That’s kind of what the song itself is like too, not doing a whole lot of anything for the first half except exploring darkness and minimalism. A guitar crunches and keeps crunching, electronic blips twinkle in the background, and a cello pulses before finally giving way to a rather beautiful rush of symphony in the final 3 minutes. The song does have a storyline, and it concerns a man looking back on a past relationship and how birds were the key witnesses to the best and worst moments of it. They are the silent keepers of our memories, holding “those final kisses in their tiny racing hearts”. While the very spare first half of the song builds towards the soaring second half, there’s not much else to help justify the 8 minutes it takes to run its course. Things would probably have been equally effective at 5-6 minutes. That’s how long “Lippy Kids” takes, and it’s just one of the reasons why the song is one of the album’s best. The rushes of strings amid the spare guitar, sparkling piano and Garvey’s impressive vocal make for one serene and gorgeous combination. The story here is about kids hanging out on the corners in urban areas, and how it’s always assumed they’re up to no good. If you’ve ever seen the HBO show “The Wire”, you’re well aware of what corner kids tend to be involved with. But rather than labeling them criminals or just plain troublemakers, Garvey is suggesting that some of them are there for lack of anything better to do. Of course this song also refers to a past era when video games and other distractions weren’t options. The main point is one of positivity and warmth, a message of encouragement to try and use those times of boredom and confusion to the best of your abilities.

The optimistic approach continues thanks to “With Love”, though the message gets lost in an attempt to do too much. A full choir is employed simply to repeat the song title at several points in the song, nevermind the melee of instruments popping in and out of the mix along with multiple vocal parts as two or more band members sing different lines over one another at the same time to help form some intricate harmony. Really it’s a mess, and completely overblown for a rather basic subject. Elbow does go epic on first single “Neat Little Rows”, but that exposition is both earned and justified. It’s one of the few songs on the album that actually sounds like rock music, complete with full-on guitars and a martial drum stomp . The piano uplifts along with Garvey’s voice and the result is nothing short of grand. The band was smart to avoid trying to one-up it with “Jesus Was a Rochdale Girl”, which is all barely strummed acoustic guitar and a splash of mellotron. The point is less how it sounds and more about what it means in tandem with the rather dense lyrics that reportedly inspired the rest of the record. It comes across as one of the smallest, least ambitious tracks on the entire album, but it holds the most meaning and emotion within it.

If things started to slow down on “Jesus Was a Rochdale Girl”, they roll to a complete stop on “The Night Will Always Win”. It becomes the second track in a row to rely far more on lyrics and Garvey’s dynamic vocals than an actual full-bodied melody. He’s barely able to handle the load, and it puts the whole band on unstable ground. This trend drags onward through much of the album’s middle section, only picking up again once “Open Arms” lands like a breath of fresh air. This time a choir of voices is used in the exact right way, providing the voice of all your family and friends with the reminder that you can go home again. They’ve got “open arms for broken hearts” and want to embrace you to help heal those wounds. Yes, it’s a little cheesy and super uplifting, but after slogging through the mud of the middle of the record, it’s a celebration of reaching the other side. “Dear Friends” finishes the album off perfectly, a beautiful ballad showing appreciation for those that mean the most in your life – your friends. The way the light electric guitar and piano work in tandem and the drums just kind of skitter along is really lovely, but Garvey’s voice gets one last chance to shine, followed by some intense harmonies that truly give you the warm and fuzzies. It plays out like the teary-eyed conclusion of that Oscar-winning film you enjoyed so much, though your eyes may not well up with tears upon hearing this song.

Mercury Prize or not, Elbow has never been a great band. They’ve been a very good band for a very long time, and just to keep up that sort of track record is tough. The most disappointing thing about “Build a Rocket Boys!” is how subdued and unadventurous it is. There may be guitars on a majority of the songs, but most of the time they’re used in the most sparing way possible and are rarely given the chance to “plug in”. The whole rock side of the band seems to be on vacation, and in the case of some songs, entire band members. That middle part of the record becomes pretty tough to get through unless you’re in the right mood for it, and the over-reliance on Garvey’s voice can only take them so far. When they do seem fully alert and at the wheel though, this record has some genuinely special moments that are among the more impressive parts of Elbow’s catalogue. That slight imbalance, the lack of a fully formed record due to highs and lows but no in-betweens, is what’s once again keeping this band from becoming truly great. Instead, here’s another very good effort, filled with just enough incentive to keep us on the hook for the next one.

Buy “Build a Rocket Boys!” from Amazon MP3

Album Review: The Dodos – No Color [Frenchkiss]

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On 03/17/2011

In album review, mp3, music


Falling in love with The Dodos back in 2008 was so easy. The duo of Meric Long and Logan Kroeber effortlessly blended together ramshackle acoustic guitar fingerpicking, African-style rhythms and indie pop into a hybrid so organic it seemed to outright defy nature. That first record was “Visiter” and all-out jams like “Red and Purple”, “Jodi” and “Fools” were often so intensely strummed that it always felt like the song would break down at any moment because the guitar simply fell apart. It was really exciting and intense to listen to that album, which is probably why their follow-up, 2009’s “Time to Die” was regarded as such a disappointment. There were a number of factors that conrtibuted to this letdown of a sophmore album. Those changes included adding a third member Keaton Snyder which changed the group dynamic, relying on the ultra-clean production work of uber-producer Phil Ek, and the decision to place more of a focus on traditional melody rather than the off-the-rails, freewheeling style they were used to. Slower, denser and cleaner were the end results, and many balked at that. As if they’ve learned their lesson, The Dodos have set about trying to right the ship on their third album “No Color”. Their trinity of band members has now returned to its original twosome state, “Visiter” producer John Askew is once again behind the boards, and siren Neko Case was kind enough to contribute her pipes to back up Long’s vocals on a majority of the tracks. On the surface, it seems that everything’s coming up Dodos.

The booming thump of the bass drum at the start of “Black Night” signals that things are once again in their right place, and the rustic fingerpicked acoustic guitar that joins it moments later pushes it over the top. The pace is brisk and only gets brisker as the song chugs along through the imaginary alleyways of verses and main arteries of choruses, and the structural integrity of the song is such that it breaks from the usual verse-chorus-verse tradition but not far enough to call the main hook anything less than catchy. It’s one great reminder of how amazing The Dodos can be when fully left to their own devices. “Black Night” blends straight into “Going Under” without a moment’s hesitation, as if the two tracks are joined at the hip. The six minute adventure starts as a slower, more well-adjusted track with Neko Case making her first background vocal appearance. Once it hits the exact middle of the song though, the dam breaks open and a rush of buzzing noise and pure energy comes surging forward to send things into the stratosphere. Such a burst of noise might be considered jarring were it not well earned and smartly arranged. “Good” starts as a gallop and then moves into a full out stride, continuing to capitalize on the momentum the record has already established. “Is it better to be on or be good?”, Long asks. In this case, the band is not merely on and good, but instead on and great. Neko Case does sprinkle a bit of extra magic on “Sleep”, a song that would have been better titled “No Sleep” because it’s essentially about insomnia. The track races past like your mind does when all you want is the peace and quiet so you can pass out. It seemingly comes from a number of different places too, embracing that freeform style The Dodos have espoused at their best while also adding to that spaced out and unfocused mental state described in the lyrics.

After racing through the first few tracks at a highly brisk pace, “Don’t Try to Hide It” begins the slower and more subtle second half of “No Color” with a bit of parental-like support from your “parents” of Meric Long and Neko Case. We’ve all got little things about ourselves that would be interpreted as weird by others, and this is a song about proudly displaying your most unique qualities. The beginning of “Hunting Season” features a touch of the ‘ol vibraphone, and it’s enough to wonder if it was taken from a Keaton Snyder session before he exited the band or if that’s just a coincidence. It’s also not the most exciting or catchiest Dodos song, though Long’s emotional vocal performance is one of the highlights. It’s just the opposite that helps make “Companions” a better song than it has any right to be – intricate guitar playing and a very small bit of violin. The melody itself is pretty bland and ineffective, but the way that fingerpicked guitar rolls along is quite impressive. closing track “Don’t Stop” has the exact same issues, technically impressive but lacking in most other aspects. It does build energy just a little, and the incorporation of electric guitar and some vocal harmonies make for a good summation of the entire record. As a microcosm of the whole album then, that final song is only a little more than halfway good.

As exciting as it is to have the core team of Meric Long and Logan Kroeber recording and performing once again as a duo, along with their old producer John Askew back in place, this original recipe for success doesn’t always fully succeed as we see on “No Color”. There are tons of great things about this new album, including some of the most exciting and energetic melodies that The Dodos have come up with in some time. The return to the reliance on those shaky acoustic guitars and offbeat percussion is a huge plus too, as are Long’s lyrics – more vague and less clunky than they’ve ever been before. Not every song is winner though, and the second half of the album is much less compelling than the first. It’s not an energy thing, though arguably that does factor in just a little bit. If all the songs were as briskly paced as those first few we’d be worn out before the last couple even started. Pacing is part of the problem, with all the excitement right out of the gate and none really saved for the finish line. “Visiter” spread out the moments of grandeur pretty evenly, though to be fair about half of that record’s fourteen tracks could be called individual highlights. Hooks are also an issue. Songs like “Black Night” and “Sleep” are strong but don’t have the full staying power of a “Jodi” or a “Paint the Rust”. Maybe it just takes some time for them to fully sink in. After all, “Time to Die” was and is still the worst Dodos record, but these days it seems less like the trainwreck everyone labeled it as two years ago. Perhaps a year from now “No Color” will have that same effect, only rising in esteem from its current position as a pretty strong “comeback” album for the band. Thanks in large part to some serious freeform and fun songs, The Dodos have proven they know how to correct past mistakes and challenge the listener once again.

The Dodos – Don’t Stop

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Album Review: Kurt Vile – Smoke Ring for My Halo [Matador]

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On 03/15/2011

In album review, mp3, music


My oh my has Kurt Vile come a long way in a short time. Upon leaving The War on Drugs, he embarked on a solo career that began officially in 2008 when his album “Constant Hitmaker” was released via the very tiny Gulcher Records. The following year, Woodsist gave that record a higher profile re-release, Mexican Summer put out his sophmore album “God Is Saying This to You” and Matador placed his third album “Childish Prodigy” on shelves. In other words, it was a flood of Kurt Vile music in 2009 when it’s often tough enough to keep track of just one record by an artist. The first two albums were extremely lo-fi bedroom folk recordings, like a Bob Dylan or a Tom Petty but with serious audio fidelity issues. That didn’t make them any less compelling though, and in fact the lack of quality was part of its charm. “Childish Prodigy” held that same aesthetic for about half the record, but the other half featured Vile’s touring band The Violators and therefore could be called a legitimate step forwards. The production got cleaner and the melodies more dense, but along with that some of the more unique qualities vanished. Still, there was inherent potential shining through the shakier moments, as if to say that if Vile focused just a little harder he might just rise to the level of indie superstar. Taking a little time off and also touring for the last year seems to have pushed him in the direction needed to get his act fully together, because his new record “Smoke Ring for My Halo” is filled with the dynamic and prolific moments that unveil an entirely new side that had only been hinted at up til now.

Kurt Vile has ditched the bedroom for a recording studio fully on “Smoke Ring for My Halo”, and as a result there’s a very crisp sheen over the entire album that really adds an unexpected beauty to it. While Vile has always been a superstar when it comes to finding wonderful little melodies that are compelling and adventurous, lush and gorgeous are words that don’t typically apply to them. The Violators are still backing him up, but their contributions are minimal compared to the guitar and vocals which takes precedence over everything else. The biggest adjustment though is with Vile’s vocals, because not much of his older material had the clarity with which to fully discern what he was singing about. It wasn’t so bad that every song was a mangled vocal mess, but when you’re pulling a D.I.Y job corners need to be cut somewhere. So what this new record reveals is that Vile is one hell of a lyricist. A standard love song like “Baby’s Arms”, which starts off the album, gets extra creative thanks to lines like, “shrink myself just like a Tom Thumb/and I hide in my baby’s hand/cause except for her there just ain’t nothing to latch onto”. For “Puppet to the Man”, expectations are defied as Vile says, “I get by now you probably think I’m a puppet to the man”, and it seems safe to assume that most everyone would deny that sort of accusation. Instead, he embraces it, concluding, “I’m shouting out loud because I know that I am” while also requesting help to get him unstuck from said puppetry. One of the most vivid and amazing songs on the entire record is “On Tour”, where the miseries and problems of touring are hinted at between gigs. “Watch out for this one, he’ll stab you in the back for fun”, Vile says, most likely talking about untrustworthy people in the music industry. But his passion for music also comes through in lines like, “I wanna sing at the top of my lungs/scream annoyingly/cause that’s just me being me/being free”. The stage is always the one place you can let your frustrations out without a care in the world, and if you like you can “beat on a drum so hard ’til it bleeds blood”. Darkness hovers all over “Runner Ups”, but Vile isn’t afraid to throw a little bit of black humor in for good measure. “If it ain’t workin’/take a whiz on the world/an entire nation drinking from a dirty cup”, he sings just before explaining that he may have lost his best friend but there are runner ups in waiting. And there’s something inherently brilliant about the way the words are arranged on closer “Ghost Town” that totally grabs you despite what appears to be pure simplicity. “When I’m out/I’m away in my mind/Christ Was born/I was there/You know me/I’m around/I’ve got friends/Hey wait, where was I?/Well, I am trying” doesn’t even make that much sense reading it, but hearing the words coming out of Vile’s mouth they become more like windows into his own personal daydream. The series of thoughts that we all have from time to time, where we drift between subjects effortlessly and without acknowledgement of the oddity of it all can be a powerful thing when harnessed properly. In this case, Kurt Vile makes it exactly that.

“Smoke Ring for My Halo” may thrive in new and unexpected ways thanks in large part to some great lyrics, but the tuneful and intimate melodies serve to enhance what’s already there. With the distortion and other effects almost entirely absent from this record, it leaves much more room for these arrangements to breathe comfortably and with increased virility. One guitar, whether it’s acoustic or electric, carefully picked or briskly strummed, matched with Vile’s voice is all that’s really needed, but the little extras give them an unexpected oomph in the right direction. The shakers and tambourines on “Baby’s Arms” aren’t designed to stand out, but it’s tough to think that the song would be better off without them. The way the guitar strings vibrate on “On Tour”, like they’re frayed or too loose and need a good tightening adds to the weariness of the words, while the soft plinks of the keyboard helps to break up the monotony of the same chords strummed over and over again. In the case of songs like “In My Time” and “Peeping Tomboy” though, the aggressive nature of the guitar work is more than enough to sustain interest in the song without having to really break out any extra elements for supplementary purposes. If the record does have a flaw though, it’s the lack of hooks and marketable singles. Vile’s not exactly known for his commercial prowess and earworms that stick in your head, but on occasion he has managed to pull a supremely memorable melody that you’ll find yourself humming as you go about your day. From “Freeway” to “Freak Train”, the rattle and hum of those tracks was a draw in the past, enough to make them highlights on records that fell anywhere from pretty good to just a little mediocre. Funny then that with the decrease in memorability comes an increase in respectability, the result of which is Kurt Vile’s strongest record to date. Weaker moments like “Jesus Fever” and “Society Is My Friend” are fewer and farther between than ever before, and are supported on all sides by bastions of strong songwriting and melodies that occasionally allow for streams of sunlight to filter through the darkness. It may not be perfect, but it’s definitely another huge step forwards for Vile in a very brief career already filled with them.

Kurt Vile – Jesus Fever
Kurt Vile – In My Time

Buy “Smoke Ring for My Halo” from Amazon

Album Review: Beady Eye – Different Gear, Still Speeding [Dangerbird]

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On 03/10/2011

In album review, music


Oasis was a band borne out of an extreme passion for The Beatles. Noel and Liam Gallagher worshipped at the altar of the Fab Four, and their goal was to snuggle up next to them in the pantheon of the greatest bands of all time. That never wound up happening, though Oasis certainly did make an impact on music that will be felt for quite awhile. It’s just there was never an “Oasismania” or obsessive posters of Noel and Liam on the walls of teenage girls. Among the myriad of reasons that Oasis never fully succeeded at their mission of becoming one of the Greatest Bands of All Time were the ever-changing musical landscape and two brothers that just couldn’t seem to stand one another for extended periods of time. Both Noel and Liam’s influence in the band was felt though, and it was their combined strength that pushed them into the realm of becoming highly successful. The reasons why “Definitely Maybe” and “(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?” were landmark albums was because Noel took Liam’s 60s and 70s-heavy vibes and updated them with a few modern bits that worked quite well in the musical landscape at the time. As the years went by though, the fighting and constant threats of break-ups (and even legitimate break-ups for periods of time) stole more headlines than the band’s music did. Times and trends changed as well, leaving Oasis as something of a musical dinosaur, crafting ultimately very good records that not many people heard because it wasn’t the 90s and their sound was no longer novel. Still, their last two albums rest on the better half of their catalogue, though their ultimate breakup in 2009 seemed to leave little to nobody in mourning. Perhaps that’s because it was a long time coming, and the only surprise was that they stayed together for as long as they did.

Formed out of the ashes of Oasis is Beady Eye, and the only person missing from the new band is Noel Gallagher. Yes, Gem Archer, Andy Bell and Chris Sharrock, all Oasis vets, are calling Liam Gallagher their frontman and going under a different name. The move is smart, not only for the sake of getting a fresh start but also because while a lot of the qualities between the two bands are the same, there’s definitely differences that would be disingenuous to the Oasis name were they released under that guise. That’s not to say Beady Eye’s debut record “Different Gear, Still Speeding” is of a poorer quality than a lot of the crap Oasis shoved at us during their troubled “middle” period, or even some of their better days. The point is that there are some aspects to Beady Eye’s sound that would make Oasis seem like a completely different band were that name still being used. Specifically, without Noel to keep him in check, Liam seems set on completely indulging his 60s and 70s rock influences. The result is an album that definitely sounds like it comes from another era, though in this day and age with so many bands propped up by the sounds of their ancestors you can’t really call it dated. If you’re not going to innovate and try something new though, your first prerogative should be to craft songs that are vital and strong enough to be distinctive on their own.

“Nothing ever lasts forever,” Liam repeats multiple times on album opener “Four Letter Word”. Surely he’s not intending to reference either the end of Oasis or the general impermanence of music/musical styles, but it’s really easy to interpret it that way. What’s really interesting though is how the song itself comes off as very “in the moment” and vibrant. It’s a rather thrilling introduction to the band, a huge arena rocker with an even bigger swagger that almost dares you to try and ignore it. Such attitude is expected from a Gallagher, and if you were hoping that with a new band Liam would have himself a slice of humble pie you’d best adjust those expectations. The upbeat acoustic strums of “Millionaire” recalls folk pop of bands like Andy Bell’s early years as part of Ride or even The Charlatans UK. Liam’s obsession with all things Beatles and the similarity of his voice to John Lennon’s leads to “The Roller”, the first official single on the record and what feels like a blatant rip off of Lennon’s “Instant Karma”. It may not have the uplifting charm or the super catchiness of the track it’s trying to be, but there’s not a ton of wrong you can do with that bouncy piano melody.

“I’m gonna stand the test of time, like Beatles and Stones”, Gallagher says in the appropriately titled “Beatles and Stones”. Actually instead of sounding like either of those bands, the song sounds a lot like The Who’s “My Generation”. The irony in that is the song features the lyric “I hope I die before I get old,” which is just about the antithesis of standing the test of time. Whether or not Oasis or Beady Eye will legitimately go down as legendary will be determined in the decades to come of course, but it’s probably safe to say neither band will reach the pinnacles that the Beatles and Rolling Stones did. Still, as to the merits of the song itself, it’s got a whole lot of great qualities to it despite the obvious debts it owes and makes up for any shortcomings by being pretty fun. The same could be said of much of the first third of the record.

“It’s just a wind-up dream, so don’t wake me up,” is one of the main hooks in “Wind Up Dream”, and that’s funny because the track is so plain and ordinary that it comes across more as a nightmare. Even-handed and ordinary is a good way of describing it as it really doesn’t go anywhere, to the point where you’d like to be woken up as soon as possible. Courtesy of “Bring the Light”, a Jerry Lee Lews piano melody meets some bluesy Rolling Stones guitar in what sounds like a winning combination on paper. After a couple verses though and not even halfway through the song, things completely devolve into the constant repetition of the phrase “Baby come on” ad nauseum. You hear it said so many times that it sticks in your head just because of that reason and none other. The track feels more like a showcase for banging around on instruments than it is actual lyrics and hooks, which is probably a mistake. The sunny folk-pop of “For Anyone” is nice and pleasant, and has that heart-on-your-sleeve lyrics that has been done a million times over in the 60s and 70s. This time around it doesn’t distinguish itself from those versions, and the song might be better titled as “By Anyone”. And then there’s “Standing on the Edge of the Noise”, which naturally cranks the guitars up and does less standing and more jumping off the ledge into a big pool of formless noise. It probably went just a little too far.

The recovery begins almost immediately on “Wigwam”, a 6.5 minute song that swirls and soars and steps into the sunlight that in one of the first times on the album actually feels earned. It carries the memories of Oasis classics such as “D’You Know What I Mean?” and “Slide Away” inside of its notes, leaving you with the belief that Beady Eye might actually amount to something as good as what came before it. The spiky energy of “Three Ring Circus” and the earnestness of “The Beat Goes On” make for winning late album songs that once again don’t carry the torch of originality with them but do come off as playful and without a hint of parody. The lazy acoustic strumming of “The Morning Son” feels fitting for a 6-minute album closing ballad. What begins as a pretty sparse song actually expands out into something majestic and gorgeous the more it progresses, until in the final minute the swirls of noise build up to a peak and then drop off into the calm waters of the ocean below. The song title might be a play on words intended to be speaking of that bright orange ball of fire in the sky, but the way this thing closes out, it feels more like a sunset than a sunrise.

So what are we supposed to make out of Beady Eye and their debut album “Different Gear, Still Speeding”? Well, the comparisons to Oasis stick here and will probably always stick with these guys because that was their other band. The difference in their gear this time around is that they’re packing less guitars because Noel isn’t around anymore. But they’re still the utmost professional musicians that clearly still have a lot of creative juice left in them. Yeah, this record is a lot more influence-heavy than just about anything Oasis ever did, and it’s also not quite on par with the best parts of Oasis’ catalogue, but there’s a lot to like and maybe even love here. Prior to its release, Liam Gallagher was going around telling everyone that “Different Gear, Still Speeding” would blow minds in a similar way to how the legendary Oasis debut “Definitely Maybe” did nearly 17 years ago. As he is apt to do, and because he’s egotistical blowhard, that statement was a bit of an overreaction. Times are different, and these days you need to be making something wholly original to get the sort of raves that will keep people talking about you for years to come. This 60s and 70s-heavy stuff is nowhere near original, but it is largely done well. Because of that reason, and that reason alone, it is worth your time and money. Hopefully on the next record Beady Eye will amount to more than just a really smart and crafty cover band.

Buy “Different Gear, Still Speeding” from Amazon

Album Review: Wye Oak – Civilian [Merge]

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On 03/08/2011

In album review, mp3, music


Wye Oak is a band that has been teetering on the brink of indie stardom for a few years now. Their debut record “If Children” established the Baltimore duo of Jenn Wasner and Andy Stack as both deep and dark thinkers, crafting sublime folk melodies with extreme splashes of loud electric guitar violence and shoegaze tropes. It all feels really organic and heavy too, refusing to succumb to anybody’s common labels of a cutesy male-female band that does a lot of love and relationship stuff. This isn’t Mates of State, nor is it the blues-inflected rock of The White Stripes. If Wye Oak has earned an extremely high number of comparisons to Beach House, it’s because of the aforementioned duo thing, and also Wasner’s voice has a deeper, smoky vibe that Victoria Legrand’s also espouses. The overall sounds are relatively similar as well, in that both Beach House and Wye Oak make subtle, dream-infused pop music, though Wye Oak most definitely goes darker and louder. The internet has been kind to Wye Oak for the most part, helping to generate a fair amount of hype for their two albums to date. Touring around a bit with The Decemberists also helped them out a bit, scoring them new fans and shoving new ideas into their heads. So after several months of writing and recording after putting out a pretty smart EP last year, Wye Oak returns for their third full length “Civilian”.

“Civilian” opens with crowd noise – lots of people having multiple conversations in a large room. It’s the sort of thing that happens at a concert venue between bands, where there’s a lot of voices but you can’t really make out what any single one of them is saying because it’s all just collected cacophony. But as the crowd dies down, the first notes of “Two Small Deaths” creep in – some held down keyboards and other electronic elements that rise together like a collective symphony of indistinct loudness; a parallel to the crowd noise that came just before it. The that shimmering quickly fades to unveil a carefully plucked deep electric guitar melody along with some nicely paced taps on the drum rim. It’s all pretty signature for Wye Oak, that is until the chorus strikes. Wasner’s vocals get doubled over into harmonies, some cymbals and other bits enter the melody, which surges forth with color and life in spite of the grim subject matter. Bits of descending keyboards flutter around the second verse and continue to hold the discreet and subdued charm of the track, which legitimately begins to feel like the auditory approximation of small streams of sunlight rising from the horizon at the start of a day. The song is just the start of something new for Wye Oak – music that bears all of their familiar marks, yet pushes beyond the traditional darkness of their arrangements towards something more vibrant and fascinating.

One of Wye Oak’s vices has always been and continues to be the stasis created by a singular guitar riff or melody. They always choose interesting chords or progressions, but there’s very little deviation once they settle into a certain groove. When it falls flat, as it has on numerous occasions, it becomes easy to get bored and want to move on to something else. “Civilian” holds to the same pattern, but with a few more sidetracks to keep you guessing. “The Altar” works pretty well thanks to that mentality. A flurry of a guitar solo competing with some smooth bass lines and swirls of electronic noise all meet in the middle of the track just after Wasner’s vocals soar while getting buried in a pile of static. Speaking of which, the noise ratchets up significantly on “Holy Holy”, with the electric guitars working up into a fuzz-filled 70’s garage fury and Wasner pushing herself to compete behind the microphone. It makes for one of the most thrilling and legitimately fun rock songs on the entire record. “Dog Eyes” definitely tries something different by attempting to balance what feels like two different personalities across a single track. The song moves from a delicately plucked and relatively quiet verse into a very loud power chorded instrumental section before working the quiet-loud dichotomy one more time, with the final minute completely laying waste to everything that came before it. There’s something inherently impressive about it, but the transitions within the song are a bit jarring and there’s very little structure to the track on the whole, which is a problem. Better laid out is the title track, settling into a nice guitar and organ piece while getting progressively louder into a pretty fierce guitar solo at the coda.

The second half of the album can pretty much be classified as more of the same things established in the first half, though it tends to blend together into more of an amorphous blob with fewer standout moments. The lush way that “Plains” teems with possibility and only flashes mere seconds of loud guitars makes it individually compelling, and “We Were Wealth” has Jenn Wasner proving that she’s a scary talented vocalist with a power and range the band has only begun to fully explore. Outside of the general sound of the record though, the lyrical side of Wye Oak has always been one of their strongest suits. Of course it’s also been the main source of their dark and depressing side. “Hopeless light darkens my door/so I cannot cry”, Wasner opines on opening track “Two Small Deaths”, a song that is about what the title describes. The title track is perhaps the most interesting piece lyrically, starting out immediately with “I am nothing without pretend/I know my thoughts/Can’t live with them” and then going slightly creepy by saying “I still keep my baby teeth/on the bedside table with my jewelry”. Actually that second part may be a little endearing if you think about it. But it’s not all darkness and odd teeth fetishes. “Holy Holy” tries to put a positive spin on things with “all human joy is precious/and I for one should know this”, but really what she’s saying is that she wasn’t careful and lost the joy in her life. Perhaps my favorite lyrics of the entire record come on “Dog Eyes”, with the pure poetry of “a deep hole, a secret, in order to feed it/a season of growing into everyone knowing”. It’s lines like that which make Wye Oak a very special and cool band, even if there’s a focus on the morbid side of things.

The best thing that can be said about “Civilian” as a whole is that it’s an improvement. The duo has progressed forwards and are making strides in the absolute right direction. It’s interesting because unlike so many bands that catch on at their debut albums and spend the rest of the time trying to regenerate that same sort of praise and hype, Wye Oak are only building more momentum with each new release. They’ve yet to reach the point where one of their records shoves them outright into the spotlight, but they keep getting closer and closer. Unfortunately “Civilian” is probably not going to be the one that does it for them, even though it is their best to date. There are a couple of so-so songs that don’t have the same magic or mojo as the others, and it’s enough to keep the buzz at bay for just a little longer. What’s most exciting about this new album though is how the arrangements stick out in a more riveting way than ever before, breaking free of the ever-present darkness to expose small cracks of light. While noisy, fuzzed out shoegaze-inspired guitars are part of their signature, throwing any normal grooves or folk-inspired melodies off-kilter in the most unique way possible, trying to flesh out and organically generate some of those moments instead of jumping in head first might make Wye Oak a better band. Of course who am I to be giving them tips on what to do next – given their track record of building up with each new release, it’s highly likely they’re going to get exactly where they need to go without anyone else’s help.

Wye Oak – Civilian

Buy “Civilian” from Amazon

Album Review: R.E.M. – Collapse Into Now [Warner Bros.]

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On 03/07/2011

In album review, music


The story of R.E.M. has reached an impasse. Fifteen albums in, and nobody can agree on the worth and vitality of this band anymore. Everyone looks back fondly at “The I.R.S. Years” and the first half of the Warner Bros. years, where the band was prolific and innovative and equally young and vibrant. Yeah, they made mistakes too, particularly in the early 90s with a couple records known as “Out of Time” and “Monster”. One thing that most R.E.M. fans can agree with though is that 1996’s “New Adventures in Hi-Fi” was their last great record before entering into about a 10 year period you could call the dark ages. By that point, the band had been around for over 16 years and things were bound to give out sooner or later. It’s telling that they only released three albums of new material in the ’97-’07 period and most of the rest of that time was not spent on the road touring. The guys had clearly gotten bored with making music and spending time with one another, so they got involved in other projects for awhile and also ran into some health problems. Despite these setbacks, they never officially broke up, though Bill Berry did quit the band right at the start of that tumultuous period in 1997. Anyways, after the slow motion daydream that was 2004’s “Around the Sun”, R.E.M. came surging back in 2008 with the motivated and revitalized “Accelerate”. Plenty hailed it as the band’s first great record in over 10 years, with some even reaching as far back as ’92’s “Automatic for the People” as a reference point. But was it REALLY that good? Is it possible that at the first sign of a spark, people overreacted and thought they saw a wildfire instead? This is where the rift occurs – from those that truly believe R.E.M. has course corrected and returned to the path of righteousness and others that feel this 30+ year old band will never, ever come close to their peak form again. Though they’d never outright say it, listening to their new album “Collapse Into Now”, the unofficial statement from the band seems to be, “does it even matter”?

For those that thought “Accelerate” was a late-period fluke of energy from an otherwise lifeless corpse of a band, R.E.M. immediately slaps you in the face with the charging single “Discoverer” to start “Collapse Into Now”. Where Michael Stipe gets the nerve to think that shouting out the song’s title over and over again makes for a grand chorus is a little lost of me, but at the very least it’s easy to sing along to and remember. Peter Buck’s guitar work is delightful as well, and if you don’t over-analyze it the track turns out to be rather solid. “All the Best” appears to both directly and indirectly challenge critics that think the band has nothing left to offer. “It’s just like me to overstay my welcome,” Stipe sings just before launching into the chorus with a mission statement to “show the kids how to do it fine”. The man speaks the truth, for as these guys are slowly becoming the middle-aged godfathers of rock, they are proving they can still write a bunch of solid songs that are better than a lot of what’s out there today. Unlike the last record, “Collapse Into Now” is not packed to the brim with high energy rock tracks. The band takes more of a cue from their early 90s classic records by weaving in some more acoustic numbers and gentle touches of mandolins and other instruments they’ve briefly used before. “Uberlin” is a lovely acoustic cut with an “Automatic for the People” vibe shimmering off of it complete with those essential Mike Mills backing vocals. The mixture of horns, mandolin and accordion on “Oh My Heart” makes for one of the most beautiful R.E.M. songs in a long while, and Stipe’s pleading vocal is also one of his best. Similarly, the crunchy, muscular guitar work on “Mine Smell Like Honey” combined with the fun energy and catchy chorus make for an excellent single that may even best some of the great moments on “Accelerate”. For no apparent reason Peaches makes a guest appearance on “Alligator Aviator Autopilot Antimatter”, a bouncy and shredding track that bears a similar silliness to “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” both in the lyrics and in the way Stipe sort of sing-speaks his vocals. It could get annoying if R.E.M. did songs like this on a regular basis, but since they don’t it’s a welcome bit on this record. The punk rock vibe of “That Someone Is You” holds a lot of weight for a late album cut, but it wouldn’t have to if the lyrics were better. The line, “pull me up and out of cartoon quicksand” isn’t terrible, but slapping together phrases like “And with the fury lock of Sharon Stone “Casino”/”Scarface” Al Pacino/’74 Torino/I need someone else to make the first move” makes little sense other than to try and pull off a clever rhyme.

What’s not clever is the seriously painful chorus of “It Happened Today”. A mid-tempo acoustic track with lovely flourishes of mandolin, there’s a lot to like about the song, but when Stipe dispassionately sings the lines “It happened today/Hooray, hooray/It happened/Hip, hip hooray” it rings about as untrue as “Shiny Happy People” did 20 years ago. Eddie Vedder also makes a guest appearance in the last half of the song, pushing some really gorgeous backing vocals and harmonies that virtually erase the bad taste the chorus leaves in your mouth. A similar thing takes place on “Every Day Is Yours to Win”, where the instrumental complete with twinkling xylophones and Mills harmonies are very nice but just about everything else isn’t. Sounding lovely can only sustain you for so long, and when there’s not a whole lot in the way of forward momentum or variation on your melody combined with lyrics that unlike the title are NOT winning, you’ve got problems. And if you want to talk about the worst offender and least essential track on the entire album, “Walk It Back” should very much be walked back to the shallow grave it rose from. It’s like the piano ballad slow version of “Discoverer”, where the chorus is yet again just the song title over and over again. The verses though are special themselves, with gloriously average phrases such as, “What would you have had me say/instead of what I said?” and “Where would I go, how could I follow that/except to do what I did”. The song is about regrets and wishing you could have avoided what turned out to be a bad situation, but clearly by allowing this song on the album the band did not take their own advice. The song that may get the most complaints from people, but perhaps also equal amounts of praise from others, is album closer “Blue”. Hazy and distorted electric guitar mixed with slow acoustic strumming forms the instrumental base for the track, but it’s more wallpaper for a Michael Stipe spoken word poetry reading with blushes of guest star Patti Smith’s singing. Yeah it’s weird and if you’re not in the mood it’ll gladly rub you the wrong way, but it’s also the only song on the record that takes any real chances. It very well could have found a home on “New Adventures in Hi-Fi” back in the day where it would have blended in nicely rather than stick out like a sore thumb here. The good news is that it is the last song on the album, so if you don’t want to listen to it ever again, just hit the stop button early.

The album’s title “Collapse Into Now” is part of that spoken word bit that Stipe does on “Blue”, but the phrase itself is a strong microcosm of what this record sounds like on the whole. Listening to “classic” R.E.M. from the 80s and early 90s, you understand how the band was one of the unofficial founders of the alternative rock genre. They helped to develop the sound that so many other bands still copy even today. With the healthy mixture of the harder rocking, faster songs and more subdued ballads, “Collapse Into Now” sounds like the band knows exactly what’s worked for them in the past and worked hard to try and recreate it. The thing about reviving your older material is that it continues to sound dated, even though you’ve made it in the present. Yeah, at any given moment on this new record you’ll think about how that one song feels like a “Life’s Rich Pageant” era song or another might very well have been on “Murmur” or even “Monster”. It’s nice to know that R.E.M. can still crank out songs like that, and good ones at that, but where’s the originality? Where’s the innovation? “Fables of the Reconstruction” was such a vital album in 1985 precisely because it was something different and exciting. “Collapse Into Now” pretty much only looks backwards, preying on your nostalgia for a band that recently celebrated its 30th anniversary. Maybe that’s what brought them out of their downward spiral though – the relief of the pressure that exploring new sounds and territory brings with the thought that you really can go home again. R.E.M. no longer needs to be this vital, alternative rock-creating force, but instead just a band that likes making music together. If it’s enough for them, hopefully it can also be enough for us.

Buy “Collapse Into Now” from Amazon

Album Review: Lykke Li – Wounded Rhymes [Atlantic/LL Recordings]

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On 03/04/2011

In album review, mp3, music


Inquiring minds want to know – has Lykke Li ever smiled? Her music isn’t what one would call happy, though her first album “Youth Novels” had a fair number of intense club bangers on it. Through it all and the music videos she’s put out, never once a smile. I’ve seen her perform live twice. No smiles there either. According to a number of studies, Sweden is one of the 10 happiest countries on Earth. It’s where Li calls home, even if she doesn’t spend as much time there these days. For her sophmore record, she spent a fair amount of time writing and recording in the U.S., jumping between New York and Los Angeles, among other places. Those “other places” were primarily deserts, where she isolated herself from humanity and the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It was in the desert, starring in a short film for a director friend, that she finally found the inspiration she was looking for to create that new album. And though “Wounded Rhymes” may have been born out of isolation and depression, it’s ultimately soulful and escapist fare, a window into her dark world that’s hopefully more intriguing and inspirational than anything else. At the very least you can dance to a lot of it.

The three minute club banger opening of “Youth Knows No Pain” almost comes off like the rallying cry the title suggests. When we’re young, we’re invincible, and if you knock us down, we just get right back up again. The older we get, the more baggage we carry around, and the harder it gets to recover from those everyday stressors inflicted upon is. The positives and negatives of relationships are some of Lykke Li’s favorite topics, and “I Follow Rivers” is the first of many on the album about exactly that. At its core, the track is about the similarities between rivers and her man – how the wild and untamed natural majesty of rivers is so attractive. The music video for the song is pretty much exactly as just described, with a bearded, outdoorsman foreign-type walking alone through an empty landscape while Li follows closely behind. It also makes for a good pop song, with a strong hook and interesting percussive elements bouncing around. Similarly, “Love Out of Lust” is a more ballad-type track of the highest order, vigorously passionate and filled as much with sweeping drama as it is positivity. It’s a healthy reminder that love can be fleeting and temporary, so be sure to express it fully when it comes around, because you never know when it will again.

Things take a turn for the sad on “Unrequited Love”, but while the lyrics are as the title suggests, the way the song is put together really shines through above all else. With just a lone finger-picked guitar and percussion that amounts to no more than slapping on a knee, the track is more a showcase for Lykke Li’s voice and words. There are harmonies built upon harmonies and bits of “shoo wop shoo wop” going around as well, whipping out the classic 50s and 60s girl group style. Because of this, the track actually has a timeless feel to it in the kindest sort of way. Then like the flipping of a switch, the beats get huge again courtesy of some massive bass drum, the guitars ripple with a touch of surf rock, and Li turns from wounded to the attacker via “Get Some”. Many have and will continue to misinterpret the lines, “I’m your prostitute/you gon’ get some” as sexually demeaning or crass. The point is more the aggression and empowerment than it is giving men the idea she wants to be used and abused. It just so happens the song also has one of the best and strongest hooks Li has ever written. The heavier guitars and garage rock atmosphere of “RIch Kids Blues” are about the only good things about the song itself, which sets itself up as a near class warfare song about the poor choices in priorities that wealthy children tend to have. It’s about the sadness and emptiness that comes from having all the material possessions you could ever want, but not a lot else. Actually, it kind of makes sense then that this track has some good instrumentals going for it and not much else, which is sad and empty. Speaking of sad, “Sadness Is A Blessing” blows out a standard Lykke Li ballad into something huge, complete with piano, organ and bells. Yet again it does as the title suggests, in that it takes darker lyrics and sends them skyward as if to show what positivity can come from them.

Things go very quiet again when “I Know Places” shows up with just an acoustic guitar and Lykke Li’s vocal. It’s her moment to go folk, and it gives creedence to the thought that she excels at whatever musical style she tries – more than just your heavy-beat pop jams. The final two minutes of the song descend into a dreamy electronic haze punctuated with spots of guitar that’s eerily reminiscent of Chris Isaak’s classic “Wicked Game”. When the song itself is about escaping to someplace to be alone, that extra instrumental bit tacked on at the end feels like that goal has been accomplished in a very serene and beautiful sort of way. The solitary vacation is over as quickly as it started thanks to “Jerome”, a great mid-tempo track that offers a wide variety of percussion from rumbling bass drums to drum machines to wooden blocks to handclaps, tambourines and shakers. The touches of keyboards are nice too, but it ultimately comes down to a skilled vocal performance to carry the track beyond the vast wasteland of beats. The bass gets really low on closing track “Silent My Song”, echoing out over a massive space like a speaker hanging down from the clouds. Lyrically the song is low too, descending into sadness as Li sings about a man that puts her down at every turn. It’s like The Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb” from the perspective of the woman underneath it. What’s ironic about the track is how beautiful and vocally strident it is. Li’s voice is raised far above everything else in the mix. So while she sings about her voice going silent, the reality is anything but. It marks just one final complexity across a record packed full of them.

So after two records we definitely know that Lykke Li is not exactly a happy person, but “Wounded Rhymes” does leave us with are more questions. Like most people, she has had her share of heartache and heartbreak, but also deep passion and love. She covers every single one of those bases on this album, and the tracks are arranged in such a haphazard way that you’re never quite sure which emotion on this rollercoaster you’ll be turned onto next. And while that is a problem, it’s equally an asset. Instrumentally speaking, the mixture of hot dance numbers and ballads helps to justify each one’s position on the final product. See, you never want too much of one or the other packed together, so after you get all worked up thanks to a great beat, in comes the softer, slower stuff to mellow you out. No worries though, because before things start to drag, another uptempo track comes in to save the day. It’s smart in that each song feels earned and there’s never too much of a good or bad thing. The next question left hanging is whether or not Lykke Li is a hero or a victim. As the styles bounce back and forth, so do her lyrics, one minute wrestled into control by a man and the next taking control of him. She primarily played the role of the shy girl that just wanted a man on her debut “Youth Novels”, but she’s grown greatly on “Wounded Rhymes” – not only lyrically but vocally too. She’s got some powerhouse pipes that really get shown off for the first time on this record, and they help make most every song better than it would have been otherwise. It’s also a huge reason why this new album is an improvement over her first one. There may not be any songs as overtly amazing as a “Breaking It Up” or “Dance Dance Dance”, but what’s sacrificed in big pop numbers is more than made up for in an overall solidity that only leaves you asking for more.

Lykke Li – I Follow Rivers (I Follow You Tyler the Creator’s Remix)

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Album Review: DeVotchKa – 100 Lovers [Epitaph]

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On 03/03/2011

In album review, music


Remember the movie “Little Miss Sunshine”? It was that sweet indie comedy that worked its way into our hearts and wound up being quite successful at the box office. Hopefully being the astute music fans that you are, you took notice of the movie’s soundtrack, which heavily featured the music of DeVotchKa. Granted, much of the soundtrack was pulled from the band’s 2004 record “How It Ends”, but there were a couple of original pieces in there as well. It genuinely seemed like DeVotchKa’s music had the sweeping drama and epic beauty that works effortlessly and perfectly in movies. There would be advertising opportunities, video game soundtracks and a bunch of other things the band signed off on (as well as a bunch they turned down as well), and chances are even if you think you’ve never heard a DeVotchKa song before, you actually have in the background somewhere. All the commercial exposure really helped to build a following for this collection of troubadors, and it helped turn their last record, “A Mad & Faithful Telling” into a moderate hit. Nevermind that it was their weakest record to date. Their star still continues to rise, and their greatest accomplishment to date was an opening slot for Muse last summer when they played in front of over 80,000 people in France. Now DeVotchKa is back with “100 Lovers”, their first new record in three years, and yet again it falls right in line with the widescreen journey they’ve been on for quite awhile now.

Grand orchestral swells and piano introduce the record on “The Alley”, just before a martial snare drum beat picks up the pace and frontman Nick Urata belts out those first words in a croon that sounds like he’s trying to seduce an entire valley full of people from atop a mountain. It’s that sort of huge, and despite that, the band makes it seem almost effortless. The song itself pushes what eventually becomes a theme of the record and practically the norm for DeVotchKa these days, in that their focus is more on beauty and atmosphere than it is on creative, world accented pop. A song like “All the Sand in All the Seas” sounds positively lovely and moves at a brisk pace, but the closest it comes to a hook is some bouncy piano that acts more as a guide linking the verses than anything else. Similarly, “One Hundred Other Lovers” is remarkably reminiscent of the gorgeous balladry that the song “How It Ends” had going for it, which in turn also makes it one of the record’s strongest bits. Immense orchestration and an out of control violin are what form the basis for “The Common Good”, and what’s normally lovely sounds overly busy in this particular case. There’s simply too much going on in the song for it for the richness to sink in. The final minute of the song completely gives way to an even greater instrumental swell that takes things even farther off the rails into almost white noise territory. There’s certainly a passion there, not to mention ferocity, but it doesn’t feel earned.

After the first of two interludes, “The Man From San Sebastian” foregoes the orchestral majesty of the first half and breaks out the accordion and electric guitars. It’s a rock track with a touch of Spanish influence as the title suggests, along with a bit of Eastern European gypsy mojo. Acoustic guitars, tambourines and whistling helps bring the jingle-jangle to “Exhaustible”, a track that’s well put together but feels a lot like its title, which makes it just a little off from the band’s norm. After a second very brief instrumental interlude, Spanish influences take over the band, from the fiery horns and bongos of “Bad Luck Heels” and “Contrabanda” to the peppered accordion and multilingual lyrics of “Ruthless”, there are moments in the final third of the record that genuinely feel like DeVotchKa have gone mariachi. If you’re familiar with the band’s past records though, this is nothing particularly new. Of course they’re far more complicated and well developed than that, but it does give you the impression that the record has those couple interludes to neatly divide it into sections where different musical styles and influences are explored. Closing track “Sunshine” bucks the Spanish final third just a bit with its jack-of-all-trades instrumental. It’s a pretty beautiful song, but doesn’t feel like it has a distinct purpose. There’s not a whole lot to keep it interesting, though it still chugs along for close to 5 minutes seeking some semblance of structure.

Credit goes to DeVotchKa for at the very least providing some framework for “100 Lovers” by grouping similar songs together to create a solidified mood and atmosphere. That’s pretty much what they do best anyways, though the first half of the album places a lot more emphasis on that than the second half does. All the sweeping drama from those first few songs will surely bring to mind Arcade Fire at least a touch, especially since Nick Urata’s vocals have that emotive Win Butler-like wail that tends to be too charming to resist. Compared to past DeVotchKa records, this one’s just a bit easier on the ears stylistically, with the band restraining some of their more ethnic impulses in favor of more straightforward arrangements. That turns out to be both a help and a hindrance, partly because you get the impression that had they gone all the way either in a smooth orchestral pop direction or in an offbeat, world music sort of left turn, it would have made for a better record. Instead, most of the songs are lovely and have their own distinct charms, even if it may feel a little uneven between the various parts. It’s also just a little bit of an issue that for DeVotchKa, there’s not a whole lot of forward movement on “100 Lovers”. Everything they do here they’ve pretty much done before, sometimes with more vigor and inspiration. Still, the band has reached a comfortable spot in their career where maybe they don’t need to keep pushing the envelope and they can simply settle in to being labeled as world-weary travelers. It’d kinda be nice if that weren’t the case though, and they still had a few more tricks up their sleeves.

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