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November 27, 2005
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: Howl
Red Ink, 2005
Rating: 3.4
It's a terrible box we put rock 'n' roll bands in. We want them to
continually update their sound, to stay fresh, to reinvent themselves.
But the minute they actually do that, we flinch as if we've been
struck. That's an over-simplification, of course, and in the case of
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, one could argue that fans were eager for
the trio to refine its signature, hard-edged drone-rock, not
abandon it. But the band takes a hard right turn with Howl, and
it's a smart move. BRMC's past two albums each sported a handful of
moments where everything clicked just so -- clearly, a recharging
of the batteries was in order. On Howl, the group strips back the
layered atmosphere of feedback, noisy guitar and swirling rock
psychedelia that earned it endless comparisons to the Jesus & Mary
Chain, revealing a surprisingly traditional, rootsy songwriting
foundation. Back-porch boot-stomps, slide guitars and dollops of
old-time religion (gospel-tinged choruses, lots of references to the
devil, restless sinners and so on) owe much more to, say, The
Basement Tapes than the Velvet Underground. Yes, there are some more
familiar rock moments here, like the title track, but even those take a
step back from the endearingly derivative echoes that defined the
group's best moments on previous efforts. It's a startling change at
first, but one that gradually feels relaxed and right (although some
songs, notably "Ain't No Easy Way," lack a certain necessary urgency,
and the album as a whole feels about four songs too long). Whether the
shift is a reaction to recent troubles -- since 2003's
Take Them On, On Your Own, the band was dropped by Virgin and nearly
torn apart by internal squabbles -- it's certainly a refreshing and
revelatory palate-cleanser.
:::
Kevin Forest Moreau
Top
November 27, 2005
Fall Out Boy: From Under the Cork Tree
Island, 2005
Rating: 3.5
At its best, Fall Out Boy's second full-length effort winningly
synthesizes elements of punk-pop and that hard-to-define ethos (as much
lyrical worldview as musical genre) some call "emo" into a hyperactive
tangle of self-aware quips, smartly executed time changes and random
blasts of pop-cultural trivia. Although the end result can feel a bit
forced (with song titles like "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World"
and "Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner"), when the quartet scores -- as on
the ubiquitous single "Sugar We're Goin Down" -- it scores big, with
grappling hooks, soaring background vocals and meaty mouthfuls of
verbose lyricism that stop short of drowning the melodies. It's a busy
record, occasionally ambitious, with whiplash-inducing breaks that dip
into heavy metal and show-tune aesthetics. But lyricist/bassist Peter
Wentz can get bogged down in the kind of trite teen-journal-entry
poetics that he succinctly punctures elsewhere with lyrics like "I'm the
first kid to write of hearts, lies and friends" (from the laboriously
titled "I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This
Stupid Song Written About Me"). That's even more disappointing given his
brief winks at the self-importance of so many similar bands -- "Yeah
we're friends/ Just because we move units," singer/guitarist Patrick
Stump sneers on "Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham
Friends." During the opening "Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This
Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued," Stump issues the following warning: "Take
my advice 'cause we are bad news / We will leave you high and dry / It's
not worth the hearing you'll lose." Cork Tree (mostly) gives the
lie to that assertion, and holds out the promise that this capable
quartet will, sometime soon, fully transcend its breast-beating
teen-angst trappings and record an album truly worthy of a little
tinnitis.
:::
Kevin Forest Moreau
Top
October 26, 2005
Lightning Bolt: Hypermagic Mountain
Load, 2005
Rating: 4.4
Best way to enjoy music by Lightning Bolt: Crank and surrender.
Hypermagic Mountain’s second track, “Captain Caveman,” all atomized
vocal distortion and no-Ritalin-allowed rhythmic riffage, announces
everything you need to know about the latest earsplitting noisefest from
the high-revving bass and drum duo of Brian Gibson and Brian Chippendal.
For those who thought 2003’s
Wonderful Rainbow seemed extreme in its pulverizing level of
intensity, Hypermagic Mountain reduces it to the equivalent of a
by-the-numbers Bread rehearsal. Hypermagic Mountain’s sum effect
eclipses its redline-obliterating parts, but special dispensations must
be given to the leaking madness of “Megaghost,” with its yelping,
wounded-animal sound effects and furiously tight interplay between
guitar and drums. And it would be criminal to overlook the amazing
proficiency exhibited on "Bizarro Zarro Land," which nimbly flirts with
control and chaos, dexterously catapulting from one treacherous musical
peak to next without once losing its footing. Hypermagic Mountain
will be a tidal shock of relentless jackhammer threats to the
non-discriminating music fan. For the initiated, there’s true primal joy
to be heard in this mammoth creation. You’ve just got to be willing to
shed those tightly guarded notions and listen.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 26, 2005
Constantines: Tournament of Hearts
Sub Pop, 2005
Rating: 3.7
As regrettable as it is to trot out the old “strong first half, weak
back half” reviewers’ cliché, the Constantines’ third release,
Tournament of Hearts, cruelly forces the issue. Running a snug
thirty-seven minutes, Hearts absolutely outshines (sorry) 2003’s
Shine a Light -- or so the first five of its ten tracks would lead
the eager listener to believe. There’s the pulse-quickening kickstarter
“Draw Us Lines,” the impressively subtle rhythms of “Hotline Operator,”
the lived-in blues riffs of “Love in Fear,” and the meaty force of “Lizaveta,”
with its emphatic declaration “We were born to live!” The cycle closes
with the moping, countryish “Soon Enough,” a nice change-of-pace number.
Shame the Constantines fail to sustain the momentum. The obvious ’70s
hard-rock workout “Working Full Time” and the pedestrian “Good Nurse”
start the slide toward mediocrity, and by the time we reach the
penultimate “You Are a Conductor,” with its lame J. Giles-esque, “Love
Stinks” beat, Tournament of Hearts has sunk from "Holy Cow!"
gobsmacked status to a "What’s All The Fuss Then?" shrug-worthy ranking.
Incredible initial run, though. If the group can maintain such energy
across an entire album, then more enjoyable reviewer clichés will surely
be employed in the future.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 26, 2005
Animal Collective: Feels
Fat Cat, 2005
Rating: 3.5
The last track on Animal Collective’s Feels is called “Turn Into
Something.” This turns out to be an appropriate title, because the song
actually progresses, moving from a rumbling, twangy stomp to an
ecstatic, airy finish. The same cannot be said for preceding cuts “Loch
Raven,” “Daffy Duck” and “Banshee Beat,” which meander with unfocused
dream-logic vocals and no discernible sonic payoff. Granted, Animal
Collective doesn’t have to follow a standard verse-chorus-verse
structure to be effective. But such improvisational-sounding music
translated better in the back-porch setting of the acoustic
Sung Tongs (created by the duo Avey Tare and Panda) than the
electric, full-band effort (plus a host of guest artists) exhibited
throughout Feels. Opening shot “Did You See the Words” starts
with a peculiarly Mercury Rev, expansive-harmony vibe, then collapses
into a shambling mess, complete with tinkling piano breakdown. If the
material was revelatory in its unpredictability, offering something
heretofore unheard in the world, then such willy-nilly compositions
could be forgiven. But Feels doesn’t trump earlier, more intimate
Animal Collective releases. It’s just louder and messier.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 26, 2005
Deerhoof: The Runners Four
Kill Rock Stars, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Deerhoof has it backwards. Its earlier, mondo-prog releases ran roughly
thirty minutes yet possessed the density of albums twice as long. The
Runners Four, by contrast, is twice as long yet is comprised of
short pop tunes. Not that the stylistically hyperactive San Francisco
quartet will ever be confused with manufactured, American Idol-style
top 40 confections. Rather, The Runners Four is simply another
interesting collection of tunes from a group that refuses to curtail its
trespasses across musical boundaries. “Running Thoughts” sports a cool
Stereolab-meets-Enon spacey groove. And singer Satomi Matsuzaki manages
to make what could be annoying vocalizations (like those heard on the
suitably titled “Chatterboxes”) affecting in a whimsically playful
manner. Echoes of past efforts can be heard, especially on the epic
guitar squalls of “You're Our Two.” But this is Deerhoof trying out pop
fripperies and capably managing what many preprogrammed radio acts fail
to convey: a sense of adventure and fun from start to finish.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 26, 2005
Six Organs of Admittance: School of the Flower
Drag City, 2005
Rating: 3.5
School of the Flower, Ben Chasny’s seventh release under the Six
Organs of Admittance moniker, flows effortlessly. The gauzy
weightlessness of “Words for Two” transitions seamlessly into the
acoustic plucking of “Saint Cloud.” The noodle and drone of the near
fourteen-minute title track ends with a thick layer of fuzz that somehow
makes sense (in a loopy kind of way) given that the follow-up track’s
called “Thicker Than a Smokey.” School of the Flower is as pretty
as its titular place of higher learning intimates and as substantive as
bongsmoke. Peace way out.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 06, 2005
Devendra Banhart: Cripple Crow
XL, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Consider the crossover demographic potential: an all-Spanish-language
Devendra Banhart record, a protest record -- plus a generous dollop of the
trippier-hippie fare reminiscent of his earlier work -- all rolled into
one genre-trumping smorgasbord of musical delights from the de facto
leader of the free/freak/nu-folk movement. Devendra Banhart’s 22-song
fourth album, Cripple Crow, delivers so many styles and moods
that it’s impossible to label. This is probably the point. Consistency
of material is another matter, however. As nice as his cover of Simon
Diaz's "Luna de Margaerita" is, there’s the lovely but overlong “Santa
Maria De Feira” detracting from the artist’s native-language cuts.
Likewise, the spaciously epic peacenik-anthem title track is affecting
for what it doesn’t say as opposed to the youthful obviousness of “Heard
Somebody Say” (“It’s simple / We don’t want to kill”). And the gentle
folk number “Queen Bee” conveys far more pastoral sentiment than the
goofy wild-child chant of “Hey Mama Wolf” (complete with wolf calls!).
The best moments are among the most straightforward, with languid
brooder “Now That I Know” and the beautiful piano closer “Canela”
standing out. Cripple Crow does a wonderful job expressing the
range of Devendra Banhart’s musical interests, uneven though the actual
payoff may be.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 03, 2005
Ryan Adams: Jacksonville City Nights
Lost Highway, 2005
Rating: 3.9
Pure country from Ryan Adams (working once again with solid backing band
The Cardinals) and that’s not a bad thing. Jacksonville City Nights
finds Adams retuning to his hometown , lamenting busted personal
relationships and still trying to come to terms with his native soil.
Adams isn’t pushing any envelopes or performing cross-genre tricks; this
is late ’60s Jerry Lee Lewis interpretive territory (though Adams is
still not in that rarified league, it’s nice to see him paying due
respect to the masters of the form). Last-call barroom laments like “A
Kiss Before I Go” and “My Heart Is Broken” hit their intended targets.
“Dear John,” a seemingly marketing-driven duet with Norah Jones, fares
better than expected, and at a lean forty-five minutes and change, the
economy of the set (especially compared to the bloated
Cold Roses) is noteworthy. There aren’t as many memorable cuts as on
Adams' stellar solo debut, Heartbreaker, but Jacksonville City
Nights reveals an older, more seasoned performer.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 03, 2005
Wolf Parade: Apologies to the Queen Mary
Subpop, 2005
Rating: 3.1
Endorsed by Isaac Brock and fans of The Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade’s debut
Apologies to the Queen Mary gets by more on energy than chops.
Manic tracks like “You Are a Runner and I Am My Father's Son” and
highlight “Shine a Light” deliver high-replay-value excitement. But a
dearth of compositional ideas and reliance on repetitive hooks dooms the
harder-to-attain Groundbreaking Quotient. As a first effort,
Apologies to the Queen Mary shows undeniable promise. This is not
the Holy Grail of Canadian art pop, however. Wait for a second salvo,
and then we’ll see what these lads are truly made of. Until then, it’s
obvious who should be opening for Brock and Modest Mouse on their next
tour.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 03, 2005
Blackalicious: The Craft
Anti-, 2005
Rating: 3.4
The backward complement to 2002's breakthrough
Blazing Arrow, Blackalicious’ The Craft has that old-school
vibe scientifically perfected. The smooth flow of "World of Vibrations"
and the groovy populism of "Supreme People" set a no-crumb-out-of-place
table. Tracks like "Automatique" might be admitting too much about the
thought process behind the creation of the album but at least on the
sobering "The Fall & Rise of Elliott Brown" the listener can feel the
pain and loss beyond the clinical studio setting. Chief Xcel and Gift of
Gab know exactly what they’re doing, and The Craft reinforces the
mastery of their craft. But a little less formula and more personal
expression would have gone a long way toward making this one an
essential addition to their discography.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 03, 2005
Elbow: Leaders of the Free World
V2, 2005
Rating: 3.0
Leaders of the Free World, Elbow’s successor to the
attention-garnering
Cast of Thousands kicks off with a fine, bombastic statement
of purpose. The triumphant "Station Approach" is clearly buoyed by
passionate optimism and ringing guitar parts (the tour is over and the
boys are clearly stoked about future prospects). "Picky Bugger" lowers
the dynamism altitude, an anti-excess stop sign. "The Stops"
(appropriately named) apes Nick Drake and conveys all the dour misery
the tragic artist’s name intimates, while the title track marks the
beginning of a downward spiral. George Bush is too easy a target, and
slamming him just doesn’t carry the activist weight it might have, say,
pre-Iraq invasion. The back end of the album trundles along, failing to
rival the opening energy or offer anything as interesting as the
non-anthemic detours.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 03, 2005
Bob Dylan: The Bootleg Series, Volume 7: No Direction Home: The
Soundtrack
Columbia / Legacy, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Evenly split between Dylan’s folk and rock periods, the two-disc No
Direction Home returns to the bootleg/alternate-take format of the
original three-volume bootleg series release (and also serves as a handy
tie-in to the carefully controlled, Martin Scorsese-assembled film of
the same name). The first disc is dominated by Dylan the earnest
disciple of Woody (check the wonderfully understated interpretation of
Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land"), questing traveler and endearing
fabricator of a more romantic upbringing than Hibbing, Minnesota could
provide. Other gems include the first complete take of “Mr. Tambourine
Man” from June 1964, and a politically ambiguous, quasi-amorous “Blowin'
in the Wind” from April 1963. The second disc is dominated by the
frizzy-haired, electrified wordsmith Dylan, who hit his peak in the
mid-’60s with the matchless trio Bringing It All Back Home,
Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde. It offers a few
moderately, historians-only alternate cuts from those seminal efforts.
But it’s the kiss-off electric “Maggie's Farm,” from the July 1965
Newport Folk Festival, that carries the most punch. Dylan’s allegiance
was always to the artistic muse, and here the first Great Disappointment
to more agenda-minded types (unplugged purist Pete Seeger, in
particular) backfires in the face of those who presumed Dylan ever
intended to be pigeonholed. The second disc, on the whole, is less
interesting than the first, but overall No Direction Home is a solid
addition to the legacy-conscious framing of early and transitional
Dylan-alia.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 03, 2005
Franz Ferdinand: You Could Have It So Much Better
Sony, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Franz Ferdinand keeps the frenzy level pumped to 10 on its sophomore
effort, You Could Have It So Much Better. At its best when
working under the three-minute mark, the Scottish four-piece still has
nothing relevant to say, but has managed to serve up a tighter
collection than
its
crazily hyped debut. The fast and furious, guitar-driven “This Boy”
and frantic stomper “Evil and a Heathen” ensure the rave won’t run out
of electric juice before the buzz wears off. A few wrinkles add welcome
variety to the familiar design: the stylish menace of “Walk Away”
features Morrissey-incanting lines like “I am cold / Yes I’m cold / But
not as cold as you are,” and serves as a nice change of pace to the
patented high-energy antics. “Eleanor Put Your Boots On” (apparently
about the Fiery Furnaces’ Eleanor Freidberger) is surprisingly endearing
in its delivery. But the heatedly delivered title track typifies the
too-cool-to-slow-down clip. You Could Have It So Much Better? Perhaps,
but why bother when you’re having this much fun?
:::
Laurence Station
Top
October 03, 2005
Tenth Hour Calling: Tenth Hour Calling
Independent, 2004
Rating 4.3
"This is not a band compiled on a whim, but a band put together with
great care and thought towards the spiritual and musical aspect of
performing." That's what the bio on the Web site for Tenth Hour Calling
says, and it could not be stated more perfectly. This five-piece
Christian rock band uses rhythms, harmonies and technical brilliance
seldom heard in any genre. It's better than the sum of its parts, and
since most of the members have degrees in music, that's saying
something. On songs like the funky groove of "I See" and the Eagles-esque
"Last Time," Tenth Hour Calling has managed to pool its collective
talents to make the debut album of the year. The intensely fierce and
technically flawless "Rain" and the lyrically brilliant and spiritually
cleansing "Color Me" are the two best tracks on the album, and two of
the best songs to come from the Christian music world this year. If
Tenth Hour Calling keeps up this level of quality on future releases, it
could end up being one of the most technically sound and talented bands
ever.
:::
Tim Wardyn
Top
September 26, 2005
Iron & Wine / Calexico: In the Reins [EP]
Overcoat Recordings, 2005
Rating: 3.7
In the Reins finds Sam Beam (Iron & Wine) collaborating with
Calexico (primarily Joey Burns and John Convertino), and the end result
is a seven-song mini-album that successfully marries Beam's hushed,
Southern-haunted romanticism with Calexico’s dusty Southwestern,
Mariachi-influenced sound. Stylistically, a considerable amount of
ground is covered in just over thirty minutes. The tethered restraint of
“He Lays In Reins” gives way to the high-lonesome lament “Prison on
Route 41,” which infuses just enough energy to not make the
sun-brightened horns of the toe-tapping, showy “History of Lovers” sound
like a complete shock to the senses. Middle-track dud “Red Dust” is a
faux-bluesy, forced roadhouse boot-stomper, but the closing three
tracks, especially the sadly strumming, gorgeous bend and bow of “16,
Maybe Less” more than recovers the fumble. In the Reins will
please fans of both Beam and Calexico, and perhaps bring crossover
business to each.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
September 26, 2005
The Dandy Warhols: Odditorium or Warlords of Mars
Capitol, 2005
Rating: 3.3
The Dandy Warhols' first two releases featured intermittently rewarding
wasted jams; the second two, commercial-friendly pop hooks. For their
fifth album, The Dandy Warhols split the difference. But that doesn’t
mean they make it easy for deadline-blowing reviewers scrambling for
easy, analytical angles. The assertion that the first half of
Odditorium or Warlords of Mars represents the initial, indulgent and
unfocused stage of the Dandys' development and the back half covers the
more sales-conscious post-2K Dandys doesn’t hold water. While
Odditorium is rife with inaccessible feedback squalls (“Love Is the
New Feel Awful”) and meandering snoozers (“Easy”), the presence of the
short hoe-down stomp “The New Country” thankfully breaks up the
drugged-out excesses and reveals just how good the band can be when it
actually bothers to play actual songs with a discernible structure and
winning hook. That's something the second half of Odditorium
possesses in spades, from the comparatively tight “Everyone Is Totally
Insane” to the swinging “more cowbell!” brilliance of album highlight
“Down Like Disco.” There’s even a suitably trippy closer, “There Is Only
This Time” -- only it isn’t the end. Reverting to the lame wastefulness
of the first half, we get the near twelve-minute, tepid “A Loan
Tonight.” So Odditorium contains the best and worst aspects of
the Dandy Warhols. This is somehow appropriate for a band that has never
quite broken through to the mainstream and ultimately sounds like its
members couldn’t care less if the brass ring ever fits their fidgety,
non-committal fingers.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
September 24, 2005
Super Furry Animals: Love Kraft
XL / Beggars Banquet, 2005
Rating: 3.6
The sound of guitarist Huw Bunford diving into a swimming pool is the
first thing you hear on the Super Furry Animals' incredibly laid-back
seventh album, Love Kraft. Recorded in Spain and completed in Rio
de Janeiro, Love Kraft is unhurried, smooth and easy on the ears.
Opener "Zoom!" does just the opposite of its titular promise,
transmitting space-junk frequencies over stoned grinner melodies. The
loose and shambolic sing-along stomp of "The Horn" works in some fibrous
harmonica and hammered dulcimer, but it's more Gomez-style harmless
trippy blues than Exile on Main Street-period Rolling Stones
lethal indulgences. The closest the band gets to the zany inventiveness
of Radiator-era Furries is "Psyclone!," a rumbling, hilarious
declaration of extinction that opens with a Woody Guthrie-worthy
send-up: "Pterodactyl, brontosaurus, tyrannosaurus gather 'round..."
Overly synthesized tracks like the flow-busting "Lazer Beam" and the
fuzzy "Frequency" detract from the weenie-roast beach-chill vibe.
Notably, Love Kraft is the first Furries album to feature the
writing and singing of all band members, which means less frontman Gruff
Rhys and presumably more variety. But aside from the noted exceptions,
Love Kraft is a solidly unified-sounding work: No political rants
or social observations, and, regrettably, no Welsh-language detours.
Just the Furries kicking it in warmer climes and putting aside deeper
concerns for the time being. Perhaps On Vacation would have been
a more apt title.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
September 22, 2005
Sigur Rós: Takk...
Geffen, 2005
Rating: 3.8
It’s fascinating how the intentional repetition of 2002’s
( ) -- variations
on a theme that moodily shifted from bright to darker elements --
retains a freshness and stirring immediacy, while Takk...,
Icelandic quartet Sigur Rós’ optimistically uplifting fourth release,
shifts into a cruise-control comfort zone, blissfully coasting on what
has come before. If the material on Takk... rivaled the best
moments on sophomore breakthrough Agætis Byrjun, such redundancy
can easily be brushed aside as progressive refinement on a notably
inventive template. The opening title track’s ethereal, alien harmonics
are followed by the familiar stacked resonance and gargantuan swells of
“Glósóli,” pretty but well shy of the altitude attained by Agætis
Byrjun standout “Svefn-G-Englar.” And the awesome fragility attained
by the nearly nine-minute “Sé Lest” ultimately peters out and drains
whatever momentum Takk... has established. The high points are
the most conventional (and un- Sigur Rós-like). The refreshingly brief
“Með Blóðnasir” features some bracing drum effects at the end, while
“Gong” retains backbone thanks to a recognizable rhythm section that
prevents it from being overwhelmed by expansively synthesized
melodramatics. Takk... is a beautiful-sounding record and it’s
obvious Sigur Rós isn't intentionally aping its musical language to cash
in on what still remains far left of mainstream art rock. To quote
painter Georgia O’Keefe: “To create one's own world in any of the arts
takes courage.” No doubt Sigur Rós has done just that. This works great
for the locals but can leave tourists a tad restless after experiencing
a similarly themed ride yet again.
:::
Laurence Station
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September 22, 2005
Sexsmith & Kerr: Destination Unknown
V2, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Dubbed an “Everly Brothers” project by Ron Sexsmith, Destination
Unknown, the singer-songwriter’s collaboration with longtime drummer
Don Kerr, proves to be just that: lots of slow, honey-coated two-part
harmonies about love found and (more obviously) love lost. At its best
-- opener “Listen” and the (comparatively) jaunty “Diana Sweets” --
Destination Unknown glides with respectfully earnest ease through
the guileless sounds of yesteryear. Indeed, on “Lemonade Stand,”
Sexsmith celebrates the simplicity of micro-capitalism and, more
importantly, an unfussy, youthful outlook. There’s not a shred of
sarcasm in lines like “a heart must have a reason where eyes don’t
understand,” from “One Less Shadow.” But the slow, shuffling pace
doesn’t make for the most invigorating listen. Obviously, it isn’t meant
to. This is an album intended to carry people back to another, less
complicated period in their lives. Just look at the album cover: Big car
in the background, adorable tyke behind the wheel of a mini-cruiser
coming right at us. Consistent to a fault and imbued with an aching
loveliness, Destination Unknown is a misnomer of a title, for
Sexsmith and Kerr know exactly where they want this music to take us. A
few bumps along the way might have helped make for a more memorable
journey, though.
:::
Laurence Station
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August 23, 2005
John Vanderslice: Pixel Revolt
Barsuk, 2005
Rating: 3.7
The post-9/11 world is a scary place, but the interior of one’s heart is
even more frightening. Such weighty thematic underpinnings fuel Pixel
Revolt, John Vanderslice’s fifth album. Vanderslice opens from an
abstract perspective with “Letter to the East Coast,” which touches on
the notion of a time-traveling Joan Crawford and how lonely that can be.
“Plymouth Rock” grounds itself to the modern reality of a solider in
Iraq who (understandably) has second thoughts about combat after getting
shot his first night out (“I lost the reason I’m here”). “Exodus Damage”
cleverly ties descending tones to its lyrical conceit (“Let it fall down
/ I’m ready for the end”) about a wannabe anti-government terrorist,
while the shimmering, tight groove-oriented “Peacocks in the Video Rain”
explores the mindset of a pop star’s ultra-obsessive biggest fan. The
mellotron- and Moog-powered “Trance Manual” concerns a journalist in
Iraq seeking a little physical comfort from a prostitute and features
one of the album’s sharpest lines: “You are a flag of a dangerous
nation.” The back half of Pixel Revolt is more personal in nature
-- the elegantly fragile “New Zealand Pines” recalls happier days with a
former flame; the anti-depressant lament “Dead Slate Pacific” staves off
suicidal thoughts while longing for a distant love. But it's pieces like
“Radiant with Terror,” Vanderslice’s updating of Robert Lowell’s poem
“Fall 1961” (in which dirty bombs replace nuclear war), that potently
express a societal dread and prove far more resonant than the heartsick
tales that are positioned to leave a deeper impression. Pixel Revolt
doesn’t reconcile the political and personal, and that may be the point.
But it nonetheless makes for a frustratingly uneven listening
experience.
:::
Laurence Station
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August 23, 2005
The New Pornographers: Twin Cinema
Matador, 2005
Rating: 4.1
Imagine if the New Pornographers listened to their modern peers for
inspiration (specifically the Shins) and also absorbed (and regurgitated
in bite-sized pop nuggets) the expansive progressiveness and
experimental artiness of Genesis, Brian Eno and John Cale. The end
result might sound something like Twin Cinema, the
Vancouver-based nontet’s (welcome to the fold, singer-pianist Kathryn
Calder and vocalist Nora O'Connor) third release. Twin Cinema has
the winning distinction of being the most rocking set from the
Pornographers to date -- and also the strangest. The opening title cut
plays it safe, offering a burst of loud, pop and proud high-energy
righteousness. Then, just when you think the waters are safe, over the
edge they go with “The Bones of an Idol,” with its persistent piano
chords and bizarre lyrical imagery of people on rafts fleeing with
their ancient artifacts. (Allusions to the current political climate,
perhaps, but obvious explanation would detract unnecessarily from the
obliquely skewed enjoyment quotient.) “The Jessica Numbers” is an untamed combination
of percussion and spit, elastically prog harmonies and wiggy guitar
parts. “Falling Through Your Clothes” is the spookiest tune the Shins
wish they’d recorded. The hard beats on the otherwise pedestrian “Use
It” and fantastic “Jackie, Dressed in Cobras” imbue Twin Cinema
with more muscle than prior Pornographers releases. But it’s the
psychotropic, wild-abandon approach to songcraft that makes this one a
keeper. If Clear Channel ignores the pop gems filling Mass Romantic
and
Electric Version, they’re never going to get it, so the band might
as well indulge their weirder tendencies. Corporate radio’s loss is the
discriminating listener’s gain.
:::
Laurence Station
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August 11, 2005
Indicia: Identifying Marks
Kanpai Records, 2005
Rating: 3.9
The debut album from California duo Indicia takes the listener to an
underground groove made famous by groups like Moloko and Sneaker Pimps.
Identifying Marks begins with the undeniably catchy “It’s Coming
Around,” which could have actually been an outtake from the Sneaker
Pimps' Becoming X. Vocalist Betsy Ullery conveys a sexy sincerity
that even makes the repetitive chorus of “Corners” (“I can’t reach you”
is repeated 16 times) sound genuine. While Ullery sexes up the album,
David Ward meshes his influences -- Uberzone, Dubtribe and Bassbin Twins
among others -- and lays a sonic backdrop perfect for a rave, relaxing
on the couch or that seedy brothel downtown. Ward and Ullery have
created a sonic wonder that is perfect for anyone who thinks that
electronic music is just the rehashing of one beat. Don’t be surprised
if Indicia starts invading more clubs around the nation soon.
:::
Tim Wardyn
Top
August 04, 2005
Michael Penn: Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947
spinART, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Michael Penn’s wife, Aimee Mann, released
The
Forgotten Arm earlier this year. Mann’s album is apparently set in
the 1970s and examines a relationship played out against a cross-country
travelogue. Penn’s Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947 is even more explicit
about its thematic point and setting. And, unlike Mann’s, Penn’s cover
art and liner-note background imagery accurately reflect the post-World
War II America in question. But, like his significant other, Penn uses
his lyrical brush to add the barest detail to this work about busted
relationships and renewed hope for finding warmth in the comforting arms
of another. Aside from name-checking well-known landmarks and
referencing familiar street names, brief, instrumental pieces “The
Transistor” (1947 being the year of its invention) and “18 September”
(the date the Department of Defense was created) and the charming “The
Television Set Waltz” are as obvious as Penn comes to linking his words
to the Los Angeles of yesteryear. The main focus is connecting lines
like “Every good thing I had abandoned me,” from opener “Walter Reed,”
with “Lose some more / Show him it’s worth dying for” from “Room 712,
The Apache” before reaching the upbeat conclusion that for every ending,
there’s a beginning (“On Automatic”). Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947 is
Penn’s most unified sounding record (impressive considering it’s long
gestation period and the varied blend of styles employed), and despite
sounding overly mannered in spots (“Your Know How”), marks a welcome
return from an artist whose solo work rates high regardless of the time
or place it’s set in.
:::
Laurence Station
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August 04, 2005
Caesars: Paper Tigers
Astralwerks, 2005
Rating: 2.7
It makes sense. Sweden's Caesars had to make their lead single the most
addictive song on the album. “Jerk It Out” was everywhere for a couple
of months this spring -- on the radio, iPod commercials and every record
store listening station. Now where are Caesars? Did they fall off the
earth? Not yet, but it’s coming quickly. If “Jerk It Out” is taken off
their fourth album, Paper Tigers -- as it should, since that song
has appeared twice before on Caesars releases -- then the chances of
this Swedish quartet being known amongst casual listeners, especially in
the states, is remote. Although the music hints at the Stooges and
Soundtrack of Our Lives, the album fails to warrant repeated listens.
With the exception of “Jerk It Out,” “Spirit” and “It’s Not the Fall
that Hurts,” the entire album is forgettable. By the halfway point, it
becomes too easy to zone out and for the music to fade into the
background. After a couple of listens, the slicked-up monotone becomes
monotonous and repetitive, as do vocalist Cesar Vidal’s echoed vocals.
The Strokes, the White Stripes and the Hives have exhibited staying
power with albums that are solid from beginning to end, and Caesars try
to ride the wave. Unfortunately for them, that wave has ended and the
undertow will suck them back into the ocean of bands, to be forgotten
just as quickly as they were found.
:::
Tim Wardyn
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July 29, 2005
Bob Mould: Body of Song
Yep Roc, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Body of Song is an apt title for Bob Mould’s post-Hüsker Dü
career-summarizing solo release. Hankering for Workbook-worthy
self-examinations? The slow, simmering “Circles” (“My circle of friends
is shrinking down”) and straight-ahead power rock of “Underneath Days”
deliver the goods. Club kids will feel right at home with post-Modulate
offerings, from the vocoderized vocals and pumping beat vitalizing
“(Shine Your) Light Love Hope” to the more guitar-oriented “I Am Vision,
I Am Sound.” But it’s fans of Mould’s power pop-rock trio Sugar who’ll
reap the greatest reward from Body of Song. Short and cutting,
“Best Thing” offers a healthy dose of sourpuss Sugar (“You just lost the
best thing you never had”). Even with the excessively treated keyboard
effects, the upbeat and passionately delivered “Paralyzed” is classic
verse-chorus-verse Sugar. Despite being overly repetitive, “Missing You”
nonetheless serves up fat power chords and signature Sugar harmonies.
The duds stand outside obvious classification: “High Fidelity” is a
pokey, acoustic-based ballad featuring weirdly out-of-place tubular
bells; closer “Beating Heart the Prize” is a ponderously over-long,
muddled exhibition of indulgent guitar parts. Body of Song is
patchwork and spotty, dappled with a handful of sparkling additions to
Mould’s estimable catalog. On the whole, however, it falls short of
either his solo or Sugar-fueled efforts.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 22, 2005
Sparkwood: Jalopy Pop
Sparkwood Music, 2005
Rating: 3.9
What if Moby had a hankering for the Beach Boys and decided to do a
little remix? Jalopy Pop could very well be the result of such an
endeavor. With the exception of the first and last tracks (which make up
15 of the disc's 56 minutes), Jalopy Pop is a dissertation on
1960s surfer rock complete with summer lovin' and groovin' on the
beaches -- "Nichole's Overture," "In Your Lovin' Arms" and "Miles Away"
could easily be outtakes taken right off a long-lost Beach Boys album.
Bart Padar, the mastermind behind Austin, Texas-based trio, takes the
'60s doo-wop sound of "Cruel World" and refreshes it by adding cryptic
lyrics like, "Sometimes I wish that life as we know it would end."
Overall, the mixture of electronica with the catchy rhythms of 60s
surfer rock makes for an undeniably entertaining album, and will
introduce another generation to just how much fun surfer rock can (and
used to) be.
:::
Tim Wardyn
Top
July 22, 2005
Parchman Farm: Parchman Farm [EP]
Jackpine Social Club, 2004
Rating: 2.3
Remember how the radio couldn't get enough of Jet's "Are You Gonna Go My
Way?" The public seemed to like the fact that the band took everything
that was sacred about classic rock, sucked the life out of it and made
it radio-friendly. Now take Parchman Farm, a quartet from California
that, within the five-tracks of this EP, manages to take Jet and suck
the remaining life right out of it. Didn't think that was possible? Take
a listen. The band invites comparisons to Kings of Leon, but is closer
to a dirtier version of Jet, with a raspier and more annoying vocalist
(Eric Shea), who plays the harmonica like he can't quite find his lips.
Parchman Farm's fuzzed-out rock sounds so dirty that a shower is
necessary after every listen. Thankfully, this is only five songs long.
Hopefully, Parchman Farm has realized its mistake and won't come out
with a full album. One soul-sucking band per generation is plenty.
:::
Tim Wardyn
Top
July 22, 2005
Of Montreal: The Sunlandic Twins
Polyvinyl, 2005
Rating: 3.8
The Kevin Barnes Experience (or Of Montreal, on official documents)
continues to get the funk out with The Sunlandic Twins, a worthy
successor to 2004’s impressive Satanic Panic in the Attic. While
still stylistically varied, and utilizing multiple movements in many of
the songs, Sunlandic Twins’ highlights are the ones that coax you
to dust off the dancing shoes. In this respect, “Wraith Pinned to the
Mist (And Other Games),” featuring a steadily pumping beat and sharp
melodic ticking shift toward the end, and the punkier “I Was Never
Young” work best. Big pop hooks are still very much in the mix, as well,
from the energetic opener “Requiem for O.M.M.2” to the intricately
structured “Forecast Fascist Future.” Barnes also can’t resist tossing
out overly literary similes (“I’ve been a gloomy Petrarch with a quill
as weepy as Dido,” from “So Begins Our Alabee”), and the second half
lacks the spirited kick of the first. But, on the whole, The
Sunlandic Twins is another laudable effort from Barnes and company.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 20, 2005
Teenage Fanclub: Man-Made
Merge, 2005
Rating: 3.7
More akin to the gray-skied mood of Songs from Northern Britain than the
energized pep of Grand Prix, Teenage Fanclub’s seventh full-length
release, Man-Made, doesn’t hit you over the head with immediately
accessible hooks and Bandwagonesque-memorable melodies. This is a mature,
reflective work (read: repeated spins are expected to reveal the deeper layers),
the sound of a veteran group content with its cult status and simply playing to
its strengths: Smartly crafted guitar-pop that will appeal to the faithful and
perhaps add an adherent or two. Tortoise’s John McEntire produces, but doesn’t
impose overt studio gimmickry on the twelve tracks (evenly distributed among the
trio of principal singer-songwriters -- Norman Blake, Gerard Love and Raymond
McGinley); rather, McEntire’s mix is understated, exhibiting a not-quite-samey
but uniformly smooth flow. Blake, once again, stars, with nary a dud among his
four contributions (the lone rocking cut “Slow Fade” being the best). But
balance is key, and thus we get "Only With You," McGinley’s lovely (if plodding)
ode to monogamy, followed by "Cells," Blake’s delightfully uncomplaining ode to
decay. Love’s contributions are defined by excellent arrangements, from the
shimmering taffeta guitar work that closes “Time Stops” to the buttery-smooth
rhythms of “Save.” Thanks to McEntire’s tight rein on the production and the
still-formidable skills of the players, Man-Made finds Teenage Fanclub
successfully keeping middle-age spread at bay.
:::
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July 19, 2005
Engineers: Engineers
Echo, 2005
Rating: 3.2
“One In Seven” is the best song on the London-based four-piece Engineers'
self-titled long player. Guitars soar, drums pound, and a sense of urgency
swells dramatically, ending in a powerfully symphonic cavalcade of
wannabe-anthemic rock. The problem: “One In Seven” is the last song on the
album. The ten tracks preceding it simply don’t measure up (though opener “Home”
lands nearest). Not that there’s anything particularly horrendous with the
drowsy haze of “Waved On” or the spaciously placid “New Horizons.” But for a
band clearly capable of righteous storms of sound to hunker down rather than
embracing their obvious gift for bombastic melody seems wasteful. The rousing
“One In Seven” can’t be called a tease so much as a missed opportunity to arrest
listeners’ senses early on, thus keeping them involved for the duration. There’s
a reason the strongest material is typically sequenced near the front: Forty
minutes in, attention spans tend to drift. Engineers has structural
issues; hopefully its successor will follow a better blueprint.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 19, 2005
Röyksopp: The Understanding
Astralwerks, 2005
Rating: 3.8
More alive and texturally diverse than its subdued electronic debut Melody
A.M., Röyksopp’s The Understanding reveals Norwegian duo Torbjørn
Brundtland and Svein Berge building on the percolating energy of Melody’s
"Röyksopp's Night Out" and fearlessly expanding its musical boundaries.
Melody A.M. may be a more unified listening experience, but The
Understanding is considerably more invigorating. The biggest complaint here
stems from the excessive emphasis on vocals, which too often fall into
overlapping Pet Shop Boys tripe (“Only This Moment” being the most obvious
offender). Chelonis R. Jones brings soulful resonance to “49 Percent” and The
Knife’s Karin Dreijer offers an evocative, otherworldly turn on “What Else Is
There?” But it’s the non-vocal tracks that leave a lasting imprint, with the
jazzy, confidently expressive opener “Triumphant” and the elongated,
Kraftwerk-pulsing “Alpha Male” earning the highest marks. The Understanding
is one of those bold sophomore efforts that will most likely split fans of the
duo into two camps, with the Air/Boards of Canada downbeaters lamenting the new
direction and the dance-oriented, Basement Jaxx set reveling in the unexpected
vibrancy of Röyksopp’s present sound. Let the anticipation begin for the
(hopefully) anything-goes third release.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 19, 2005
Laura Cantrell: Humming By The Flowered Vine
Matador, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Nashville-born, New York-based Laura Cantrell is obsessed with finding a pure
country sound. Not the latest marketing-driven Toby Keith patriotic anthem or
sugary pop confection perfected by Shania Twain: Cantrell prefers dirt-free,
articulate production, with an emphasis on the stories behind the songs, a truth
that goes beyond contrived lonesome ballads or Saturday night shit-kicker
stomps. Humming By The Flowered Vine, her third album, is a
well-sequenced blend of interpretations, originals and covers. The traditional
“Poor Ellen Smith,” about a man sent to the gallows futilely professing his
innocence, is imbued with an unvarnished, acquiescent insight -- as when the
condemned narrator gazes from the bars of his cell and studies the grave of the
woman he’s accused of murdering. The Cantrell-penned “California Rose” pays
tribute to honky-tonk singer Rose Maddox, who agonized over leaving the family
singing group to strike out on her own, and moves at a quick but measured clip,
conveying a lot of information with easy sincerity. Cantrell brings a guarded
toughness to Lucinda Williams’ “Letters,” backed by some suitably sturdy guitar
lines. Obviously, the peerless craft and genuflecting reverence are beyond
reproach; those desiring a more progressive form are out of luck. Cantrell is
all about keeping the flame of the past alight, and in that respect Humming
By The Flowered Vine burns with dazzling clarity.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 19, 2005
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Self-released, 2005
Rating: 3.8
New York five-piece Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s self-released, self-titled debut
is a concrete example of a young band aping its influences and still managing to
convey a discernible identity. Two major reasons lead singer/songwriter Alec
Ounsworth and crew overcome sounding so familiar without offering anything
unique: good taste and chops. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (CYHSY) kick things off
with the appropriately titled “Clap Your Hands!,” a drunker carnival barker
swoon that recalls Black Rider-period Tom Waits. The controlled
minimalism of “Over and Over Again (Lost and Found),” which offers the strangely
appealing couplet “A clean shave in the morning / And a full beard with no
warning,” has Ounsworth affecting less-frantic David Byrne-esque vocalizations.
The peppier “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth” and “Is This Love?” find
Ounsworth summoning an unholy Gordon Gano-meets-Isaac Brock strangulated yelp.
CYHSY has crafted a whatever-sticks debut with meritorious replay value. The
brief instrumental interludes (“Sunshine and Clouds and Everything Proud” and
“Blue Turning Gray”) are fairly insubstantial, but they add variety to an
already impressively eclectic mix. Slot this one under: Bands whose record
collections you’d want to borrow from.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 13, 2005
Xiu Xiu: La Forêt
5 Rue Christine, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Nocturnal, nightmarish and fantastic are worthy adjectives to describe La
Forêt (or “The Forest” for you non-Francophiles sleeping in the back), the
discordantly anti-commercial outfit Xiu Xiu’s latest psychological meltdown
masquerading as a pop-rock album. Singer/programmer Jamie Stewart is still all
about heavy melodramatics (“It’s impossible to just keep on living,” he
professes on the relationship-gone-sour opener “Clover” as an ominous vibraphone
plays), but La Forêt expresses such sentiments in more creative ways than
prior Xiu Xiu efforts. “Muppet Face” moves from airy synth to spookily moody
rhythms and, ultimately, industrial shrieking. “Baby Captain” utilizes twisted
lyrical dream logic to manifest emotional frailties in the forms of “black
Phoebe” and a “white gold girl.” The aggressively violent imagery of “Saturn”
(arrows stabbed through the bottoms of mouths) draws on the mythological tale of
Zeus freeing his siblings from his father’s belly. La Forêt’s least
interesting numbers are, unsurprisingly, the most straightforward (the
guitar-and- bass-driven “Pox”) and those that go overboard on the metal-scraping
production elements (“Dangerous You Shouldn't Be Here” and the closing “Yellow
Raspberry”). That La Forêt is ultimately a difficult, uneven work fits
the Xiu Xiu M.O. to a T. This isn’t a band looking to be loved so much as it
desires a swift kick in the teeth. Alas, reaction to such obvious
sadomasochistic goading exceeds the energy threshold of this reviewer.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 13, 2005
The Magic Numbers: The Magic Numbers
Heavenly/EMI, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Siblings Romeo and Michele Stodart and Sean and Angela Gannon comprise the Magic
Numbers, a group enamored with sweet harmonies and lovelorn melodies. The
quartet’s self-titled debut displays an impressive range of styles, from the
soulful pop devotional “Mornings Eleven” (“I would die for you”) to
country-tinged ballads (“Wheels On Fire”). And while the lyrics tend toward the
generic and vapid (“She don’t love me like you,” from “Love Me Like You”), the
primary appeal of Magic Numbers is the lovely harmonizing, especially the
back-and-forth interplay between Romeo and Angela on “I See You, You See Me.”
The closing “Hymn For Her” -- tacked onto “Try” after a pointless stretch of
silence akin to far too many so-called "hidden tracks" -- is a wonderful ode to
love’s redemption (“I've been hurt before, but all the scars have rearranged”).
It packs an emotional wallop that blows away the superficially polished
preceding tunes; it's here that the “magic” of the Magic Numbers glows
brightest. With more tracks like this one, the nascent foursome will truly have
an album worth crowing about.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 13, 2005
Missy Elliott: The Cookbook
Atlantic, 2005
Rating: 3.3
If it ain't broke, don’t fix it. Not the most original axiom, but it's
an appropriate one, considering the criticism lobbed at the Missy
Elliott-Timbaland tandem for recycling prior efforts. 2003's
This is Not a Test! sold poorly and didn’t wow the reviewing
cognoscenti (this site being an exception). Hence, something had to
change. The Cookbook is the Big Shakeup in the Missy Elliott
camp: Producer Timbaland has been cut back to two tracks, and an army of
other producers ushered in to collaborate with Elliott. Aside from
breaking any uniform flow the album might have had, this only reinforces
just how strong the artistic symbiosis between Elliott and Timbaland is.
It’s hardly a coincidence that the first two tracks belong to Timbaland
and stand as high as anything else offered. The amusing, thematic
table-setting “Joy” has Elliott trying out a bizarre Jamaican-Romanian
accent that doesn’t really work, but does allow her to list the numerous
guest-star “ingredients” featured in the mix. It’s Timbaland's
stripped-clean beats that stand out, masterfully rising and falling
behind the raps of Elliott and Mike Jones. “Party Time” is a high-energy
dance-floor explosion, with Timbaland ratcheting up the beat and setting
the bar for the subsequent club tunes. Those that measure up include the
'80s-beat sampling “Lose Control” and the Rich (“Crazy in Love”)
Harrison-produced banger “Can't Stop.” The Neptunes-engineered “On & On”
is less successful, with its overly familiar revving-power-plant rhythms
doing little to complement Elliott’s razor-sharp rhyming. “Click Clack”
is a raunchy “in da club” throwaway that craters due to a tired beat and
lame flow. Toss in a handful of ballads with R&B songbirds (the uneven,
intermittently brilliant “My Struggles” being the highlight), and The
Cookbook is complete. Too bad the final dish is an over-baked
confection that falls well below its primary chef’s abilities.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 11, 2005
Son Volt: Okemah and the Melody of Riot
Transmit Sound/Legacy, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Okemah and the Melody of Riot (Okemah being a tip of the cap to Woody
Guthrie’s Oklahoma hometown and "Melody of Riot" being, well, an indication of
the rollicking melodies to be found within) is nominally the fourth studio
effort from Jay Farrar's Son Volt. It's also the first in nearly seven years,
not counting the recent Retrospective from a few months back. Of course,
considering that lead singer/songwriter Farrar is the sole returning original
member, you could call it Son Volt 2.0. That's not likely to matter to Farrar's
faithful fans: Despite the revamped lineup, Okemah sounds like a Son Volt
record. That is, there are little of the exacting production tics that defined
Farrar’s intervening solo albums, and lots of pedal steel and slide guitar.
Regardless, it’s all tied together by the signature sound of Farrar’s untreated,
nasally warble and crypto-Americana lyrics (like “Updated consciousness /
knocking on doors,” from the mid-tempo opener “Bandages & Scars”). Whether
making a refreshingly non-finger-pointing anti-war statement (“Endless War” and
its “same result, different name” outlook -- “Still trying to understand / How
another wrong makes a right”) or waxing nostalgic for a musical/mythical America
long gone (“Afterglow 61” and the aforementioned “Bandages & Scars” which
includes the affectionate acknowledgement “The words of Woody Guthrie ringing in
my head”), Farrar imbues the material with genuine and passionate concern. This
is not a man who stands in the mirror, affecting the perfect pose before gigs.
And, despite taking few chances thematically or musically, the reincarnated Son
Volt delivers a tight, nothing-wasted set. And if it drums up some additional
tourism for Woody Guthrie’s birthplace, well, so much the better.
:::
Laurence Station
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July 08, 2005
Waterproof Blonde: The Morning After the Night Before
Crash Avenue Entertainment, 2005
Rating: 3.3
Waterproof Blonde is a tease. On its debut album The Morning After
the Night Before, the band briefly exudes the raw intensity that
shot Garbage and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs into the big time (although its
sound is more bluesy and less electronic or fuzzed-out, more like the
Donnas or the lesser-known Honey Tongue), before kicking back into
rock/pop mode and coasting the rest of the way. Gritty tracks like "Hold
Me Down" and "Feel" showcase singer Rachel Hagen's vocals, which are the
audio equivalent to a kick in the head. Unfortunately, those are the
only two tracks -- which happen to be the first two on the album -- to
do so. The middle of the album tends to drag, especially on "Parade"
coming right after "Fall on Her" -- both reminiscent of No Doubt's
"Simple Kind of Life" in that they don't really climax, but are decent
enough to satisfy most musical palates. Note to Waterproof Blonde: If
you have two songs that sound exactly the same, don't put them right
next to each other. The band tries to bring the same intensity at the
end of the album with "Supermodel Craving" and "Tackle Queen," but it
seems canned and uninspired. Overall, The Morning After the Night
Before isn't bad, but the promise of the first two tracks is never
fulfilled.
:::
Tim Wardyn
Top
July 08, 2005
Jamie Lidell: Multiply
Warp, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Multiply is Jamie Lidell’s tribute to ’60s soul and ’70s funk.
The erstwhile Super_Collider collaborator hasn’t entirely lost touch
with his techno roots, however. Multiply successfully melds
programmed beats with Lidell’s fearlessly elastic croon. Check out the
overdubbed, digitized baritone and faux falsetto on “A Little Bit More”
or the spot-on Otis Redding homage of the title track, complete with
Otis-aping lines like “Stuck between my shadow and me” as the synthetic
beat keeps perfect time. The brassy funk of “Newme” and the
whir-and-shuffle, stuttering shout-speak of “When I Come Back Around”
also merit special mention. Multiply sacrifices cohesion in its
quest for stylistic diversity, but it’s a bravura tour through the
smooth sounds and hot jams of yesteryear.
:::
Laurence Station
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June 30, 2005
Fountains of Wayne: Out-of-State Plates
Virgin, 2005
Rating: 3.0
The cover of Out-of-State Plates, Fountains of Wayne’s sprawling
two-disc compilation of B-sides, rarities and previously unreleased
material, shows a collection of junked cars. Well, at least the band’s
honest about the contents. Simply put, barring a few notable exceptions,
these are the songs that either weren’t good enough or didn’t fit into
any of the New Jersey-based group’s proper releases. Older cuts -- the
brief, heartfelt “Places” and the only slightly longer, closing
“Imperia,” which, according to the liner notes, pays tribute to singer
Chris Collingwood’s grandfather -- leave an impression, as do a pair of
new songs: the classic power-pop gem “Maureen” and "The Girl I Can't
Forget," a playful ode to drunken confusion. For those who didn’t spend
time and money tracking down decent but hardly revelatory songs like
“California Sex Lawyer” or “Elevator Up” and are eager to hear a
too-serious stab at Britney Spears’ “...Baby One More Time,”
Out-of-State Plates capably does its palate-cleansing job, setting
the table for the eagerly awaited successor to
Welcome Interstate Managers. Besides, one person’s junk is another
person’s treasure. Happy hunting.
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Laurence Station
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June 27, 2005
Dressy Bessy: Electrified
Transdreamer, 2005
Rating: 3.4
To accurately describe Dressy Bessy's style, one might well use the term
"bubblegum punk". "Pop punk" currently has too much of a connection to teenage
angst, and there's hardly a song on Electrified that can be considered
less than exuberant. (When was the last time liner notes listed band members as
playing "guitarz", or a lyricist used the phrases "wiggin' out" or "stop foolin'"?)
The band addresses traditional pop concerns like fame, bad relationships and
falling in love, while coating Tammy Ealom's sung-spoken vocals with some nice
hooks, guitars for texture, and dependable drums and bass for the rhythm. Britt
Myers keeps the production fairly minimal, adding some piano and vocal dubbing,
but otherwise this is the raw guitar rock of youth. The problem is that
uncomplicated joy mixed with uncomplicated rock can be taken for only so long.
While "Side 2", "Stop Foolin'" and "Electrified" contribute an excellent
one-two-three opening, and "Who'd Stop The Rain" is a lovely country break from
the rest of the album's summery vibe, on the whole Electrified offers too
much syrup. "HelloHelloHello" sports the saddest guitar hook in the world,
possessed of such exuberance but paired with a melody that just weighs it down.
"It Happens All The Time" merits extra points for pulling the album out of the
perceived second-half slump, but it's not quite enough. If Dressy Bessy were a
girl, she'd be charming, endearing and cute, and you'd spend dates in some
combination of trips to the malt shop and making out in the back seat of your
car. But after getting home each night you'd read Goethe for a few hours to make
up for the lack of conversation.
:::
Peter Landwehr
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June 24, 2005
Pernice Brothers: Discover a Lovelier You
Ashmont, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Discover a Lovelier You, the fifth Pernice Brothers record, bears
familiar hallmarks of the band’s previous efforts. There’s English Lit
vocabulary (“Tontines and silly oaths and hyperbole,” from “Sell Your
Hair”), cheeky, pop-culturally relevant titles (“My So-Called Celibate
Life”), and Biblical allusions (“Fingered wounds proved I had been
dead,” from “Pisshole In The Snow”), all tied together by
unlucky-in-life-and-love story-song sketches. Where Discover a
Lovelier You falls short is in the hooks department. Yours, Mine
and Ours was just as literate and lovelorn, but enjoyed far more
memorable choruses. “Saddest Quo” is Discover's classic Pernice
Brothers track, catchy and quick-witted, despite some baffling
declarations like “Wandering through like a head of tetra cyclic
cattle.” Despite lead singer/songwriter Joe Pernice’s MFA-backed
smartness of songcraft, the Pernice Brothers slot solidly alongside
bands serving up one three-minute pop gem after another, like the
Magnetic Fields and the New Pornographers. In that regard, Discover a
Lovelier You is a modest triumph, and certainly not indicative of
the group’s best work.
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June 24, 2005
Van Morrison: Magic Time
Geffen, 2005
Rating: 3.8
On the title track of Van Morrison’s Magic Time, the
nothing-left-to-prove Irish troubadour sings, “You can call it nostalgia
/ I don’t mind.” Boy, doesn’t he. Morrison continues to revel in some
quasi-romantic, pre-1970s period of pop culture, a Brigadoon of
Celtic-flavored, misty-eyed blues-rock. Opening the album with a song
called “Stranded” and announcing how adrift he feels in modern times
might be stating the obvious, especially when Morrison follows it with a
track called “Celtic New Year,” whose title and Astral Weeks-period
sound veers dangerously near self-parody. It’s also rather confounding
to pick up the tempo with a determined tune like “Keep Mediocrity at
Bay” and then follow it up with safe, to-the-half-note-faithful Frank
Sinatra and Perry Como covers (“This Love of Mine” and “I'm Confessin',”
respectively) that neither update nor transform the compositions into
distinctively Morrison-esque interpretations. But, missteps aside,
Magic Time delivers that familiar blanket on a chill winter’s day
vibe, and Morrison fans will thankfully bury themselves under it.
“Evening Train,” with its steady chug-along beat and familiar harmonica,
and the par-for-the-course “Gypsy in My Soul” won’t move mountains in
the search for something unexpected and daring, but they more than do
their jobs. Besides, at this point, the notion of Morrison using a
vocoder and musing about dark futures over detached electronic beats
just wouldn’t seem right. We’ll call it nostalgia and accept that
Magic Time isn’t meant to overreach its guaranteed target market.
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June 24, 2005
Turin Brakes: JackInABox
Astralwerks, 2005
Rating: 3.0
Olly Knights and Gale Paridjanian just want to break free on
JackInABox, the South London pop-folk duo Turin Brakes' third
release. On “Fishing for a Dream” they seek “somewhere where we can be
ourselves.” On “Over and Over,” Knights urges, “let’s get lost in space”
because “I’m stuck in a rat race.” “Above the Clouds” reinforces the
desire to escape the terrestrial binds of work and traffic jams,
emotionally draining personal entanglements and dead-end encounters.
Even the warm ode to bustling city life, “Building Wraps Round Me,”
exudes a claustrophobic heaviness. At its best, JackInABox
manages a smooth flow undercut by genuine pain. “Road to Nowhere” offers
no false sentiments with lines like “everyone’s dying or curling up in
pain.” Elsewhere, “Last Clown” features a jazzy coda that takes Turin
Brakes’ sound into an adventurously fresh direction. Undermining these
positive elements are tracks like “Forever,” with cloying, trite lines
like "I’m infected by your love," with the narrator declaring himself
"chemically changed" by the experience. Turin Brakes' stab at funkier
material, “Asleep With the Fireflies,” sounds like a send-up of Counting
Crows (“I’ve been hanging around / My head in my hands and my feet on
the ground”). In a nutshell, JackInABox lacks the consistent flow
of The Optimist LP and doesn’t match the sturdy songcraft of
Ether Song.
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June 24, 2005
Art Brut: Bang Bang Rock and Roll
Fierce Panda / The Orchard, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll is so over as a lifestyle choice for the
aspiring musician. The South London quintet Art Brut claims as much
throughout its charming, almost-but-not-quite-there-yet debut, Bang
Bang Rock and Roll: “I just want a girl to hold my hand,” moons
singer Eddie Argos on the title track, while the hopeful bent of leadoff
single “Formed A Band” aspires to bring peace to the world. Art Brut’s
sharp guitar lines and hefty beat won’t win many points for originality,
but it’s hard not to root for a band that so guilelessly examines the
awkward romantic entanglements of youth. Reticence in the heat of the
moment is nakedly exposed on “Rusted Guns Of Milan,” and the thrill of
finally hitting a horizontal home run is deliriously celebrated on “Good
Weekend,” with its dizzy-headed pronouncements (“got myself a brand new
girlfriend”) and chest-thumping, Tarzan holler of a chorus (“I’ve seen
her naked, twice!”). Art Brut’s best move, however, is dedicating a song
to the one that got away -- “Emily Kane,” in this particular instance,
with its endearing sentiment, “I hope this song finds you fame.”
Frenzied throwaways like “Modern Art” and vapid observations like
“popular culture no longer applies to me,” from “Bad Weekend,” keep
Bang Bang Rock and Roll from attaining that rarified feel of
unveiling something truly special. But on the strength of its virginally
gobsmacked confessional numbers, Art Brut undoubtedly merits “remember
the name” grading.
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June 24, 2005
Akron/Family: Akron/Family
Young God/ Revolver, 2005
Rating: 3.3
If Iron & Wine’s Sam Beam formed a barbershop quartet, it might sound
something like the warm and fuzzy folk stylings peppering Akron/Family’s
self-titled debut. Backing up this notion are the roundabout, yearning
“Suchness” and gentle love paean “I'll Be On The Water,” which professes
to have “Lightning bolts in my chest” for its object of affection.
Akron/Family favors far messier production techniques than Beam,
however. Sounds of fiddling with the tape machine, presumably for
authenticity’s sake, and assorted digital blips and bird samples abound.
While this formless and free approach has an undeniable lo-fi charm, the
canned effects emphasize the artificiality of the recording process, not
the “in the wild” spontaneity seemingly aimed for. But thanks to artists
like Joanna Newsome and Devendra Banhart, sun-glazed folk with
idiosyncratic flourishes is the sound du jour for many in the indie rock
community; just don’t imagine you’re intercepting something never
intended for a ten-dollar latte-sipping public. Akron/Family has
definite talent, but less forced naturalness, tighter song structures
and greater emphasis on appealing harmonies could only help the group in
its quest to conquer the known musical universe, or, at the very least,
the corner organic foods mart.
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June 24, 2005
Okkervil River: Black Sheep Boy
Jagjaguwar, 2005
Rating: 3.0
Austin rock outfit Okkervil River’s fourth release, Black Sheep Boy,
is verbose and labored. Singer and songwriter Will Sheff has no trouble
tossing out SAT-approved vocabulary words like "abecedarian," but the
biggest problem stems from a lack of groove. Black Sheep Boy
never flows, despite the seamless transition between tracks and obvious
thematic links concerning helpless lambs, royal archetypes and
stone-cold lovers. On “The Latest Toughs,” Sheff wedges in an awkward
“author’s note” and encourages listeners to fill in the subsequent pause
with their own musings. Such meta-participatory gimmicks undermine the
emotional heft Black Sheep Boy so earnestly tries to impart. The
least wordy tracks, unsurprisingly, prove the most effective, as on “In
a Radio Song,” where the music is allowed to shift and expand without
being bound to some ruler-straight notebook of pronouns and synonyms.
Black Sheep Boy has bold ambitions, but Okkervil River hasn’t quite
reached the point where polished execution equals or surpasses
preliminary concept. Prescription: Less abecedarian, more instinctive
melody.
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June 16, 2005
Brian Eno: Another Day on Earth
Hannibal, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Here’s an easy summation of Brian Eno’s latest solo album, Another Day on
Earth: A seamless integration of early, post-Roxy Music vocals and later,
moodier ambient compositions. But that doesn’t tell the whole story. Another
Day on Earth does feature the heaviest vocal work from Eno in more than a
quarter of a century (discounting his 1990 collaboration with John Cale). But
the majority of the vocals are so tweaked and treated, morphed and modulated as
to simply lose any sense of the man himself. Underscoring this point is Eno’s
least processed performance on “How Many Worlds,” which features a tinny piano
and Eno’s voice refreshingly front and center, asking unanswerable questions
like, “How many people will we feed today?” Tellingly, the least
affected-sounding track is one of the most affecting of the bunch. Mostly,
though, we get words buried beneath trance-like ambient snowdrifts (“And Then So
Clear,” “Going Unconscious” and “Caught Between”). The most powerful moment
arrives at the end, and isn’t even performed by Eno. Aylie Cooke’s eerily
detached spoken-word work on “Bone Bomb,” about a young suicide bomber, hits
hard and ends the album on a powerful note. Those eager for another “Baby’s On
Fire” from Eno will have to satiate themselves with this gut-punch of a
highlight.
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June 16, 2005
Gomez: Out West
ATO, 2005
Rating: 3.4
It’s rather fitting that bluesy rock outfit Gomez’s first release for Dave
Matthews’ ATO label is a double live set. Spotlighting the group’s jam-oriented
tendencies and leaning heavily on material from the British sextet’s first two
albums -- the Mercury Prize-winning debut Bring It On and the similarly
structured Liquid Skin -- Out West works best when it extends the
studio cuts. “Here Comes the Breeze” and “Revolutionary Kind” especially benefit
from this sweaty-workout approach, allowing greater interplay between band
members and a more spontaneous sound. The two covers prove hit-and-miss, with a
meatier stab at Nick Drake’s “Black Eyed Dog” segueing nicely into Bring It
On’s “Free To Run.” A growling attempt at Tom Waits’ “Going Out West” buttresses
just how great the original is. Out West’s main drawback is pacing;
despite being drawn from a trio of sold-out shows at the Fillmore in San
Francisco earlier this year, there’s little sense of momentum. Even simply
taking the highlights from the three performances and stitching together a set
list that builds to a rousing finish (greater crowd feedback, clearly delineated
encores, and so forth) would have helped convey what a Gomez live show feels
like. Instead, its rousing peaks and studio-same-y valleys defeat the entire
purpose of a live document.
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June 10, 2005
Four Tet: Everything Ecstatic
Domino, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Kieran Hebden’s fourth Four Tet album, Everything Ecstatic, jumps
all over the musical map, from crashing cymbal-squalling frenzies (“A
Joy”) that trigger recollections of fellow laptop composer Dan “Caribou”
Snaith’s work, to deliriously explosive percussion that could put on
smile on the face of peerless jazz drummer Rashied Ali. But the overall
sound of Everything Ecstatic pushes in fresh directions for the
compositionally questing Hebden. Familiar folktronica structures have
been torched for insurance money now financing a new, freewheeling
approach that can loosely be summed up as jazzy Orientalism. Touches of
this stylistic shift colored 2003’s
Rounds, but Everything Ecstatic proves an emphatic break with
the charged-particle, pastoral energy so prevalent on Dialogue
and Pause. The breakneck, Polynesian tribal rhythms of “High
Fives” and the metropolitan pulse of Hong Kong on “Turtle Turtle Up” are
the most obvious examples of Ecstatic’s strong Asiatic focus, but
everything crystallizes on the closing, intimate “You Were There With
Me,” which conjures images of meditating on a peaceful Sunday afternoon
as lazily swaying chimes play. The low-energy, nocturnal hip-hop vibe of
“And Then Patterns” fails to mesh nearly as well, and the dispensable
“Fuji Check,” doesn’t have enough time to develop into an interesting
detour or serve as a transitional segue between more substantial tracks.
Consequently, Everything Ecstatic doesn’t come together as
solidly as prior Four Tet releases, but it unquestionably contains the
blueprint for far greater explorations to come.
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June 06, 2005
System of a Down: Mezmerize
Columbia, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Mezmerize is the first of two System of a Down (SOAD) releases due out
this year (the second, Hypnotize, drops in the fall). Like the
genre-hopping metal band’s previous releases, Mezmerize is
unapologetically up-front about its politics -- case in point: "B.Y.O.B.," with
strident anti-war couplets like “Why don't presidents fight the war? / Why do
they always send the poor?” And, as has been the case since the group’s
self-titled 1998 debut, the melodies have progressively become more integral to
the overall mix of angrily opinionated lyrics and rapid-fire chord changes. "B.Y.O.B."
alternates between a jarring Red Hot Chili Peppers-style refrain ("Everybody's
going to the party, have a real good time / Dancing in the desert, blowing up
the sunshine"), frantic thrashing, and Elmer Fuddian "Lalala"s. “Sad Statue”
manages to make the chorus “You and me / We'll all go down in history / With a
sad Statue of Liberty” hummable. “Violent Pornography” serves up the choice
finger-snapper “Choking chicks and sodomy.” But it’s when SOAD takes a more
bizarre slant that the band’s originality and sense of humor shine. “This
Cocaine Makes Me Feel Like I'm on This Song” features the Zappa-worthy verse
“There's nothing wrong with me / There's something wrong with you / Don't eat
the fish,” while “Radio/Video” may be the world’s first accordion-based metal
song. More tracks like this would help offset the exhaustive laundry list of
pissed-off concerns. Mezmerize is on par with 2001’s Toxicity as
SOAD’s best offering to date. Hopefully, Hypnotize will up the ante
further while easing up on the lead-foot activist pedal.
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June 04, 2005
Belle & Sebastian: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds
Matador, 2005
Rating: 3.9
Fans of the Scottish pop group Belle & Sebastian have been waiting for its new
compilation, Push Barman To Open Old Wounds, for quite a while now. The
band is famous for releasing singles and EPs filled with exclusive material
(excepting "The State I Am In", off of Tigermilk) -- a trend reversed
with the string of singles from Dear Catastrophe Waitress -- and Push
Barman is a self-proclaimed "budget priced" double CD that compiles the
seven singles/EPs released on Jeepster: Dog On Wheels, Lazy Line
Painter Jane, 3...6...9... Seconds of Light, This Is Just A Modern
Rock Song, Legal Man, Jonathan David and I'm Waking Up To
Us. In addition to simply being a package for the band's more obscure
tracks, the album nicely spans its shift from folksy, melancholy
introspectiveness to light summer-pop, with the former contained on the first
disc and a mix of the two styles on the second. The songs all sound less cleanly
produced than any of the full albums, so this is probably not the best
introduction for neophytes. At the same time, it's an excellent bridge between
the band's two styles for someone who owns just one album, and is enough of a
blend of sweet, sad, happy and romantic to last for quite a few spins. On "This
Is Just A Modern Rock Song", singer Stuart Murdoch claims, "We're just four boys
in corduroy / We're not terrific but we're competent." Push Barman is a
pleasant confirmation that this line sells Belle & Sebastian short.
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June 04, 2005
At the Drive-In: Anthology: This Station Is Non-Operational
Fearless, 2005
Rating: 3.9
Given that At the Drive-In split into two diametrically opposed bands -- the
conventional rock outfit Sparta and aggressively outré The Mars Volta -- the
career retrospective Anthology: This Station Is Non-Operational is a
welcome refresher course on what solid music can come from the tension born of
competing musical philosophies. Running (mostly) chronologically,
Non-Operational opens with the raw, frenetic “Fahrenheit” and evolves to the
discrete, start-stop dynamics of the band’s final studio release, 2000’s
Relationship of Command, personified by the bracing “One Armed Scissor.” As
the El Paso-based group’s proficiency increased, so did the experimental nature
of its sound. The recorded turning point of ATDI, 1999’s Vaya EP, is well
represented here by “Metronome Arthritis” and “198d.” This is where the battle
between easily discernible melodies and more progressive jams plays out most
obviously: a tug-of-war that ends in a draw but results in an incredibly
thrilling listening experience. The non-LP material that fleshes out the rest of
the anthology is less rewarding. “This Night Has Opened My Eyes” is a
comparatively straight cover of the Smiths’ original, as is a suitably wiggy
workout of Pink Floyd’s “Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk.” Also, the only
cuts represented before 1997’s El Gran Orgo is a more inspired live
rendition of Acrobatic Tenement’s “Initiation" -- there's nothing from
the early EPs Hell Paso and Alfaro Vive, Carajo! While that's
hardly essential stuff, it still would have been nice to have a track or two
included, thus presenting a more thorough overview of ATDI’s career.
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June 04, 2005
Common: Be
MCA, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Be is an appropriate title for Common’s latest release. Short, assertive,
and to the point, it’s a perfect header for an album filmed with equally
concise, self-assured and message-heavy tracks. Clocking in at less than 43
minutes (in comparison to the hour-and-twenty-minute, brilliant but uneven
Like Water for Chocolate and 2002’s near-75-minute, eclectic, captivating,
Electric Circus), Be finds Common (Lonnie Rashied Lynn), along
with producers Kanye West and Dilla, avoiding filler and excessive guest
appearances in favor of tight rhymes and soulful, homogeneously smooth beats.
The joy of sex (“Go!”) and respecting the Almighty (“Faithful”) coexist
peacefully in Common’s musical universe. One curious choice, given the appealing
flow, is the inclusion of a live version of “The Food,” jarringly noticeable
thanks to an introduction by Dave Chappelle and before-and-after audience
reaction. Perhaps Common wanted to shake up the effortless vibe, but it
definitely throws off the warm consistency present throughout. Be won’t
win many points for daring, but in terms of user-friendly hip-hop charged by a
refreshingly positive undercurrent, it more than hits its hard-to-miss mark.
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June 04, 2005
Smog: A River Ain't Too Much to Love
Drag City, 2005
Rating: 3.0
The parentheses bracketing his performing handle may be gone, but Bill
Callahan's 12th Smog album, A River Ain't Too Much to Love, follows a
wearyingly familiar template: Deliberately ruminative vocals; spare
arrangements; welcome faster-tempo songs offering a brief respite from barren
stretches of snail-paced tracks. Death and redemption (“Say Valley Maker”), a
supportive family (“Rock Bottom Riser”) and recollections of youth (“Drinking at
the Dam”) form the thematic center of the album. At times, Callahan's penchant
for clever phrasings gets the better of him, as on “I'm New Here,” which comes
off like a less inventive Silver Jews cut, offering such Dave Berman-lite lines
as “She said I had an ego on me / The size of Texas” and “No matter how far
wrong you’ve gone / You can always turnaround.” With its skipping beat and
lively fiddle, “The Well” is a highlight, even if the notion of confronting
one’s self while staring down a dark well falls flat. The album's other
highlight, the closing “Let Me See the Colts,” features some solid drumming by
Jim White of the Dirty Three, while Callahan asks “Is there anything as still as
sleeping horses?” Yes, Bill, there is: a motionless river.
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May 26, 2005
Maria Taylor: 11:11
Saddle Creek, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Maria Taylor (one half of Azure Ray and a member of
Now It's Overhead) steps squarely to the fore on 11:11, an enjoyable
if not arresting debut. Moving from electronically tweaked dream pop (“Leap
Year” and the lovely, hook-laden “Song Beneath the Song”) to folky,
monochromatic pieces reminiscent of
M. Ward’s
recent work (“Speak Easy”), Taylor ties it all together with her
understated, graceful pipes. “One for the Shareholder,” the album's highlight,
sports a noticeable dance-floor groove, complete with breathy vocalizations,
references to a “cold box of cheap red wine” and noncommittal sex. This
no-strings-attached moment hits hard and leaves a bruise. The bulk of 11:11,
however, is diluted by the liberally applied digital sheen glistening off the
majority of the gauzily abstract arrangements.
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May 26, 2005
The Wallflowers: Rebel, Sweetheart
Interscope, 2005
Rating: 3.3
Steady as she goes, with a lyrically apocalyptic bent, defines The Wallflowers’
fifth full-length release, Rebel, Sweetheart. Jakob Dylan and company
have never strived to make anything grander than good old-fashioned,
guitar-driven rock records. And producer Brendan O’Brien (Pearl Jam, Bruce
Springsteen) delivers an immaculately crafted, every-note-in-place recording
that is as confidently executed as it is formulaically inoffensive. Rebel,
Sweetheart’s main point of interest lies in Dylan's topically doom-and-gloom
outlook. “Days of Wonder” cynically wishes the war in Iraq a happy birthday;
“The Passenger” claims, “I’m not responsible for how lost we are.” “Here He
Comes (Confessions of a Drunken Marionette)” bitterly contends, “A guilty
conscience means at least you’ve got one.” At its bleakest, “We're Already
There” grimly observes, “No amount of nightmares would ever compare / To the
thought of only silence in this ghost-filled air.” At times, Dylan overreaches
with his imagery, as on the tenebrous “God Says Nothing Back,” singing, “As
teardrops from a hole in heaven come / Overhead like ravens dropping down like
bombs / Through the morning silver-frosted glow.” Obviously Dylan enjoys the
Wallflowers setup, but it’s interesting to consider what a solo album, less
burnished and pristine, might sound like from the son of arguably the most
famous solo artist in rock history.
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May 26, 2005
The Coral: The Invisible Invasion
Deltasonic, 2005
Rating: 3.8
The Coral’s third full-length release (or third-and-a-half, if you count last
year’s mini-album
Nightfreak
and the Sons of Becker) reveals a band that has outgrown the youthful
exuberance exhibited on "Spanish Main," from the Hoylake sextet’s
debut.
Likewise, the spirited optimism of "Pass It On," from 2003’s
Magic and
Medicine, is ill-suited for the paranoid, edgy and deliriously unsettled
tenor pervading The Invisible Invasion. Singer James Skelly is convinced
there’s a “conspiracy in the corridors” on the moodily catchy “Cripples Crown,”
all the while dodging snooping satellites overhead. The frantic “The Operator”
deals with an unlucky chap who’s taken away and has his head drilled into.
“Leaving Today” is stuck with “sorrows until tomorrow.” But such unhinged
material is simply a warm-up for the strangest yet most assured song the group’s
recorded. Lyrically surreal, yet pointedly relevant given the hotspot of today’s
global conflicts, “Arabian Sand” builds on insistently humming keyboard lines
and fierce middle-bridge guitar histrionics to Skelly’s defining,
whisper-to-a-mad-raver line: "Can you dance with the lepers in the madman's
house?" It’s political commentary devoid of the obviousness of a polemic -- and
the hook is fantastic. The Invisible Invasion is far from a masterpiece
(tracks like the unimaginative jangle-rock number “So Long Ago” and the
underdeveloped, dispensable “In The Morning” help to ensure that), but it
encouragingly signals a definite progression in the Coral’s thematic and
arrangement skills. Let’s hope the world isn’t such a scary place to live in
come the band’s next release.
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May 25, 2005
Dave Matthews Band: Stand Up
RCA, 2005
Rating: 3.0
Stand Up, the Dave Matthews Band’s first collection of brand new
material since 2001’s Glen Ballard-produced Everyday (2002’s
Busted Stuff being re-recordings of earlier songs), is a more
rough-hewn, randy affair than its overly slick, pop-polished
predecessor. The most obvious difference is Matthews’ vocal style, which
isn’t artificially treated or Pro Tools-masked, but more raspy and
weather-beaten (if not an outright drunken slur, as on the opening “Dreamgirl,”
which finds Matthews crooning, “And after a good, good drunk / You and
me wake up and make love after a deep sleep”). Musically, Stand Up
may not be as obviously pop-oriented as Everyday, but producer
Mark Batson (India.Arie, The Game, 50 Cent) does his best to coax
radio-friendly, if uninspired, rhythms from the band. “Hello Again” adds
some welcome funk into the mix, and for the live DMB diehard, there’s
the extended jam closing out “Louisiana Bayou.” On "Stand Up," Matthews
urges listeners to do just that, but it sounds like he’s trying to
convince himself. Lack of energy and a dearth of hooks adds up to one of
the most tepid releases Matthews and his crew have released. Must be
worn out from all those live gigs.
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May 25, 2005
Martha Wainwright: Martha Wainwright
Zoe, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Being the daughter of Katie McGarrigle and Loudon Wainwright III -- and
the sister of Rufus -- all but guarantees that Martha Wainwright will
have to contend with high expectations for her debut. And despite
too-frequent instances of heavy-footed production, which buries
Wainwright’s gorgeous, sandpapery vocals, Martha Wainwright
delivers a one-to-listen-for unveiling. The best moments are the least
adorned, with the unsubtly titled “Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole” (Clear
Channel certainly wouldn't approve) towering over the remaining twelve
tracks. The opening line ("Poetry has no place for a heart's that's a
whore") sets a confessional tone that punches holes through the
professional artifice of the studio and exposes an utterly vulnerable
Wainwright, her guitar and spare accompaniment. “Who Was I Kidding?”
manages a similar if less emotionally potent effect. Imagining an
all-acoustic version of Martha Wainwright hints at the true
potential lurking beneath the strings and high-calorie programmatic
flourishes that, while undeniably pretty, detract unnecessarily from the
eponymous focal point. Here’s hoping for a considerably more naked
second act.
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May 23, 2005
Gorillaz: Demon Days
Virgin, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Four years, G-sides and remix collections and several million units
moved find Gorillaz in a surprisingly downbeat mood. For the
collective’s sophomore effort, Demon Days, "Clint Eastwood" has
been replaced by the actor’s grim, vigilante-with-a-badge character
“Dirty Harry.” The intro samples from the Dawn of the Dead
soundtrack, which segues into the moribund “Last Living Souls.” That
primary primate Damon Albarn has swapped Dan The Automator for
Grey Album
baker Brian "Danger Mouse" Burton as his chief collaborator, and brought
in a Who’s Who roster of guest stars (from an Ike Turner piano solo on
“Every Planet We Reach Is Dead” to actor Dennis Hopper reciting the
terrible fate of the Happy Folk in “Fire Coming Out Of A Monkey's Head”)
belies the “just a fun side project for the Blur frontman” image.
Gorillaz is big business now, and what may have started out as a virtual
cartoon cooking up a dub-hip-hop-indie-electronica stew has boiled over
into a too-serious stab at global commentary sprinkled over
gristle-tough beats. The aforementioned “Dirty Harry,” with its funky
rhythms and thankfully not-too-heavy-handed strings, and “Feel Good
Inc.” (featuring De La Soul) are worthy of the debut. But “Kids With
Guns” and “O Green World” both exhibit their woe-is-the-world message
too obviously, offering flavorless tasters. Granted, the world isn’t
exactly better off since since the last Gorillaz album, but that doesn’t
mean we need to be reminded of it by a loose collaborative outfit that
will never be mistaken for the Clash when it comes to political or
social consciousness. If anything, Albarn should have never lost the
“sunshine in a bag” he carried around on the last album; we could really
use some of it now.
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May 16, 2005
Monade: A Few Steps More
Too Pure, 2005
Rating: 3.2
So distinctive is Laetitia Sadier’s weightlessly elegant singing style -- easily slipping
between Anglo and French vernaculars -- that any side project is invariably
going to be judged against her day job as the voice of Stereolab. In the case of
the first Monade release, 2003’s Socialisme ou Barbarie: The Bedroom
Recordings, Sadier took six years on the project and it came across as a
low-key, personal collection that revealed a more intimate portrait of its
creator. A Few Steps More is just that... only with a full band
supporting the vocalist this time around, and from the opening, lounge-y bars of
“Wash and Dance,” it’s near impossible not to judge the material against recent
Stereolab offerings. And, other than a pair of under-a-minute sketches (“Dittysweep”
and “Dittyah”), what’s heard is a less-adventurous-sounding Stereolab. The
spacey grooves of the title track and the hushed melodies of “Paradoxale” are
pleasant enough, but simply don’t resonate as strongly. Besides, Sadier’s
already got a full-time band, which is part of what made The Bedroom
Recordings so appealing and different in the first place. Fleshing out
Monade only reinforces what great chemistry Stereolab possesses. And that’s a
few steps in the wrong artistic direction, especially if Sadier’s interested in
distinguishing herself apart from the Groop.
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May 16, 2005
The Dresden Dolls: The Dresden Dolls
8ft., 2004
Rating: 4.1
Goth rock and cabaret? Well, the Dresden Dolls call it Brechtian punk cabaret.
On their self-titled debut, they manage to bring a gothic edge to a
piano/cabaret sound not normally heard in any type of music, except select
theater attractions. Pianist/vocalist Amanda Palmer displays the sarcasm and
lyrical wit of a P.J. Harvey or Fiona Apple, especially on “Gravity” (“If I
could attack with a more sensible approach / Obviously that’s what I’d be
doing... right?!”) and the opener “Good Day” (“You’d rather be a bitch / Than be
an ordinary broken heart”). But it's the other half of the Dolls, Brian Viglione,
who steals the show with very brief, subtle solos and sounds; on “Coin-Operated
Boy” as Palmer sings “I can even take him in the bath,” the percussionist
inserts a perfectly placed rubber-duck squeak. The Dresden Dolls excel in the
unexpected, going from head-bobbing kiss-offs like “Good Day,” “Bad Habit,” and
“Gravity” to gender-questioning full-throttle assaults like “Girl Anachronism”
and “Coin-Operated Boy.” The piano-and-drum sound is fuller than one would
expect; first-time listeners will find it hard to believe that the Dolls are
only a duo. Based on the talent on The Dresden Dolls, they could become
one of the few acts to sell out stadiums with a cult following instead of
mainstream appeal.
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Tim Wardyn
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May 16, 2005
Quasimoto: The Further Adventures of Lord Quas
Stones Throw, 2005
Rating: 4.3
Helium-inflated vocals? Twenty-six tracks, most subdivided into a
scatterbrained series of micro-skits? Ultra-smooth, jazzy beats and
vintage synthesized samples? Yes, the following hip-hop profile can only
fit one suspect: Lord Quas, underground champion of 2000’s The Unseen,
and alter-ego of super producer Madlib (who will one day cash Social
Security checks as Otis Jackson Jr.). Still operating out of the Lost
Gates neighborhood, a stoned state of mind located near Oxnard, CA,
Quasimoto celebrates getting high (most overtly on “Greenery,” although
memory-impairing recreational excursions inform the entire experience),
not being played by women (“Hydrant Game”), nuclear destruction and
alien invasions (“Civilization Day”) and environmental disasters
(“Tomorrow Never Knows”). Throughout, Madlib impressively manages to
keep the proceedings from slipping into total chaos. Even so, there’s a
frustrating sense of intentional subterfuge throughout. Obviously,
that’s Lord Quas’ modus operandi: ADD-rattled observations on life, the
universe and every hallucinogenically-lacquered blunt ever rolled. But
it can’t help but undermine the momentum, especially on pieces like the
two-minute, criminally truncated “Strange Piano,” which fuses a spacey
composition with Quas’ dissociative pop-cultural name dropping (Dennis
Hopper and Chewbacca?). Such are the mad beauty and aggravatingly
gratuitous throwaway gems to be found on The Further Adventures of
Lord Quas. Normality has no known address in this proficiently
skewed neighborhood.
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May 12, 2005
Petra Haden: Petra Haden Sings: The Who Sell Out
Bar/None, 2005
Rating: 3.5
On Petra Haden’s first solo album, 1996's Imaginaryland, the accomplished
violinist recorded a multi-tracked a cappella record, complete with an Enya
cover and music by Bach. The Who Sell Out provides an even greater
challenge for Haden’s vocal mimicry. From the opening, vocodered “seven days of
the week” announcement on “Armenia City in The Sky” to the soaring rhythmic
gymnastics of “I Can See For Miles,” Haden near-flawlessly replicates the
structure of the veteran British band’s acclaimed 1967 album. Obviously, given
the personnel and equipment limitations, Haden’s Who Sell Out isn’t as
full-bodied or emotionally gripping as the original. But it is a marvelous
display of overlapping solo voice, taking an artistic gamble that could too
easily have come up snake eyes and delivering more than a mere novelty, Richard
Cheese-style subversion of popular music. For Haden’s next dare, how about
Who’s Next, or, at the very least, an a cappella stab at “Baba O'Riley”?
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May 11, 2005
Weezer: Make Believe
Geffen, 2005
Rating: 1.7
It’s somehow fitting that a line from Shakespeare’s The Tempest,
quoting Prospero renouncing the use of magic, appears in the liner notes
of Weezer’s fifth (and weakest) release, Make Believe. For
whatever enchantment the quartet cast on listeners over the past decade
has a good chance of being completely dispelled thanks to this overblown
yet paradoxically self-deprecating effort. Singer Rivers Cuomo writes
meek lyrics better suited to acoustic guitar accompaniment and little
more. Indeed, Make Believe might sound more sincere if the precision-metal production didn’t steamroll Cuomo’s
lyrical misery in bombastic arrangements featuring factory-issue power
chords and a MOR-safe rhythm section. Big label bucks are invested in Weezer’s endearing brand of geek rock, no matter how incompatible with
the whiney, cowering-in-a-corner content of Cuomo’s songs. “Perfect
Situation” embodies this paradox, marrying peppy handclaps to lines like
“I don’t want to be lonely for the rest of my days on the earth.”
“Pardon Me” features Cuomo offering apologies to everyone he’s ever even
remotely offended anywhere, backed by a supercharged pop arrangement.
Maladroit may
have been unfocused and inconsistent, but at least it rocked. And even
Pinkerton -- which if anything managed to be even more miserable
-- served up memorable hooks. The breezy (with the occasional
threatening storm cloud) “Blue” and “Green” self-titled releases retain
solid replay value. Make Believe is an unappealing mix of
by-the-numbers product smothering a battered psyche. It simply doesn’t
work. On the blandly obvious “This Is Such A Pity,” Cuomo asks, “How did
things get so bad?” If Cuomo's lucky, he'll get a chance to answer that
question on the next album.
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May 11, 2005
Lucinda Williams: Live at the Fillmore
Lost Highway, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Ah, let us revisit the self-indulgent double live album, staple of hard
rock acts in the ’70s, from Thin Lizzy, who more than delivered the
goods with Live and Dangerous, to Led Zeppelin’s bloated, dreary
The Song Remains The Same. Thanks to the storage capabilities of
the compact disc, double live releases today can be even more
overstuffed and unrestrained. Left-of-center country luminary Lucinda
Williams’ Live at the Fillmore offers the best and worst aspects
of the format. Fillmore is a cherry-picked assortment of songs
from three November 2003 shows and, unsurprisingly, heavily features
cuts from her last two studio albums, Essence and
World Without Tears -- (18 of the 22 songs featured here, to be
exact). This being Williams’ first live release, it would have been nice
to hear more of her earlier material, especially considering that
several of the high points come from the underrepresented back catalog.
“I Lost It” (which first appeared on Happy Woman Blues before
receiving its definitive recording on the classic Car Wheels on a
Gravel Road) kicks off the brawnier, more engaging second disc,
followed by an excellent rendition of Sweet Old World’s “Pineola”
and, later, a fierce, stretched-out interpretation of Car Wheels’
“Joy,” which finds a jazzed Williams proclaiming “We got the mojo workin’
tonight.” Fillmore’s first set suffers from a samey
repetitiveness, all sad-slow ballads and too-intimate sketches that fail
to quicken the pulse the way a live album should. Closing with an
assertively rocking version of “Changed the Locks” and the dirty boogie
“Atonement” help redeem the disc (somewhat). Considering that
Fillmore isn’t drawn from a single show, it’s baffling as to why the
slower numbers are bunched together and the more exhilarating songs
pushed nearly an hour into the listening experience. As a result, the
album falls somewhere between Thin Lizzy and Zeppelin on the double live
barometer.
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May 11, 2005
Nine Inch Nails: With Teeth
Nothing/Interscope, 2005
Rating: 3.8
It's been five years since The Fragile, Nine Inch Nails' last
proper studio effort. That engaging album revealed NIN maestro Trent
Reznor to be more concerned with expanding the sonic experimentation
heard on 1994's landmark The Downward Spiral than with
solidifying his status as a generation's icon of fetishistic misery -- a
Morrissey for the Ministry set, if you will. With Teeth is a
half-step backward, largely streamlining his electro-metallic
compositions and, in the process, giving more prominence to lyrics
designed to resonate with isolated types who derive some measure of
identity from the psychic toll of strained relationships (whether
they're romantic, familial or just plain fucked-up in nature). Tight,
thudding drums (courtesy of Dave Grohl) and crisp arrangements
occasionally give way to abrupt swells and semi-jarring turns, but the
effect is understated, not calling attention to itself the way grandiose
songs on Spiral and The Fragile often did. While that
makes the songs less immediately memorable -- there's no "Closer" or
"Head Like a Hole" here -- they're nonetheless ingratiating, and the
album as a whole takes less time to digest than those earlier, more
ambitious efforts. Reznor can still rage with textbook efficiency, as on
"You Know What You Are?," but With Teeth's most affecting moments
are those where he pulls back a little, as exemplified by the
talk-singing cadence and almost funky rhythm of "Only." Reznor doesn't
attempt to bludgeon the listener with either overreaching musical
ambition or awkward lyrical poignancy, making With Teeth that
rare animal: a Nine Inch Nails record that doesn't force a false sense
of visceral urgency.
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Kevin Forest Moreau
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May 11, 2005
The Hold Steady: Separation Sunday
Frenchkiss, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Singer/lyricist Craig Finn and his fellow Hold Steady players revisit
much of the same turf first heard on the band’s impressive 2004 debut,
Almost Killed Me. Separation Sunday is
less a sophomore effort than a continuation of Finn’s documenting of
people he has known and the group’s desire to unapologetically rock out.
Characters like the morally loose Halleluiah (called Holly by her
friends), menacing pusher-pimp Charlemagne and freewheeling Gideon (the
“cowboy on the cross-town bus” from Almost’s “Sweet Payne”) make
return appearances. And Finn’s juxtaposition of the sacred and profane
has been sharpened to a fine point: “Your Little Hoodrat Friend”
mentions Jesus and a tattooed phrase on a girl’s lower back that
confidently proclaims “Damn right you'll rise again.” There are literary
references, from Nabokov’s pedophiliac Humbert Humbert on opener
“Hornets! Hornets!” to a diverse group of writers (William Butler Yates
and William Blake, being two of the more notable ones) name-checked on
the frenetic “Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night,” not to mention repeated
lists of saints and kids desiring to be saved before destroying
themselves. Separation Sunday isn’t quite on par with Almost
Killed Me, primarily because it won’t stun listeners with its
freshness. Only the next record will tell whether Finn exhausts his
reservoir of tales before consumers lose interest.
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May 06, 2005
The Go-Betweens: Oceans Apart
Yep Roc, 2005
Rating: 4.1
Oceans Apart, The Go-Betweens ninth album -- and third in the
last five years -- finds dual front men Grant McLennan and Robert
Forster (ably backed by the rhythm section of drummer Glenn Thompson and
bassist/keyboardist Adele Pickvance) exploring everything from the
distance between London (where the bulk of the album was recorded) and
the Australian band’s home base of Brisbane to the beauty and solitude
of Tasmanian geography. It’s also the most self-assured album McLennan
and Forster have made since reuniting after an extended hiatus during
the 1990s. Forster’s “Here Comes a City” kicks things off with a moody
tale of train travel that features aggressively bristling guitar lines
and wickedly barbed observations like “Why do people who read Dostoevsky
always look like Dostoevsky?” McLennan’s “Boundary Rider” reaches back
to his Queensland legacy, revisiting the same terrain as the band’s
’80s-period single “Cattle and Cane,” cleverly juxtaposing the fences
meant to keep cattle hemmed with a young man’s yearning to escape the
rural world of his forbearers and find a greater purpose in life.
Forster makes similar observations on “Born to a Family,” working off of
a nice change-of-pace skiffle beat and sketching the story of a
bright-bulb lad not cut out for blue collar life. Other highlights
include Forster’s recollection of “Darlinghurst Nights,” nearly two
decades back, when a colony of artists and bohemians operated on the
fringe outside Sydney, and McLennan’s romantically melancholy “The
Statue,” which somehow manages to pull off a line like “The sunrise
seeks you through a maze of dragons” with straight-faced aplomb. If
2000's The Friends of Rachel Worth was a tentative warm-up and
2002's Bright Yellow, Bright Orange an encouraging but
inconsistent workout, Oceans Apart is the sound of two artists
hitting a self-assured and motivated stride.
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May 06, 2005
Stereolab: Oscillons from the Anti-Sun
Too Pure, 2005
Rating: 4.3
Stereolab’s brilliantly titled Oscillons from the Anti-Sun is a
three-disc, 35-song box set (plus a no-frills DVD of band videos and
television appearances) that culls from eight EPs and, presumably,
frustrates dedicated followers who’ve spent hundreds of dollars over the
years tracking down this hard-to-find and import only material.
Guitarist/programmer Tim Gane sequences the tracks in non-chronological
order, thus depriving listeners of easily charting Stereolab’s sundry
stylistic shifts over the years. Regardless of mode, however, there’s no
mistaking the distinctive Stereolab sound -- from the dense, Velvet
Underground-aping “Golden Ball” to the experimental electronic noodling
found on “Les Yper Yper Sound,” the signature blend of Laetitia Sadier's
and Mary Hansen’s airy harmonies, backed by Gane and the rest of the
band’s agreeable electro-rock rhythms, remains intact. Gane deserves
credit for spacing the band’s more familiar pieces (“Cybele's Reverie,”
“Jenny Ondioline,” “The Noise of Carpet”) across the three discs, which
avoids front-loading the obvious selections and helps spotlight
lesser-known but equally impressive songs like “Off On” and “Escape
Pod.” A convenient way for novices to discover what all the fuss is
about and veteran fans to round out their collections, Oscillons
is another valuable addition to the copious Stereolab catalog.
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May 05, 2005
Architecture in Helsinki: In Case We Die
Bar None, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Aussie octet Architecture in Helsinki progresses dramatically in
ambition and proficiency on In Case We Die, the successor to
Fingers Crossed, the exuberantly eclectic pop band’s 2004 debut.
Hand and power tools are listed among the numerous instruments; vocal
duties are handled by committee, often overlapping and serving up choral
group-sized harmonies. Stylistically, In Case We Die is like a
Jackson Pollock drip painting, chaotic and bustling. The peppy stamp of
“It'5!” is balanced by the start-stop restlessness of "Frenchy, I'm
Faking." Likewise, the piano drone of “Maybe You Can Owe Me” offers
temporary calm before the horn-blast dance stunner “Do The Whirlwind”
hits. The sub-four-minute title track (complete with the amusingly
appended “Parts 1-4”) and subsequent, scatterbrained “The Cemetery,”
which moves from country to new wave to punk in rapid fire succession,
affirm Architecture in Helsinki’s determination to avoid being
pigeonholed. Somehow, like Pollock’s art, this swirling, colorful
melodic kaleidoscope works. Rhythmic continuity is so over.
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May 05, 2005
Edan: Beauty and the Beat
Lewis, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Scratches and samples, bubbling sci-fi synth effects and liberal usage
of a mini-Moog define the sound of hip-hop historian/DJ Edan’s Beauty
and the Beat. Refining the ideas at play on his blueprint-sketching
debut, Primitive Plus, Edan ventures into deep space for its
successor, perhaps trying to catch the signals that left Earth back in
the ’80s, carrying the sound of MC heavyweights like Big Daddy Kane, Ice
Cube and KRS-One beyond the humble confines of the Milky Way. Not that
Edan limits himself exclusively to battle-rap artists from two decades
back: Beauty and the Beat finds Edan spitting, and featured MCs
like Mr. Lif and Insight rhyming over hard-rock chords and acid-drenched
psychedelic rhythms. “Rock And Roll” conveys a sense of going to a light
show while listening to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. The
overall feel is of an academic exercise in hip-hop cultural anthropology
-- Edan doesn’t want people to forget the nascent years of the movement.
“Open your ears and listen,” he urges on the introductory “Polite
Meeting.” Not to worry. Based on the lesson plan laid down here, future
classes should fill up quickly.
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May 03, 2005
Aimee Mann: The Forgotten Arm
Superego, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Aimee Mann’s The Forgotten Arm has been billed as a concept album about an
ex-Vietnam vet and boxer named John, and Caroline, a woman he meets at the
Virginia State Fair and winds up driving across the country with in the early
1970s. Based on the pulpy, late-’40s style artwork by Owen Smith decorating the
liner notes and a dearth of era-specific details contained within the lyrics,
there’s very little grounding Mann’s concept to the period in question. If
anything, lines like "The King of the Jailhouse and the Queen of the Road"
hearken to a much earlier timeframe, and even the few ’70s-style cultural
references we do hear (like Calvin Klein jeans) barely register. Essentially,
Mann is rehashing familiar themes prevalent throughout her work: Co-dependent
relationships, crippling addictions and emotional upheavals. Once the
contrivance of The Forgotten Arm’s vaguely sketched plot device crumbles,
there are still solid tracks to be found. “Goodbye Caroline” features a
beautiful melody and lively arrangement; “Video” shows off Mann’s gift for
clever lyrical turns (“It’s all loops of seven-hour kisses, cut with a couple
near-misses”). Producer Joe Henry manages to move things along with a consistent
(though a tad samey) flow, and the brass by West End Horns on “King of the
Jailhouse” adds a welcome shine to the primarily guitar- and piano-based
compositions. For better or worse, The Forgotten Arm, lyrically and
musically, sounds like yet another Aimee Mann album. Which is great for fans,
though even they may start wondering at what point Mann takes greater chances
with her material than providing it with a superficial facelift.
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May 02, 2005
Ryan Adams: Cold Roses
Lost Highway, 2005
Rating: 2.9
Ryan Adams had something to prove with his 2000 solo debut, Heartbreaker.
Taking what he’d learned from alt-country bellwether Whiskeytown and showing he
could capably strike out on his own, Adams crafted an album that remains the
finest of his still-budding career. But then Gap commercials and the
energy-draining fame game supplanted musical progression in favor of neatly
slotting into a People magazine personality configuration. Despite such
distractions, Adams remains as prolific as ever, with the double-disc Cold
Roses (credited to Adams and his backing band, the Cardinals) being the
first of three releases this year. Cold Roses’ first set is
by-the-numbers, brokenhearted MOR fare, sometimes maudlin (“When Will You Come
Back Home?”), infrequently dramatic (the piano-driven “How Do You Keep Love
Alive”) and mostly forgettable. The second disc redeems Cold Roses from
an even-less-enthusiastic recommendation. It’s looser and more jam-oriented than
the first half, not nearly as constrained by Adams’ mournful examinations of
love, life and lies. And the Cardinals finally make a discernible impression,
especially on “Easy Plateau” and the lively, surefire single candidate “Let It
Ride.” The larger issue is what Adams plans to do with his talent over the long
haul. He can craft catchy, just-left-of-traditional country-rock tunes in his
sleep. The problem is, there’s no great award for songwriting prolificacy.
Cold Roses displays an artist on auto-pilot, with the intermittent flash of
genuine originality reaffirming why Adams continues to have the cachet to record
with febrile abandon.
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May 02, 2005
Autechre: Untilted
Warp, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Autechre’s eighth full-length, Untilted, reveals electronic tunesmiths
Sean Booth and Rob Brown reclaiming the digital groove of the duo’s fertile
mid-’90s period. The catch is that it still sports the dehumanized metallurgist
influence of 21st-century Autechre releases Confield and
Draft 7.30, which challenges listeners to burrow deep down the digital
rabbit hole in order to tease out the densely layered melodies. Initial salvo
“LCC” provides a good example of this technique; jumping off with a repetitive
stamp, like some unattended machine pounding out beats only automated equipment
can truly appreciate. Halfway through, things shift to a spikier groove, which
adds a brief respite from the opening, mechanized melodic onslaught. There’s a
greater sense of motion as sounds are elongated and allowed a little welcome
breathing room. On the opposite end of the spectrum is the intense “Augmatic
Disport,” where mulch beats are obliterated almost as soon as they burst into
existence. Closing, quarter-hour long “Sublimit” manipulates stark 4/4 beats and
elicits a near-hypnotic sense of propulsion -- just don’t worry over the
destination, for only the Autechre brain trust knows for certain. Untilted
lives up to its title, finding Booth and Brown unbowed in their belief that
clinical repetition and street-smart hip-hop beats can coexist in the universe.
But it’s a big universe, and there are times when locking onto the exact
coordinates Autechre’s transmitting from can be a long, cold and lonely chore.
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May 02, 2005
The Books: Lost and Safe
Tomlab, 2005
Rating: 4.2
Paul de Jong and Nick Zammuto find pale shelter in retreating from a fight on
the duo’s third Books release, Lost and Safe. Though it's never
explicitly stated, it’s not a big stretch to correlate the album’s title and
quoting of recursive phrases like “I want all of the American people to
understand that it is understandable that the American people cannot possibly
understand” as a reaction to America's current Homeland Security-trumps-personal
freedoms climate. The Books find folly in not fighting back, facetiously
claiming, “We know to seek success is utter nonsense” on the stark, aptly titled
“A Little Longing Goes Away.” The sharper-edged “Be Good to Them Always” grimly
portends “This great society is going to smash.” “Smells Like Content”
succinctly sums up red-colored, East and Left Coast election-night despair:
“Expectation leads to disappointment.” Musically, Lost and Safe is the
Books’ most lyrically verbose release. Not that the duo’s familiar use of
pop-cultural touchstone samples and cut-and-paste approach to song construction
has fallen by the wayside (though “If Not Now, Whenever” suffers from a
channel-surfing approach, never establishing a sustainable rhythm). Lost and
Safe may be about outing those reticent to challenge the established world
order, but it’s paradoxically the most confident the Books have sounded. For a
prime illustration of this, listen to “An Animated Description of Mr. Maps”
(which sounds like the twosome broke into Tom Waits’ tool shed for some welcome
percussive assistance), a clever description of an everyman and no-man, a person
so excessively detailed as to be practically non-existent by song’s end. 2002’s
Thought for
Food and 2003’s
The Lemon
of Pink established the Books as a brainy collaborative with a talent for
assembling interesting snippets of found sounds and hip dialogue; Lost and
Safe is an expression of two artists who are neither lost nor playing it
safe.
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April 25, 2005
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds: B-Sides and Rarities
Mute, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Pity the diehard Nick Cave fan who's spent the last twenty years
striving mightily to get his hands on every flexi-disc, 7-inch platter
and stray compilation on which the priapic Australian tunesmith’s songs
have appeared. Conversely, kudos to the latecomer who’s new to the
savage wit and crimson-soaked wisdom of Cave, who along with his backing
band, the Bad Seeds, have made some of the most viscerally exciting,
literate and idiosyncratically arresting music of the past two decades.
The unsurprisingly hit-and-miss B-Sides and Rarities collects 56
tracks that run the gamut from the expected alternate or acoustics takes
of familiar tunes to howling-mad peculiarity (“King Kong Kitchee Kitchee
Ki-Mi-O” being the ideal representative of this particular type).
B-Sides and Rarities can best be summed up by a five track run that
comes near the end of the second of its three discs. The cartoonishly
lurid, three-part (plus reprise) “O'Malley's Bar” (slotting into the
justifiably underrepresented “massacre ballad” genre) and beautiful
“Time Jesum Transeuntum Et Non Riverentum” (which cheerily translates to
"Dread the passage of Jesus for he will not return") succinctly embody
both the range of Cave’s talent and his excessiveness to the point of
self-parody. B-Sides and Rarities is a loosely chronological run
through the history of a band that has never been easily pigeonholed.
While two discs might have been more effective, the sheer overkill of
this collection is par for the course for Cave and his supporting
players. When things have gone too far, Cave’s just warming up. Beware
all ye who enter here.
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April 15, 2005
Damien Jurado: On My Way to Absence
Secretly Canadian, 2005
Rating: 3.8
On My Way to Absence is Damien Jurado’s self-described "tribute
to jealousy," a 12-track exploration of one of humankind’s most volatile
and destructive emotions. Hardly fallow territory for any artist, and
certainly familiar turf for the Seattle-based urban-folk singer (see
Jurado’s last full length,
Where Shall You Take Me?). On My Way to Absence addresses its
main thematic inspiration in both frustratingly sketchy (“Lion Tamer”
and its unresolved wordplay, “The gun in the drawer / The long distance
call / A story to tell”) and bluntly direct (“I’m a sinking ship tied to
my lover’s waist,” from the string-laden “Night Out For The Downer”)
ways. And Jurado makes every word count, blessed with a guilelessly
raspy delivery -- underdog pipes singing for outcast truth-seekers
everywhere. The most interesting aspect of Absence is Jurado’s
co-production with long-time collaborator Eric Fisher. From the
prevalence of nakedly obvious strings to the use of brass on “Icicle,”
it’s obvious Jurado was looking to make use of the studio for more than
recreating a stripped-down busker’s street-corner environment. Ironic,
or unsurprising, then, given his strengths, that Absence’s best
moments are the least fussed over. The direct, affecting “Fuel” is
simply Jurado and his guitar; “Lottery” finds Jurado and Rosie Thomas
(who joined Jurado on Badlands: A Tribute to Bruce Springsteen's
Nebraska) handily employing their vocal talents, backed by an
uncomplicated arrangement. Not that Jurado’s studio experimentation is a
total bust. The elemental fuzz-rocker “I Am The Mountain” successfully
marries treated vocals and roaring guitars to excellent effect. But
Jurado’s arrangements will never be confused with Radiohead’s; Kid
Absence, this is not. What Absence is, is another solid
addition to Jurado’s commendable catalog.
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April 15, 2005
Billy Idol: Devil's Playground
Sanctuary, 2005
Rating: 3.7
Mick Jagger was definitely onto something when he famously sniffed that
he couldn't imagine singing "Satisfaction" well into his old age, even
if he hasn't yet followed through on that idea just yet. There comes a
point at which rockers "of a certain age" simply look ridiculous plowing
the same furrows that made them famous some 20 or 30 years earlier. But
Billy Idol, apparently, is not one of those rockers. Devil's
Playground, his first release since 1993's forgotten Cyberpunk,
finds the sneering, spiky-haired punk-pop icon partying like it's 1984,
when songs like "Rebel Yell" and "Flesh for Fantasy" made him a
bona-fide star. (He's even recruited guitarist Steve Stevens, who jumped
ship after Rebel Yell, to provide some much-needed guitar muscle,
making the record a little more metal-based than punk.) But it's not
just the music that hearkens back to the '80s, it's Idol himself, who
sounds as if he's gotten his hands on Dorian Gray's portrait and stashed
it in a vault with all those unsold copies of Whiplash Smile.
"Rat Race" agreeably approximates the power-balladry of "Eyes Without A
Face," while "World Comin' Down" is a spirited, likable throwaway homage
to 1970s punk-pop. "Sherrie" is his version of Iggy Pop's "Candy," a
sugar-sweet pop number that embeds itself in the memory long after you'd
expect it to evaporate. Songs like "Scream" and "Body Snatcher" sag a
bit due to some trite lyricism, but they're enjoyable enough, and
"Romeo's Waiting" is a surprisingly engaging tale of unrequited lust.
"Cherie" and "Lady Do Or Die" even sport a low-key country-ish vibe, for
which Idol proves disarmingly suited. Sure, Billy Idol's always been a
bit of a cartoon character, but on songs like the balls-out pop-metal
opener "Super Overdrive," a questionable cover of "Plastic Jesus" and
the abominable yule log "Yellin' at the Christmas Tree," he's wise
enough to embrace that status just enough to make it work for him rather
than against him. This is just well-executed, fun rock 'n' roll.
Devil's Playground sounds like the album he should have (and could
have) recorded 20 years ago to follow up 1983's breakthrough hit
Rebel Yell. If he had, there's a good chance Idol's career would
have taken a much different path.
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April 15, 2005
Brendan Benson: The Alternative to Love
V2, 2005
Rating: 3.5
The Alternative to Love, Brendan Benson’s third and most polished
full-length release, doesn’t sport as many memorable tunes as 2002’s
Lapalco. In terms of execution and craft, however, it reveals just
how far the singer-songwriter has come since his 1996 debut, One
Mississippi. The opening couplet from “Gold into Straw” (“I'm
writing the words to this song with a poison pen / I'm turning straw
into gold and then back again”) and epic-pop, Phil Spector-worthy
production of “The Pledge” reinforce Benson’s standing as one of the
finest.’60s pop-classicist tunesmiths currently working. Lyrically,
Benson retreads Lapalco’s exuberantly downbeat examinations of
love and loss. “Spit It Out” tries to assume a brave face in regards to
moving beyond a failed relationship (“Start all over when it's all
over”); “Cold Hands” plays on the contradictory emotions so common to
working through a bad patch in a partnership, from claiming “There's no
future for us” to wanting to go back to the way things were. What a
Benson album will sound like if the artist ever decides to articulate a
feeling of
happy suburban commitment is anyone’s guess. For a winning formula
primer, he might want to get a hold of Ben Folds’ number.
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April 15, 2005
Amon Tobin: Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory OST
Ninja Tune, 2005
Rating: 3.2
Chaos Theory, Amon Tobin’s soundtrack for the Tom Clancy's
Splinter Cell 3 video game, is built on repetitive beats, befitting
level replays deep into the night. As such, it’s hardly the most
inspired release by the talented electronic composer -- although the
moodily cinematic opener “The Lighthouse,” complete with suggestively
menacing strings and shimmering rhythms, stands proudly alongside
Tobin’s better compositions. Additionally, the complementary “Kokubo
Sasho Stealth” (all snaky, jazzily couched reserve) and “Kokubo Sasho
Battle” (assertive and climactically rousing) impressively reveal
Tobin’s versatility in regards to balancing mood and tempo. But the bulk
of the album is dominated by situational loops, from the
pulse-quickening “Ruthless” to the watery, sonar-blipping “Theme From
Battery” and the glitchily familiar “Displaced”. An unnecessary, denuded
reprise of “Ruthless” further amplifies the dearth of ideas at play
here. There’s little doubt that Chaos Theory does what it's meant
to do: provide solid background noise to special-ops, night
vision-wearing virtual stealth warriors. Compared to the rest of Tobin’s
catalog, however, it’s merely a mildly engaging diversionary maneuver.
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April 05, 2005
Glen Phillips: Winter Pays for Summer
Lost Highway, 2005
Rating: 3.6
On his second solo studio album following the dissolution of 1990s pop-rock
powerhouse Toad the Wet Sprocket, Glen Phillips cements his musical post-Toad
identity in a way that his previous effort, 2001's Abulum, didn't quite
accomplish. Winter Pays for Summer showcases the singer's knack for
insinuating melodies, married to lyrical explorations that manage to be
introspective without being self-obsessed. That thoughtful bent translates into
some slower numbers whose melodies aren't as immediate as one would expect
("Courage"), although "Half Life" proves winsome even without a buoyant pop
hook. Clearly, Phillips is aiming for a higher ground, one where his songs don't
rely solely on their hummability. That's a worthy goal, and a roster of
respected guest performers known for intelligent pop – among them Jon Brion, Dan
Wilson (Trip Shakespeare, Semisonic), Ben Folds and Andy Sturmer (Jellyfish) --
helps Winter reach it more often than Philips has done in the past.
Occasionally, however, the album is hampered by an occasionally simplistic lyric
(the opening "Duck and Cover," from which the album's title comes, suggests that
life's ups and downs "cancel each other out") or slightly self-serious moment
("Gather"). Still, at its best -- the ingratiating "Thankful," the
slowly rousing "Cleareyed," "Easier" -- Winter offers intelligent, catchy
rock with a slight folksy undercurrent (this is a Lost Highway release,
after all) that rewards repeated listening.
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Kevin Forest Moreau
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April 04, 2005
British Sea Power: Open Season
Rough Trade, 2005
Rating: 3.0
If Brighton-based quartet British Sea Power’s 2003 debut
The Decline
of British Sea Power was wildly all over the place in terms of musical
cohesiveness and spot-the-influence name-checking, its sophomore salvo Open
Season is more clearly defined, though far less adventurous. The group has
narrowed its focus to unmemorable guitar-driven rock numbers that fail to
inspire repeated listens. Once again, the shade of Ian McCulloch in his Echo &
The Bunnymen prime hovers over singer Yan’s English moor-haunted, wounded
romantic vocals, with occasional possessions reminiscent of Psychedelic Furs
(“Be Gone”) and Belle and Sebastian (“The Land Beyond”). “It Ended On An Oily
Stage” makes the strongest impact, conveying a sense of urgency that the rest of
the album never quite rivals. The busy “How Will I Ever Find My Way Home?” is
overly repetitive, while the pretty, generic “Please Stand Up” lacks any lyrical
specificity. British Sea Power might be enamored with Anglophilic history
(“Victorian Ice”) and fragmented Antarctic ice shelves (“Oh Larsen B”) but,
despite obvious talent and wit, it fails to leave more than a marginal
impression.
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March 27, 2005
Kathleen Edwards: Back to Me
Zoe, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Back to Me, Canadian singer-songwriter Kathleen Edwards’ follow-up to her
2003 country-infused debut,
Failer,
is an apt title. The notion of returning home, be it to family, a lover, or
oneself, permeates the 11 tracks. Lyrically, Back to Me could be labeled
Back to Failer, as many of the songs rework/refine the busted-romance
angle Edwards apparently only scratched the surface of the first time around.
“In State” echoes Failer’s "Six O'Clock News," involving a woman fed up
with her outlaw lover who turns him in, truculently observing “Maybe 20 years in
state will change your mind.” The spurned heroine of “What Are You Waiting For?”
proves just as cutting, with lines like, "You say you like me in your memory /
You've got to be fucking kidding me." The best moments, unsurprisingly, are
among the freshest. “Pink Emerson Radio” skillfully interweaves moving to a new
city with the recollection of escaping from a fire and struggling with which
possessions to save and which to forsake. The closing “Good Things” simply
celebrates the reliable security blanket that is one’s family. Musically, the
title track is a bluesy rocker that adds welcome variety to the mid-tempo flow,
and the addition of brass on “Somewhere Else” helps brighten the back end of the
collection. Overall, Edwards' touring band -- and especially producer/guitarist
Colin Cripps -- provides a tougher, more expressive sound than the studio-buffed
Failer set. Back to Me is a solid successor to Failer,
though at some point Edwards is going to have to toss aside the
sour-relationship crutch if she truly wants to distinguish herself from the rest
of the country-rock crowd.
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March 26, 2005
M83: Before The Dawn Heals Us
Mute, 2005
Rating: 3.9
The galaxy of electronic pop-meisters M83 has been cut in half. Nicolas
Fromageau has left the fold, leaving Anthony Gonzalez to his own dark devices.
Before The Dawn Heals Us is the blood-quickening nocturnal complement to
Dead
Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts’ sun-drenched, sky-watching reticence. If
Dead Cities was an electronic soundtrack to a moderately engaging nature
film, Before the Dawn Heals Us is the reasonably successful score to an
artsy French thriller. Gonzalez opens big with the cosmic awesomeness of
“Moonchild,” layering big drums and spacious synthesized “ohms” behind
spoken-word claptrap involving creation and meaning, being and... well, you get
the idea. Cojones audaciously displayed, Gonzalez shifts to the more earthbound
“Don't Save Us From The Flames,” featuring a shrieking explosion of percussive,
scorching metal and electronic fuzz. The most uplifting moment is one of the
least dramatic, however: “Farewell / Goodbye,” a breathy duet between Ben &
Cyann’s Ben and Big Sir singer Lisa Papineau, proves genuinely affecting thanks
to the performers' abilities to convey heartbreak with whispered understatement.
The antithesis of that understatement is “Car Chase Terror!,” in which actress
Kate Moran acts out the imperiled-victim-in-a-car routine, serving up
cringe-worthy lines like “Mom is going to keep the Devil away.” Gonzalez may
have wanted Moran’s bit to be intentionally cheesy, but it simply falls flat. On
the whole, Before The Dawn Heals Us is a more unified, singular vision
than Dead Cities. Despite losing half its energy, the galaxy of M83 burns
twice as bright.
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March 26, 2005
Kings of Leon: Aha Shake Heartbreak
RCA, 2004
Rating: 3.8
Ah, the vagaries of sudden fame. No two people are affected quite the same. In
the case of Kings of Leon, the U.K.'s enthusiastic reception of the
Southern-flavored quartet’s debut,
Youth and
Young Manhood, has left the group slightly bewildered but mostly emboldened.
The band’s sophomore effort, Aha Shake Heartbreak, documents the insane
pressure-cooker life of a young touring band. From meaningless hook-ups (“Slow
Nights, So Long” and its jaded observation “I hate her face, but enjoy the
company”) to the zoned-out weariness of “Rememo” and its intimation of staring
out a plane window, too wired to sleep but too exhausted to do anything but
vegetate, the three Followill brothers (and cousin Matthew) have clearly been on
a whirlwind ride for the past two years. Fortunately, the band has grown tighter
and considerably more confident in its musicianship. The starkly naked “Milk” is
whittled to a bare-bones rhythm and singer Caleb’s nearly inarticulate, tersely
delivered lyrics. “Razz” is a funkier number, with lines like “Sweet mutilations
of a sold to nothing man / Lord have mercy / Shake is falling through your hand”
that sound like transcribed glossolalist hymns. And it’s that primitive,
spontaneously interpretative vibe that makes Aha Shake Heartbreak such a
peculiarly distinctive record. If Youth and Young Manhood was Kings of
Leon tentatively using well-tested implements, Aha Shake Heartbreak is
the sound of a group boldly forging a unique identity from common tools that
have been stripped of all pretense and decoration.
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March 24, 2005
M.I.A.: Arular
Beggars Banquet / XL
Rating: 3.8
The back-story on Maya “M.I.A.” Arulpragasam can easily overshadow
whatever artistic endeavors the young, London-based MC pursues. Forced
to flee her native Sri Lanka at age 10, leaving behind a father who was
a Tamil freedom fighter (and whose nom de guerre provides the title for
M.I.A.’s debut), Arulpragasam grew up in a tough council estate, learned
English, and soon discovered music and painting as outlets for dealing
with her turbulent upbringing. Unsurprisingly, then, Arular can
be interpreted from a variety of angles. On the one hand, it’s an
electronically infused dance record with a predilection for
stripped-down Banghra and Jungle beats. It’s also a stridently militant
record, offering slogan-like lyrics (“Every gun in a battle is a son and
daughter too”), delivered by M.I.A. with liberated gusto in a unique
ESL-bent, staccato chant. The notion of sex as a weapon is explored in
lines like “Load up, aim, fire fire, pop” from “Fire Fire”, as well as
in surprisingly blunt demands like “You can stick me / Stab me / Grind
me or wind me,” from “Hombre,” a song about a woman’s self-destructive
relationship with a married man. Sometimes, though, a weapon is just
that: injurious and often lethal. The two singles that got M.I.A.
noticed, the suicide bomber ode “Sunshowers” and the ridiculously bouncy
“Galang,” close the album and remain among the strongest tracks she’s
done. Arular is an impressive first outing, even if it does
suffer from repetitive drill syndrome (see: “10 Dollar”) and too often
favors a smart hook over offering anything politically relevant to say
(“I got the bombs to make you blow / I got the beats to make it”).
Considering where she’s been, however, there’s no question that brighter
days lay ahead for M.I.A., regardless of how long she engages the music
business.
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March 24, 2005
Moby: Hotel
V2 / Mute
Rating: 3.7
In the liner notes to Hotel, Moby states that, whether he likes
it or not, he’s “messy and human.” (As opposed to, say, the more
efficient but less entertaining tidy and robotic.) And Hotel
easily lives up to that assessment. Forsaking samples, Moby shifts his
focus this time around to harder beats and radio-friendly pop hooks. His
voice is also nakedly exposed, unmodulated and free of Pro Tools
reconfiguration. Dueting with Laura Dawn (formerly of the all-girl punk
ensemble Fluffer), Moby, for better or worse, gets his groove on. If
Play was gospel music for the “no time for church” digital set and
2002’s 18 a cosmic-flavored initial stab at
more straightforward dance-pop, Hotel is the culmination of
Moby’s shift from detached electronic noisemaker to, well, a
Vegan-friendly Bono. Positive tracks like “Lift Me Up,” with its pumping
rhythm, and the inspiring “Beautiful” are catchy, emotionally charged
sketches celebrating the chaotic business of being human. Despite
working in a more organic setting, Moby still finds time to pay tribute
to heroes of synthesized mood music from yesteryear: “Spiders” is so
derivative of the mid-’70s collaborations between Davie Bowie and Brian
Eno that Moby should consider paying the pair royalties. The New Order
cover “Temptation,” on the other hand, is a completely new song, less
urgent and more repentant. To appease Moby’s inner robot, there are the
graceful structures populating a bonus disc filled with more than an
hour’s worth of expansively smooth ambient compositions. Hotel is
Moby’s “comfortable in his own skin” release. It's certainly not the
most bracing thing he's ever done, but it's hardly disposable pop dreck.
For a guy who once put out an album called Everything Is Wrong,
he currently sounds like everything is, if not ideal, at least
noticeably upgraded.
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March 21, 2005
Damon & Naomi: The Earth Is Blue
20/20/20, 2005
Rating: 3.7
The Earth Is Blue, the sixth release from ex-Galaxie 500 members Damon
Krukowski and Naomi Yang, is a dewy dream-pop affair that favors vaguely defined
lyrical sketches of people, places and things over concrete foundations and
specific arrangements. Ghost guitarist Michio Kurihara continues his
collaboration with the duo, adding some inventive fills (especially on a
narcotized cover of George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and some
decorative E-Bow-ing on the closing title track). Lyrics like “The cracks and
emptiness in your life / The desert you cultivate inside,” from the graceful
“House of Glass,” typify The Earth Is Blue’s disconnect from tactile
reality. This is mood music for the electric traces of the daydreaming mind. A
couplet from the subsequent “A Second Life” (“I want you as I wished you’d be /
But not as who you were”) might skew the preordained “what will be, will be”
message found in tracks like "Beautiful Close Double" ("We are who we are until
the end"), but Krukowski and Yang manage a consistency of tone that holds steady
throughout.
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March 21, 2005
Dead Meadow: Feathers
Matador, 2005
Rating: 3.0
On its fourth album, Feathers, Dead Meadow comes across like a more
jam-oriented Oasis (case in point: the sleepy, yawning chasm-span of “Heaven”)
with
Trail of Dead-worthy lyrical pretensions (“Through one thousand lives the
moon will rise,” from “Stacy's Song”). This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; it's
just hardly as revelatory as Dead Meadow so earnestly strives to make
Feathers sound. Serious-minded references to an otherwise-undefined
“Allmighty” abound, as do biblical (Abraham) and mythological allusions (“Don't
Tell the Riverman”). And then there’s the
gaze-into-the-cosmos-and-witness-the-infinite guitar and drum solos, somewhat
restrained on “Let's Jump In” and “Let It All Pass,” but totally unhinged on a
closing, nearly 14-minute long untitled excursion into parts known. Space-rock
aficionados will dig the zero-G atmosphere, but it meanders through excessive
pockets better left unexplored.
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March 20, 2005
Antony and the Johnsons: I Am A Bird Now
Secretly Canadian, 2005
Rating: 4.0
If Antony and the Johnsons’ self-titled 2000 debut was a showcase for
the singer’s distinctive, tremulous tenor gasping falsetto-rarefied air, I Am
A Bird Now is a celebration of the collaborative arts and furthers the
group’s desire to see a world more sympathetic to those who don’t subscribe to a
strictly heterosexual way of life. While the first half of the disc falls in
line with the debut (lots of dramatic piano chords and anguished expressions of
longing), it’s on the stronger back end that Bird
spotlights its inspirations. Antony duets with childhood hero Boy George on the
impassioned (a word that quickly becomes redundant in describing this cabaret
pop group) “You Are My Sister”; Rufus Wainwright handles vocal duties on the
brief, languorously expansive “What Can I Do?”; Lou Reed introduces “Fistful of
Love” with a short poem recital. In the most inspired pairing, folk wonder
Devendra Banhardt joins Antony on the strangely enchanting “Spiralling.” The
oddest detour comes courtesy of band
member Julia Yasuda, who taps out Morse code and performs an intriguing, short
spoken-word piece called “Free at Last.” Antony returns on the final track,
“Bird Girl,” the transformation hinted at during the beginning of the album
complete, and expressed via appropriately racing strings and soaring vocals.
I Am A Bird Now is a beautiful-sounding record, and though it doesn’t
contain anything as remarkable and emotionally piercing as the debut’s “Cripple
and the Starfish,” it nonetheless reveals a band and lead artist refining a
musical universe populated by drag queens, cabaret dancehalls and a tolerant and
open community.
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March 15, 2005
Daft Punk: Human After All
Virgin, 2005
Rating: 3.0
It’s official: The robots have won. Daft Punk’s ironically titled Human After
All sheds all pretense of the human emotion and desire that fueled 1997’s
insanely beat-driven Homework and 2001’s blissful, late-night disco
comedown Discovery. What’s left are robots (and lazy robots at that)
who’ve taken over the Paris studio of Thomas Bangalter and Guy Manuel de Homem
Christo and figured out how to loop synth and guitar lines with monotonous
simplicity. The title track opens with vocoderized vocals and then falls into a
catalytically pointless cycle. “Robot Rock” takes a promisingly groovy guitar
line and jams the repeat button for nearly five minutes. “Make Love” is digital
smooth looping; “The Brainwasher” favors wiggy loops; “Technologic” is
Discovery’s “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” recast as a helium-binging jabberfest bereft of clever hooks. Perhaps Tom and Guy managed to untie
themselves in time to finish the closing “Emotion,” which suffers from the same
repetitive disorder as the preceding tracks but at least works in more elaborate
loops and a warmer sense of production. No telling, really. The robots may have
won, but that doesn’t mean we have to cheer their victory lap.
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March 15, 2005
50 Foot Wave: Golden Ocean
Artist Direct, 2005
Rating: 4.0
50 Foot Wave’s 11-track, full-length debut, Golden Ocean, includes eight
originals and three songs from the trio’s 2004
self-titled
mini-album; the three recycles (“Long Painting,” “Clara Bow” and “Dog Days”)
benefit from a fuller sound that melds seamlessly with the overall sharper
production. Golden Ocean expands upon the stripped-bare hard rock
template of the elementally charged, self-titled release, featuring Kristin
Hersh’s arresting vocals and lively guitar work and a rhythm section comprised
of bassist Bernard Georges and drummer Rob Ahlers. Hersh’s lyrics deal with the
same themes and concerns she’s been examining/wrestling with for years. “El
Dorado” deftly articulates intermittent flashes of domestic madness (“Life and a
cup of instant chaos by the window”). “Pneuma” (Greek for “soul”) includes such
sexually charged lyrics as “I tongue a socket / You feel the jolt.” “Bone China”
evokes PJ Harvey’s “Sheela-Na-Gig” with the line “Gonna wash that man right out
of my head,” but with a clever turn: “And soap him into my eyes.” Golden
Ocean’s watershed moment comes on “Petal,” a cathartic time bomb conveyed
via blunt lyrics (“I don't think / We were supposed to sleep together”) and
soul-scraping-raw delivery, impressively held together by a fluidly inviting
guitar groove. While it’s doubtful Hersh will ever attain the naked emotional
intensity of “Hate My Way” from her early Throwing Muses days, “Petal” is as
furiously exposed as she's been on record in quite some time. Not everything
works, though: “Diving” is lyrically substandard to the surrounding material
(“Sunbleached, like I'm free / Independent as a leech”), and the closing title
track doesn’t find its sea legs until the very end with a dense, suitably
powerhouse peak. No matter what vehicle Hersh utilizes as an outlet, it’s
obvious her creative wave has yet to crest.
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March 15, 2005
The Kills: No Wow
RCA, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Compared to No Wow, The Kills' 2003 full-length debut,
Keep on
Your Mean Side, was positively baroque. Whittling things down to the bare
essence, No Wow finds the duo of Alison “VV” Mosshart and Jamie “Hotel”
Hince seeking the core of their maroon-colored blues sound. Unapologetically
basic guitar riffs, dependably chugging bass lines and a tireless drum machine
constitute the album's bone-saw naked rhythm. Mosshart handles the heavy lifting
in the vocals department, sounding like a jaded lover waking up in a roadside
motel after a particularly rough night with a lover known on a first-name basis
only. “Gonna have to step over my dead body before you walk out that door” is
the opening line on the record, and Mosshart certainly sounds like she means it.
The panicky “Love Is a Deserter” and the white-poker-heated “I Hate the Way You
Love” typify the bare-knuckled romantic battle royal at play throughout. “Rodeo
Town” is the closest The Kills come to anything remotely introspective here;
it’s a half-throttled, country-tinged gem that wouldn’t sound out of place on a
Lucinda Williams record. Problem is, No Wow could have benefited from
more unexpected detours like this. It’s one thing to strive for the primal truth
of a particular sound; it’s another to vainly bludgeon a thoroughly pulverized
style in search of unsullied beats.
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March 15, 2005
Sage Francis: A Healthy Distrust
Epitaph, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Having examined where he’s been on 2002’s Personal Journals, rapper Sage
Francis turns his aggressive form of self-analysis on the world with A
Healthy Distrust. “The Buzz Kill” is a manic assault, indicting Clear
Channel for its bland formatting choices and bluntly assessing that the “U.S.A.
has cracked.” This being the first track, it seems unlikely Francis will be able
to sustain the intensity level throughout. Guess again. A Healthy Distrust
is near-relentless in its laundry list of global concerns, touching on
everything from guns as a metaphor for male inadequacy (“Gunz Yo”) to bringing
the troops overseas safely home (“Slow Down Gandhi”). What keeps the record from
being overbearing (one of the tracks is unsubtly called “Product Placement”)
and, hence, single-rotation listenable, are Francis’ creative detours (a
collaboration with indie-rock troubadour Will Oldham on “Sea Lion”) and solid
production (notably the beats conjured by
Danger Mouse and Sixtoo). The most affecting moments come when Francis
sticks close to his own emotional core (the piano-backed “Crumble”) or relates a
relationship built on the threat of violence (“Agony in Her Body”). Levity comes
in the form of “Sun Vs Moon,” a celestial battle-rap showdown decided by God,
who is cartoonishly described as an inebriated “big white guy in the sky.” The
closing “Jah Didn't Kill Johnny” pays respect to country legend Johnny Cash by
attempting a bizarre country-rap fusion that simply falls apart, especially when
the sad harmonica cues up. A Healthy Distrust reinforces Sage Francis’
standing as one of the most verbally gifted rappers currently in the game, but
it lacks the cohesive flow of Personal Journals and complains about a
host of worldly ills without offering much in the way of a positive solution. If
it could all be fixed with a battle rap, the smart money would definitely be on
Francis.
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March 14, 2005
Dungen: Ta Det Lugnt
Subliminal Sounds, 2004
Rating: 3.9
Gustav Ejstes’ latest Dungen release, Ta Det Lugnt (Take It
Easy), is a loose, jam-oriented, “damn good times” throwback to an era
when psychedelic folk and prog-rock held sway over the musical
landscape. If this album had a fashion sense, it would tend toward acid
washes and tie-dyes. Musically, there are few boundaries Ta Det Lugnt
fails to brush up against: “Panda” kicks things over with cocksure
posturing, all emphatic vocals (the entire album is sung in Ejstes’
native Swedish tongue) and rolling drum fills; “Gjort Bort Sig” is a
sun-baked pop nugget featuring some tangy guitar lines. But it’s on the
back-to-back assault of “Du E För Fin För Mig” and the title track that
Ejstes puts his multi-instrumentalist skills to best use, moving from
mournful violin to guitar flameout, thunderous prog explorations to a
jazzy horn-and-piano finish. It’s a powerhouse display, and unavoidably
reduces the rest of the album to an anticlimactic comedown, though the
beautiful piano and flute number “Det du Tänker Idag Är du I Morgon”
shines, as does the assertive closer “Sluta Följa Efter.” Ejstes is a
remarkable talent, and it will be worth listening to hear if he leaves
his ardently retrograde Dungen identity behind and pushes toward more
forward-leaning concepts.
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March 11, 2005
Wilco: A Ghost Is Born [Bonus EP]
Nonesuch, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Appearing on a bonus disc as part of the re-released European version of
A Ghost Is
Born -- and as a free download from Wilco’s website for those
already possessing a copy -- this five-track EP of Ghost
outtakes and live cuts is a reasonably fair deal. A bookend pair of
non-album tracks proves palatable: The casually played, moody “Panthers”
finds chief lyricist Jeff Tweedy mediating on familiar themes (“I'm proving death again”),
while the bratty, fun “Kicking Television” delivers an adrenalized shot
of punk energy that seems caged by the sterilized studio setting.
(Fortunately, live bootlegs of the track are readily available to even
the most novice trader.) The middle trio of live renditions is from an
October 2004 show at the Orpheum Theater in Madison, Wisconsin. “At
Least That's What You Said” and “The Late Greats” don’t deviate
dramatically from their studio counterparts; “Handshake Drugs,” however,
benefits from scorching guitar breaks that add a primitive immediacy to
the otherwise mid-tempo piece. The Ghost EP is a slightly
stronger collection than 2003’s similarly intentioned
More Like the Moon download. Give Wilco credit for keeping fans
sated in between albums -- honestly, though, it’s about time for an
official live release. Hopefully, one of the powers that be at Nonesuch
will read this and greenlight such an effort.
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March 09, 2005
Boom Bip: Blue Eyed in the Red Room
Lex, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Exceptions trump the rules on Boom Bip’s Blue Eyed in the Red Room. Bryan
Hollon (Boom Bip’s check-cashing name) built his reputation on creative sampling
and collaborations with rappers like Anticon's Doseone. His 2002 release Seed
to Sun marked a shift for Hollon, comprised mostly of abstract and
experimental instrumentals. Blue Eyed in the Red Room continues this
trend, but with barely any samples and an emphasis on live instrumentation. What
stands out, however, are a pair of isolated vocal tracks. Gruff Rhys’ “Do's and
Dont's” gives the set a much needed jolt of energy, trading on chant-like lyrics
and an intricate foundation of clattering percussions and warm electronics. Nina
Nastasia’s “The Matter (of Our Discussion)” wins best in show, detailing two
lovers traveling in emotionally opposite directions (“I might leave tomorrow to
feel the joy of a new start”). Hollon fills in the spaces with delicate tones,
like digital waves gently breaking upon an isolated beach. The instrumental
tracks primarily feature easy-bake guitar lines repeating with soothing
insouciance. The penultimate “Aplomb” displays a little backbone, more angular
and dissonant, distinguishing itself from its softer-edged neighbors. Blue
Eyed in the Red Room doesn’t quite congeal, primarily because Hollon’s two
collaborative efforts are the most impressive moments. Reverse the 8:2 ratio of
instrumental to vocal cuts, and we might be talking a long-striding keeper.
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March 09, 2005
Stars: Set Yourself on Fire
Arts & Crafts, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Fusing elements of Human League’s sophisticated new romantic aesthetic and Belle
& Sebastian’s unapologetically arty preciousness, Montreal-based Stars deliver
their most consistent effort with Set Yourself on Fire. Songs about
ex-lovers reunited, intoxicated bliss in the suburbs and sundry love games
predominate. Singers Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan play their respective roles
well, he the indifferent but controlling cad (“He doesn’t want her but he just
won’t let her go”), she the masochistic tender heart (“She started breaking but
she still won’t let it show”), the soundtrack to their will they/won’t they
romance drenched in strings, euphonious glockenspiel and an appealing digital
hum. The anti-war “Celebration Guns” is a misstep more due to its thematic
incompatibility than its unsubtle lyrics (“One by one you cage them in your
freedom / Make them all disappear”). “Calendar Girl” falls victim to structural
contrivance, as the months are counted down and a new leaf is turned over for
our plucky heroine (“January, February, March, April, May / I’m alive!”). Set
Yourself on Fire is solidly executed and will undoubtedly serve as a worthy
musical complement to those pining for the one that got away.
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March 08, 2005
Archer Prewitt: Wilderness
Thrill Jockey, 2005
Rating: 3.6
Archer Prewitt -- illustrator, creator of the Sof’ Boy comic, guitarist
for The Sea & Cake and (time permitting) drummer for Edith Frost -- isn’t
lacking for food on his artistic plate. But that hasn’t stopped Prewitt from
releasing four solo albums. Wilderness, his latest, furthers the summery
pop explorations of 2002's charming Three. Overcast clouds have settled
in, however, as Prewitt dedicates the album to his recently deceased father (and
pays tribute to him on the affecting “O, KY”), and the upbeat mood that
permeated Three is ratcheted down a few notches. Lead track “Way of the
Sun” is an excellent example of Prewitt’s ability to serve up a memorable hook
but deliver it in the most understated manner; Prewitt’s undeniably passionate
about his subject, but doesn’t resort to obvious musical bluster or vocal
histrionics to convey his carefully chosen sentiments. The lyrics are urgent,
but the delivery is complacent, and that makes for an odd (yet strangely
rewarding) listening experience. Glad he found the time.
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March 07, 2005
Andrew Bird: The Mysterious Production of Eggs
Righteous Babe, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Andrew Bird’s The Mysterious Production of Eggs is the anti-Swimming
Hour. In contrast to that stylistically helter-skelter 2001 effort, here
Bird keeps all of his musical eggs in one basket (so to speak). The
Mysterious Production of Eggs has a lazy, staring-at-the-sky-on-a-summer-day
vibe. Even when Bird ramps up the wattage, as on the hammily Beatle-esque
“Opposite Day” and the grandly theatrical “The Naming of Things,” Eggs
rarely causes a fuss. Drummer Kevin O'Donnell and singer Nora O'Connor, members
of Swimming Hour backing band Bowl of Fire, return, but Eggs is
clearly more akin to Weather Systems, Bird’s solo mini-album from 2003,
in terms of consistency of tone and laid-back bearing. Though overlong, Eggs
flows nicely from a somber introduction to the grim tidings of the closing “The
Happy Birthday Song.” Bird still prefers the collegiate thesaurus to the
standard edition (“And they’re acting on vagaries / with their violent
proclivities”) and trotting out impossible-to-relate-to metaphors (such as
feeling like he’s “living in a Russian play”). As a result, Eggs fails to
engage with the unpredictable inventiveness of Swimming Hour, and lacks
the skillful brevity of Weather Systems. Ultimately, Eggs is an
easier album to admire (thanks to the commendable craftsmanship) than to
actually adore with repeated listens.
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March 05, 2005
The Mars Volta: Frances the Mute
Universal, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Proponents of Mars Volta’s Frances the Mute will claim that anyone who
doesn’t like the album simply can’t handle the lyrical depth and amazingly
multi-layered musical complexity; critics who pan the release will claim it’s
overlong, indulgent, and -- did we mention indulgent? The truth, as usual, falls
somewhere in between. What main members Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala
and a host of guest musicians, from the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Flea (on trumpet,
no less) to renowned salsa pianist Larry Harlow, have created is a dizzyingly
expressive, near-77-minute aural journey inspired by former band member Jeremy
Ward (who died of an alleged overdose in May 2003) and a diary he found in the
backseat of a car while working as a repo man. The diary details an adopted
child’s search for his birth parents, so, yes, Frances the Mute is a
quest album of sorts. Not that the lyrics (“I’ve always wanted to eat glass with
you again,” is a representative example) lay out Frances’ journey in linear
terms. Frances the Mute can be admired for its astonishing
technical proficiency: ADD time signatures, like those found on the band’s debut
De-Loused
in the Comatorium, are prevalent throughout. But it’s the sheer range of
styles that impresses, from the jazzy grooves and metal-scraping guitar work on
“L’ Via L’ Viaquez” to the moody rhythms and eerie melodies permeating “Miranda
That Ghost Just Isn't Holy Anymore.” The multi-part, almost 33-minute-long
closer “Cassandra Gemini” is the obvious magnum opus, however. Mars Volta pours
every bit of its accumulated musical knowledge into the piece, from shifting
dynamics to watery, vocoder-ized vocals. Too much? Absolutely. Give the band
credit, though for following its dark-tinged muse with apocalyptic zeal.
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February 28, 2005
Aesop Rock: Fast Cars, Danger, Fire & Knives [EP]
Definitive Jux, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Aesop Rock's Fast Cars, Danger, Fire & Knives is a solid
collection of tracks that should tide over even the hungriest of the New
York rapper's fans. Honestly, though, what makes this EP essential (at
least to the first 20,000 or so fans who get their hands on a copy) is
the accompanying 80-page booklet containing lyrics from all of Aesop's
major releases. While it's easy to admire the prolific wordsmith's
ability to turn a phrase, it has often proved cryptologist-difficult to
decipher every word Aesop spits. Thankfully, the Rosetta Stone (or Rock,
in this particular case) has arrived. Obviously, Def Jux could have
offered the booklet with a bunch of filler tracks from past releases.
Instead, you get seven new cuts that show off the diversity of Aesop's
flow and some solid backing from a team of talented producers.
Blockhead-engineered "Number Nine" is a hurly-burly slice of digitized
funk; "Winners Take All" features dense head-bobbing production courtesy
of Rob Sonic; and the self-produced, smooth-flowing "Zodiaccupuncture"
contains quintessential Aesop rhymes like "And it looks like war /
Quacks like war / So it's Occam's Razor and I'm swazye out the door."
The back-and-forth banter between featured vocalists CamuTao and El-P on
"Rickety Rackety" seems staid in comparison to the more impressive aural
structures surrounding it. Fast Cars is volatile, angry, and
certainly unappreciative of the current administration (especially its
war policy). Fortunately, Aesop Rock manages to criticize without losing
the beat. Those who pick this CD up after the lyrics booklets are gone
will still find much to appreciate -- even if you can't understand every
line.
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February 28, 2005
M. Ward: Transistor Radio
Merge, 2005
Rating: 4.3
Matt Ward's follow-up to 2003's praiseworthy
Transfiguration of Vincent doesn't contain as many memorable hooks
and doesn't engage one's attention as directly. But it's a deeper, more
rewarding listen, rivaling End of Amnesia for Ward's strongest
release to date. Playing like a covers record (which it partly is) and
thematically linking the demise of diverse material carried along radio
waves with the bleary-eyed, non-tour-bus traveling musician, Ward
conveys the image of an artist making due with a portable radio locked
onto a distinctly American frequency, playing tunes both familiar and
ancient. "To all the people underground / Listening to the sound of the
living people breathing the air today," from "One Life Away," could
easily stand in for the modern radio format, in which Clear Channel
dictates what is heard and buries non-major-label artists from ever
reaching a broader audience. Stylistically, Ward continues his
exploration of 20th century American musical forms -- with one notable
exception at the very end. His countrified guitar instrumental reworking
of the Beach Boys' "You Still Believe In Me" would have sounded right at
home on Bill Frisell's Nashville, while the endearing
"Sweethearts on Parade" pays tribute to the vocal charms of Louis
Armstrong. Standout track "Fuel For Fire" is a heartfelt reworking of
Kris Kristofferson's widely-covered "Help Me Make It Through the Night,"
and ghosts of the Carter Family are channeled on "Oh Take Me Back," with
its intentionally muffled mix and cavern-deep harmonizing.
Interestingly, Ward's classical pretensions rise to the fore on a
closing performance of Bach's "Well-Tempered Clavier." This might just
be a brief side note, or an intriguing indication of where Ward's
musical interests are taking him next. Can M. Ward's Americanized
Gregorian Chant be far off?
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February 24, 2005
Crooked Fingers: Dignity and Shame
Merge, 2005
Rating: 4.1
Expanding on
Red
Devil Dawn's use of brass and building a fuller sound via a larger
cast of talented supporting players, Eric Bachmann's fourth Crooked
Fingers album, Dignity and Shame, is his strongest yet. Rather
than leaning on his appealingly gruff Neil Diamond pipes to articulate
personal stories of drunkenness and hardscrabble redemption, Bachmann
takes a more imaginative approach here. "Andalucia" alludes to the
tragic tale of a bullfighter who promises to give up the sport for his
ladylove, only to be subsequently gored to death in the ring. "Sleep All
Summer" offers the practical rather than typically pleading line "Why
won't you fall back in love with me," to a lover fast running out of
alternatives. Gifted Australian singer Lara Meyeratken joins Bachmann on
several tracks, most impressively on "Call to Love," in which Bachmann
attempts, in classic John-Cusack-in-Say-Anything style, to convince
Meyeratken to ditch the man she's with and run off with him into the
sunset. Musically, Dignity and Shame exhibits a fascination with
Latin arrangements second only to
recent Calexico offerings. "Twilight Creeps" is decorated with
bright mariachi horn flourishes, while the opening instrumental "Islero"
features some dexterous Spanish guitar. Dignity and Shame finds
Bachmann embracing the band ideal in a way not evident even during his
Archers of Loaf days. Putting out what had ostensibly been solo records
under the name Crooked Fingers is starting to sound like a really smart
move now that Bachmann's filled out the band.
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February 24, 2005
Gruff Rhys: Yr Atal Genhedlaeth
Placid Casual, 2005
Rating: 3.5
Super Furry Animals ringleader Gruff Rhys' first solo album Yr
Atal Genhedlaeth (The Stuttering Generation) -- performed in Welsh
-- has a shambling, informal quality about it. It's obvious this brief,
thirty-minute release, in which only three songs crack the three-minute
mark, isn't part of some big marketing scheme or grand ego stroke on
Rhys' part. What you've got is a collection of fun, percussive stompers
("Gwn Mi Wn"), cheeky ruminations on the afterlife ("Rhagluniaeth Ysgafn"),
and dewy, synth-drenched pop songs ("Ni Yw Y Byd"). The electronic
futzing on "Caerffosiaeth" breaks the album's off-the-cuff flow, but
Rhys mostly eases back on the more experimental tendencies typical to a
proper Super Furries release. Yr Atal Genhedlaeth sounds like a
one-off; a palette cleanser for the Furries' frontman. It doesn't rise
to the level of Rhys' work with his day job, but then again, it isn't
meant to. Diehards and fans of Welsh pop will find fair returns on their
investments. More casual listeners are best advised to wait for the next
SFA full length.
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February 22, 2005
Bloc Party: Silent Alarm
Wichita/V2, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Much has been made of Bloc Party's influences (think Gang of Four, New Order,
PiL). But based on the London-based quartet's debut, Silent Alarm, the
group has more in common with Boy-era
U2 than some post-punk call-to-arms revolution in rock. Not that Bloc Party
particularly sounds like early U2, but the basic template bears notable
similarities to the Irish chart-toppers: There's charismatic front man Kele
Okereke, capable of infectious pleading ("Like Eating Glass") and soulful
ballads ("So Here We Are"); sharp-edged guitarist Russell Lissack (showing off
quite nicely on "She's Hearing Voices"); a competent bassist and a dependable,
keep-the-beat drummer. Like pre-world conquering U2, Bloc Party fights to
contain its excess energy, reining in indulgent impulses (although the
left-right channel-panning vocals on "This Modern Love" are overkill) and gets
by on Spartan, three-chord arrangements. In short, there's genuine stadium
potential here. Whether there's a Joshua Tree or an Achtung, Baby
in the band's future is a far trickier prediction. Bloc Party will almost
certainly find success. Based on Silent Alarm, however, it won't be as
innovators or firebrands, but as purveyors of familiar hooks, passionately
delivered and smartly promoted. And the Nobel Peace Prize goes to… Kele?
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February 22, 2005
Iron & Wine: Woman King [EP]
Sub Pop, 2005
Rating: 4.0
Sam Beam's new
Iron & Wine release, Woman King, slots in with prior lyrical concerns
(Biblical references, rural imagery, family life), while adding some welcome new
wrinkles to his sonic repertoire, making for a comfortably progressive listening
experience. The title track finds Beam exploring harder rhythms, with percussion
pushed to the fore. There's also a heretofore-unheard intensity and edge to his
words: "Sword in hand / Swing at some evil and bleed." The more reserved
"Jezebel" transforms the Biblical personification of a wicked woman ("born to be
the woman we could blame") into an alluring, forever-out-of-reach lover. The
clattering, shimmy-shake rock of "Freedom Hangs Like Heaven" namechecks Mother
Mary and blinded Samson, transporting the tale of the virgin birth from the Holy
Land to the gnarled forests of some imaginary, primeval Deep South. Califone's
Jim Becker provides some distinctive violin sawing on "Grey Stables" and
"Evening on the Ground (Lilith's Song)," and Beam's sister Sarah harmonizes
beautifully with her sibling across the disc. Woman King is an ideal
transition record for Beam, interweaving colorful new threads into a familiar pattern
and hinting at powerful and majestic songcraft to come on his next full-length.
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February 17, 2005
Mogwai: Government Commissions: BBC Sessions (1996-2003)
Matador, 2005
Rating: 3.3
Government Commissions (a compilation of tracks culled from BBC Sessions
Mogwai cut between 1996-2003) opens with an endearing moment: recently departed
DJ John Peel introducing the group's "Hunted By A Freak." The May 2003
performance offers a slightly more aggressive tempo, but retains the evocative
sense of mystery evident on the original (from
Happy Songs
for Happy People). Beyond the nice tip of the cap to Peel, however,
Government Commissions is a less than memorable affair. This is primarily
due to the fact that while Mogwai hasn't altered its basic template dramatically
since its inception, the Scottish quintet nonetheless makes albums that have a
specific flow and mood. And since the grouping here isn't chronological, there's
an unavoidably scattershot feel to the set list. Young Team's epic,
nearly 12-minute "Like Herod" gets a protracted workout, some 18-and-a-half
minutes of crushing force that then inharmoniously gives way to Rock Action's
"Secret Pint," with its gentle guitar strum slowed down even further than the
part on the LP version, more unassuming and supple. The two-part "New Paths To
Helicon" improves on the studio versions, with crisper sound and more organic
interplay between members. Government Commissions is hardly an essential
addition to the Mogwai catalogue (diehards excluded, of course), basically
serving as a decent slot-filler until the follow-up to Happy Songs
arrives later this year.
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February 15, 2005
Hood: Outside Closer
Domino, 2005
Rating: 3.8
The glitch-rock of Hood's last album, 2001's distinctive
Cold House, has largely been put aside on its new release in favor
of moodier, acoustic-guitar noodling, buried beneath murky horns and
synthesized squalls. Lyrical allusions to distance and distress -- like
traveling via train through rainy (preferably English) countryside
pondering that special someone who's fallen out of easy reach --
permeate the band's new album, Outside Closer. Where Cold
House obsessed over the memory and things dead and past, Outside
Closer is more immediate, reacting to events that may have occurred
mere hours before the journey begins. "End of One Train Working" asks
"Where is the hope I had?," and none of the remaining songs bother to
answer with any positivity: Among other like tracks, "Still Rain Fell,"
with its lazy guitar strum and doleful outlook, doesn't offer much
chance of light at the end of the tunnel of love. Breakout single "The
Lost You" stands tall here: stuttering and urgent, it's far and away the
one song of the bunch guaranteed to create a rise in blood pressure. But
Outside Closer isn't built to fill stadiums with sing-along
anthems. This is a particular brand of miserablism only the British seem
capable of pulling off without veering too far to the periphery of the
average listener's attention span. It demands the right frame of mind,
temperament and that ideal rainy-day traveling environment, in which
nothing works out. When you're in the middle of such a moment, Hood's
there to provide the soundtrack for your emotional nosedive.
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February 15, 2005
LCD Soundsystem: LCD Soundsystem
Capitol, 2005
Rating: 4.2
Here's the challenge for LCD Soundsystem main brain James Murphy: On
your full-length debut, try to top the bonus disc including three
brilliant arty dance punk singles (2002's "Losing My Edge" and "Give It
Up," and 2004's "Yeah") and their respective B-sides. Murphy certainly
seems up to the challenge on lead track "Daft Punk Is Playing at My
House," with crunk-funk guitar and pulse-wave rhythms supporting his
patented, couldn't-care-less sing-speak vocals. (Honestly, if Daft Punk
really was setting up its P.A. system in Murphy's hipster pad,
you'd think he'd sound a little more enthused.) Keeping the heat on the
strong bonus disc, Murphy follows up with a diverse trio of solid
tracks: The too-low-for-zero, hypnotically drowsy "Too Much Love;" the
up-tempo mash-beat-obsessed "Tribulations;" and the caffeinated, spaz-rocker
"Movement." The spacey, Lennon-esque "Never as Tired as When I'm Waking
Up" draws a little too much attention to its primary influence, and the
intentional drone of "On Repeat" grows wearisome long before its eight
minutes are up -- though it does make a good candidate for a closing
track, if you're willing to shuffle the lineup. Of course, that would
mean moving the chosen end piece "Great Release" somewhere else, and
that just doesn't seem right, as its somber,
pre-Airport/Furniture/Linoleum-phase Brian Eno sound, with doleful piano
and epic sense of quiet space, really does end things on an appropriate
comedown note. LCD Soundsystem doesn't quite overcome the high
bar set by its bonus disc. That might sound rough, but fortunately, just
compiling all of Murphy & Co's singles on one handy CD provides a
valuable service for newcomers to his eclectically retro style.
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February 07, 2005
Ani DiFranco: Knuckle Down
Righteous Babe, 2005
Rating: 3.8
Executing a complete 180 from last year's entirely solo Educated Guess,
Ani DiFranco's Knuckle Down marks the first time the laudably independent
folk-rocker has invited another producer into the studio. Joe Henry gets tapped
for this unique distinction, and his presence ensures Knuckle Down a
fuller sound than the typical DiFranco release. There are some wonderful string
arrangements throughout, with Tony Scherr and Andrew Bird doing particularly
exceptional work on the closing "Recoil." Julie Wolf's appropriately evocative
melodica enlivens the questing "Minerva," and Todd Sickafoose's throbbing
upright bass slots in perfectly with the loose jam of "Seeing Eye Dog." But
Knuckle Down is still clearly Ani's show. Unlike Jim White, who seemed to be
devoured by Henry's production on
his recent
solo release, DiFranco maintains the primacy of her lyrical content and,
especially on the opening title track, works in her signature slap-percussive
guitar work for good measure. From "Parameters," an arresting spoken-word
description of a woman returning home and discovering an intruder waiting for
her, to "Paradigm," which pays tribute to her immigrant parents, DiFranco never
lets the music overwhelm her highly personalized wordplay. Not everything works:
"Lag Time" proves an apt title, as the song meanders with no discernible payoff,
while "Manhole" lacks the lyrical focus so keenly exhibited in the bulk of
DiFranco's songcraft. Still, Knuckle Down holds together quite well,
revealing an artist still developing a powerful and engaging self-analytical
aesthetic nearly a decade and a half into her remarkable career.
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February 04, 2005
The Chemical Brothers: Push the Button
Astralwerks, 2005
Rating: 3.3
Push the Button, like The Chemical Brothers' essential 1997
release Dig Your Own Hole, runs just over an hour and sports 11
tracks. It also opens with a powerhouse single, "Galvanize," featuring A
Tribe Called Quest's Q-Tip and some pretty Arabian strings courtesy of
Najat Aatabu. While "Galvanize" is not on the same level as the
pulverizing "Block Rockin' Beats," it nonetheless sets the stage for
what sounds like a Chemical Brothers record on par with the duo's
mid-'90s triumphs. Other than a few impressive moments, however -- like
"Close Your Eyes," a winningly lighthearted collaboration with indie
popsters The Magic Numbers, and "Marvo Ging," filled with
well-integrated backward loops and some moody harmonica -- Push the
Button proves less than inspiring. "Believe" gets tripped up on a
repetitive vocal from Bloc Party's Kele Okereke (despite utilizing some
smart digital filigree), while the equally recursive "Come Inside"
treads familiar waters (get inside, already!). The worst (and soon to be
most dated) offender is the bludgeoning political tirade "Left Right,"
in which guest ranter -- er, rapper -- Anwar Superstar barks about Bush
and Saddam being the same, and how bad war is. (Save it for the
political rallies as opposed to the dance floor, guys). Texturally,
Push the Button is more a singles collection than a cohesive
statement (in that respect, it's much different from Dig Your Own
Hole). And if you're going to do a singles collection, it had better
include more hits than the stray few exhibited here.
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February 04, 2005
Lemon Jelly: '64-'95
XL, 2005
Rating: 4.3
Lemon Jelly toughens up its sound on '64-'95 (the title refers to
the time span in which the albums that Fred Deakin and Nick Franglen
sample here were released). And the results are surprisingly successful,
though perhaps not as inventively praiseworthy as 2002's Mercury
Prize-nominated Lost Horizons. Comparisons to those French
purveyors of smooth-flowing electronica
Air are blown completely out of the water on "'88 aka Come Down On
Me," a hard-charging metal track that could be mistaken for a
Queens of the Stone Age epic rather than the aquifer-fresh,
chill-out creations for which the duo is known. "'68 aka Only Time"
eases back on the accelerator, but still sports a metronomic pulse
better suited to the Autobahn than the easy chair. "'95 aka Make Things
Right" falls in line with the band's earlier concoctions, and thus
disrupts the high-energy pace. Druggy dance grooves are well represented
by the repetitively infectious "'75 aka Stay With You" and the slightly
more introverted "'76 aka The Slow Train." "'64 aka Go," featuring
vocals by William Shatner, is campy and fun, yet still imbued with
enough dark menace to serve as a fitting curtain closer to another
excellent offering from these gifted British sound collagists.
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February 04, 2005
The Fiery Furnaces: EP
Rough Trade/Sanctuary, 2005
Rating: 4.0
As an easily digestible taster for the sprawling, conceptually ambitious
full length releases of The Fiery Furnaces, the mini-album EP,
more than does its job. Siblings Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger manage
to collect B-sides and stray tracks without the resulting assemblage
seeming too slapdash. The primary reason for this is the near-uniform
brevity of the songs, averaging out to a tidy four minutes each. There's
also a playful pop evanescence underlying "Single Again," "Here Comes
the Summer" and "Evergreen," which adds to the replay value. Not
everything works, however: "Duffer St. George," a goofy take on the old
minstrel tune "Jimmy Crack Corn," grates; "Smelling Cigarettes,"
featuring jarring tempo changes like those that defined the band's
recent
Blueberry Boat, sounds out of place amongst the less adventurous
cuts surrounding it. But for those devotees who haven't the funds or
access to track down everything the Fiery Furnaces have recorded, EP
is an imminently enjoyable and bargain-priced addition to the duo's
burgeoning catalog.
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February 04, 2005
The Citizens: Are We There Yet?
Yellow Ball, 2004
Rating: 2.8
The short answer to this album's title: No. The New York-based Citizens
go for the "all styles" approach over an individual statement of purpose
on their debut, Are We There Yet? Epic pop meltdowns ("What's
Happening At the Seams"), drunken piano warblers ("Deck Full of Jokers")
and an inexplicable cross-pollination of muzzled spoken-word and
unrepentant metal croon ("Mussolini's First Crush") jostle for the
listener's attention, but fail to achieve any rarified form of
distinction. The dirty-rocking, delightfully horndog "A Thing For You"
wisely exploits the talents of rhythm section Jason DiMatteo (bass) and
John Bollinger (drums), while "In B For Backward" offers an impressive
stomp and roiling beat with some effective tinkling piano and on-cue
background harmonies. But this stylistic-tryout grab-bag exposes a
quartet that has yet to find a voice solely its own. The good news is,
there's very little chance of a sophomore slump. File under: Promise of
better things to come.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
February 04, 2005
The Decemberists: Billy Liar [Single]
Kill Rock Stars, 2004
Rating: 3.0
Billy Liar features a pair of songs from the Decemberists'
Her Majesty the Decemberists album, as well as two non-album tracks.
The title track, a jaunty tune about a carefree layabout dreaming of a
Japanese Geisha, is one of the weaker efforts from Her Majesty.
Fortunately, "Los Angeles, I'm Yours," a conflicted take on surrendering
to the charms and vices of the City of Angels, serves as a sturdy
reinforcement. "Everything I Try To Do, Nothing Seems To Turn Out Right"
and "Sunshine" aren't exactly lost gems, but both help round out the
collection, the first offering a bleak assessment of an awkward romantic
hook-up ("And we both had some fun / Though I twice bit my tongue / And
it lasted too long for my taste") and the second an upbeat ditty you
could imagine the group singing in the back of the van as it travels
between gigs. As singles go, Billy Liar is a serviceable space
filler until the next full-length arrives.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
February 04, 2005
Trashcan Sinatras: Weightlifting
Spin Art, 2004
Rating: 3.5
Trashcan Sinatras' Weightlifting (the Scottish band's fourth
release, and first since 1996's A Happy Pocket) is bipolar and
gorgeous. As clichéd as it sounds, it's a summery record, as evidenced
by frequent seasonal lyrical references, warm, gauzy guitar interplay
and shimmering beats. But the emotional landscape is moody as hell.
"Welcome Back" comes roaring out of the gates, all fist-pumping optimism
and ringing endorsements ("Everyone's alive / Everyone survived"), but
that's as musically assertive as Weightlifting gets. The rest of
the album is locked into slow or mid-tempo grooves that prove lamentably
innocuous, especially during the middle third. "Freetime" champions the
"beauty in life," followed by "Usually," which retreats down a
melancholy slide. "It's a Miracle" swings back to the affirmative, only
to be clobbered back into submission by the dour "A Coda." The record's
peak achievement is its title track, a devastatingly beautiful paean to
letting one's burdens down and embracing the immediacy of life.
Weightlifting, then, is a triumph tempered by doubt, an accomplished
collection of conflicted feelings and guarded optimism. Don't call it a
comeback, so much as a cautious outreach to a (hopefully) appreciative
audience.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
January 29, 2005
Lou Barlow: Emoh
Merge, 2005
Rating: 3.4
Lou Barlow certainly took his time recording his first official solo album. Of
course, the hyper-prolific artist could hardly be considered a procrastinator --
those who've followed his work with/as Sebadoh, Sentridoh, The Folk Implosion,
The New Folk Implosion probably couldn't care less which name Barlow uses for a
new release. That he chose to use his given name and call the album Emoh
("Home," inverted) lends credence to the argument that Barlow has reached a
comfortable groove in his career. Emoh definitely feels homespun, with
its primarily steel- and vinyl-string acoustic guitar arrangements and Barlow's
warm, unhurried vocals. But while it's appealing to hear Barlow sound so
contented as he approaches middle age, Emoh can't help but lack in the
emotional immediacy so typical of Barlow's earlier, non-eponymous work. "Monkey
Begun" opens with the incongruous, sedately delivered line "For balance and
control, a battle rages in my soul." Barlow's cover of '80s metal-glam band
Ratt's primary hit "Round and Round" removes all teeth from a genuinely menacing
song. Of course, Barlow can still toss off brilliant lines like "Smiling through
denial my specialty" from the aching "Legendary," and obviously isn't afraid of
offending the Christian faithful, as evidenced by "Mary," sung from the point of
view of the true father of Jesus, grateful that Mary has contrived the whole
immaculate conception angle: "Blame it on an angel, they'll believe." Emoh
is relaxed-fit Barlow: a little older, a tad wiser, definitely no longer worried
if he'll ever be the "Natural One" again.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
January 27, 2005
Low: The Great Destroyer
Sub Pop, 2005
Rating: 4.0
David Fridmann and Low. Try and imagine that collaboration five years
ago, back when the Duluth, Minnesota trio of guitarist Alan Sparhawk,
his wife and drummer Mimi Parker, and bassist Zak Salley were recording
with nothing-wasted, minimalist producer Steve Albini. Fortunately, just
as Albini is maestro of the "more with less" aesthetic, Fridmann is his
full-girdled complement on the other end of the spectrum. The Great
Destroyer, Low's seventh full-length album, is its noisiest to date.
Slayer still has nothing to worry about, but from the opening drone of
"Monkey," it's obvious that this is not the same band that released
Secret Name half a decade ago. The new sense of urgency in Low's
sound has been building since 2001's stellar Things We Lost in the
Fire and 2002's stylistically diverse
Trust. Thus, songs
like the elegant, doom-laden "Silver Rider" sport a sharper edge. Of
course, Low goes overboard at points, and detrimentally so. "When I Go
Deaf" ends with jarring feedback that, while undeniably adventurous,
torpedoes a truly beautiful and haunting tune. The dissonance and
harmonies mostly gel, however, especially on the moody "Pissing" and the
spirited finale "Walk Into The Sea." The Great Destroyer is as
close to a bridge-burning tempo shift as Low's ever released for mass
consumption; give the band credit for taking the well-worn adage "to
create, you must destroy" to heart.
:::
Laurence Station
Top
January 19, 2005
The Violettes: The Violettes
Self-released, 2004
Rating: 4.3
For those who've been craving some dreamy, sitar-flavored rock with a folk
influence, the self-titled debut from The Violettes is just the ticket. This
Minneapolis quartet, fronted by the beautiful Sarah Khan, sounds as if its
members just came back from a Ravi Shankar study session, adding an extra
dimension to their style of ethereal rock. Khan, who sounds eerily like the
female vocalist from Chumbawumba combined with Susanna Hoffs from the Bangles,
makes every song a gorgeously meditative hymn. On "Awkward Moment," there are no
drums, just heavenly vocals intertwined with upright bass, acoustic guitar,
sitar and lightly glistened cymbals -- enough to put anyone into their own
alternate reality. But the Violettes can groove as well: "Heavenly White Roses"
starts off like a remake of Deee-Lite's "Groove is in the Heart," but instead of
taking the beat and making it another generic club song, the group adds a sitar
for a sound more from India than from Minnesota, while still managing to make
the end result sound club-worthy. The Violettes can also play straight-ahead,
guitar driven rock ("Full Spectrum," "In Sh'Allah") as well as anyone. The
Violettes is like the soundtrack to a dream: the Violettes excel at creating
music that's perfect for meditation, casual listening, or going into your own
personal universe. The Violettes is a beautiful album that should
hypnotize anyone who listens to it.
:::
Tim Wardyn
Top
January 19, 2005
Mike Watt: The Secondman's Middle Stand
Columbia Records, 2004
Rating: 2.0
Mike Watt's The Secondman's Middle Stand is set up much like one of
Watt's favorite books, Dante's The Inferno, and it chronicles Watt's own
personal hell. In 2000, he suffered a fever that lasted 38 days, which ended,
almost fatally, with an abscess bursting in his perineum. The first section of
Middle Stand is set during Watt's fever, before the abscess bursts; the
second, as he's going through therapy and fighting for his life. The third
focuses on Watt's contemplation of life, death and ultimately surviving. To
create an album that recreates what he went through is a wonderful thought -- if
only it didn't sound so chaotic. "Pissbags & Tubing" and "Boiling Blazes" taper
off several times into a chaotic mess with no rhythm or key to speak of. Either
Watt's trying to recreate the intense pain of his experience, or he's a
modern-day Dadaist. The Secondman's Middle Stand (a play on words: Watt
was a member of the seminal punk group the Minutemen, and the ordeal is his
middle, as opposed to his last, stand) is ultimately like listening to someone
writhe in pain, or the after effects of when he "Puked to High Heaven." In
short, it's excruciatingly difficult to sit through. No one should go through
the pain that Watt did, so why should they be subjected to the rock opera
version of it? This album should have two reviews. Concept: 4.0. Music: 0.0.
:::
Tim Wardyn
Top
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