I still remember when The Strokes burst onto the music scene in 2000. Five young guys from New York who looked and sounded impossibly cool and, if you believed the hype, were single handedly resurrecting guitar rock. I don't know that I ever bought into the hype, but I certainly bought the album.
Eleven years later the band are delivering their fourth album. The five years since 2006's First Impressions Of Earth have seen solo releases from a number of the members, and when initial recording sessions for their return were abandoned it didn't look good. However they managed to regroup, and we finally have new material from the band to enjoy.
I don't know if it's a result of the time, or if it was just the only way they could be creative, but Angles is a departure. It seems they've reached the point in their relationship as a band where they have to try a few new tricks in the studio to keep things interesting. Games seems to be mining the same new wave gold that Cut Copy put to such good effect on their album. Call Me Back is an almost bossanova snapshot of a breakup. Gratisfaction has all the swagger of The Stranger era Billy Joel.But not all the new directions are this retro. Metabolism could be a Muse song, although the guitar solo is such a strong imitation of Queens Of The Stone Age I wouldn't be surprised to find out it was actually played by Josh Homme.
It's not all new tricks though. Even when The Strokes sound like somebody else, nobody else sounds like The Strokes. Musically they're tighter than ever, and the counterplay of the two guitars is frequently the work of sublime genius. The major drawcard though is Casablancas' vocals. He manages to compensate for his somewhat restricted melodic range with an impressive dynamic range and inflection. At one moment he sounds so laconic he could be heavily sedated, the next he's screaming.
Occasionally with an album I will reach a point that I refer to as 'synergy'. As soon as I get to the end of the album I need to start at the beginning. Every song (while I'm listening to it) is the best song on the album. I reached Synergy with Angles on Friday, and ran it on repeat all day. I'm not sure if this is praise for the album, or merely a trick of timing. I do know that when Casablancas screams for the first time 3:01 into Machu Picchu there's no chance of me listening to anything else for the next 31.3 minutes.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Cut Copy - Zonoscope
Ah Cut Copy, we meet again. Last time I attempted this whole 'review an album a week' thing in 2008 I ended up reviewing their In Ghost Colours album. Having reread my embarrassingly badly written review I quite liked the album. I wasn't the only one as well. For an Australian electro pop outfit they certainly managed a bunch of international attention, and the album turned up on more than a few Best of 2008 lists.
Three years later they're back, and sounding more new wave than ever. Cut Copy seem to have an endless mine of '80s cliches. Not that it's a bad thing, it gives the music a familiar and timeless feel. Giving you a fondness for the tracks before you're even halfway through. Take Me Over steals the bassline from Men At Work's Down Under (although fortunately the contentious flute riff was left behind). Blink And You'll Miss A Revolution felels a lot like The Human League's Don't You Want Me, and Sun God sounds like a 12" remix of early U2.
The lead track and album opener Need You Now has been getting plenty of rotation on Triple J, and was the main motivation for buying the album. Despite the upbeat tempo and glistening keyboards there's a tired, rundown feel to the vocals. The juxtaposition makes the song feel like a puzzle. Is he tired because of need, or does he need because he's tired. It's also pretty great pop song, although outside of the context of the album I'd trim off the minute long intro.
Cut Copy seem to have not made their mind up about whether they want to make music for the dance floor, or the lounge room. Some of the tracks sound like club anthems that have been quieted down a little for home listening, and some of the tracks sound like experimental electronic soundscapes, or Giorgio Moroder film scores. There are hybrid efforts too. Much of 15 minute long album closer Sun God sounds like an electronic film score with a beat.
I think Cut Copy need an outlet. Somebody needs to ask them to write the score to a Blade Runner style sci-fi film (I wonder if Duncan Jones has a composer for Mute yet). That way they can get the soundscapes out of their system and can really get to concentrating on making some classic tight electro pop. Not that there aren't some great songs on this album. It just feels a little undecided in places.
Three years later they're back, and sounding more new wave than ever. Cut Copy seem to have an endless mine of '80s cliches. Not that it's a bad thing, it gives the music a familiar and timeless feel. Giving you a fondness for the tracks before you're even halfway through. Take Me Over steals the bassline from Men At Work's Down Under (although fortunately the contentious flute riff was left behind). Blink And You'll Miss A Revolution felels a lot like The Human League's Don't You Want Me, and Sun God sounds like a 12" remix of early U2.
The lead track and album opener Need You Now has been getting plenty of rotation on Triple J, and was the main motivation for buying the album. Despite the upbeat tempo and glistening keyboards there's a tired, rundown feel to the vocals. The juxtaposition makes the song feel like a puzzle. Is he tired because of need, or does he need because he's tired. It's also pretty great pop song, although outside of the context of the album I'd trim off the minute long intro.
Cut Copy seem to have not made their mind up about whether they want to make music for the dance floor, or the lounge room. Some of the tracks sound like club anthems that have been quieted down a little for home listening, and some of the tracks sound like experimental electronic soundscapes, or Giorgio Moroder film scores. There are hybrid efforts too. Much of 15 minute long album closer Sun God sounds like an electronic film score with a beat.
I think Cut Copy need an outlet. Somebody needs to ask them to write the score to a Blade Runner style sci-fi film (I wonder if Duncan Jones has a composer for Mute yet). That way they can get the soundscapes out of their system and can really get to concentrating on making some classic tight electro pop. Not that there aren't some great songs on this album. It just feels a little undecided in places.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Adalita - Adalita
As front woman for Geelong's Magic Dirt Adalita Srsen has been rocking for more than twenty years. She has left her contemporaries (Baby Animals' Suze Demarchi, and Superjesus' Sarah McLeod to name just two) lying in her dust. Despite the fact that Magic Dirt have been releasing music since 1993 this is Adalita's first solo release (other than a couple of tracks on the Suburban Mayhem soundtrack).
When members of prominent bands go solo they have a different road to travel. On the one hand they're going to want to tap into the fan base that they've spent years developing, but at the same time they will want to use the opportunity to do things they could never do as part of their band. This is especially tough for the singer, so much of a band's identity can hang on the vocal performance, which can make it hard to take a recognisable voice and try to say something different.
Adalita (the album rather than the woman) sounds little like Magic Dirt. In fact I probably wouldn't have picked this as the same vocalist if given a direct comparison. Adalita's vocals with Magic Dirt seem to have a rock swagger to them, she seems to almost spit them out with occasionally undisguised contempt (which one assumes is for life, not the lyrics or the fans). The vocals here are more personal and inviting. She's taken a leaf out of the book of some of the great female singer/songwriters and it's paid off brilliantly.
All the credit has to go to Adalita too. Other than occasional help on a couple of tracks, including one co-written with Magic Dirt lead guitarist Raul Sanchez, , she does the lot; vocals, guitar, piano, percussion, drums, she even produces (although co credit for production is given to late Magic Dirt bass player Dean Turner, who the album is also dedicated to).
The songs are simple and stripped back, often just a voice and a guitar. The result of which is that when you throw on your headphones and listen to the album it's like being in the room with Adalita. Which makes the album almost confrontingly personal. Most of the songs are concerned with obsession and lust, but there are a couple of notable exceptions. The Repairer sees Adalita embody a euthanising angel of death, and Invite Me seems to have her dreaming of the departed.
Adalita is an accomplished debut, although after this long in the business anything else would have been a shock. What is surprising is just how intimate the album manages to be. Cat Power and PJ Harvey should be put on notice that Australia has its own tortured chanteuse, and she's every bit as good.
When members of prominent bands go solo they have a different road to travel. On the one hand they're going to want to tap into the fan base that they've spent years developing, but at the same time they will want to use the opportunity to do things they could never do as part of their band. This is especially tough for the singer, so much of a band's identity can hang on the vocal performance, which can make it hard to take a recognisable voice and try to say something different.
Adalita (the album rather than the woman) sounds little like Magic Dirt. In fact I probably wouldn't have picked this as the same vocalist if given a direct comparison. Adalita's vocals with Magic Dirt seem to have a rock swagger to them, she seems to almost spit them out with occasionally undisguised contempt (which one assumes is for life, not the lyrics or the fans). The vocals here are more personal and inviting. She's taken a leaf out of the book of some of the great female singer/songwriters and it's paid off brilliantly.
All the credit has to go to Adalita too. Other than occasional help on a couple of tracks, including one co-written with Magic Dirt lead guitarist Raul Sanchez, , she does the lot; vocals, guitar, piano, percussion, drums, she even produces (although co credit for production is given to late Magic Dirt bass player Dean Turner, who the album is also dedicated to).
The songs are simple and stripped back, often just a voice and a guitar. The result of which is that when you throw on your headphones and listen to the album it's like being in the room with Adalita. Which makes the album almost confrontingly personal. Most of the songs are concerned with obsession and lust, but there are a couple of notable exceptions. The Repairer sees Adalita embody a euthanising angel of death, and Invite Me seems to have her dreaming of the departed.
Adalita is an accomplished debut, although after this long in the business anything else would have been a shock. What is surprising is just how intimate the album manages to be. Cat Power and PJ Harvey should be put on notice that Australia has its own tortured chanteuse, and she's every bit as good.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Plan B - The Defamation Of Strickland Banks
As Ben Drew awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a soul singer.
At least, that's how the review would start if it was written by Franz Kafka. Ben, also known as Plan B burst onto the British rap scene in 2005. He was young, angry, and most importantly eloquent. The final verse of his early single Sick 2 Def is some of the best written rap I've ever heard. So it was with some surprise that I greeted the news that the follow up to his acclaimed 2006 debut (Who Needs Actions When You Got Words?) was a concept album about a soul singer.
Concept albums are very murky water indeed. Often they're bloated, nonsensical rubbish. Most of them don't make any sense until you have the concept explained to you. Sometimes the bands themselves seem to abandon the concept halfway, realising that it's just too much effort.
What this means for me is that there are two things to review. The story and the music. Sure, they should work together to support each other and one should be inseparable from the other, but do you really need to sit through all 72 minutes of Tommy to know that the 3:02 of Pinball Wizard is sheer brilliance? I don't think you do.
So the story. I have to admit, I looked this up. Once I knew it all fell nicely into place, but I'm not sure I would have managed all the intricacies without being pointed in the right direction. We start with titular soul singer Strickland Banks, and the first two tracks (Love Goes Down, Writing's On The Wall) are supposedly fine examples of his smooth northern soul oeuvre. Then Strickland goes out, gets drunk, and cheats on his girlfriend with an obsessive fan (Stay Too Long, She Said). When he jilts the fan in the morning she cries rape (She Said), and Strickland gets sent to jail (Welcome To Hell, Hard Times). In jail he tries to lay low (The Recluse), but ends up losing his innocence (Traded In My Cigareetes, Prayin'), his faith (Darkest Place), his girlfriend (I Know A Song), and eventually his hope (What You Gonna Do). The story ends on an ambiguous open note. Strickland is retried due to new evidence coming to light, and we don't find out if he is released or re incarcerated. As stories go it's not exactly new, but for a concept album it's a pretty clean through line, and I must admit I was somewhat relieved to not find a bizarre twist at the end of the tale.
Musically the album sits well in the revival that soul music is currently enjoying. Drew tries to channel Marvin Gaye with his vocals, and while he doesn't quite reach the lofty heights he strives for, the slight edge in his voice lends weight and authenticity to the dark subject matter on offer. Occasionally he can't help himself and he'll break into a rap, but it works as Strickland's darkest inner monologue. The band bring to mind Motown's glorious Funk Brothers, with a tight rhythm section, bright horns, and just enough groove to keep the song moving forward.
I was only really peripherally aware of Plan B before I listened to this album. He certainly has my attention now. I wonder what metamorphosis he'll attempt next.
At least, that's how the review would start if it was written by Franz Kafka. Ben, also known as Plan B burst onto the British rap scene in 2005. He was young, angry, and most importantly eloquent. The final verse of his early single Sick 2 Def is some of the best written rap I've ever heard. So it was with some surprise that I greeted the news that the follow up to his acclaimed 2006 debut (Who Needs Actions When You Got Words?) was a concept album about a soul singer.
Concept albums are very murky water indeed. Often they're bloated, nonsensical rubbish. Most of them don't make any sense until you have the concept explained to you. Sometimes the bands themselves seem to abandon the concept halfway, realising that it's just too much effort.
What this means for me is that there are two things to review. The story and the music. Sure, they should work together to support each other and one should be inseparable from the other, but do you really need to sit through all 72 minutes of Tommy to know that the 3:02 of Pinball Wizard is sheer brilliance? I don't think you do.
So the story. I have to admit, I looked this up. Once I knew it all fell nicely into place, but I'm not sure I would have managed all the intricacies without being pointed in the right direction. We start with titular soul singer Strickland Banks, and the first two tracks (Love Goes Down, Writing's On The Wall) are supposedly fine examples of his smooth northern soul oeuvre. Then Strickland goes out, gets drunk, and cheats on his girlfriend with an obsessive fan (Stay Too Long, She Said). When he jilts the fan in the morning she cries rape (She Said), and Strickland gets sent to jail (Welcome To Hell, Hard Times). In jail he tries to lay low (The Recluse), but ends up losing his innocence (Traded In My Cigareetes, Prayin'), his faith (Darkest Place), his girlfriend (I Know A Song), and eventually his hope (What You Gonna Do). The story ends on an ambiguous open note. Strickland is retried due to new evidence coming to light, and we don't find out if he is released or re incarcerated. As stories go it's not exactly new, but for a concept album it's a pretty clean through line, and I must admit I was somewhat relieved to not find a bizarre twist at the end of the tale.
Musically the album sits well in the revival that soul music is currently enjoying. Drew tries to channel Marvin Gaye with his vocals, and while he doesn't quite reach the lofty heights he strives for, the slight edge in his voice lends weight and authenticity to the dark subject matter on offer. Occasionally he can't help himself and he'll break into a rap, but it works as Strickland's darkest inner monologue. The band bring to mind Motown's glorious Funk Brothers, with a tight rhythm section, bright horns, and just enough groove to keep the song moving forward.
I was only really peripherally aware of Plan B before I listened to this album. He certainly has my attention now. I wonder what metamorphosis he'll attempt next.
Radiohead - The King Of Limbs
I know on some level I was aware that Radiohead were expected to release a new album this year, but I was still surprised that they chose to bypass the whole media circus of promoting the album before its relsase. They announced it on a Monday, and the album was released on the same Friday. Nothing was given in advance to any media outlet. Everyone downloading the album at the same time, and forming their own opinions without being told what to think by magazine reviewers and radio presenters.
Radiohead are on tested ground here. The release of their 2007 album In Rainbows followed a similar plan, although there is one notable difference. In 2007 Radiohead allowed fans to pay whatever they wanted to pay for a download of the album. Unfortunately because the band are free of any record company scrutiny it's impossible to know how successful this policy was. For the release of The King Of Limbs the band has (perhaps tellingly) set the price for the download. Of course in our modern communication age anyone who wants to get the album for free will easily find ways to do so.
This kind of release is great. It's exciting to know you're among the first to listen to something (even if 'the first' number in their millions), and the miniscule amount of time between announcement and release means that you barely have time to digest the information that there will be new Radiohead before it's bubbling its way out of the headphones of your mp3 player. The one caveat of this kind of release is you need to be one of the biggest bands in the world for it to work. The only people picking up your new album are your die hard fans. Nobody can walk past a display in a record shop and pick your album up on speculation. Nobody sees a commercial on television and puts your CD on their birthday list, nobody hears your song over the emotive closing scene of a televised drama and is so affected by it they just have to find the album. There's probably fewer than a dozen bands who could do this with any kind of success. Fortunately for them Radiohead number among those lucky few.
So enough about the sneak attack release strategy. How's the album? Allow me to answer with a question: Do you like Radiohead? If the answer is yes, then you'll like The King Of Limbs. Radiohead have been releasing music for nearly 20 years now, and as a result they're very accomplished musicians. The eight tracks on offer here are all richly layered, with wide brushstrokes of electronica. Some reflect a manic twitchiness (Bloom, Feral), some are quietly beautiful (Codex, Give Up The Ghost), and some are dark and captivating (Lotus Flower, Morning Mr. Magpie). If however you don't like Radiohead this album won't change your mind.
If you're not sure whether or not you like Radiohead I wouldn't start here. In Rainbows is a much more accessible album. But what The King Of Limbs lacks in approachability it more than makes up for in depth. I've listened to the album a number of times since I downloaded it, and the songs reveal themselves a little at a time, with the result that the album sounds a little different every time you listen to it.
I have a couple of interesting side notes to add. Firstly you should check out the video for Lotus Flower. It's a great metaphor for the album, what at first seems like manic twitching reveals itself to be closely choreographed and captivating.
The other thing is that synth pop band Robotanists have covered the whole album, and what's more they covered it within 24 hours of the album's release. It's interesting to hear the same songs with different instrumentation and somebody other than Thom Yorke singing. Due to their self imposed time constraints they haven't radically altered or interpreted the songs. Some of it is a little rough, but they're not charging you anything to download it, so it's worth having as a curio if nothing else (and who doesn't like a cover?).
Radiohead are on tested ground here. The release of their 2007 album In Rainbows followed a similar plan, although there is one notable difference. In 2007 Radiohead allowed fans to pay whatever they wanted to pay for a download of the album. Unfortunately because the band are free of any record company scrutiny it's impossible to know how successful this policy was. For the release of The King Of Limbs the band has (perhaps tellingly) set the price for the download. Of course in our modern communication age anyone who wants to get the album for free will easily find ways to do so.
This kind of release is great. It's exciting to know you're among the first to listen to something (even if 'the first' number in their millions), and the miniscule amount of time between announcement and release means that you barely have time to digest the information that there will be new Radiohead before it's bubbling its way out of the headphones of your mp3 player. The one caveat of this kind of release is you need to be one of the biggest bands in the world for it to work. The only people picking up your new album are your die hard fans. Nobody can walk past a display in a record shop and pick your album up on speculation. Nobody sees a commercial on television and puts your CD on their birthday list, nobody hears your song over the emotive closing scene of a televised drama and is so affected by it they just have to find the album. There's probably fewer than a dozen bands who could do this with any kind of success. Fortunately for them Radiohead number among those lucky few.
So enough about the sneak attack release strategy. How's the album? Allow me to answer with a question: Do you like Radiohead? If the answer is yes, then you'll like The King Of Limbs. Radiohead have been releasing music for nearly 20 years now, and as a result they're very accomplished musicians. The eight tracks on offer here are all richly layered, with wide brushstrokes of electronica. Some reflect a manic twitchiness (Bloom, Feral), some are quietly beautiful (Codex, Give Up The Ghost), and some are dark and captivating (Lotus Flower, Morning Mr. Magpie). If however you don't like Radiohead this album won't change your mind.
If you're not sure whether or not you like Radiohead I wouldn't start here. In Rainbows is a much more accessible album. But what The King Of Limbs lacks in approachability it more than makes up for in depth. I've listened to the album a number of times since I downloaded it, and the songs reveal themselves a little at a time, with the result that the album sounds a little different every time you listen to it.
I have a couple of interesting side notes to add. Firstly you should check out the video for Lotus Flower. It's a great metaphor for the album, what at first seems like manic twitching reveals itself to be closely choreographed and captivating.
The other thing is that synth pop band Robotanists have covered the whole album, and what's more they covered it within 24 hours of the album's release. It's interesting to hear the same songs with different instrumentation and somebody other than Thom Yorke singing. Due to their self imposed time constraints they haven't radically altered or interpreted the songs. Some of it is a little rough, but they're not charging you anything to download it, so it's worth having as a curio if nothing else (and who doesn't like a cover?).
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Decemberists - The King Is Dead
Portland, Oregon's The Decemberists have been delivering their narrative folk music since 2001, and for much of that time and across their five previous albums they've delivered a contemporary take on classic British and Irish folk. The King Is Dead sees them back at it, but with one notable difference.
Somebody has almost completely cured them of their anglophilia. It's like they've suddenly looked around and realised that they live in a country with its own rich folk music heritage. They say a change is as good as a holiday, and the slight change of tack has infused these songs with a breezy freshness, and an undeniable charm. The result is a modern American folk rock record.
All the culprits of folk instrumentation rear their heads; acoustic guitars, accordion, harmonica, slide guitar, but never in an overbearingly rustic way. Admittedly the line between folk and country is a murky one, but country shouldn't be a dirty word. Johnny Cash was a country star, and there's nobody more rock and roll than that guy.
Musically there's plenty on offer here. Rox in the Box comes across like early R.E.M., Down By The Water calls to mind angry young Springsteen, and All Arise! is the country cousin of the Rolling Stones classic Tumbling Dice.
It's a good effort from The Decemberists, but I don't really feel like I'm doing it justice. After Iron & Wine and Bright Eyes I think I might be suffering folk fatigue. There's some lovely tracks on here. The pair of hymns (January Hymn, and June Hymn) are wonderful odes to summer and winter. I just feel like I could have been more receptive to the album if I wasn't folked out. Maybe I'll come back to it in six months or so and give it another try.
Somebody has almost completely cured them of their anglophilia. It's like they've suddenly looked around and realised that they live in a country with its own rich folk music heritage. They say a change is as good as a holiday, and the slight change of tack has infused these songs with a breezy freshness, and an undeniable charm. The result is a modern American folk rock record.
All the culprits of folk instrumentation rear their heads; acoustic guitars, accordion, harmonica, slide guitar, but never in an overbearingly rustic way. Admittedly the line between folk and country is a murky one, but country shouldn't be a dirty word. Johnny Cash was a country star, and there's nobody more rock and roll than that guy.
Musically there's plenty on offer here. Rox in the Box comes across like early R.E.M., Down By The Water calls to mind angry young Springsteen, and All Arise! is the country cousin of the Rolling Stones classic Tumbling Dice.
It's a good effort from The Decemberists, but I don't really feel like I'm doing it justice. After Iron & Wine and Bright Eyes I think I might be suffering folk fatigue. There's some lovely tracks on here. The pair of hymns (January Hymn, and June Hymn) are wonderful odes to summer and winter. I just feel like I could have been more receptive to the album if I wasn't folked out. Maybe I'll come back to it in six months or so and give it another try.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Bright Eyes - The People's Key
Bright Eyes are one of my favourite groups. Their 2000 album Fevers and Mirrors is among my all time favourites. So it is with great interest and some minor trepidation that I approach any new release from them.
An album that you love is like a fly trapped in amber. It's beautiful, and perfectly preserved, but it only represents a single moment in time. A classic album is great for an artist to have in their catalogue, but it can also weigh them down. Many artists will wear themselves out repeating and emulating their success hoping that people want more of the same. Some will run as far in the other direction creatively as they can, trying to outrun the shadow of their success, fearing that they will be viewed as sellouts because people like their music.
Not that Bright Eyes are threatening the U2s of the world in terms of audience and sales, but they've had some success, and more importantly some critical acclaim. Somehow they've managed through it all to maintain their credibility, and most of their fan base.
So anyone expecting Bright Eyes circa 2011 to sound like Bright Eyes circa 2000 should just put on Fevers and Mirrors again. Songwriter Conor Oberst has made the journey from 20 to 31 in the intervening years, and he's matured both as a person and a songwriter. He's lost none of his poetry in the meantime, but his songs sound more like poetry and less like teenage whining (teenage whining that I love that is).
Bright Eyes have a habit of opening their albums with an odd spoken piece, and the tradition continues here with a quasi religious rant about reptilian aliens interbreeding with the ancient Samarians and eventually creating Hitler... it's possibly even weirder than it sounds. The rant is revisited a couple of times on the album, and every time I listen I feel like I'm closer to grasping what it's all about, but then the music distracts me and I lose my enlightenment. I'm pretty sure it's about love in the end though.
So how's the album? It's great. The band are really having fun for once, Conor's lyrics are as sharp as ever, but these songs sound less like they ewre written alone in a bedroom, and more like they were written on and for a stage. There's still quieter, more introspective moments like Approximate Sunlight and Ladder Song, and I expect they'll reveal their secrets over many many listens, but the immediate joys here are the rock songs. Jejune Stars wouldn't be out of place on a Strokes album, Shell Games is lightly basted in warm synthesisers, and Triple Spiral (complete with do do/whoah oh backing vocals) is the best song Weezer never wrote.
As usual there are some lyrical through lines. Hitler comes up in the songs as well as in the weird opening, and there's more than a few references to rastafarianism scattered throughout. What does it all mean? I've honestly no idea, but it's refreshing to have lyrics that leave a little room for interpretation.
So as a Bright Eyes fan, and lover of music, I really enjoyed the album. It's easy to pick up and listen to, but promises revelations on further and deeper listening. A fine addition to a stellar catalogue.
An album that you love is like a fly trapped in amber. It's beautiful, and perfectly preserved, but it only represents a single moment in time. A classic album is great for an artist to have in their catalogue, but it can also weigh them down. Many artists will wear themselves out repeating and emulating their success hoping that people want more of the same. Some will run as far in the other direction creatively as they can, trying to outrun the shadow of their success, fearing that they will be viewed as sellouts because people like their music.
Not that Bright Eyes are threatening the U2s of the world in terms of audience and sales, but they've had some success, and more importantly some critical acclaim. Somehow they've managed through it all to maintain their credibility, and most of their fan base.
So anyone expecting Bright Eyes circa 2011 to sound like Bright Eyes circa 2000 should just put on Fevers and Mirrors again. Songwriter Conor Oberst has made the journey from 20 to 31 in the intervening years, and he's matured both as a person and a songwriter. He's lost none of his poetry in the meantime, but his songs sound more like poetry and less like teenage whining (teenage whining that I love that is).
Bright Eyes have a habit of opening their albums with an odd spoken piece, and the tradition continues here with a quasi religious rant about reptilian aliens interbreeding with the ancient Samarians and eventually creating Hitler... it's possibly even weirder than it sounds. The rant is revisited a couple of times on the album, and every time I listen I feel like I'm closer to grasping what it's all about, but then the music distracts me and I lose my enlightenment. I'm pretty sure it's about love in the end though.
So how's the album? It's great. The band are really having fun for once, Conor's lyrics are as sharp as ever, but these songs sound less like they ewre written alone in a bedroom, and more like they were written on and for a stage. There's still quieter, more introspective moments like Approximate Sunlight and Ladder Song, and I expect they'll reveal their secrets over many many listens, but the immediate joys here are the rock songs. Jejune Stars wouldn't be out of place on a Strokes album, Shell Games is lightly basted in warm synthesisers, and Triple Spiral (complete with do do/whoah oh backing vocals) is the best song Weezer never wrote.
As usual there are some lyrical through lines. Hitler comes up in the songs as well as in the weird opening, and there's more than a few references to rastafarianism scattered throughout. What does it all mean? I've honestly no idea, but it's refreshing to have lyrics that leave a little room for interpretation.
So as a Bright Eyes fan, and lover of music, I really enjoyed the album. It's easy to pick up and listen to, but promises revelations on further and deeper listening. A fine addition to a stellar catalogue.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Iron & Wine - Kiss Each Other Clean
Sam Beam has been recording as Iron & Wine since 2002, and despite being active the whole time Kiss Each Other Clean is only his fourth full length release, and his first since 2007's The Shepherd's Dog. The main thing that seems to have happened in the intervening years is that Beam got funky.
I'm used to a kind of understated folksy americana from Iron & Wine, and opening track Walking Far From Home seems to indicate more of this direction, albeit with a little more production than usual. The bass intro to Me And Lazarus establishes a clear funk leaning, and the saxophone certainly seals it. Once the funk is let out of the bag it infuses the rest of the album. There's a marimba on Monkeys Uptown, south american sounding drums and a jazz flute on Rabbit Will Run, more funk bass and saxophone on Big Burned Hand, and an entire horn section sounding like Mingus on album closer Your Fake Name Is Good Enough For Me.
He hasn't sacrificed any of his trademark prettiness for the funk either. Beautiful harmonies and lilting melodies weave their way through the whole album. There's also no dip in lyrical quality. Beam has always had a way with words, and he certainly hasn't slacked off in this regard.
All of this combined leaves the whole album sounding more like an undiscovered gem from a classic era than a contemporary release. That's not to say it doesn't stand up next to todays artists. If anything it overshadows many of them. Just that it sounds instantly classic, which is among the highest praise I can give an album. I'm actually sorry to leave it to review another album, but I'll certainly be back to listen to this one.
I'm used to a kind of understated folksy americana from Iron & Wine, and opening track Walking Far From Home seems to indicate more of this direction, albeit with a little more production than usual. The bass intro to Me And Lazarus establishes a clear funk leaning, and the saxophone certainly seals it. Once the funk is let out of the bag it infuses the rest of the album. There's a marimba on Monkeys Uptown, south american sounding drums and a jazz flute on Rabbit Will Run, more funk bass and saxophone on Big Burned Hand, and an entire horn section sounding like Mingus on album closer Your Fake Name Is Good Enough For Me.
He hasn't sacrificed any of his trademark prettiness for the funk either. Beautiful harmonies and lilting melodies weave their way through the whole album. There's also no dip in lyrical quality. Beam has always had a way with words, and he certainly hasn't slacked off in this regard.
All of this combined leaves the whole album sounding more like an undiscovered gem from a classic era than a contemporary release. That's not to say it doesn't stand up next to todays artists. If anything it overshadows many of them. Just that it sounds instantly classic, which is among the highest praise I can give an album. I'm actually sorry to leave it to review another album, but I'll certainly be back to listen to this one.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Smith Westerns - Dye It Blonde
The second album by Chicago's Smith Westerns opens with an odd low chiming noise that can't help but bring to mind a distant ice cream van. Odd as it may sound it's a perfect introduction to an album that may as well be condensed summer. The distorted, reverb drenched guitars bring to mind a lazy sunset on a California beach, the vocals the cool refreshing beer in your hand.
I often find it hard to explain what I mean when I say I love pop music. People assume I mean whatever dross has managed to top the charts, and while there is some crossover 'pop' to me no longer means popular. It's about melody, harmony, song structure, catchy hooks and danceable beats. In many ways this album is a perfect example of what I'm talking about.
Smith Westerns happily wear their influences on their sleeve for all to see (or hear), and there are many. They've cherry picked from the best of the British guitar bands of the '80s (The Smiths, Psychedelic Furs, Stone Roses, etc), built their songs on Beatle framework, and washed it all in the sunbleached AOR of the west coast (The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, America...). The resulting concoction is as unique as it is familiar.
The album has a youthful exuberance, but balanced with the classic feel and sound it falls short of the precocious arrogance of so many young artists. It's short too, clocking in at barely 35 minutes for the ten tracks on offer. Which works in its favour. Far from outliving their welcome the joys of the album are over all too briefly, making it all too easy to press play again to hear them all afresh.
There's little I love more than discovering excellent new music, and Dye It Blonde is no exception. A time capsule from the greatest summer you never had, which you can crack open any time and bask in its warmth.
I often find it hard to explain what I mean when I say I love pop music. People assume I mean whatever dross has managed to top the charts, and while there is some crossover 'pop' to me no longer means popular. It's about melody, harmony, song structure, catchy hooks and danceable beats. In many ways this album is a perfect example of what I'm talking about.
Smith Westerns happily wear their influences on their sleeve for all to see (or hear), and there are many. They've cherry picked from the best of the British guitar bands of the '80s (The Smiths, Psychedelic Furs, Stone Roses, etc), built their songs on Beatle framework, and washed it all in the sunbleached AOR of the west coast (The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, America...). The resulting concoction is as unique as it is familiar.
The album has a youthful exuberance, but balanced with the classic feel and sound it falls short of the precocious arrogance of so many young artists. It's short too, clocking in at barely 35 minutes for the ten tracks on offer. Which works in its favour. Far from outliving their welcome the joys of the album are over all too briefly, making it all too easy to press play again to hear them all afresh.
There's little I love more than discovering excellent new music, and Dye It Blonde is no exception. A time capsule from the greatest summer you never had, which you can crack open any time and bask in its warmth.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Amanda Palmer - Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under
Being a fan of former Dresden Doll Amanda Palmer is an almost entirely unique experience. If all you're doing is listening to her music you're really only experiencing a fraction of what she offers as an artist. That's not to say that the music isn't worth it all by itself (although we'll get to that a little later on). It's just that Amanda feels like one of the first true artists of the internet age. She blogs frequently and openly, tweets constantly, and will happily engage with her fans. She encourages creativity, revels in non-conformity, and champions art in all forms. When she tours she stages what she refers to as "Ninja Gigs", free concerts for her fans publicised via twitter, blog, and word of mouth. Being an Amanda Palmer fan is like having a conversation.
As a part of that conversation "...Goes Down Under" is a strange little document. It's a collection of live tracks (most of which were recorded at a triumphant Sydney Opera House gig), covers, and collaborations. From any other artist this would feel like a half baked odds and sods collection, but from Amanda Palmer it feels completely appropriate.
We'll start with the covers. Three covers come from that opera house gig. The album (and concert) opener being a ukulele strummed cover of 1920's classic Makin' Whoopee, there's a delightful impromptu cover of the famous (in Australia at least) Vegemite jingle We're Happy Little Vegemites, and the album (and concert) closing cover of Nick Cave's The Ship Song. The other cover is one of the three studio tracks on the album (which fitting with the theme were all recorded in an Adelaide studio) and is a cover of cult New Zealand songwriter Peter Jefferies' On An Unknown Beach. The covers all serve as great examples of the different faces of Amanda Palmer as an artist. Makin' Whoopee shows her playful side, We're Happy Little Vegemites illustrates Palmer's relationship with her fans, The Ship Song shows her ability to play it straight and deep, and On An Unknown Beach is a great example of her tireless championing of obscure artists who should have more exposure.
Next the collaborations. Not counting Brian Viglione (the 'other' Dresden Doll) turning up for percussion duties on In My Mind, there are three collaborations on the album. Two of them live collaborations in which Amanda sings a song by one of her musician friends with said friend. One of these is a 2001 song by Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen the delicious dark gypsy stomp of A Formidable Marinade which Amanda sang with Mikelangelo at the opera house. The other is a song by Melbourne cabaret darlings The Jane Austen Argument called Bad Wine and Lemon Cake which Amanda sang with the duo at the Adelaide fringe festival. Both of these are great songs, and both of these artists will benefit from the exposure. In fact I think Bad Wine and Lemon Cake could be the best song on the album. The other collaboration is the odd, but catchy lead single from the album Map Of Tasmania, a song about personal feminine grooming decisions. It's Amanda's song, but it's been worked over by English dance act The Young Punx.
So with half of the album given over to other people's songs only half of Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under is made up from Amanda Palmer songs. Once again the songs on display show the variety of Amanda's music, and once again almost all of them are live tracks. There's a song about ignoring the washing up to go to Australia, a song about how much Amanda hates Vegemite (spoiler alert: it's a lot), the aforementioned personal grooming manual, a song about realising that it's okay to be who you are, a song ostensibly about New Zealand, and a song about the host of a medical TV talk show.
One can't help but wonder if Palmer is a narcissist. All of her releases since disbanding The Dresden Dolls have had her name in the title. Although maybe she's just trying to get that name to more and more people. I'm a fan of what she does, and as a result I like this album. That said I look forward to a 'proper' album of all new, all original, all studio tracks.
So you're wondering if you should get Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under. It's a simple and emphatic yes. Even if you're not going to listen to and enjoy the music (which you should), if you download it from Amanda's website all the proceeds go directly to the artists. No record company skimming off the top. And what's more you can have the album for as little as $US 0.69. It's really hard to say you're not getting value for money on that deal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)