She's Making Whoopee in Hell Tonight

#97: The Stooges - Down On The Street

2012-02-22T15:42:00.001-06:00

The Stooges - Down On The Street
from Fun House, 1970

I don't have much to say about this one, actually, so I'll keep it short; it's not tied to any specific memory or time and place. All I know is that it makes me so very happy when I put it on. Why? That riff, at home with the best of the dirty blues, and Iggy's vocals. He always sounded like a madman in those early days. Sure, there are other places where he sounds more insane, but I'd argue that he never sounds as dangerous as he does here.

If you ever get the chance, pick up The Complete Fun House Sessions, which gives you 19 different takes of this song (and the others on the album as well). It's fascinating to listen to the minute progression and realize how much skill and practice it takes to come off as this unhinged. I probably wouldn't have included this track in the top 100 if I hadn't gone through The Complete and realized just how much I loved it.

#98: Broken Social Scene - Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl

2012-02-21T23:16:00.010-06:00

Broken Social Scene - Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl
from You Forgot It in People, 2002

During my first year in graduate school, I lived alone in a 500 square foot basement apartment down at the end of Pinckney Street in Madison. It had, among other features, a mostly obstructed view of Lake Mendota and the narrowest galley kitchen ever built. I had just moved away (about 165 miles up on Highway 151) from the first girl I'd ever really loved, exchanging her company for a ever-ending reading list of books and a set of classes that made almost no sense and in which I felt constantly inadequate. It was the first time in my life I'd ever really lived along (because, let's face it--Kim moved in to my apartment at Coe in early October the year before and never really left), and even though Madison wan't a big city in any real sense, it was all fairly overwhelming for me.

Aside from the school work and the long separation from Kim (punctuated by her semester in Madagascar), there are two memories from that year that really stick out in mind, 9 years later. The first is the slow transformation of Madison in my mind's eye, from of the scene the half-remembered and frantic visits I made as a high schooler during trips for various academic events into the place I ACTUALLY LIVED. That record store on State Street that I remembered in a glassy haze, like a fuzzy photo print, and the Jane's Addiction record Jed Dawson bought there right before we had to get back on the bus in 1996? I walked past that place on my way to school now. Everyday, my walk to work brought me past places I had dreamed about visiting for months at a time while I was in high school. The record stores were a constant distraction, and I let my guard down an awful lot that first year.

B-Side Records, Madison, Wisconsin

The other is less concrete, but no less important to me. I remember the way that the sun would come in off the lake on Saturday and Sunday afternoons in my apartment, catching me pacing the living room with a book in my hand, or sitting cross-legged on the scuffed wood floors next to my old mini stereo, shuffling CDs I bought down at the B-Side or the (late, lamented) Sugar Shack. This was the last year of my life when I had regular, easy access to both a dual cassette deck and a steady supply of cassettes, and I made the last real, honest-to-god mixtapes of my life on that floor in that apartment, taking all the new songs and albums from my time in the (not so big) city, shuffling them up, and sending them back on to Kim, 15 or 16 at a time.

The best mixtape I made that fall featured a fuzzy, druggy, and incredibly precious song from Broken Social Scene's second record called (somewhat awkwardly, like almost everything related to the band's early iteration) "Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl." In her distorted, pitchy singsong, Emily Haines came through loud and clear, telling the boy exactly what she wanted from him:

Park that car, drop that phone,
Sleep on the floor, dream about me

Emily Haines

Along with the song's slow, sunny, banjo-laden crescendo, it was Haines' repetition of those simple phrases--over and over, like a mantra for warding off distracted lovers--that attracted me so strongly. Getting used to Madison, and school, and the rest of my life while keeping up the first real long-distance relationship I'd ever been in, my nightly talks with Kim were full of distraction. Work, and long walks, and more work, and the bars all beckoned for me (as did friends and college life for her), and as the months went by, we became short with each other over the phone, trying and mostly failing to keep up the easy intimacy we'd forged at Coe.

My mixtapes, and this song in particular, were like my own promises to her that at some point, no matter what else happened, I'd be able to give her my full attention--with occasional visits ("park that car, sleep on the floor"), but also with a real life together without those phone calls and distraction and distance, some day. Despite almost 5 years of marriage, we're still working on the proximity thing. But when I hear this song, I still think of that apartment, Madison, those phone calls, and those mixtapes. And I still dream about her.

-Brandon

#98: Neil Young - Tonight's The Night

2012-02-21T13:05:00.001-06:00

Neil Young - Tonight's The Night
from Tonight's The Night, 1975

Tonight's The Night was my introduction to Neil Young -- I'm not sure what that says, but I feel like it should mean something. See, I was a budding music geek when I got to college with a fairly sizable collection for a pre-napster teenager, but it was full of classical music and nu-metal. (Sometimes I still pull out the Rammstein (who do not make this list) to remember that things do in fact get better.) Then I met Lee and Brandon and suddenly had access to all this new music, their tastes as 'refined' as anyone I met, and I quickly expanded my palette.

I'll wait until the top 5 to get to the full conversion story. I'm not sure where this album fits in the story except that it's one of the first albums Brandon introduced me to, and I spent so many hours listening to it.

I feel that this album is great in spite of itself; it surprises me that it's so critically acclaimed (it's one of Rolling Stone's 500 greatest albums and one of the 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die and Christgau giving it an extremely rare A). What I mean is, the 10 middle tracks -- excluding the two parts of the title track -- are so understated it feels like none of them can stand on their own, that they all need to be there for any sort of vision to take hold.

Except the magnificent title track. I can honestly say that I would not have given the album more than a passing listen if it didn't lead off with one of the best songs I've ever heard. And in the pre-digital file age, when we still listened to CDs, this meant that to listen to the title track, I was pretty much going to have to listen to the rest of the album.

Tonight's The Night is as bleak as pretty much anything else on this list, and would make the short list for any depressing mixtape. It doesn't sound that way: the riff -- sounds like it's comprised of bass playing single notes -- is fairly upbeat, accented by guitar lines from Nils Lofgren that wouldn't be out of place on any other mid-70s rocker. There's even a piano solo sounding like a slowed down Jerry Lee Lewis piece. I'm surprised it hasn't been sampled multiple times. It's good music, But it's everything else that makes it great.

So, Neil Young releases Harvest in 1972. It eventually goes multi-platinum, becoming the best-selling album of that year, making Young into a bona-fide superstar. It's a fine album, I don't particularly care for it outside of a couple of tracks, but I'm not going to hate on anyone who loves it (unless it's the only Neil Young they like, because c'mon man). Then two friends die of heroin overdoses: Crazy Horse's guitarist Danny Whitten and roadie Bruce Berry and, apparently, this kind of mass fame didn't suit Young all that well. So, in 1973, he records Tonight's The Night the album, opening with the title track, which explicitly outs the theme:

Bruce Berry was a working man
He used to load that Econoline van
A sparkle was in his eye
But his life was in his hands.

The record label refused to release it, shelving the album for two years, hoping Young would record something commercially viable, something that would capitalize on the success of Harvest. He didn't. (Young would later be sued by his label for making music that didn't sound like "Neil Young"... which is one of the most badass anecdotes I know of in popular music.)

It's obvious why the label was apprehensive. Just listen. There might be a single or two here, something that could get the masses fired up. But not the lead track.

And that's one of the things that makes it great. I was deliberate when I called the track bleak: this is grief, alright, the darkest before it gets better, where depression gives way to, well... This is one great "fuck it" to everything from one of the great "fuck it" songwriters. This is fatalism as it should be; not quite acceptance because that assumes too much impotence, but the fight against ...whatever, winnable or not, since the fight is all that matters.

-----
The album ends with "Tonight's The Night -- Part II". It's good, more ramshackle and off-key than Part I, but for the most part pretty much the same song. It provides a good counterpoint to the original, inverting just enough to keep the listener unbalanced.

-Lin

#99 : Hans Zimmer - You're So Cool

2012-02-19T23:43:00.005-06:00

Hans Zimmer - You're So Cool
from True Romance OST, 1993

More than any song on my list, this one takes me back to a a singe moment--a very particular night of my life. When I went to Cameroon in 2000 (Jesus Christ, 12 years ago), I had a fairly good idea that my life would be changed by the experience, but I'd be a fool to tell you that I was certain that I'd come out the other side as a professor of African politics. For that reason and others, my semester in Cameroon was one of the most important short chunks of time in my life--a period that influences my life every single day.

While there are a lot of people and a lot of memories that mean a lot to me from that time, the days and nights I spent with my two best friends --Dahveed Benson and Gustave River--were probably the most important. Dahveed was (is) my old camp counselor and sometimes boss at the Concordia Language Villages, as well as the former director of the study abroad program in Cameroon that I attended. Gustave was (at the time) his best friend--a rastafarian, reggee musician, and tailor with exceptional talent as a songwriter and clothing designer.

Despite being on sabbatical during my semester abroad, Dahveed was around for most of it, and it was with his help that I had most of my great adventures--his introductions to hundreds of Cameroonians across the country who knew before the rest of my group arrived in our sweaty blue minibus to ask for "Hubert," his urging that I take chances with food, travel, and crazy situations, and his beer. Oh, the beer. I ow my career as an Africanist to Dahveed more than anyone else.

So what of the song? My best, most memorable night in Cameroon was a simple one, about a month into the program. I'd been in country just long enough to have a twinge of homesickness, and Dahveed was getting ready to go on his own sabbatical adventures. So we decided to have a night in, with no pressure--no French, no planning or studying, no being "on" as very visible foreigners--just a case of Cameroonian beer and Dahveed's movie collection, sent to him film by film from the US by family and friends.

That night we watched his favorite move at the time--True Romance, a 1993 dark comedy and romance starring Christian Slater and Patricia Arquette, and written (mostly) by a then-barely known Quentin Tarrantino. The movie is about one of the most beautifully beknighted and inconvenient love affairs in the history of cinema--the nerdy comic book store clerk played by Slater and his hooker with a heart of gold-turned wife Arquette, on the run from the mob with a bag of stolen cocaine. It's not a perfect move, by any means--although with star appearances by Christopher Walken, Gary Oldman, and Val Kilmer, it ain't bad. But what's so great, so memborable about the film is its wonderful use of a mix of score and pop music--songs by Chris Isaac and Soudgarden mixed with Hans Zimmer's glockenspiel masterpiece, "you're So Cool." The song, which is a simple and clean, minimal, even, bit of echo-y percussion that builds to a slow climax over about 3 and a half minutes, plays ofer the opening and closing monologues given by Arquette's character, Alabama, a perfect match to her coquettish voice.

Despite the violence and gore predicated on Slater and Arquette's mad courtship and drug deal gone bad, the song ties their love into the narrative, giving it an emotional center in their relationship that many Tarantion films, with their hipper soundtracks full of jarring pop, lack. Over the next four hours, we watched it twice, Dahveed stopping on key scences to recite the dialoge, and me memorizing the scenes bit my bit. The night ended with a crazy drunken walk down to Gustave's tailor shop (where he was still working away at 2 AM on an old black Singer machine), more beers, and an even more drunkenly prepared can of potted French Cassoulet that Dahveed had brought over in his luggage several years before. It tasted of Heinz baked beans and duck fat, and it was brilliant.

Since that night, I've probably watched "True Romance" 30 times, each evoking memories of that night and a life I can't ever go back to. Dahveed and I are both married (he has two lovely young boys). I've never been back to Cameroon, and Dahveed left in the mid-2000s, burnt out on illness, ornaizational hassles, and a little witchcraft. Gustave, who meant so much to me that a picture of him and I still hangs in my living room (over my liquor cabinet, fittingly) disappeared in Amsterdam in 2004 (I think), jumping his travel visa and eventually making it to the US as an undocumented immigrant and asylum seekeer (asylum from what, we were never sure). My buddy Andre tracked him down in New York years later, but he wasn't the same--drugs, or hard living, or something else had made him into a person we didn't know any more.

There's no going back to the simplicity and (for me, at least) innocense of that first month in Africa, learning about what I loved and thinking about where it might lead. But that night, drunk as I was, that movie, this song (and even that cassoulet) were all perfect.

-Brandon

#99: Uncle Tupelo - Moonshiner

2012-02-17T13:43:00.002-06:00

Uncle Tupelo - Moonshiner
from March 16-20, 1992, 1992

In 2005, I once listed Moonshiner as my favorite song. It's not, obviously, but without the methodological benefit that good data management allows, it was the first song I could think of that stood a chance of being my favorite.

I'm guessing that at least a solid 10% of the songs on my list are drinking songs in one way or another (and I had to cut one of my favorite drunk songs due to the constraints of the project!) but no one does the genre as well as Uncle Tupelo. (Another of theirs will appear later in this list.) I think the general ethos is succinctly described in their song Life Worth Living:

We're all looking for a life worth living
That's why we drink ourselves to sleep.

And another line in I Got Drunk --

You spend half your time just staring into a beer
What you need, you know, you can't find here

-- that hits close to the same meaning; but, for years, I thought the line was "staring into a mirror," and I still like that better.

Moonshiner isn't a Tupelo original but an older folk song covered most notably by Dylan, the Clancy Brothers, and Cat Power. None of these other versions can match the devastating power of Farrar's delivery. While I was never able to really get into Son Volt (significantly preferring Tweedy's Wilco) I rank Farrar exceptionally high on my list of favorite vocalists. The single thing that makes good singers great is not technical ability -- this is what American Idol and its clones miss -- but the relatability of not only the singer to listener but the singer to material. Basically, when Farrar sings

I spent all my money
On whiskey and beer
...
If whiskey don't kill me
Lord, I don't know what will

he sounds like he means it, like he knows exactly what that implies. Given the stories and Tupelo's other work, it's not hard to believe that Farrar believed he'd drink himself to death.

When you're young, drunk, and depressed, it's not hard to believe that whiskey is the way out, whether or not you want it to be.

The song is simple and self-explanatory in both music and lyrics, with little wasted movement. Three verses comprising an effective biography:

The first, the scene: a moonshiner who has dedicated his life -- not just professionally but mentally -- to drink.

The second, the existence: daily moving among drink and drinkers, wanting better. I've always taken the focus on women as another contradiction, with the drinking being both the reason for loneliness and the reason to not try and make things better.

The third, the end. What I think temperance always misses is the comfort that drink provides, that it makes the world smaller and easier to handle. It's easy when all you want and need is a drink:

Let me eat when I'm hungry
Let me drink when I'm dry
Two dollars when I'm hard up
Religion when I die

The whole world is a bottle
And life is but a dram
When the bottle gets empty
Lord, it sure ain't worth a damn

The best drinking songs are those that make you want to drink more and never drink again. The best drinking songs make you into a Kierkegaardian [Drunk] Knight of Faith, to believe that both are good and both are possible.

(The best drinking songs make you make references like this. I am not drunk enough yet to continue the metaphor.)

Of all the versions I've heard of this song, the Cat Power one is (a distant) second:

-Lin

#100 - Pere Ubu - Nonalignment Pact

2012-02-17T13:09:00.002-06:00

Nonalignment Pact - Pere Ubu
from The Modern Dance, 1978

Since Lin decided to start with the delicate and minor-keyed "Via Chicago," it seems fitting that I should open with a thick slab of raucous noise--Pere Ubu's "Nonalignment Pact," the first track from their 1978 debut LP, The Modern Dance. Beginning with a series of shrill, almost painful shrieks from one of Allen Ravenstine's synths before dissolving into a nearly rockabilly guitar riff and the full-throated ravings of vocalist David Thomas (one of rock's few truly unique singers), "Nonalignment Pact" picks up where Pere Ubu's handful of early singles ("30 Seconds Over Tokyo," "Final Solution") with the late, lamented Peter Laughner started--with the sub-romantic ravings of a heartbroken Thomas, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

I wanna make a deal with you, girl
get it signed by the heads of state
I wanna make a deal with you, girl
get it recognized 'round the world.

Recognizing (as any decent scholar of international relations would) that the status of love depends upon the recognition of the community (isn't it obvious that Ubu would be constructivists?), Thomas begins and ends this song with the simple request that his ex-girl engage in a credible commitment to leave him the hell alone. The song careens on from there, at one point featuring Thomas's trademarked unhinged warble as he half scat-sings her "thousand other names." Naturally, these entreaties leave him winded, confused, and alone, barking out into the chaos and screaming again for her to just leave him alone. It's also fairly dance-able, in a spazzy, pogo and swing your arms around kind of way.

Ubu are a major touchstone for me, and not only because they're Ohio's number one all-time rock band. Back when I was young, impressionable, and still trying to figure out what punk rock was, David Thomas and Peter Laughner (who died before Ubu could record this record, but who will be making a return appearance in a later post) were among the first to show me that what I thought punk had to sound like was wrong, narrow, and no fun at all. The Modern Dance, along with Ubu's first singles (collected on the Terminal Tower compilation) were post-punk before there was punk, pushing boundaries that the NYC types didn't even realize existed. More than anything else, the joy I still get bopping up and down to this song late at night (and, in one memorable instance, tried to make up for my lack of interest in more conventional forms of parter dancing by urging my then-girlfriend, now-wife to join in) is the joy of knowing that we can make anything into punk, as long as we sing it with enough feeling.

-Brandon

#100: Wilco - Via Chicago

2012-02-15T12:56:00.000-06:00

Wilco - Via Chicago
from Summerteeth, 1999

The last few tracks added to my top 100 list were amazingly difficult but the choice ultimately came down to what I thought was more important for this project: the songs I've loved longer or the songs I love more now. I picked the former, though I can't really say way. All I know is that if I had made this list 9 years ago, Via Chicago would be in the top 20, and that was good enough for me to make sure it made it in.

I don't care what it's actually about; the opening lines

I dreamed about killing you again last night
And it felt alright to me
Dying on the banks of Embarcadero skies
I sat and watched you bleed

and the wikipedia article can lead to an interpretation of a mangle relationship. For me, this is a song about homesickness, occupying the same emotional place as I'll Be Home for Christmas but without being a crappy song about Christmas.

And literally: I grew up out west and my family still lived there when I moved to the midwest for college and stayed for nearly a decade, living between 3 and 5 hours from Chicago. Nearly every trip back to the family involved a connecting flight through O'Hare. But the song invokes more the return trip, the sense of loss of something good. Every leaving -- to go back to the place without family, the place that for better or worse, was my real home -- came with a dose of sadness and thinking about the roads not taken. The hardest choices are not between good and evil or bad and worse but between good and good.

In that way, it's also cleanly associated in my mind with the process of growing up or the even more ineffable realization that we're responsible for our decisions and their consequences.

I printed my name on the back of a leaf
And I watched it float away
The hope I had in a notebook full of white dry pages
Was all I tried to save

Via Chicago has this melancholy and slight confusion to it. The prominent minor keys do the heavy work, but it's all the little touches, too. The short piano break starting at about 2:55. The feedback present throughout the song, providing an almost unnoticed sense of unease, which becomes more and more pronounced towards the end of the song, until it threatens to derail everything a minute early. But then everything drops and it's just an acoustic guitar and Tweedy singing, "I'm coming home. I'm coming hone."

-Lin

Top 100 Songs: Introduction (Part 2)

2012-02-14T21:07:00.000-06:00

What Lin said.

Well, not exactly. Like Lin, I'm looking forward to a writing project that lets me reflect on a set of songs that I already feel like I know from the inside out. Rather than focusing passing judgement, I'm looking forward to being able to think again about why these songs are still so important to me, in most cases years after I first heard them. As an assistant professor still trying to find his feet (and get his tenure), I rarely have the time to sit and enjoy listening to music without some sort of ulterior motive--background noise when I read or write, to entertain, or to take the edge off a long walk to work. Despite the fact that I'll almost certainly have to turn in my music snob card for admitting it, I'd rather spend that time contemplating the grace, power, and perfection of these 100 songs than off on a search for the next new sound.

I've made lists like this before. Somewhere, it's possible that my friend Liz Mathews still has a CD of my "twenty favorite songs" circa 2003--a list heavy on The Lemonheads, and light on songs longer than 3 and a half minutes. I can't say that my process was as rigorous or systematic as Lin's. I don't really have data on what I listen to most often, or a rating system that's anything more than an ad hoc testament to how I feel sometimes at 1 AM and still flipping though old songs. Like with my own research, I made my list inductively, by pulling together a short list of my 15 or 20 absolute favorites and listening to them in epic late night sessions, seeing what they make me want to hear next.

The list is mostly guitar music, and I regret that I've not been able to get more, genre-wise, out of my dedicated Pitchfork reading from 2003-7. But it also reflects my efforts to get deeper into musics the indie set had left behind in the early 2000s--old blues, country, and soul songs, and the wonderful, half-forgotten bits and pieces I found there. My songs are, at first glance, older and more temporally disbursed than Lin's, reflecting that I was always better at digging music up after the fact than I was at following it when it was coming out.

When I finally got 100 songs in to some sort of rough order, I was surprised by what I saw. Old favorites from college were gone, replaced in some instances by deeper cuts on the same albums. When I read the list to Kim over the phone, she was at turns surprised by my revisionism (the songs that ended up making the cut by some of our favorite artists surpised me as much as they did her) and by my fidelity (my top ten has changed a lot less over the last decade then I expected). Ultimately, I found that what makes a good song for me hasn't changed all that much--I just know a lot more songs.

--brandon

Top 100 Songs: Introduction

2012-02-13T16:11:00.000-06:00

One of the big realizations that the "listen to every critically acclaimed and personal desired album from 2010" project gave us was that neither Brandon nor I are particularly good at creating new content on a consistent basis. Personally, I blame a life that exists outside the internet, so I'm not too worried. We're going to do this new project, though, and it'll work much better. As I mentioned quite a few times, the hardest albums to review were the middling ones, the okay-but-not-great, the ones that weren't actually bad enough to pan.

Here, though, we're going to each go through our top 100 songs. So we've agonized over our lists and checked them multiple times and I think we're good to go.

And a thanks to our devoted readers, willing to put up not only with months of nothingness, but also the complete navel-gazing that is a project like this. These are not the 100 best songs out there. They're not necessarily "100 songs I think you should know." They are 100 songs each that mean something to us. We are connoisseurs of music and have spent years and many dollars in pursuit of knowledge of the subject. In that there may be some value to you, if only that it may introduce you to songs you don't already know. But no guarantees: one of the things that I learned in making my list is that I leaned very heavy on my formative years of music geekdom -- high school and college. Perhaps this shouldn't be surprising.

Which means, you might already know all the songs on my list. (I'm not sure what's up with the outliers in 1970 and 1975 except that each year has one album represented twice. I also find it interesting that while the highest concentration is in the high school and college years, there are no songs from the year I graduated the former and started the latter.)

Very early on, Brandon suggested that we limit the list two only two songs per artist, otherwise our lists would be heavily skewed to our favorites and three quarters of the list would be from a half dozen artists. This wasn't a "hard" ceiling, as there were allowances for post-breakup bands, guest spots, and things like this. Essentially we just went with what made sense. This was my working definition:

* Uncle Tupelo, Wilco, and Son Volt count as three separate bands.
* CSN&Y is the same as CSN, but solo Young is different, even if the CSN&Y song is a Young song.

Quibble if you want, but it's the spirit that counts. Besides, I don't think there are any edge cases on my list.

I have a lot of tracks: one hundred songs counts as less than one-third of one percent of all tracks I have rated. I've been diligent for the last two years to rate every song I listen to -- which made compiling my list somewhat easier. So I queried my collection for everything with the highest rating. After culling the duplicates, I was left with 1651 songs. I went through this list, dividing them into four categories:

1) YES -- the songs that have to be included
2) PROBABLY -- the songs that should be included
3) MAYBE -- the songs that should be included, if I have room
4) NO -- the songs that aren't in the top 100

I took artist discographies as a whole and made sure that I only marked up to two tracks per artist yes, probably, or maybe. Even doing this, I was left with 157 YESs alone. Then, through this list, I marked "the ones that absolutely have to be included or else this entire project is a sham"...which gave me 81. Then I spent a few days agonizing over choosing 19 tracks from 76.

So, yeah, here we are. While the top 100 may be slightly different on a different day, I think it's as accurate as it possibly could be. I'm a little sad that it doesn't show a great deal of diversity: the only two pre-1960 songs are both classical works; country, blues, and rap are all under-represented. There's no reggae or jazz. There are artists I love that aren't represented at all (Old 97's, Leonard Cohen) but there are artists that I think have only one non-crap song (Xzibit). But it is what it is.

-- Lin

2010: M.I.A., Male Bonding

2011-07-25T21:40:00.000-05:00

M.I.A.
/\/\ /\ Y /\ (Maya)
Released July 13, 2010

Short Notes: Or: On The Value of Lowered Expectations

Brandon: B-

It’s not at all surprising that critics were wildly divided over this record. It’s a radical departure from her quirky but club-ready sound on her first two (outstanding) records, more abrasive, processed, and artificial. I’ve only followed parts of the story of M.I.A. the artist, who’s global fame has put her artistic decisions under a new, intense kind of critical scrutiny. And like Kanye, she’s responded by pulling into herself, with tinny beats and processed vocals evoking a new distance between her and the listener. Mainstream critical outlets have responded much as they did for Kanye--heaping praise on this record as the statement of a more mature artist. But with the exception of the AV Club and Bob Christgau (who draws the comparison explicitly in his favorable review, suggesting that, as an insular, fuck-up record, Maya accomplishes its goals with “rather more success than Kanye West on 808s and Heartbreak) , the indie press that brought M.I.A. her first attention were rather brutal (Pitchfork calls it a “shambling mess.”)

As always, the truth is closest to Christgau. /\/\ /\ Y /\ is neither shambolic nor a masterwork. It’s not a fun record (no “Sunshowers” here), without much of the humor that made her so endearing on Arular, but the industrial crunch of tracks like “Meds and Feds” is reasonably interesting in its own right, as is the synthy “XXXO.” Even if half the songs here are duds, she’s still making challenging, original music that’s clearly aiming for capital-A Art, with all that comes with being that kind of pop musician. For better or worse, I’d rather hear M.I.A.’s take on krautrock (“Illygirl”) than the second half of the Lucky Soul record, which tells you something.

Lin: B-

For me, M.I.A. is in the same category as pre-Dark Fantasy Kanye: a popularly loved and critically respected artist that I just don't get. I mean, "Paper Planes" is a burner in every sense of the word, but easily my favorite version of it is the Diplo Remix with Bun B and Rich Boy which minimizes M.I.A.'s own input. I've not been impressed with any of her previous work; the albums are good enough to throw on for background noise or, presumably, dancefloor grinding but even the relatively intricate beats rarely force attention. /\/\ /\ Y /\, for all the comparisons to Kanye, is no My Beautiful Dark Twisted Family. It seems like more of the same, though those with more familiarity to her back catalog could probably point out the differences.

My favorite track here is "Lovalot," eschewing the bang of everything else with a more subdued, tense and paranoid beat the slithers it way through a story of terrorism or freedom fighting or whatever. "Believer" comes close to the same, but lacks any payoff -- all tension with no release. The rest of the album isn't a mess (as Brandon points out) but it's a chore to get through. Only "XXXO" and, to a lesser extent, "Tell Me Why" work in the more club-friendly format that most of her work trades in.

Male Bonding
Nothing Hurts
Released May 10, 2010

Short Notes: More shoegaze/lo-fi pop that doesn’t reach the heights of other shoegaze/lo-fi of 2010

Brandon: B

Fitting right in with the noise-pop of bands (I don’t like all that much) like Vivian Girls and No Age, Nothing Hurts is a stomping, echo-y barnburner that veers between the nearly Husker Du/early Dinosaur jr /first Nirvana record (“Your Contact,” “Crooked Scene,” “Paradise Vendors”) and the more plodding drone of their contemporaries (“Franklin”). I’m not particularly into shoegaze when it’s not cut with equal or better parts of pop sensibility, and for the most part, this album holds my attention with solid riffs that overcome the affected, echo-chamber vocals. At 29 minutes, the shoegazy parts of this record I find less compelling never really subsume the punk I like much more. Not my favorite fuzzed-out record of the year (Dum Dum Girls and Ariel Pink write better songs, and balance their fidelity affects with more compelling pop), but not bad.

Lin: C

Like Brandon, I’m not particularly into shoegaze -- except when it’s an accent to a heaping pile of metal. And since I have this growing, well, ‘hatred’ is the right word, I guess, of muddied lo-fi pop music, my favorite thing about this album is its short short length. This strikes me as far more generic than the albums Brandon mentions (Ariel Pink, etc.) which also makes it worse, committing the dual sins of being bad and uninteresting. “Pirate Key” almost piqued my interest there for a second, making it my favorite track on the album, but the rest of it is like driving through Western Nebraska, trying to find a radio station with a strong enough signal.

2010: Los Campesinos!, Lucky Soul

2011-07-12T09:52:00.000-05:00

Los Campesinos!
Romance is Boring
Released January 26 (Wichita Recordings)

Short Notes: Scotland’s answer to Vampire Weekend?

LIN: C+

I think the Budweiser commercial using the opening of Los Campesinos!'s "You! Me! Dancing!" is brilliant. (I tried to find a copy of the ad online, but couldn't. If any readers can find it, post in the comments, please?) The build-up has just the right amount of tension that when it breaks it releases a flood of endorphins. Unfortunately, the song is six minutes long and goes downhill from there -- so I like imagine that the Bud commercial is simply a video for the song.

Which has little to do with this album before us, which I found really quite boring. (Cue headlines: Romance isn't boring, but Romance Is Boring is boring!) Nothing here comes close to the opening 90 seconds of "You! Me! Dancing!"... or, really, to the rest of that song, which I don't even much care for. I generally have more tolerance for music that is interesting or novel even if it fails. Even shit I hated (c.f. Girl Talk/Joanna Newsom) I have more respect for since it was 'good' enough to elicit an emotion at least. For whatever reason, I think the melodramatic song title "I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed. Just So You Know." pretty much sums it up.

BRANDON: B+

Not surprisingly, I’m a Los Campesinos fan. This kind of literate (with the big words and such), half-spoken, sunny pop has always been my stock-in-trade, the third strand of my core musical identity along with alt.country and old-time blues and country. I listened to their first record, the jittery, manic, and surprisingly angry Hold On Now, Youngster on repeat during my “lost” year of graduate school in 2008, screaming out the opening track, “Death to Los Campesinos!” with the windows down in the van on the way to Woodman’s.

Romance is Boring is a bigger, sonically fuller record. Los Campesinos are getting weirder, closer to Xiu Xiu (Jamie Stewart guests), and further from the bands I was hearing in them in 2008--Frightened Rabbits and Vampire Weekend, for starters. The more conventionally structured songs--”Romance is Boring” and the too-clever-by-half but still pretty great “Straight in at 101”--are the most successful, though, as lead singer/frontman Gareth Campesinos! (yes, they’re that kind of band) channels a prep-school version of Craig Finn or (perhaps more aptly) Eddie Argos from Art Brut, ranting about the failures of hipster love. “Straight in at 101” in particular really works for me, the story of a fumbling love played out by a kid who plays at hipsterdom, camouflaging his adolescent assholery (and love for a good chorus) with tight pants, mussy hair, and picky eating:

I think we need more post-coital
and less post-rock
feels like the build-up takes forever
but you never get me off.

Ladies and gentlemen, that’s why no one has sex while listening to Tortoise.

Unfortunately, too much of this record is given over to the very boring drone and repetition he’s criticizing--songs that lack the hooky vitality of this band’s best work. I still love it, but songs like “Coda: A Burn Scar int he Shape of the Sooner State” and “I Just Sighed, I Just Sighed, Just So You Know” are eminently skippable, which isn’t what you want from a taut pop record.

Lucky Soul
A Coming of Age
Released April 15 (Elefant)

Short Notes: British retro-pop that occasionally overcomes its genre trappings

BRANDON: B-

I love a good genre exercise as much as the next guy, and tamborine-heavy girl-group-baiting pop isn’t a bad genre to play with. It’s heavy on convention, offering a tight format that, with the slightest tweaking or transgression, can easily become something much more. And when Lucky Soul go straight for the hand-clapping, cliched sweet spot, these songs overcome the fairly ordinary songwriting to become something fairly compelling, if slight--like a less punky, British Detroit Cobras. The first four tracks on this record do this very well, mixing lilting “whoa-oh” choruses (“Whoa Billy”) with driving mid-tempo numbers that sound like Northern Soul outtakes (“Love 3”) and the lovely, string-laden “Up in Flames.” But when the songs tray too much from the faux-Northern Soul format, the record is mostly forgettable. Such is the danger in plying “retro-pop,” as Lin has often noted: why would you put on new derivatives when you can listen to the real thing?

LIN: B

Which is amusing, since I like the first half of this album a great deal. Part of it is assuredly a reaction against the muddied lo-fi of the indie-acclaimed best-of pop albums of the year that I continue to rail on. The two released singles ("Whoa Billy" and "White Russian Doll") captures the raw joy of the best late 60's girl groups, making it perfect for summer listening. "Love 3" is fits in nicely, a lean two minute slice of tightly constructed soul pop. In many ways, this tracks are what I've always wanted from Belle and Sebastian but never got. But Brandon's right: outside of the title track, nothing on the second half of the album distinguishes itself from its sources or its contemporaries. But 3 pretty great and 2 pretty good tracks is enough for a 'B' and a qualified recommendation, if you like this sort of thing.

2010: LCD Soundsystem, Lissie

2011-06-17T23:59:00.001-05:00

LCD Soundsystem
This Is Happening
Released May 18, 2010(DFA/Virgin)

Short Notes: This may be happening...but is it a good thing?

Lin: B+

I've only recently come to the point where I'm willing to say I like dance and/or electronic music. Part of the reason is exactly what that statement usually implies: I started my musical journey in a much different place and shunned the sounds that didn't correspond with that ethos. But it's also my mostly-quixotic belief that one ought to be able to explain why one likes what one likes and it took awhile for me to feel like I could do that. LCD Soundsystem was one of the gateways for me, though it took me a long time to realize it.

What makes Murphy's first two albums particularly special to me is that they feel like albums: coherent and complete artistic statements, not just a collection of potential singles. Coming from a rock background and having my musical education take place in the (barely) pre-mp3 error, this means a lot. So much of dance music seems to be made for short attention spans, it's nice when music presents a fuller argument.

This is Happening also seems to do this -- definitely to the albums' credit. But it lacks the vitality of the second and, especially, the first. I want my music to grab me and force me to listen to it. A singer needs to have the force of will to convince the listener that they have something to say and that they know what they're talking about. Listen to something like "All My Friends" and you can hear it. Or "New York I Love You" or "Daft Punk Is Playing At My House." I don't hear it on the new one. It sounds too complacent. The "B+" rating is probably too low, given from a place of disappointment: the music here matches that of his earlier work and the lyrics are still top-notch. But it's missing the emotional component that makes it essential.

Brandon: A-

Having listened to this record now almost a dozen times, I think I get why James Murphy decided to end this project and move on. That’s not a commentary on the quality of the record (which is, I think, quite high, if not quite as good as Sound of Silver), but I think you can hear it in the music, in the extended, more meandering songs that make up most of This is Happening. As Lin suggests, this is a much less immediate record than the two previous LCD Soundsystem outings, and excepting the gleeful “Drunk Girls,” there’s not a song under just shy of six minutes long. “You Wanted a Hit,” indeed.

That said, I find this record quite powerful. There’s a lot less tongue-in-cheek flippancy in these songs, which ride dancily along on some real angst. “Pow Pow,” which I think of as one of the album’s standout tracks, juxtaposes the goofiness of the onomatopoetic chorus and throwaway diss lines directed at Village Voice writers with some real self-contemplation--about the perils of he scene, failing relationships, and opening oneself up to new experiences. And the opening track, “Dance Yrself Clean,” is a monster. No one does wry lyrics with minimal beats as well as Murphy, and this is his apotheosis, the distillation of his band’s signature sound into a blurting, thumping, kraut-rock mess of emotion. Murphy’s vocals have never been better than on this track either, as he switches effortlessly from his normal singsong-y delivery to an affecting yelp. All in all, a worthy swansong.

Lissie
Catching A Tiger
Released August 17, 2010 (Fat Possum)

Short Notes: Sunny, blonde Cali folk-pop-rock that doesn’t really know what it wants to be.

Brandon: B-

After hearing the opening track, the quirky, clanging, poppy “Record Collector,” I had reasonably high hopes for this record. “Record Collector” is an endearing, soaring pop song (if a little overstuffed with ideas that depart from the solid structure of the first minute), with Lissie’s Stevie Nicks-lite vocals focused and taut. But the wheels come off with the second track, the regrettable, limp “When I’m Alone,” and the record becomes something of an eclectic mess.

I don’t know Lissie’s back catalog, although her debut EP got enough buzz to put her on my radar (and thus on the list), but she sounds like an artist who’s either not yet certain of what kind of songwriter/performer she is, or like an artist whose management is deeply misguided. There are at least four producers on the record (including Kings of Leon collaborator Jacquire King and British singer/songwriter Ed Harcourt), and the album veers wildly from piano ballads in a West Coast Regina Spektor mould (“Bully”) to galloping quasi-country (“Little Lovin’), straight pop-country in the Dixie Chicks mould (“Cuckoo”), and the sort of shuffling blues that gets you a deal with Fat Possum (“Needle Starts to Fall”).

“Stranger,” which sounds like a remastered Petula Clark B-side and is one of the stronger tracks, doesn’t even remotely fit with the rest of the album. Although it’s a charming (if slight) pop song, it disrupts the album’s flow, and might have been better served as a single or the lead track of an EP. Nothing here is particularly bad (although “When I’m Alone” and “Oh Mississippi,” co-written by Harcourt and sounding just like a turgid British take on classic American folk balladry, are the weakest links), but none of the good ideas are fully developed, either. I’d be curious to hear a record on which Lissie herself takes control. For what it's worth, the live video I've posted above of "Cuckoo" sounds far better than the album version, and I suspect she's a compelling live performer who's got a shot at making a good record with better direction in the studio.

Lin: C+

Catching a Tiger starts off well enough and I start to think of yet another way to say "it's alright but unspecial." Then it takes a turn for the worse, putting in a couple of totally skippable tracks. The nadir is the inexplicable inclusion of "Stranger" which, at best, sounds like the girl group heyday or, at worst, a Best Coast knock off. It makes no sense in context of the album and takes me out of the listening experience. It's indicative of the album's major problem: it has no ethos or point it's trying to make. It's scattered, but not in the schizophrenic way, which can turn out okay; no, it tries too hard to be everything to everyone (at least in an indie context -- this is no repeat of the Katy Perry album). There's some decent moments here (first single "In Sleep," perhaps, or "Look Away"), but nothing to recommend it over the couple dozen similar but better albums we've also reviewed here.

2010: Kylesa, Laura Marling

2011-06-15T23:07:00.001-05:00

Kylesa
Spiral Shadow
Released November 9, 2010 (Season of Mist)

Short Notes: Metal for the non-metal people, but it’s plenty hard in its own right.

Lin: A-

This, more than any album, was the one I looked forward to reviewing the most when we compiled the master list of 2010 albums. It appeared on many of the year end best ofs, both general lists and those that specialized in metal. And while I've gotten more into, for lack of a different descriptor metal-metal over the last year or so, I still tend to gravitate more towards those artists working with in a traditional 'rock' -- and, by extension, blues -- framework. Which is not to say that this album is "traditional" (whatever that would mean), just that this would be another great entry point into the genre if you're looking.

In writing this review, I found myself whistling along to the riff in "Forsaken," if that tells you anything.

The same part of me that wants to throw this one on the playlist is the same that loved Baroness's Blue Record from 2009. Kylesa doesn't quite reach the highs of Baroness, but they're more consistently on while mining, more or less, the same vein. You can consider this on par with that, an effective one-two counterargument for those that believe Mastodon is the standard in 'crossover' metal. Many reviews of Spiral Shadow like to point out its psychedelic flourishes; while I think they're overstating its influences (as in: you probably shouldn't go into this looking for Hendrix-as-metal), but it is a point of contrast to the other bands I mentioned above.

Brandon: A-

As I’ve mentioned before, the metal records on our list are the hardest for me to review. Even though I’ve listened to more metal since November than at any other time in my life, I still can’t really say that I understand most of it. I can’t really channel the emotion that I hear in Agalloch for myself, and unlike nearly ever good punk band I know of, most metal doesn’t make me feel like I understand how the songwriter and the musicians feel.

That said, this record is without a doubt my favorite metal record of the year. It’s not the best--it lacks the gravitas, the impact, and the clear vision of Agalloch’s metal masterpiece. But you can bet I’ll be listening to Spiral Shadow in 2012. The album starts off a bit slow, with the sludgy “Tired Climb” and the speedier but undistinguished “Cheating Synergy.” But things start to get more interesting from there, and by the time track 5, the rather epic “Don’t Look Back” comes around, Kylesa’s rather unique sound (dual drummers, male/female harmonies, the latter sung by Laura Pleasants, whose occasional lead vocals provide an enjoyable variety) comes together into something that sounds, well, like hard rock with a real kick. This record has its proggy and stoner moments, but the best songs sound like a tremendously aggro version of The Pixies or Dinosaur jr (I can almost hear Kim Deal on the title track). It’s probably obvious that I’d like a metal record where many of the touchstones are post-punk/pre-grunge bands I already enjoy, but this record is plenty heavy, too--just not in a way that get in the way of a good hook every now and again. Also, this record has the strongest second half of any record on the list with a relatively undistinguished side one. Recommended.

Laura Marling
I Speak Because I Can
Released April 6, 2010 (Astralwerks)

Short Notes: 21 year old British folk prodigy evokes the golden age of British folk

Lin: B+

Like nearly all ~~folk~~ albums, I Speak Because I Can works best at its darkest:

There's hope in the air
Hope in the water
But there's no hope for me
Your life serving daughter

In these moments Marling's able to hang with the best of them, continuing the line from Lost Highway through Knoxville Girl and into No Depression. Maybe it's just the British folk thing, but let me throw in one of WhoopeeInHell's patron saint Richard Thompson as an "at her best" comparison. I love ugly things said beautifully; Thompson is a master of this, Marling easily could be.

The problem is that these moments comprise less than half the album's 37 minute run time. The rest are not bad exactly but are undistinguished. First single "Goodbye England (Covered in Snow)" is a good example of this. It's power rests on the lyrics of nostalgia and homesickness, but it's such that, if you don't get the same feeling or buy into it, it's filler. My apophenia wants to draw a connection to Billy Bragg's "A New England" and while there's a good chance they are completely unrelated, the newer song doesn't stand up as well.

I'll come back to this album in the future since the highs ("Hope In the Air", "Devil's Spoke, "Alpha Shallows", "What He Wrote") are high enough and I'll like it more than I do now. I have and listen to so much music that it's rare I'll put on the same album more than once a year (...if that) if there's not something the grabs me on first spin. Folk, Country, Singer/Songwriter -- these are the genres that suffer most. I'll throw on metal when I'm just looking for something to listen to while doing other things, Hip-Hop or Dance when a driving beat is necessary, Rock as the all-purpose go-to. More than the louder genres, albums like this are best when they're familiar: "comfort" is often vital to liking the music, but that's usually only attained via repeated listens. This is true in other genres, sure -- the classics are classics for a reason -- but because of the bedside sing-along or front porch relaxation or cathartic ethos, it's so much more essential in folky music.

Brandon: A-

I agree with Lin about the Richard Thompson comparison, although I think I’d cite the albums he made with Fairport Convention with the amazing Sandy Denny more than his solo work. Like Denny, evoking the emotions of loss and pain are what Marling does best, taking folk cliches (her fingers squeaking on the chord changes on “Made by Maid” to evoke intimacy) and turning them into quotidian but quite moving stories of romantic loss. Of course, she’s not the singer Denny was--her young but husky, tired voice sounds more like Chan Marshall’s--but the songwritinghere is consistently quite strong. My favorites are different than Lin’s (“Blackberry Stone,” “ Rambling Man,” which sounds the most like classic Brit folk, and the title track), but I concur that this record is well worth the time.

2010: Katy Perry, Lady Antebellum

2011-05-26T22:31:00.003-05:00

Katy Perry
Teenage Dream
Released August 24, 2010 (Capitol)

Short Notes: This is how major label pop ends: not with a bang, but with a whimper that consists mostly of whipped cream shot from aerosol cans attached to large breasts.

Lin: C

My office has taken to this game of rickrolling each other with Rebecca Black's "Friday." I've heard the original so many times now and many of the remakes/parodies. The original video has over 140 million views and nearly 2.8 million 'dislikes.' Perry's album was nominated for a best album grammy and is certified multi-platinum. With maybe two exceptions, I'm not sure I could tell these two artists apart. (Not helped by Perry's "Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F)" which is actually inferior to Black's weekend ode.)

Let's get the good parts out of the way. Second single "Teenage Dream" is why I included the album in the first place, as a friend with a generally good taste in music claimed it was one of the best singles of the year. True? No, but it's alright in so far as it goes. "E.T." and "Circle The Drain" provide some much needed gravitas (comparatively) and could be saved by the right type of mixtape.

And now the bad. Generic. Cloying. Tries to hard (c.f. "Peacock" which has barely more subtlety than your average ICP track). Generic. Boring. It loses nearly all the comparison games: compare, for instance, the Snoop Dogg-featuring track "California Gurls" with Robyn's Snoop Dogg featuring "U Should Know Better." It's inoffensive pop music -- a common critique of the genre, but much more damning since it so wants to be edgy. And maybe it is. If you're 12.

Brandon: C

Let's start with the positives. The singles--the ones I'm regularly exposed to, living in a region of rural Ohio without a classic rock radio station, and requiring, despite my impeccable liberal elite credentials, the occasional break from NPR--aren't half bad, as far as these things go. Of course, I'm increasingly mystified by teen-oriented pop (I was warned this would happen, but it snuck up on me a little) but there are things Katy Perry does rather well. I've never particularly cared to be "young forever," there's a certain naive charm to "Teenage Dream," and it's got a big ol' chorus. "Firework" works well as a Pink-style, vaguely rocking song about empowerment, and even though Snoop Dogg's verse is a travesty, "California Gurls" has a legitimate hook. So there's that.

But even evaluated on its own terms, there's a whole lot of mediocrity here, most of which will probably seem obvious to the sorts of people who read our blog. But lest you think I'm some sort of anti-pop snob, I'd like to rehearse the arguments, anyway. This is the sort of music audiophiles provide as evidence that the MP3 format has led to the decline of production values. Even her best tracks sound hollow, with big beats, synths, and the occasional instrumental flourish (as with the sax in "Last Friday Night [T.G.I.F.]") all compressed within an inch of their lives, with no depth to the arrangements. It's not that I have a particularly good sound system, but this record sounds better on the earbuds I use at the gym than on my home stereo. I was surprised at just how obvious the hollowness was--this is a decay in quality that wasn't evident even in the pop records ten years ago. Thankfully, it's still not entirely crowded out more complex soundscapes (Gaga, for example, who despite her reliance on pretty straightforward 4/4 Euro-dance beats, makes music that's at least passable on headphones).

Lyrically, the story is much worse. Beyond the singles, there's really not a listenable song here. Part of it is that Katy Perry's persona is really unpleasant to me--there's not even much nodding and winking here with regards to the sexual content ("Peacock"). Rather than simply being sexy, this just sounds forced, sort of like the cheesy single-entendres of the terrible self-titled Liz Phair record of a few years ago. Perry lacks a musical (as opposed to visual/public) identity. She tries to "rock," but doesn't do it as well as Pink or even Avril Lavigne (whose "What the Hell" is actually quite pleasant, although the video is product-placed within an inch of its life),

and she does the sexual liberation thing lyrically in a way that makes her (or rather, her handlers) seem rather desperate for the male gaze and its approval. She tries to nod towards hip-hop, but as Lin notes, doesn't come within a mile of what Robyn is doing. She's not the singer Christina Aguilera is, and the Auto-tune and pitch-correction are all over the place on these tracks. There's just not much reason to listen to this record given the available alternatives.

And this leads to Brandon's deep thought for the day: When will artists like Katy Perry simply stop releasing albums all together? Given that her sales (less that 200,000 units in the first week) really don't compete with what was possible in the late 1990s, and given that pop albums like this get huge initial sales bumps from deep discounting at places like Amazon, why not just release a steady stream of $1.50 singles, rather than an album that ends up being marked down to $5 to get a big sales bump? If an artist like Katy Perry can release three or four Top-5 singles in a year, why bother with filler-laden albums that get slagged not only by me, but even by more mainstream critics? Since album sales don't seem to drive the revenue stream the way they once did, why dilute your best product with the likes of "The One That Got Away?"

Lady Antebellum
Need You Now
Released 26 January 2010 (Capitol)

Short Notes: It's one of the biggest albums of 2010, but when your grandchildren see it at their local post-modern flea market in 2045, they won't even recognize it.

Lin: C+

Five dollar albums from Amazon will be my death, allowing me to pick up, on a whim, zeitgeist albums without a significant amount of guilt. (Most albums are worth getting for $5, you see.) I knew, of course, the quadruple platinum, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, most downloaded country song EVER (and 9th overall), the all-around massive chart hit "Need You Now." Hell, it's my father's ring tone. I like the song, but it's unclear at this point if it's due simply to familiarity or the psuedo-nostalgia of being loved by people I love. So there's that.

The rest of the album is generally generic pop country that Main Street Nashville has been producing for years. Maybe it's because I generally stay away from the genre, but I have a higher tolerance for the unexicitingness of mass produced country as compared to mass produced pop, hence the higher grade than the Katy Perry, even though they have similar sins. Lady Antebellum's songwriting is stronger, with some moments that threaten to break through the walls of my cynical detachment. ("American Honey" and "Something 'Bout a Woman" being the two best examples.) For better or worse, Lady Antebellum sounds more earnest in their begging and pleading than a number of the artists we've reviewed, even though it's been overmanufactured, removing the rawness that is necessary for it to truly be a positive. Anyway, more likely than not, you already know whether or not you need to pick this one up, and I'm in no position to convince you one way or another. For what it’s worth, this is the best ‘C’ album of the year.

Brandon: D+

My reaction to this album is the mirror of Lin's. I think I tolerate fluffy pop (I do watch "Glee," after all) better that I tolerate post-Shania/Faith country dreck. There’s really nothing here I find either interesting or clever. This is pop-country crossover at its most eager, referencing Skynyrd and Springsteen (“Perfect Day” and “Stars Ahead,” in which they refer to themselves as a “rock and roll band”) in the lyrics while aiming square at the teenage girl/mother of teenage girl nexus. There’s an equal number of happy and sad songs (although nothing too unhappy), and with two lead singers (Hillary Scott and Charles Kelley), there’s enough variety here to keep anyone from catching on to the underlying lack of variety. Lin’s right that the songwriting is stronger here than on the Katy Perry record, but this is still country/pop by the numbers--professional, but forgettable.

The day that I listened to this record, I also happened to attend a flea market. Since there aren't a lot of buried treasures at a rural Ohio flea market (mostly, people are selling recent NASCAR memorabilia and used DVDs), I typically look through the stacks of old records that are often an afterthought for most vendors. I've occasionally pulled some good stuff this way--especially country from the 1960s and lesser-known classic rock albums--but mostly, the sorts of LPs that end up at these kinds of things are what people were actually listening to 50 years ago. I see an awful lot of dog-eared copies of Andy Williams, Johnny Rivers, Peter Nero, and Herb Alpert--sappy, sentimental, and string-laden, and often in the form of Christmas records or record company samplers.

My point isn't to be needlessly mean, but when people my age (even musically plugged-in kids like me), think about what was important about pop music in the 1960s, this isn't what comes to mind. Sure, it was on the charts, but so was a lot of other better material. We forget just how ubiquitous this sound was in lower middlebrow American culture, and when I hear Lady Antebellum (or Rascal Flatts, or the execrable Sugarland), this is what I think of. If it were the early 70s, Lady Antebellum would be guesting on the "Lawrence Welk Show." This is the kind of music that, in an earlier time, would have left a demonstrable physical presence of its former popularity, but no one in the future would have been able to hum.

But times change. This record has moved 3.2 million, but with the rapid change in technology, it’s unlikely to have a flea market afterlife. This is the record that, in effect, defines pop music in 2010. No one I know thinks of Whipped Cream and Other Delights as the music that best captures the essence of 1966,

but it was the best selling album in the US that year. It’s unlikely Need You Now will be as well-remembered as its chart success would suggest. Since its legacy isn't guaranteed by an overwhelming quantity of physical media, how will we remember it at all?

2010: Justin Townes Earle, Kanye West

2011-05-19T23:34:00.002-05:00

Justin Townes Earle
Harlem River Blues
Released September 14, 2010 (Bloodshot)

Short Notes: Steve’s kid grows up.

Brandon: B+

I’ve got a soft spot for Justin Townes Earle. He’s Steve Earle’s kid, and named after his dad’s good friend (and SMWiH hero) Townes Van Zandt. He’s also best known around these parts for his revelatory cover on pretty much my favorite song ever: The ‘Mats’ “Can’t Hardly Wait”. But honestly, my first couple times through this record, it really wasn’t working for me. Growing out of his more youthful alt-country sound and into a retro sound that sounds a little like the recent Preservation Hall Jazz Band (the one with Andrew Bird, Jason Isbell, and Buddy Miller) album stripped of (most of) the horns. It’s a little dixieland, really. But it’s grown on me substantially--most notably the lilting, romantic “One More Night in Brooklyn” and the swinging blues “Ain’t Waitin’ ”--and I’m inclined to think it’s a nice album for a Saturday afternoon.

Lin: B-

Earle had been on my "List of Artists to Check Out" for some time, but before this album came up in the list I hadn't heard any of his work. This should be right up my alley: Earle's dual namesakes (both of whom I like), signed to Bloodshot, and spoken well of by friends with similar taste. But I find this more unexciting than anything. It's fine, but it's not as interesting as, say, the recently reviewed Joe Pug album. In a way, it reminds me of why it took me so long to get into Lucero: excellent on paper but merely competant and boring in execution. I can get why people like this, but I need something just a little bit more.

Kanye West
My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
Released November 22, 2010 (Def Jam)

Short Notes: A motherfucking monster.

Lin: A

I want to hate this album. I find Kanye's previous albums extremely overrated, with something like 6 good tracks spread among the four albums. His public persona and actions are ridiculous. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy appeared on nearly every end of the year best of list, usually near the top. I want to hate it, but I don't. This is the album where I finally see the same genius that everyone else does.

So, at this point, there's not much I can say that hasn't already been said by critics more talented than me. Cultural zeitgeist, critical darling; one of the most vital albums of the year, forcing you to pay attention as it spins not uncontrollably but purposefully into inextricable self-psychologizing and ultimately a self-destruction or, probably more accurate, a de-mythologizing. (Or is it the opposite?) Yes, the title is appropriate.

I mean, seriously:

I have no idea what that is, but I’ve watched it about two dozen times over the last 3 days. It's not properly a music video (2 minutes long?), more like promo for a video. Or a teaser for the album. Regardless, it’s utterly fascinating and seems oddly indicative of the album-as-listening-experience. "POWER" is one of the highest highlights on the album (even though I'm tricked every time by the riff-less Crimson sample) and that video is ridiculous in every awesome way. But there's also "Monster" with the somewhat disturbing video and fantastic verse by Nicki Minaj (who also provided the best moment on Drake’s album). And “Runaway” -- entirely deserving of Pitchfork’s “second best track of the year” designation. There’s exactly one less-than-good track and my biggest complaint is that the highs are so high I don’t have the patience to listen to the merely great tracks and skip ahead.

Highly recommend. This is a pick that everyone got right.

Brandon: A+

This record is a lot of things. Kanye West is a complete and total asshole--a terrible person whose misogyny is irredeemably banal (and brutally violent), a casual, almost lazy racist (there’s a lot in Ta-Nehisi Coates’ rather brutal takedown of this record for The Atlantic Monthly to agree with) and a remarkably narcissistic man, even in the golden age of over-exposed celebrity. Parts of this album make me a little sick.

I’m also increasingly convinced, after listening to it a couple dozen times, that he might have made the greatest hip-hop record of all time.* My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is clearly rooted in his earlier work--the soul samples, the electronic thump, the biting self-criticism that undermines the bravado. But it’s also something different, something more. Musically, it’s without a weak or slow moment. The beats are huge, and even the non-singles bring me back for repeats. Lyrically, this is ‘Ye’s best rapping. His style is plastic, and despite his unquestionable talent, is without a clear identity of its own--affecting a Lil Wayne-style flow on “Monster,” technically proficient if not silky smooth most of the time, and without a distinctive characteristic. In terms of the flow, most of the guests here--Raekwan, the remarkable Pusha T, Jay-Z, especially--are demonstrably superior. But Kanye blows everyone away on every single track here, mostly with sheer bravado and pathos. Has there ever been a more pathos-laden rapper than Kanye? He’s a master producer, but nothing he does feels technical. That doesn’t mean he’s not calculating, but he has a remarkable talent for sounding immediate.

I’m not inclined to waste more time trying to describe the record, because I’m not sure I can communicate just how remarkable it is. Let’s just say that “Runaway” is probably my song of the year. It’s 6 minutes of Kanye viciously undermining himself and his less self-conscious doppelganger Pusha T (of the mighty Clipse), followed by what amounts to Kanye’s version of Neil Young’s Trans--his painful lament, pitchshifted into incomprehensibility with Autotune, as though he wants us to know how much he hates himself, but he just can’t quite bear to say it out loud. And truthfully, self-loathing is the dominant theme of this record. Kanye seems to genuinely hate himself--he’s constantly chipping away at his own arrogant bravado, even when, as in “Monster,” he spends most of the song in classic self-promotion.

This is rap’s White Album: a big sprawling, genius mess, with Kanye’s personality crisis providing the John, Paul, and George parts (Rick Ross is Ringo. I kinda hate Rick Ross). Absolutely crucial.

*Note: If it's not this record, what is the greatest hip-hop album of all time? Illmatic? The Chronic? Ready to Die? Something old school, like It Takes a Nation of Millions... or Paid in Full? Hip-hop is increasingly (hell, popular music is increasingly) a singles game, and I'm not sure how many more defining album-length statements hip-hop as we know it right now has in it. The strongest argument for this record as opposed to the finest 90s records is that Kanye seems to be aiming for something--musically, obviously, but lyrically, too--more complex, more universal (by way of the particularity of our fame culture), more ambitious. If this is The White Album (or maybe hip-hop's Dark Side of the Moon, in its ability to be proggy but hit the mainstream), then Illmatic sounds like Elvis's 1956 self-titled--great on its own terms, but clearly the product of an earlier time.

2010: Jonsi, Josh Ritter

2011-05-14T22:35:00.000-05:00

Jonsi
Go
Released April 6. 2010 (XL)

Short Notes: Sigur Ros frontman makes a pop record, mostly.

Lin: B+
A solo album essentially in name only, where the best moments are those that come closest to his main band. It's more accessible than Sigur Ros, probably, but accessibility was never their problem. There's still the majestic chord progressions and non-English singing, but the songs are shorter and generally less complex. It's real easy to say that if you're a fan of Sigur Ros, this is a worthwhile purchase, though it doesn't reach the level of Sigur's better albums. Indeed, this is a "throw it on and don't think about it too hard" album that doesn't require much active listening as many of the tracks blend together in one long drone-y atmospheric. The one track that stands out here is "Tornado," which has the pathos of the first Sigur Ros album.

Brandon: B-
Among the many terrible things I have to publicly admit in order to write for this blog, I must confess that I never enjoyed Sigur Ros. Most of my college friends and a number of my grad school friends absolutely loved them--bought rare releases, saw them in concert, described the rapturous experiences they had with the music. I just never felt it. And so in as much as this isn’t like Sigur Ros (and Lin’s right--Jonsi brings the pop here alongside the weird), I prefer it. The lead track and single, “Go Do,” is a piece of commercial-ready post-millennial dream-pop, its insistent happiness and upbeat attitude verging on The Polyphonic Spree. The rest is a little more eclectic--lots of blips and beeps and vocal manipulations alongside the soaring verses-as-choruses and cheery orchestration. It’s a little saccharine for me (even with the weirdness), but it has it’s charms. It sounds like something a Cirque de Soleil performance could be built around, if they were so inclined. I’m not sure if that’s an endorsement or not.

Josh Ritter
So Runs the World Away
Released May 4, 2010 (Pytheas)

Short Notes: Much-loved singer-songwriter mostly succeeds

Brandon: B-
Josh Ritter’s 2003 record Hello Starling is much beloved by the the indie singer-songwriter community. It’s a justifiable classic of the last decade in songcraft--wordy, clever, built less on hooks and more on long, intricate verses that tell simple stories with lots of memorable lines. His newest outing isn’t nearly as strong, although it has its rewards. Sonically, Ritter’s work is a lot more diverse now--more orchestration and a much more dynamic mix of tempos and sounds. When this plays to his strengths as a storyteller (“Folk Bloodbath”), his way with a slow crescendo (“Change of Time”), or he works out a relatively straightforward hook (“Lantern”), this works out. But too often, the music is too busy when the songs are least interesting (“The Remnant”), or his use of drone-y keyboards for atmospherics (something one of my favorite singer-songwriters, Richard Buckner, has done expertly) falls flat (“See How Man Was Made”).

Of our run of singer-songwriter albums, I like this rather less than the Joe Pug album, or even than the Ben Weaver or Doug Paisely albums--all of which are less Randy Newman, or even Freedy Johsnston or Ron Sexmith (read: less polished and literate) and more, well country. Ritter’s strengths are his quirks as a writer, but I think he works best musically when he plays it simple and straight.

Lin: B+
Even now, after I've spent such an inordinate amount of time learning about popular music, I can name only two and a half good musical acts from my home state of Idaho. So, I have a particular nostalgic love for Josh Ritter's music, even though someday I'll end up owning this shirt and didn't hear him until I left the state. (Nonetheless, Ritter's 2006 track "Idaho" always heightens any remaining homesickness.) Despite having some wickedly good tracks in his oeuvre -- Hello Starling's "Kathleen" is one of my all-time favorite songs -- Ritter's never made a front-to-back great album. That's not changed with So Runs The World Away, which follows a similar format to his previous work: fairly inconsistent but with a couple of pretty great tracks. The highlight is "Folk Bloodbath" a reworking/retelling of the Stagger Lee and Louis Collins fables. (There's some meta elements at work here, too, if you're familiar with the Mississippi John Hurt 'originals.') If you're already familiar with Ritter's work, this is a worthy pick-up. If not, there are better places to start (Hello Starling) or, better yet, get someone who knows to make you a mix.

2010: Joanna Newsom, Joe Pug

2011-05-12T00:56:00.000-05:00

Joanna Newsom
Have One On Me
Released February 23, 2010 (Drag City)

Short Notes: The big indie star neither of us get.

Lin: C-

There is so much hubris on display here that I don't know if I should respect it more or less. First, the inevitable: a triple-disc? Over two hours worth of music? Of all the albums our preliminary 'To Review' list, this was the one I was dreading the most. I do not like The Milk-Eyed Mender at all -- it would be in the running for a top-10 slot of the worst albums I have. Ys is better, mostly because the first track there ("Emily") is somewhat good, but I still want to never ever put it on.

Like the Girl Talk album -- or any album that evokes such strong dislike -- I feel I ought to offer more details as justification. And like Girl Talk's All Day, Have One On Me is the best album by an artist that hasn't put out any good albums. Unlike Girl Talk, though, I dislike Joanna Newsom not because of some philosophical disagreement, but because the music just isn't good.

That's not entirely fair. Newsom is a talented arranger and player, and there are moments where I can start to see the beauty that other reviewers have mentioned. There are other moments where I wish someone I liked covered the song. This is where the bad part of hubris comes in: someone just needs to say "no" to her -- or at least be a sounding board. Example: Del Tha Funkee Homosapien is one of my favorite pure rappers, but none of his solo stuff is particularly good. But throw him in with another strong musical personality that can bring out the best and leave the worst -- someone like Dan The Automator -- and you get the genius of Deltron 3030.

Then there's also her singing, which I just find grating. Now, this is where I prove my cred by pointing out that Tom Waits is my favorite artist, I own and listen to a half dozen Beefheart albums, and I listen to more black metal than most folks you know. I'm not opposed to difficult music or singing. But while Waits' growl works when you're banging on chairs or engaging in whiskey-soaked mourning, the piercing aspect of Newsom's voice is never really at home over stately music. This is a personal preference of mine. YMMV. I will say that it's more appealing on this album, which goes a long way in explaining why I think it's her best.

To this album specifically: it's rambling and never gets into any sort of groove, either musically or narratively, so it feels exactly as long as it is. There are some moments that could someday form the basis for some sort of reverie, "You and Me, Bess," for example, with it's lone trumpet accompanying Newsom's harp. And the harp is less central than on her previous works, which is better: it's a good sound, but isn't full enough to base a song (let alone an album) around.

Brandon: C

So, I like it better than Milk-Eyed Mender, for what it’s worth. A lot of the “rough” edges (or, at least, as rough as the edges of a shrill-singing harpist can be) have been smoothed out, and although these are longish songs, they aren’t the epic ten minute long tracks of her last record, either. In all honestly, what I spot here are hints of Joni Mitchell (which, I’ve discovered, is the same point Pitchfork made when this came out. I swear, I came up with it on my own before I read the review), especially in terms of her phrasing, her way of dancing around the note in a not-quite jazzy way.

If you’re not familiar with Joanna Newsom (not that any of our 5 regular readers are), what can you expect? She composes delicate, sometimes intricately-arranged, sometimes sparse and airy songs on the longish side, tied together by her harpwork (and, on this album, her piano-playing) and her high, heavily affected voice. Some people find her work to be transcendent, and after 3 full listens (and for any triple album, let alone one you don’t like, that’s a chore), I’m starting to understand why some people like her so much. This is serious music, composed carefully to set a mood. It’s expertly sequenced, moving from the whimsical (‘81) to the plaintive (“Baby Birch”) in a few careful moves.

The problem is that I find it empty, and well, boring. Newsom’s voice is, well, different--challengingly shrill, if you will, and her earlier work verged, vocally, at least, on freak-folk--intentionally meant to be a little off-putting. She sounds a lot more in control of her instrument now, but a lot of the squeakyness remains. But my real problem is that her music is “precious”--too delicate, too understated (in all aspects except her voice), too cute, for me to engage with. Unlike Joni, or Laura Nyro (another touchstone, now that there’s more piano, although Newsom is much more intentionally avant-garde), she just doesn’t have a voice that gives the music depth and soul. Instead, it just sits on top of the pleasant but not terribly exciting music, demanding I listen actively to something that’s otherwise not terribly exciting.

Joe Pug
Messenger
Released February 16 (Lightening Rod)

Short Notes: If you're buying one singer-songwriter album this year by an artist who's name starts with a "J," buy this one.

Brandon: A-

This is a remarkably strong offering from a young alt-countryish singer-songwriter who writes in a remarkably immediate, personal voice. Because his palette is rather limited (fairly simple acoustic guitar, some harmonica, drums on just a couple tracks), there are moments when the formula pops its head through--Dylan, when he’s at his best (“How Good You Are,” “Unsophisticated Heart”), Paul Simon or James Taylor (both of whom I really don’t enjoy) when he’s less musically or lyrically sharp (“Disguised as Someone Else”). The real treats here are the last two tracks, though, which are unrepresentative of the rest of the album. “Bury Me Far (From My Uniform)” sits alongside Jason Isbell’s “Dress Blues” and Kasey Anderson’s “I Was a Photograph” as one of a collection of remarkable songs about my generation’s wars and their personal consequences coming out of the alt-country movement. Perhaps better still is “Speak Plainly, Diana,” the only track here recorded with a full band. Highly recommended.

Lin: B+

Wasn't initially that impressed with this album, figuring it would just add to the pile of good-but-unspectacular alt-country/folky releases we've reviewed for this project like, for instance, the Charlie Parr or Doug Paisley albums. I agree with Brandon that the two best tracks are the final duo, but it's the second track ("How Good You Are") that convinced me my initial assumption was incorrect. The rest of the songs here are strong enough to hold the middle from sagging. It's not quite remarkable enough to be an every-week type album for me, but it's definitely one of the stronger 'dude with a lone guitar' albums from 2010.

2010: Jamey Johnson, Janelle Monae

2011-05-01T22:25:00.000-05:00

Jamey Johnson
The Guitar Song
Released September 14, 2010 (Mercury Nashville)

Short Notes: "Outlaw" country in the 70s vein gets a post-millennial update.

Lin: B+

Of all the country albums we've reviewed and (presumably) will review, this is the most capital-C Country of them: there's no "alt" or "pop" here, just grounded in the early 70's outlaw scene of Waylon, Merle, and George and brought through the years by the likes of Alan Jackson and Dwight Yoakam. The easiest thing to say is that, if you like those guys, this is a must-get. I like modern pop country more than I'm usually willing to admit and more than, I imagine, most music geeks, so I'm probably more willing to overlook the steps closer to the CMT end of the country spectrum. Indeed, my favorite track here is probably "Cover Your Eyes" which reminds of (and I cringe a bit when I say this) Garth Brooks.

For an album as long as it is (105 minutes) it's surprisingly consistent: a few unexciting tracks here and there, but nothing terrible and not more than two in a row. That said, like nearly every double album ever made, it'd make a better normal length LP. There are a bunch of really great songs to choose from: "Can't Cash My Checks," "Heartache," "Even the Skies Are Blue," "Macon," ... and especially "My Way to You" and "California Riots."

I'm often on the look out for albums that I think most people would like. In particular, my family and I have widely divergent music tastes (they like the pop-country stuff and I like, well, see this blog) and finding things I think we could agree on is really quite difficult. But I do think this one will appeal to fans of any post-1960s subgenre of country. That the album was nominated (but didn't win) for a 'Best Country' album should explain a lot: traditional enough to appeal to the purists, contemporary enough to appeal to Grammy voters, but not horrible enough to actually win.

Brandon: B

Jamey Johnson is making more of an effort to replicate what people my age raised on country music (as an aside, I most definitely was not raised on country--I came to it in high school via the Chicago alt-country scene, Social Distortion’s post-1987 output, and Steve Earle) think of as “classic” country--Lin’s Alan Jackson reference is right on, Waylon is obvious, and I’d also throw in Gary Stewart. But what’s most interesting about him is what you (mostly) don’t hear on this 25 song paean to the outlaw country sound--his separate career as a Nashville Row hack, cranking out rather more standard pop country fare (most notably, the execrable “Honky Tonk Badondadonk” for Trace Adkins). This makes him, in some sense, more authentic, rather than less--more rugged, quirky performers like Willie Nelson started in precisely the same way, and Nashville has always been home to hitmakers like Bob McDill, writers who cranked out pulp songs for the latest fads right alongside material that has rightly become classic.

It’s this characteristic that makes a double album seem like a natural step for Jamey Johnson--he’s clearly prolific and capable of writing for a variety of voices. And it goes without saying that, for a mainstream country record, this is a ridiculously diverse outing--veering from Ernest Tubb-baiting (“Set ‘Em Up Joe”) and a duet with old timer and Opry legend Bill Anderson (“The Guitar Song”) to nondescript topical songs (“Playing the Part,” which is one of the album’s stronger songs and its lead single, which doesn’t mean it’s not actually middle of the road, readable as a conservative or liberal track, and the fairly reactionary “California Riots”), clever wordplay songs in the general vein of Jerry Reed (“Macon”) and, ultimately, nostalgic, maudlin Nashville schmaltz (“By the Seat of Your Pants,” “I Remember You”). And lest you think I’m being too critical, nearly everyone he’s patterning himself after released some schmaltz. That’s just how you do in Nashville.

Aside from the obvious (it’s too long, too uneven), there are a couple things that I don’t love here. One is that the otherwise pleasant assimilation of the Allman Brothers/Skynyrd southern rock sound a lot of “rebel” country goes for these days leads to a number of otherwise tight songs wrapping up with 2:30 of riffing at the end. The other is that the arrangements aren’t always ideal for the songs--a lot of “Nashville Cats” super-clean playing here on songs that are supposed to be gritty. That said, this is a worthwhile record for folks not afraid of the twang. Jamey Johnson isn’t the revelation he’s being treated as in Nashville--Uncle Tupelo were covering “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?” back in the early 1990s--but he’s not terrible, either.

Janelle Monae
The ArchAndroid (Suites II and III)
Released May 18, 2010 (Bad Boy)

Short Notes: Big Boi protege. Signed by Diddy. Releases genre-hopping Afrofuturist debut LP. It's like Ma$e meets Sun Ra.

Brandon: A-

The first half of this record is a flawless slice of modern (post-Prince) R&B, with Afrofuturist images, a little bit of warm disco ("Locked Inside"), and a lot of brassy, 60s-style soul over some great Stankonia-style production. But the second half is almost entirely devoted to the musical interludes and drawn-out, sonic experiments of the sort than begins the album ("Overture II," "BaBobBaYa," "Say You'll Go"), or simply less effective (if not unpleasant) mid-tempo weirdness ("Wondaland"). It's still a remarkable, singular record--an unmistakable statement of purpose for a debut LP (there was an earlier, conceptually linked EP). But in adding some sonic variation, some of the manic propulsion of the earlier, standout tracks is lost. Highly recommended.

Lin: B+

I agree with Brandon's breakdown of the album, though I don't like either half near as much. The second half -- Suite III -- doesn't offer much for me on repeated listens, with only "Wondaland" standing out at all. As it is, nearly the entirety of Suite II is better than III and makes for an above-average 40-minute listen. It helps having a such a solid center around which to base the rest: the singles "Cold War" and "Tightrope" are a couple of brilliant neo-soul/dance tracks that almost make my leaden feet want to take a spin on the dance floor. "Come Alive (The War of the Roses)" is the other standout track here, starting off with a big band-like jazz like feel and adding in equal portions of madness and menace. This is an album, though, and should probably be listened to it as such; it makes more sense as a whole.

2010: Isobel Campbell/Mark Lanegan, Jamie Lidell

2011-04-22T23:31:00.002-05:00

Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan:
Hawk
Released August 24, 2010 (Vanguard)

Short Notes: Dusty, Druggy Americana from former Belle & Sebastian and Screaming Trees members.

Lin: A-

In many ways, it's harder to write a review of a good album than a bad one. Part of it may just be my own negativity, but I find it's often easier to see what a song is lacking than what it does well. I've listened to Hawk a dozen times for this review. I love most of these songs, but I keep coming back to a minor but annoying problem. Although sonically distinct, it reminds me of The Waterboys' Fisherman's Blues -- a collection of excellent songs poorly sequenced, precluding an emotional arc and leaving us with nothing but schizophrenia. Maybe it's foolish to want an 'album' in these days of mp3s and isolated track, but the regretable thing is that, listening front to back, Hawk is less than the sum of it's parts.

I'm still highly recommending it, though. My favorite track, "Come Undone," is a maddingly familiar slice of 60's soul pop. (My roommate says it sounds like a Bond theme song. He's not wrong.) There's a pair of Townes Van Zandt covers -- which will always score you some points -- and Lanegan pulls off the tricky part of sounding like Van Zandt while also making it his own. (This is true even on the non-covers, like "Cool Water.") The latter part of the album, particularly "Sunrise" and "To Hell & Back Again," gets by with a Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra vibe -- probably the best comparison I can make for the overall sound and adventurousness.

Brandon: A

This is just about the strangest duo in pop music. Campbell is the Scottish magical pixie girl who used to sing about tigermilk and boys with arab straps, and Lanegan, well, he used to be in this band:

But it works, and on this album, they’ve made a worthy successor to the hazy, wobbly Americana of their first two records. While nothing has the menace of my favorite track from their first record (a deadly cover of the Hank Williams classic “Rambling Man”), this is a top-notch slice of pop that skirts classic Northern soul, straight country, and the druggy Americana of Giant Sand and Stan Ridgeway. The vocal magic of pairing Campbell’s delicate, almost kittenish purr with Lanegan’s stereotypical (and Waits-ian) rasp is in full effect here--nowhere better than on the Townes Van Zandt tearjerker “No Place To Fall”--but the best songs are the sleazy, muscular numbers like the title track and the magisterial soul-gospel of the closer, “Lately.” Remarkably (given that Lanegan’s voice is what sticks with me), Campbell is the brains behind the operation, writing almost all the songs. One of the better albums so far, and well worth your time.

Jamie Lidell:
Compass
Released May 18, 2010 (Warp)

Short Notes: His trademark soul gets an update, with mixed (if mostly successful) results.

Brandon: B

Lidell’s first “proper” pop record, the amazing 2005 record Multiply would surely appear on my top 20 albums of the decade list. Almost like Berlin-era Bowie singing a perfect facsimile of Stax/Volt soul, the album is an unexpected masterpiece. But three records into his career as a indie pop star (he got his start making Aphex Twin-lite electronica), the formula is both wearing thin and getting consciously pushed in new directions (and not always successfully). While there’s still a lot of the trademark soul here, I also hear a lot more almost-disco, and an almost 80s vibe (“Enough’s Enough,” “It’s a Kiss”). There’s also a much heavier sound on this record than on his previous albums--with the fuzzy stomper “The Ring” and ”Gypsy Blood” (my favorite) verging on “banger” territory. I’m intrigued with the evolving sound, although Compass lacks the poise and polish of Multiply

Lin: B+

I liked Lidell's 2005 Multiply, though it skirted the line between the Soul I love and the Soul I don't so closely that I don't listen to it very often (outside the superb title track). It's a completely artificial line of personal preference cleaving (broadly) Motown/R&B-based soul from the funkier Muscle Shoals-style. Compass is a lot like his last couple of albums but stays, for the most part, on the funkier, rockier end, belying his origins as an electronic producer. It's not that straightforward as there is a fair amount of differentiation between the tracks even if they are all based in the same setting. The more experimental, almost dream-poppy at times and full of junkyard percussion, title track being one of the highlights. The comparatively normalcy of the next track is almost disappointing, though it's a fine song in its own right. For the most part, Compass is an interesting and good album, but I'm not sure when I'd put it on: it's not really a part album, or a "headphone" album, or a working album. Maybe something in-between all those.

2010: Hot Molasses, How to Dress Well

2011-04-21T22:25:00.001-05:00

Hot Molasses
Molassachusetts EP
Released January 2010 (available on Band Camp)

Short Notes: Scrappy Boston pop outfit put out a formative EP.

Molassachusetts by Hot Molasses

Lin: B+
First off, I ought to note that both Brandon and I are friends with a few members of this band -- I was in Boston at the end of March of the release of their newest EP and slept on one of their couches, after all -- so we're probably a little biased. Of course, this means that my grade up there is complete hogwash, as it's either too high (since I have a stake in the band) or too low (as I'm compensating).

That out of the way, I do actually really enjoy this 14 minute EP. At five songs, it goes by way too quickly, but with a surprising amount of variety in the sound (having three different vocalists will do that), though all of it is rooted in some good power pop. My favorite track here -- "Blank Verse" -- is perhaps the poppiest track on the album, but has a slight edge to it with a few more-aggressive guitar figures. The opener, "The Chief", nominally about Robert Parrish, has a similar sort of feel too it. The hardest rocking "Mendoza Line" sounds a bit out of place, but the EP is better off for including it. "Sig Uglies" is probably the best written thing here: I love the lyrics and the sentiment, though I find the music a bit less interesting than the others. Rounding out the list is "A Little Wasted," with just a touch of country to spice things up.

You can download this EP (and the new one, too) from hotmolasses.bandcamp.com. This, you should do.

Brandon: B+
It’s hard to review your friends’ music, but I’ve known Andre and Ben for a long time, and I’m far more interested in promoting this quirky little Bostonian pop group than I am in offering a traditional review. In fact, that this EP even gets a grade (let alone one of B+) is largely to allow me to direct you to the superior (and newer) HoMo EP, Frankly, which was released last month.

Without going into a fawning dissection of each song, I’ll tell you that while the group started some years ago playing overtly alt. country rockers, this record, which features no less than three lead singers, is mostly varied pop numbers (some power, some mid-tempo) with a good bit of guitar twang on the margins. “Sig Uglies,” my favorite, is a clever take on the dilemma faced by most post-college urban twentysomethings trying to figure out relationships during an era of steady economic decline among that demographic (which is to say, in an era in which most such folks can’t afford to live alone in the city). All the songs have the pleasant lofi vocal buzz/clean guitar line feel of music recorded by the inexperienced and frugal (which fails to capture the epic-ness of the HoMo live show), but each has its own pop charms. Well worth your time (and Frankly is even better, recorded para-professionally and with stronger-still songwriting and singing).

How To Dress Well
Love Remains
Released on October 19, 2010 (Lefse)

Short Notes: R&B slow jams, meet drone.

Brandon: B-
One of my strongest memories from college was a writing assignment I completed as part of my training for working in the colleges’s writing center, in which we were to incorporate a number of new words into a poem or short essay. The only of the words I remember was “palimpsest,” which might be defined as the faint hint of text of image left on a medium after it has been erased or cleared. Later that year, my girlfriend was working on a painting that incorporated lines of verse partially obscured by color and texture, leaving the impression of text that had been partially obscured in an effort to re-use a canvas (at least, to my eyes). This record is like a musical palimpsest, with the almost poppy soul of songs like “My Body” and “You Won’t Need Me Where I’m Goin’” (my favorites) so obscured by drone-y fuzz, digital manipulation, and whatever other slings and arrows have been thrown at these tracks that they leave the impression of beautiful songs occasionally popping their heads up out of the white noise. It’s an interesting conceit, and it succeeds about as much as it fails here. There’s some real moments of joy here, but they are rarely and inconsistently maintained.

Lin: C
First off, this is like the Ariel Pink album reviewed earlier but significantly more subdued. That makes it slightly more to my liking, as the murkiness brings it closer to an ambient/drone style, which I'm a growing fan of. As such, it's the poppier moments that fail for me, as it's like listening to the radio with your head under water. To make matters worse, I had to check the bitrates on the files I downloaded to make sure I didn't get 32 kbps instead of 320 kbps. There's always the possibility that the files I got are simply corrupted, but the sound quality here is horrendous, in a one-man black metal band sort of way. Turns out it's intentional, probably. Man, I just don't get it.

2010: Harvey Milk, High on Fire

2011-04-10T12:51:00.000-05:00

Harvey Milk
A Small Turn of Human Kindness
Released May 18, 2010 (Hydra Head)

High On Fire
Snakes For The Divine
Released February 23, 2010 (Koch Records)

Lin: A- (Havey Milk)
Alright, so, this album is right up my alley, though if you don't like it, I'll understand. Big, thick, crunching chords. Vocals halfway between singing and growling, a rougher Danzig being the closest comparison. Lyrics as bleak as a dead forest in winter (check out that album cover) with song titles to match: "I Just Want To Go Home" and "I Am Sick Of All This Too" being just the first two. There's this moment about three minutes from the end of the album, where a full soaring electric guitar comes over the top of the sludge punctuating the rhythm in the higher octave, and its beauty captures the primary beauty of A Small Turn of Human Kindness: it's not particularly noteworthy (I miss it half the time if I'm not paying attention), and it's not "traditionally beautiful" in the way that, say, late 90's Flaming Lips are. What it is, is an accent to the darkness, the light that shines letting you know just how bad things are. That oversells the point a bit as the catharsis allows the otherwise depressive atmosphere to dissipate enough to handle. One of the finer metal releases of the year.

Lin: A- (High on Fire)
And then there's this one, also one of the finer metal releases of the year. But while Harvey Milk mines the doom and sludge, making a plodding and deliberate album, Snakes For the Divine has a brighter sheen: not quite the clean production of, say, Mastodon -- there's too much stoner rock here left over from guitarist/singer Matt Pike's previous band Sleep. This is indeed a very good thing: 80's thrash isn't a bad comparison here, particularly South of Heaven-ish Slayer. Still, my favorite track here -- "Bastard Samurai" -- is the least Slayer-like and most doom-y of the bunch, taking almost four minutes before the song opens up (...slightly).

I think sometimes about how I'd go about getting folks into metal since I'm, more or less, the only one of my friends who really dig it. (I'm having a hell of a time trying to find company to Maryland Deathfest.) Sometimes I'll take the cue of the mainstream indie press and recommend something like Mastodon, something with enough good and cred, even if I don't particularly like it. Or something that's less "metal" and more rock (like Clutch, perhaps, who are nevertheless awesome). But I think High on Fire may become my go-to. While it's not as good as, say, the Agalloch album I can't stop gushing about, it's far more accessible, lacking some of the more divisive metal devices. Point is, this is a great place to start.

Brandon: B (Harvey Milk) / B+ (High on Fire)

More than anything else I’ve learned since we started this little project, I’ve really had an opportunity to think critically about what kind of metal I like. Because I’m not a metal guy (I never even went through a high school phase--I was a punk rock/post-punk/indie rock kid with strong classic rock leanings--never so much as owned a single mid-1990s Metallica record, not even S&M, the epically bad Metallica-meets the SF Orchestra record that came out in 1999 just in time for my Weezer-loving college girlfriend to pick it up), I struggle to come up with interesting things to say. This is why it’s been a slow week at She’s Making Whoopee in Hell--with two metal records back to back, it’s wicked slow-going for me to make time to listen and write up.

Mostly as a result of Lin’s intercessions over the years, I’ve accumulated a share of metal records that represent various facets of the last 30 years of the genre’s history (two years ago, I actually had to add a “metal” genre to my carefully constructed metatagging system to accommodate the 31 records currently on my hard drive). And so, I can say with some certainty that I’m not really into the heavy, sludgy, proggy sound of a lot of the metal I’ve heard over the last few years. When I reach for metal, it’s typically either late 1970s British (Motorhead, Judas Priest) or early 80s American thrash/speed-style (by which, in a really crude way, I mean early Metallica and Slayer). The slower, heavier stuff just doesn’t really move me all that much. I’m a Screaming for Vengeance kind of guy, god help me.

So that makes the Harvey Milk record a hard go for me. I can hear that it was writted, performed, and recorded with care. I can hear the raw emotion poured into the slowed down, loose-stringed riffs that linger in the air. But I like it best when they let the songs breathe a little--”I Know This is No Place for You” is, for all the heaviness, a little easier to for me to get into than the denser songs. If you like dark, slow metal, it seems like a decent place to start.

High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine is a bit more indie friendly--grounded in stoner rock, but also some more familiar thrash notes. especially on my favorite track, “Ghost Neck.” [ed. note: I’ve started to recognize that when I write about music I have a hard time feeling strongly about, my reviews start to sound like wine tasting note--”notes” of this, “hints” of that. Weird. -B] This record, which has earned some well-justified praise from the indie rock set, is a much easier listen for me than any of the metal records we’ve reviewed thus far. This is aggressive, cathartic music that’s (despite the kick-ass cover art) not conceptual, or filled with arcane references. It’s straightforward, hard, and fast, and by far the best of the metal bunch thus far for non-metal people (although the Agalloch record should be heard, even if I think it’s a bit daunting for beginners like myself). It’s recommended.

2010: Grinderman, Harlan T. Bobo

2011-04-06T22:32:00.000-05:00

Grinderman
Grinderman [2]
Released September 14, 2010 (Anti)

Short Notes: Nick Cave is gross. And we like it.

Grinderman 'Heathen Child' from Trim Editing on Vimeo.

Lin: A
I love Nick Cave, having nearly everything he's put out -- from the Bad Seeds, from Grinderman, from The Birthday Party and the Boys Next Door. So this is probably worth taking with a grain of salt. I was never able to get into the first Grinderman album, finding the album unfocused (symptomatic of much of Cave's recent work, sadly) and at times uninteresting. But I loved the idea. Whatever the original Grinderman promised is fulfilled by Grinderman 2 -- the dirty, sweaty, blasphemous, creepy, ugly, leering promises. Your enjoyment of this album will depend on how close those adjectives are to "AWESOME!" for you.

It still has some of the flaws of Grinderman's first, but they're thankfully minimized temporally and sonically. Unbelievably, there are three tracks here that top "No Pussy Blues," the best of Grinderman 1. "Evil" and "Kitchenette" could have been written by Howlin' Wolf. "Mickey Mouse and the Goodbye Man" and "Worm Tamer" sound closest to the stuff on Grinderman 1, but do it better.

"Heathen Child" is one of Nick Cave's best songs.

The real surprise, though, is "Palaces of Montezuma." At first it sounds out of place, thematically and musically: a fairly straight-forward love song? No squealing guitars? Backing humming vocals? It fits though, both alongside Cave's more tender moments with The Bad Seeds, and as a respite from all the weirdness going on in this album. It still has some of the weirdness:

"The custard colored superdream of Ali McGraw and Steve McQueen...
I give to you

...
the spinal cord of JFK wrapped in Marilyn Monroe's negligee...
I give to you"

Damn, though, if that ain't romantic.

Brandon: A-

Most of the reviews I’ve read of this record make a point of explicitly comparing this record with Nick Cave’s other work--with his Bad Seeds records, or with his more manic, punk influenced music with The Birthday Party (records that came out around the time I was born). Because I’m only a casual Nick Cave fan, I’m trying to approach this with as little prejudice or expectation as possible. And what I get from Grinderman 2 is plenty of sleazy, sexualized posturing wrapped in fuzzy punk and copping lots of old blues moves--sort of like a middle-aged version of Iggy Pop who never met Bowie and stayed in Detroit, getting weird. At first listen, Cave sounds sinister and threatening, but as I’ve hung around, what I hear is actually a lot more playful, especially in the songs overtly about Cave’s hypersexual dirty old man persona. “Worm Tamer,” which is about exactly what you’d figure, isn’t really dark or violent, but rather as much about Cave’s appreciation of his girl’s prowess (and his own uncertainty about his ability to keep her) as it is about any kind of objectification.

The standout here, though, is the song that’s most different from the rest of the album, “Palaces of Montezuma.” Sort of like “It’s the End of the World And We Know It” as remade by the kind of guy who’d call his lover a “worm tamer,” it’s got what a lot of the sleazy bluesy numbers here don’t have--a hook. Sure, it’s more straightforward, but as far as repetitive pop culture-referencing songs go, it’s pretty great.

Harlan T. Bobo
Sucker
Released April 13, 2010 (Goner)

Short Notes: Quirky singer-songwriter record from sometimes Cat Power collaborator.

Lin: B+
This is a pleasant surprise, and makes me sad that I'm only just now hearing about the epically-named Harlan T. Bobo. The "thing" -- whatever it is -- that was missing from other country/roots albums we've reviewed (I'm thinking of, namely, the Charlie Parr and Doug Paisley albums) is found here. Sucker is very short, clocking in right around half an hour, and while it leaves me wanting just a bit more, it's varied enough that it still feels like it's covered enough ground to be satisfying. I mean, we have the rockabilly here (Energy, Bad Boyfriends), the content porch-sitting songs (Sweet Life), and even a track that would sound awesome arranged for ukulele (Drank). This is a fairly happy sounding album, one of the rare few that are still good. Worth checking out.

Brandon: B

This sounds a lot like a Lou Reed solo record from the 1990s, in a good way. Filled with straightforward but quirky arrangements with dense, conversational lyrics, this is as entertaining a short 30 minute record as I’ve heard this year. Bobo’s sound owes something to the quirkier end of what I think of as alt.country, but there’s a lot of variation here, from the Leon Redbone swing of “Perfect Day” to the almost-surf of “Energy” and the French sing-a-long of “Mlle Chatte” (who likes butter, apparently). This isn’t a “big” record, but it’s clever, lyrical, and fairly rewarding. Recommended.

2010: Gold Panda, Gorillaz

2011-04-04T16:13:00.000-05:00

Gold Panda
Lucky Shiner
Released September 7, 2010 (Ghostly International)

Short Notes: Twitchy sound collage with a retro (8-bit) vibe.

Lin: C+

I think of albums like this as driving albums -- night driving in the high plains of Wyoming or the long expanses of I-80 passing through the towns of Nowhere, South Dakota. Occasionally a tree will pass by off to your left, or a trucker trying to stay awake forgetting his brights are on and blinding you momentarily. But most of the time it's rote, the only thing to do are minute adjustments of the steering wheel. Sometimes it's amazing: freedom by isolation, alone with nothing. But most of the time it's boring, just another thing to get through. Occasionally it's maddening if you're anxious for your destination. If you're calm enough to enjoy it it can be enjoyed. That just doesn't happen often.

Brandon: C+

After several listens, the only way I can really do justice to this album is to describe it as being like what I imagine Jandek would sound like, if Jandek was a little dance-y and worked mostly with a sampler. That’s pretty vague, but what I mean is that this record is build off of quotidian, forgettable samples--a single word, sonically manipulated out of recognition, a few blips repeated, a strummed guitar and a snippet of dialogue--that the artist is trying to craft together into something bigger. Unlike Girl Talk, the source material itself isn’t the point. Rather, by working with sounds that are individually forgettable, Gold Panda seems to be trying to make something that’s not only musically compelling, but also vaguely spiritual--as though you can, out of the sound collage, occasionally pick up little, recognizable moments of humanity. This is an interesting notion, musically and sociologically (although I could be attributing all this deep thinking unnecessarily). I’m just not sure this is record is successful on those terms.

I think I probably liked this more than Lin, if only because I found the opening track, “You,” a trippy, pitchshifted club track built off little more than handclaps and sampled voices rhythmically (and barely comprehensibly) repeating the words “you” and “me” to be remarkably good--catchy at an almost prefrontal level, but still sonically interesting. The rest of the album never really hits the initial high, sadly. Despite some longer spoken clips and more “organic” sounds (along with some Mario Bros.-style blips that evoke basements and the late 1980s) on the later tracks, nothing else on the record sounds quite as alive as “You.”

Gorrilaz
Plastic Beach
Released March 3, 2010 (Virgin/EMI)

Short Notes: For better or for worse, this doesn’t sound like a cartoonish side project anymore.

Brandon: A-

Right or wrong, I understood the first two Gorillaz records as hip-hop records, dominated by the sounds of their produces (Dan the Automator and Danger Mouse, respectively), and with the “guest” rapping as central to what made the albums interesting. Despite the fact that Plastic Beach starts with a Snoop Dogg track (“Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach”), this isn’t a hip-hop record at all. Both more eclectic and (despite the lack of a single uber-producer) more focused the earlier and very single-heavy records, this sounds like the electro-pastiche of one of my personal favorites (and a deeply underappreciated band), Big Audio Dynamite (an easy reference, as Paul Simonen and Mick Jones both play with the Gorillaz live). My favorite tracks here, the dark electro-soul of “Stylo” (with Bobby Womack and Mos Def), “Superfast Jellyfish” (with its bright 80s synths), and “Some Kind of Nature” (with Lou Reed) are wildly different, but each is held together by a carefully constructed and layered pop vision that’s light years beyond the Prince Paul-style quirky hip-hop production on their first record. This sounds less and less like the guy from Blur dabbling in new genres, and more and more like a statement on its own. None of the songs here are as immediately candy-coated and catchy as their earlier singles (“Clint Eastwood” and “Feel Good Inc”), but this record sounds more mature and ambitious, and I like it more on the second and third listen than at first.

Lin: B-

Wow, not what I was expecting. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. I've never been a big fan of the Gorillaz -- the first album has two phenomenal tracks and a bunch of alright stuff and the second album is about the same. I kept waiting for Plastic Beach to break out, to give me something, preferably something like "Clint Eastwood" or "Feel Good, Inc." But, for all its star power (both within the band and the numerous guests), it never happens. I'm willing to postulate that my expectations are playing a large role in not liking this but, frankly, I don't really have all that much desire to go back and listen to it again. A couple of moments poke their heads about the fray -- the "Some Kind of Nature" with Lou Reed and "To Binge" -- but for the most part, I just find this album confusing.

2010: Glossary, Gogol Bordello

2011-04-01T21:24:00.001-05:00

Glossary
Feral Fire
Released February 2, 2010 (Rebel Group)

Short Notes: One of America’s finest southern rock bands put out a rewarding, uneven record.

Glossary - Save Your Money for the Weekend from Stewart Copeland on Vimeo.

Brandon: B+

Depending on how you’re counting, this is record five or six for Glossary, a Tennessee band with feet in the alt.country and southern rock worlds. For what it’s worth, I think they’re one of the better bands working today in my preferred genre (I’m an alt.country boy. There’s no point in hiding it. My favorite kind of music went out of style--with a whimper--in 1997. I think that makes me “retro.” Or old.). Feral Fire is a good introduction to the band, if not their strongest work. Like Lucero (another personal favorite) or the newer work of Jason Molina, Glossary are at their strongest with atmospheric rock with a little southern waggle (“The Natural State,” Lonely is a Town”) or, even better yet, with straight-out barnburners like the album’s strongest track, “Save Your Money for the Weekend,” which I choose to hear as a rebuke of the fact that I’m not at the bar RIGHT NOW. Where they aren’t as strong is in their slower acoustic material, which sounds like (the newly re-united) Slobberbone or early Uncle Tupelo, with a wee bit less immediacy. These songs make up the bulk of the middle of the record, which is a bit slow. Still, there are some excellent songs here, and this is a band well worth your trouble if you have a taste southern rock.

Lin: B+

I want to like Feral Fire more than I do. A lot more. It's a good time and there's not a bad track here. I love this particular mix of straight-ahead Thin Lizzy-esque rock and roll with just enough of a country influence. I could see it on at a party -- well, the type of parties I go to, anyway. In the right hands it could be an awesomely appropriate soundtrack. The slower tempo'd moments remind me of what I like about Backyard Tire Fire (and makes clear just what they were missing on their new album). The use of both male/female vocals is a real nice touch, coming off far more organically than most bands that often use this device. (I’m looking at you, Lady Antebellum.)

But...I don't know. At very least, the album is missing the two or three excellent tracks needed to elevate this to an A- or A, thereby securing a spot in my listening rotation. In these reviews I try to mention a couple of my favorite songs to give you a place to start -- I'm not sure which ones to suggest here. "The Sweet Forever"? Opener "Lonely is a Town"? "Pretty Thing"? I’d lean towards the last one, but take your pick, or take one of the other 8 songs.

But I liked it enough that I downloaded one of their other albums (available for free on their site) and will give it a listen eventually. As for this one, I'm really quite unsure of the grade. I'm tentatively going with a B+, but that may be revised at the end.

Gogol Bordello
Trans-Continental Hustle
Released April 27, 2010 (Columbia/DMZ)

Short Notes: Everyone’s favorite Ukranian gypsy-punks are back with another LP.

Lin: A-

Bordello's last album, 2007's Super Taranta! didn't immediately impress me. It wasn't until 2 years later when I returned to it that I fell in love and began considering it my favorite album of theirs. I wonder if the same thing will happen with this one... but I doubt it. Trans-Continental Hustle is more immediately bracing, sure. Everything that one likes about GB is here: Eastern European folk rhythms and other 'world' music motifs, earnest broken English, sing-a-long choruses, big beats, anthems. It's more consistent than Gypsy Punks and Super Taranta! -- but lacks anything close to the fist-pumping joy of the former's "I Would Never Wanna Be Young Again" or the latter's "American Wedding." It sounds...workmanlike. Hutz and crew have done this long enough and are musically adept enough that they can throw something together and have it sound good. And it is good (hence the A-). I would bet many of these tracks would be awesome live (GB was the most exciting show I've ever been to, after all). But here, it lacks fire of their other work.

Brandon: B

It’s been a few years since I’ve really considered this band. Lin’s a big fan, and I have a few records and a strong memory of an excellent live show in 2006 at the Annex in Madison. So I’m not biased against them by any means, but I do have to admit that I find their “signature” Eastern European sound can grate a bit over the course of a long-player. In that spirit, I basically agree with Lin here--this is a good record (consistent, high production values, interesting songwriting and at least some sonic variety), but without the big sing-along moment that a band like this really needs to be more than a particularly novel and entertaining afterthought. As with all the Bordello albums, I’ll definitely keep it around for mixes, but I doubt I’ll be listening to it much on its own.

2010: Gil Scott-Heron, Girls

2011-03-30T13:51:00.002-05:00

Gil Scott-Heron
I’m Here Now
Released February 9, 2010 (XL Recordings)

Short Notes: The revolution won’t be televised, but it will be reviewed on She’s Making Whoopee in Hell.

Lin: B+

I'm not overly familiar with Scott-Heron's work. I mean, I can name more than two of his songs, which is more than most people can name, but I'm no expert. Still, I'm New Here sounds exactly like it should sound: at the end of these 28 and a half minutes, the album has a great deal of internal coherence. His earlier material always seemed to come out of the jazz heritage. That's jettisoned here for the blues and hip-hop histories, and the music is better for it.

It may make sense, but the album suffers from it's lack of length. There are 15 tracks here, but 6 of them clock in at under 2 minutes and most of the others are around that mark. There are a lot of 'interludes' or other short pieces and, while they're enjoyable for the most part, the album is mostly bereft of actual songs: there's really only 4 here. Granted, the four are excellent -- the phenomenal cover of Robert Johnson's "Me and the Devil Blues," all tense and foreboding (the way it should be) is the clear highlight -- but they're just not enough. Some albums and EPs can get away with the short length by packing such a punch that the listener is exhausted. Unfortunately, I'm New Here doesn't, leaving me wanting more, and not in a good way.

Brandon: B+

Gil Scott-Heron hasn’t really made a substantial quantity of music in my lifetime, and so simply by releasing a well-received album in 2010, he’s perked my ears. I’m sort of ashamed to admit Mr. Scott-Heron is better known to me by reputation than by his actual recorded output, and I certainly liked this album enough to commit to some future cratedigging.

This is, despite it’s 15 tracks, a short album, with a lot of spoken word and sonic interludes, and only a few fully-formed songs. The best among them, “Me and the Devil,” is a wonderful example of what some eerie hip-hop production can do for the blues--reminiscent of Leonard Cohen’s late 1980s work (I’m Your Man), Mr. Scott-Heron brings real grit to a proto-electro, synth-heavy backing track. On the other standout track, “New York is Killing Me,” Mr. Scott-Heron (who has had some well-publicized drug problems, including a stretch of incarceration during the 2000s), sounds much older than his 61 years (can you believe he’s basically my parents’ age? He sounds ancient) brings a low, slurred drawl to the song that flows in lock-step with the minimalist synth-handclaps that form most of the backing track. But as Lin suggests, for as good as the songs are, there isn’t a lot of meat here. This sounds like a fully realized vision, but a very brief one.

Girls
Broken Dreams Club
Released November 22, 2010 (True Panther Sounds)

Short Notes: 2009’s indie darlings are back with another strong effort.

Brandon: A

We don’t make it a habit to provide extensive backstory in our reviews here. But most of the half-dozen people who read this blog will be passingly familiar with the weird, amazing story of Girls singer Christopher Owens, who spent most of his life in a particularly manipulative and malicious cult, the Children of God. I bring in up only because it’s directly relevant to the point I want to make here.

From a 2009 interview with Owens in FAQ Magazine:

Were you reading any literature or listening to music made by people outside of the group when you were growing up?
No, I wasn’t. I was in like, performing group with other kids.

Did you sing?
Yeah. Cos they didn’t believe in working, so as soon as there were kids they realized the goldmine of children performing in public. So we did that growing up, my sisters and I both, all of us.

What would you sing?
Songs that were written within the group. Like, nice little Christian songs.

Had you been exposed to other music outside?
No – well, here’s the thing – when I became like, say, thirteen or fourteen years old, and was starting to get into trouble myself and become curious about the outside world, there was already a group of kids that were like my sister’s age, like the first wave of kids. They would have been like, seventeen. And there were guys that would like, record on cassette tapes from the radio, or try to grow their hair out.

Do you remember what songs they recorded?
Yeah, I remember all of them. It was like, Guns N Roses, Michael Jackson’s Dangerous album, Bon Jovi, Lionel Ritchie – like, horribly crappy, but to us that was like amazing, foreign, just crazy, weird shit that we loved. And I learned how to play guitar from these guys. We’d like, learn how to play the songs. And right away, there was a split between everybody our age, like if you were rebellious or not. And everybody cool was obviously rebellious.

And then they did something really stupid when they saw what was happening – like, my older sister left, and a lot of the first, the oldest kids were leaving by the time they were like eighteen years old, and they freaked out. They were like, “Obviously this is what everybody’s gonna do.” So they set up these programs, for the teenagers – they’d send like a hundred of us to these camps, where they’d really focus on trying to make us wanna stay for the rest of our lives.

But it was a huge mistake, because it was like when you send a criminal to prison, and they all just trade secrets and things. Everybody there was interested in being rebellious. So we’d go and it was just like, the coolest place you could be.

From the opening trills of track one, “Thee Oh So Protective One,” it sounds as though Owens and his collaborator and bandmate, Chet “JR” White are trying to catch up with 60 years of rock and roll history, calmly and deliberately trying out new genres, making music that sounds both profoundly intentional yet remarkably naive. There’s the doo-wop by way of Billy Joel of the aforementioned first track, the broken-down twang of the title track, the little exhalations in the opening seconds of “Alright,” and the hazy psychadelic fuzz of “Carolina,” all of which sound complete and fully formed, and yet still like the experiments of a kid still figuring out this pop music thing. And the funny thing is that they’re naturals. The each experiment works on its own terms, sweet and endearing (most of the album) or vaguely menacing (“Carolina”). The strongest track here is the pseudo-Britpop nugget “Heartbreaker,” which is one of the stronger singles I’ve heard thus far for this project. True to its name, it’s an introspective tear-jerker--full of cliches (“I’ve still got a lock of your hair”), but in the hands of Owens and White, still original.

Like their debut LP from 2009, this is a fantastically strong piece of indie pop--short and to the point, but diversely, joyfully experimental. This is the sound of a very interesting band taking another major step forward, and I’m excited to hear more. Highly recommended.

Lin: B+

I kinda liked Girls' 2009 release Album -- not enough to listen to in the last 15 months, but enough that I threw it on after this EP as a refresher without much complaint. Broken Dreams Club will probably end up in the same category: I'd have no problems if someone else were to put it on, but I wouldn't do so myself. Which includes a bit of pity, as I think this EP is better than the album. The opener, "Thee Oh So Protective One" reminds me of Elvis Costello which, of course, isn't a bad thing. But my favorite track here is the alt-countryish title track, with some real nice mournful country steel floating over top of it. I could see this track coming from someone like Jason Isbell, though Girls' lead singer Christopher Owens doesn't sound country (at all) in his singing. It's a bit unexpected, but not unpleasant. The other tracks are alright, but not particularly special.