Guess what I’m listening to...

New Music: Jack White – Love Interruption

2012-01-31T19:15:00.000-08:00

Jack White is living the rock n roll dream, and I think he’d admit that all day long. My affinity for Jack has more to do with the man himself than his music because, in short, I think he’s a pretty cool guy, and from local ramblings about town, a very nice, humble one at that. (So I officially apologize for calling him a “goth dufus” basically to his face outside the Green Hills 16 Theater in 2006. In my defense, I didn’t realize it was him, but you shoulda seen what he had on…)

In our family, Karla is the big White Stripes fan, and I don’t want to say rabidly so, but she’s definitely willing to pet the dog that’s foaming at the mouth. I could tell you about the time she literally nearly died at one of their shows because she was too dedicated (stubborn) a fan to give up her stage-side status, but I pretty much just did, so…

As for me, I respect the White Stripes, but have for the most part been a passive participant in listening to their music whenever Karla picked up a new release and played it (repeatedly). Having said that, and especially after seeing them in a live setting, it’s amazing how big a two piece can be, especially one that approaches music from a minimalist standpoint. This is most evident on their last couple of albums, where the studio itself became a bit of a third member, with Get Behind Me Satan being the one I will put on myself when in a White Stripes mood.

Around the White Stripes’ schedule Jack has also managed to chalk up a slew of additional credits in various bands and production duties and even a bit of acting, most all receiving widespread acclaim, and certainly all further expanding the living legend that was and continues to be, Jack White. And again, in my family, his secondary groups are passive listens for us, with Karla leaning more towards The Raconteurs (whom I find a bit tedious) and me towards The Dead Weather (whom I also find a bit tedious).

But now, the pin up boy of DIY indie rock is about to come out with a solo album, Blunderbuss, and since I like the man himself more than the groups he fronts/backs, I couldn’t be more interested. In my opinion, a solo album frees up Jack to do and be whatever it is he wishes without the “confines” of whatever group he’s currently manning – which is saying something as all previously mentioned groups went pretty much wherever they wanted. And while all have that certain JW-esque sound, they were also broken down into little subgroups that were more blues or rock or goth or whatever.

So, anyway, Third Man has released the first single, Love Interruption, which has been doubtlessly zooming through the speakers of hip rockers ever since. I’ve gotten a chance to give it a few clicks (you know, as opposed to spins), and I really enjoy it. Musically it’s got a dark, Appalachian feel, and lyrically it’s a request of love to, in short, mess up the singer’s life, brutally. And, as always, I’m amazed by the fullness of Jack’s minimalist approach, as there is little more than acoustic guitar, keys and a (unknown) female co-vocal, and yet it fills up the room with eerie majesty.

It’s a powerful song, one that lingers in your head as more than a melody, but a sensation, disturbing but not unpleasantly so.

Naturally this gets my ears primed for the rest of the album, which in my mind could be more of the same or roam all over the place, but I have no doubts that wherever it goes, it’s bound to be cohesive, inspired and at the end of the day, enjoyable. And if not, Love Interruption is a heck of a single anyway.

In Defense of...Tim Buckley's Last Song for You

2012-01-30T12:28:00.000-08:00

So, quite awhile back I was working on a post of final albums, which you can find here, and on there I talked about Tim Buckley’s last release, the near-universally panned (at least by critics), Look at the Fool.

That got me to thinking about his other much maligned album, Sefronia, and then other albums that are generally cast aside by critics and fans as either subpar or just flat out unworthy. So, I’m starting up a(nother) new series called In Defense of…, where I take another look at the Self Portraits of the musical greats and see if a more objective approach won’t shine a bit of merit on these (allegedly) slandered tracks, or if bad song writing, wrong production, lack of inspiration and/or what have you has just given us a clunker.

***

By 1973, Tim Buckley’s star was all but faded. Though he had released a series of critically lauded albums (Lorca, Starsailor, etc), they were so far away from the early successes of his folk-troubadour beginnings and meandering jazz follow-ups - and just far out in left field in general - that his initial audience was scared away and the one he picked up as a result, understandably small. Though in no way a return to form, 1972’s Greetings from L.A. was at least a step in a more generally accessible, ear friendly funk-rock direction, though by no means part of the “mainstream” of the times. And while these truly sleazy numbers (I can see Mick Jagger blushing) certainly garnered more critical praise, it still wasn’t the financial sweet spot Buckley (or perhaps his management) was hoping for.

With Sefronia, Buckley moved towards a less raunchy, more slickly produced version of blue-eyed soul. Generally, critics deride this album for being pedestrian and unoriginal. And ok, fine, it’s certainly not as gorgeously epic as Goodbye and Hello, or as mind warpingly out there as Starsailor, but for what it is, which is competent, even inspired white funk and balladry, Sefronia is satisfying on several levels, albeit perhaps superficial ones…and there’s nothing wrong with that.

First off, Buckley’s voice is as strong as ever, and we get a good taste of his vocal prowess, especially on Peanut Man, the Buckley original Honey Man and the ever classic, so how could it be wrong, Dolphins. And yes, there are several covers here, but again, a great song well played is always an inspiration, so who cares if it’s original to the performing artist? Ok, I do sometimes, but Buckley had already proven himself, so if he needed to beef up this album with a handful of covers, so be it…the songs remain the same.

That’s not to say that every song is gold, silver or even rusted tin, as I Know I’d Recognize Your Face, a duet with perhaps one of the female backing vocalists (honestly, no idea), is about as pointlessly boring as you can get, fine for a dentist’s office, but should in no way be part of the great Tim Buckley’s catalog. And while Quicksand and Stone in Love aren’t as bad, they’re also enjoyably forgettable, and do not hold up to the first half of the album.

However, after the latter, the two-part title track picks things up again nicely, harkening back to the bright eyed troubadour days of 1968 (thanks to co-lyricist Larry Beckett), for an ambitious mini epic that may not be as ultimately pleasing as Goodbye and Hello, but is a surprising yet fitting change of pace for Sefronia and a minor gem of Buckley’s output. Finish off the album with the spritely agreeable reworking of the staple Sally, Go ‘Round the Roses, and Sefronia, while at times unremarkable, is certainly enjoyable and easily more accessible than anything Buckley released after 1969’s Blue Afternoon.

And then you can jump back to my previous post for thoughts on Look at the Fool.

I suppose once Buckley had gone “out there,” it was hard for critics to allow him to come back, and it seems once an artist goes too far from convention (as I’ll touch on later with other folks), putting out something more standard and straightforward is just out of the question. Rubbish.

But fan reviews I’ve read confirm my belief that both these albums are wrongly bashed by critics of both then and now, and while they may not carry the wandering majesty of Buckley’s folk period, the mystical crooning of his jazzy era or the atonal, rhythmic barrage of his avant-garde stint, Sefronia and Look at the Fool are two highly enjoyable if obviously lesser outings from an artist who lived to push the boundaries of what was considered music, but was still at the core of himself, a performer. Approach these two as such, and you’ll enjoy them as well.

New Music: Tomorrow, Today

2012-01-25T11:58:00.000-08:00

Earlier in the month I posted something silly regarding the album cover for the up and coming Cranberries album, Roses, the first in over a decade. Yesterday the first song/video from that release, Tomorrow, was unleashed on the internet and I finally got a chance to give it a few plays today.

Right off the bat this is a Cranberries song, and I mean that in the best sense, because it’s peppy and jangly and Dolores O is “hoo-hooing” as clearly and sweetly as she ever did 15+ years ago. And, like most Cranberries songs, there’s a message here, but instead of it being an angry, preachy diatribe, it’s a positive, uplifting thought about living in the now, that fits along perfectly with the music.

Also, from a musician’s standpoint, it’s refreshing to hear actual chord changes in a Cranberries song, not them just bashing through the same 3-4 while the lovely Ms. O makes the changes vocally. And sure, that sold ‘em millions, but it got a bit tedious there towards the tail end of their latter output.

So, at the end of it all, this is a nice return, and a clean one, because (as I’ve said SO many times before) it seems as if Tomorrow was fun to make and that the band is truly enjoying the experience, and not getting bogged down in “what we’re all about.” What it’s all about is good music, and while Tomorrow doesn’t turn 90s alterno classics like Everybody Else is Doing It… and No Need to Argue on their ear, it certainly proves that Dolores and the boys still have some enjoyable magic at their disposal.

I look forward to the release of Roses, reteamed with the legendary Stephen Street, next month.

RIP - Bob Weston (but not THAT Bob Weston)

2012-01-06T10:57:00.000-08:00

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a pretty hefty fan of Fleetwood Mac, and especially champion their output between legendary founding guitarist Peter Green and the Buckingham-Nicks era that shot them into the pantheon of the rock n roll gods.

Sadly, this post nods to the passing of one of F'Mac’s revolving door of guitarists, Bob Weston, who played with the Bob Welch lead version of the band from 1972 to 1974. He played on two of the five albums during this time of the band’s existence, Penguin and Mystery to Me, both of which are arguably the lesser of the Welch era (no fault of Weston's), and yet still grossly underrated and overlooked in the saga of Fleetwood Mac.

Weston contributed as both vocalist (notably with Christine McVie on Penguin’s Did You Ever Love Me) and songwriter, but it was as a lead/slide guitarist that his abilities really shine, especially on tracks like Remember Me and Why. As the story goes, some dastardly doings in relations with Mick Fleetwood’s wife lead to his dismissal from the band, the subsequent turmoil of which caused Bob Welch to leave later in 1974, opening the door for Buckingham-Nicks and the worldwide glory that would ensue.

As with many of Fleetwood Mac’s guitarists from the earlier days, Weston’s career was at a much lower profile after leaving the band, and most all of his output is difficult to find these days. He did, however, put out a few solo albums and collaborated with such notable folks as Murray Head, Sandy Denny and even contributed to a record by Danny Kirwan (whom he had replaced in F'Mac). More recently he had revived his music career and was to be recording with ex-Stones guitarist Mick Taylor at the time of his untimely death from seemingly natural causes.

Like most of the post-Green, pre-Buckingham-Nicks years, Weston’s role is important in that he helped keep the band together during a highly transitional (though no less creative) period that saw more turmoil than not (though to be honest, F’Mac has always been a band rife with problems, which is part of their magic), as his considerable abilities helped hone the radio friendly sound that would move the remaining members from rather respected obscurity to household names. I’m sure he has a spot reserved for him in the jam line of rock heaven.

Soundtracks

2012-01-02T20:20:00.001-08:00

Hello and Happy New Year!

You know, I’d had big hopes for December. I was gonna post a series on XXXmas albums, managed one and fizzled. Why? Two kids. That’s why. Ok, other stuff too, but I’ll get to that at another time.

But it’s a new year and a new tank of motivation, so let’s see what we can do…

I’ve been toying with the idea of a soundtracks series for some time now. I’m not a huge fan of soundtracks and always find it funny that virtually every movie has at least one, even multiple album releases if there is a score, etc. I mean seriously, who is going to purchase The Fast and the Furious Tokyo Drift soundtrack…assuming there is one, I’m not going to take the time to check.

But there’s money to be made there, and some soundtracks are pretty popular, even classics of an era. Saturday Night Fever was huge when I was a kid, and let’s not forget The Bodyguard soundtrack, one of the biggest album sellers not just of the 80s but ever, and then the rather sleeper hit of Muriel’s Wedding in the 90s. Of course all of those were less collections of various artists and almost proper albums by top artists of the time, namely the Bee Gees, Whitney Houston and Abba (though yes, the latter was all old material). Also, those were movies where music was a big focal point, not just background tracks setting the mood for whatever scene.

And with that in mind, while the soundtracks for productions like The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady and West Side Story are some of the greatest of all time, those are also musicals, so it’s not quite the same category. Not to mention that, while I love all three of those, I’m very ill equipped to tackle a write up on any of them…though I will say that ¾ of The Sound of Music makes me cry like a ginger baby.

In addition, I won’t be delving into movie scores, because I’m again under qualified, and most of the time they’re pleasant but ultimately utilitarian. Some exceptions are The Cider House Rules by Rachel Portman (another that makes me cry) and most anything by Scottish composer Patrick Doyle, particularly Henry V, Sense and Sensibility, Gosford Park and Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire. Seriously, my boy is prolific and rocks (in a score sort of way).

Finally, as I stated a few months ago, Queen’s 1981 soundtrack for Flash Gordon is the greatest soundtrack of all time.

Ok, I feel myself beginning to meander here, so I’ll get to the point.

There are some soundtracks of songs by various artists working as incidental music throughout any given flick that for whatever reason are just great. I mean at the end of the day, a soundtrack of this kind is essentially a mix tape, and we all know how much fun those can be. So, without further ado, here are a handful that I really enjoy (and why), in no particular order.

Amelie (2001) – Ok, immediately I’ve gone off the various artists path, because most of music for this FAN-TAS-TIC French import from Jean-Pierre Jeunet is by the ridiculously gifted Yann Tiersen. Actually, this album works as a nice compilation of his first three albums, though there is some new material. Regardless, Tiersen’s music is emotive in a very childlike and yet not childish way. He expresses the joy and misery of love and life and loss in a bittersweet symphony (oh yes, I did) that absolutely makes you want to dance and collapse into tears all at once. In a word: Delightful

French Kiss (1995) – There was a time when Meg Ryan could, to me, virtually do no wrong. Throw in the ever-amazing Kevin Kline, and you’ve got a match made in romantic comedy heaven. And the soundtrack? A perfect backdrop for an escapade through the French countryside. I loved the movie enough to see it twice in the theater, but never really appreciated the soundtrack until I started dating Karla, who had a copy. I determined that if we were to split, I would keep this one. (I just told her that a couple of days ago and she did not laugh – that’s how awesome this soundtrack is.) Kicking off with Van Morrison’s Someone Like You (which flat knocks your socks off as only Van can), this collection is a great blend of World music (of which I’m usually not a huge fan) and old school standards, all weaving perfectly in and out of each other with a vibe that is both classy and cheesy, and simply a joy to listen to overall.

Pretty in Pink (1986) – Without a doubt one of the greatest movies of the 80s and the Brat Pack, Pretty in Pink spoke to and for Gen Xers (as did many John Hughes flicks of the era) in a way that no other movie has about any other generation group. Plus, the music is great. Ok, mostly. To be honest, if you were to lift the best songs from this one, Say Anything, Breakfast Club, etc, etc, you’d have one stellar compilation of the best the 80s had to offer. And to be fair, the soundtrack for Some Kind of Wonderful is way more punk than anything these others have going on. But, for my money, I always fall back to Pretty in Pink. Yes, there are some pleasant throwaways like Get to Know Ya and Round, Round, and some guilty pleasures like Wouldn’t It Be Good and Do Wot You Do (Sorry, INXS, not one of your brilliant moments), but you’ve also got some of the best music the 80s could muster, namely cuts from Echo and the Bunnymen, New Order, the Smiths, OMD and of course the title track and inspiration for the movie, the Psychedelic Furs. Admittedly, even most of these essential songs are a bit dated sounding, but that’s part of the appeal. Even the point of it. Also, this was Karla’s first ever CD purchase…and we still have it.

A Life Less Ordinary (1997) – What a completely underrated film. Yes, I said film (a tag I don’t drop often). Karla and I tend to love underdog movies (see Joe Versus the Volcano as well), and not only is this Ewan McGregor/Cameron Diaz pair up quirky, love-fantasy fun, the soundtrack is out of this world. Again, as with French Kiss, a lot of this is music that I’m not a big fan of, but can enjoy in doses depending on the setting – and this collection is just right. Beck, Sneaker Pimps and Faithless offer some slinky, sexy fun alongside old school standards by Bobby Darin and Elvis Presley, as well as some personal favorites like REM and the Cardigans. As with any good mix tape, it’s all about the flow from song to song, mood to mood, and this one delivers in spades.

Monster’s Ball (2001) – And yet another instance, initially, of a non various artist soundtrack, and even a score. But man, what a score. Asche & Spencer create a dark, chilling soundscape for a movie that is certainly both in a very unsettling way. I’ve not seen it since the theater, but I picked up the soundtrack the next day and these twelve sparse, low key pieces are poignant and moving in their own right. I don’t know what else these guys have done, but I’d sure like to hear it. Also, tacked on at the end are four alt-country tunes that are some of the absolute best of the genre and in no way disrupt the mood created by the first portion of the album.

Moonlight Mile (2002) – A pretty much forgettable movie I enjoyed at the time but have never seen since. But the album is essentially a collection of some of the giants of the 70s: the Stones, Dylan, Bowie, T. Rex, Sly & the Family Stone, etc. Basically, it rocks. The one contemporary track is Love Will Come Through by Travis, Karla’s favorite band (man, Karla is all OVER this post), and the reason we picked this album up; and while it certainly sounds more, er, contemporary in comparison with its disc mates, it’s a fantastic song that fits in quite nicely. Of course later it ended up on their album 12 Memories, but that’s ok, ‘cos this soundtrack is a great set of songs to have going on no matter what the occasion. I should also note that the inclusion of Van Morrison’s I’ll Be Your Lover Too, a song so powerful I lack words to describe it, gave me cause to look beyond Gloria and Browned Eyed Girl and really explore the wonder of this truly gifted artist.

And that’s the cool thing about soundtracks of this kind (and mix tapes), is that you’re more likely to listen to and subsequently discover an artist you’d have otherwise ignored. So keep your ears open, kids.

It's late and I'm tired...

2011-12-09T20:22:00.000-08:00

Awhile back it was announced that the Cranberries, who got back together a couple of years ago, are releasing a new album in 2012. For all intents and purposes, I am a Cranberries fan. And while in recent years only their first two efforts find active rotation on the player, I enjoy all of their albums, and there are a handful of worthwhile songs to be found even on the post heyday "we've heard this before" of Bury the Hatchet and Wake Up and Smell the Coffee. I even picked up the first Dolores solo outing and dug it quite a bit. So, yeah, I'm certainly interested, maybe even excited about them putting out their first new album, Roses, in a decade.

With a release date for Roses of February 14 (aww...), it's not surprising that there's already some artwork available, and even that it's also up on Wiki. What was surprising, to me, and the whole point of this post, because it's late and I'm tired, is that the album cover is very reminscent to me, because it's late and I'm tired, of the back cover photo of Black Sabbath's Heaven and Hell.

And really, that's all I have to say about that.

New Old Music Review

2011-12-09T08:19:00.000-08:00

So yesterday I took my mom to McKay Used Books, CDs, Movies and More. I was there for the CDs. She was there because I was her ride.

Anyway, I was trading in quite a bit of stuff and took the cash, half of which I promptly turned around to make a few new purchases. I may go over some of those in the future, but right now I want to talk about the new Chris Isaak. Say what? Yeah, me either, but there it was, Beyond the Sun, about three selections back between two rather worn copies of Forever Blue. And since I’m an unapologetic Chris Isaak fan (really, does anyone need to apologize for that?), I made a quick glance to make sure it wasn’t some goofy best of and put it on the stack.

Never an overly prolific artist, the 00s and on have been pretty quiet for Isaak and new music. The borderline abysmal Always Got Tonight (that I’ll one day give another chance) and the even worse Christmas were enough to make me believe that he’d lost his songwriting gift. But 2009’s Mr. Lucky (which I’m listening to as I write this) was an absolute return to form, his strongest album since Forever Blue and as underrated as San Francisco Days. So, picking up Beyond the Sun was not a purchase of skeptical trepidation, but rather of pumped expectation.

However, when I gave the track list a better look, I realized this was a covers album (oh, brother…), and with a touch more delving, learned that it was a tribute to the artists of Sun Records – Presley, Cash, Orbison, Perkins and Lewis (though not all the songs are from that era). I guess the title should have given me a clue to that.

Like I said about She & Him in my previous post, Chris Isaak is in many ways a tribute rocker, nodding especially to Roy Orbison in “feel” over his nearly 30 year career, but arguably all of the aforementioned artists have their thumb in a slice of Isaak’s pie, and especially their Sun Records days. Likewise, he’s no stranger to covers, delivering a fiery rendition of Heart Full of Soul on his self titled sophomore album, a haunting Solitary Man to close out San Francisco Days and several low key ditties on his back to the basics Baja Sessions.

But an album of all covers? Well, I guess so. As I’ve lamented before, it’s a bit of a lazy move. Plus, Isaak wears his influences on his sleeve. There’s nothing diverse or left field here, like say a reworking of an old Germs tune, though it’s cool to hear Chris give his interpretation of some undisputed classics. The problem is that his interpretation isn’t really far from the original, well known versions, and with a couple of very minor exceptions, it’s almost as if Chris is doing a karaoke Rich Little impersonation set and not re-imagining these venerable relics for a new audience and century. (Karla actually thought it was Johnny Cash singing I Walk the Line, and it’s obvious why.)

In a way I certainly get that, because these songs are in many ways the gospel and unquestionably the blueprint of everywhere rock n roll music has gone over the past half a century. And as I’ve already said, these influences are all over his own songs, so really, what else is he gonna do?

Having said all of that, this really is a strong set of songs, some of the best in recorded music, and his band has never sounded better, and frankly neither has his voice. This in and of itself makes Beyond the Sun a worthwhile purchase. But when it’s all said and done, this album was probably more fun for them to make than for us to listen to, outside of a live setting anyway, and it’s ultimately enjoyable but unessential Chris Isaak. And that’s not a bad thing either.

Indie Christmas

2011-12-07T12:33:00.001-08:00

I’ve said something along these lines before, but if an artist sticks around long enough (especially a singer/songwriter type get up), a release of cover songs displaying the diversity of their influences is often inevitable, almost obligatory. Along the same lines and almost as inevigatory (yes, it’s a word now), is the Christmas album. Bah, humbug!

Chris Isaak had one a few years ago, and I hated it. Various other artists from Queen to Cocteau Twins have released one or two tracks here and there, and they’ve ranged from enjoyable to acceptable to awful to surprisingly good.

But I’m not here to dissect all of that (today at least). What I want to go over is the latest offering from that predictably enigmatic pairing of indie rock and indie film, stars in their own right, and yet still quite earthbound about it, She & Him.

To me, a Christmas album is a very tricky deal. There are two reasons for this:

First, without going into the very personal and often trite issues I’ve had with Christmas over the years, I will say that some of my all time favorite songs are Christmas songs. These are timeless, canonical classics like Oh Holy Night, I’ll Be Home for Christmas and the like. And part of me wants to say, “Well, a good song is a good song, and you can’t ruin that.” Yes, you can. Too much cheese, not enough cheese, indifference, irreverence, messing around too much with lyrics or melodies, all of this can kill a good Christmas song.

Second, writing your own Christmas song is usually a bomb. Lots of artists do it, and most fail in comparison with the classics. There are exceptions, and a notable one is the Pogues’ A Fairytale of New York (talk about irreverence), but for the most part these are weekend throwaways, something to toss onto a compilation for MTV or VH1 and forget it exists. And as long as the proceeds go to a good cause, no (real) harm done.

So, back to She & Him… Long time readers know of my ins and outs with this group, and that after seeing them perform live a year or so ago, I discovered a new respect for them, even if I keep them at arm’s length. Zooey’s new (girl) show has (eventually) done a lot to win especially her back into my warmer affections, but that’s as much to do with how she bounces off her co-cast as anything else. (Divorcing Ben Gibbard isn’t hurting either, but that’s tacky so I’m not going to mention it.)

Anyway, when I saw that they were releasing A Very She & Him Christmas, I sorta laughed and shrugged and rolled my eyes and said “That’s cool” all at the same time. The cynic in me will always initially say that a Christmas album is a cash in for folks like Celine Dion and Michael Buble type acts to just squeeze a few more dollars out of a demographic that can, well, probably afford it, but that isn’t the point. So of course I’m thinking, “What is a critically respected indie group on a madly respected indie label doing putting out a Christmas album?” Was this a joke? Was this a cash in? Was this a winky-wink nod to their roots? Well, maybe a bit of all of that, but per my “revelation” after seeing them perform, I want to think it’s mainly the latter.

As I said then, She & Him is a group that is more than retro, they’re almost a tribute act, vibing the bubblegum sounds of the 50s and 60s in a way that more plays the part than uses the elements in a new and unique sound (I’m not sure that made sense, but I’m not changing it). And a lot of those artists put out Christmas albums, so it’s only fitting, even logical, that She & Him do the same.

And with that all aside, listening to the album itself, well – if you’re a mad rabid fan of She & Him (like my 16yo niece and all her little friends), then you will eat up this reverb soaked affair like confection and wait for Volume 2 with spoon in hand. Otherwise, you’ll view this as a pleasant but unessential collection of classics from both yesterday and the other day to throw in with Elvis and Frank and Nat to change the pace a bit, but not really too much.

The song selection is superb, from the Christmas Waltz to the Christmas song; these are picks that set aside much of the holiness of the Holy Days and lean more on the rollickin’, festive, upbeat good times. Blue Christmas, Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree and two of Brian Wilson’s 60s offerings (Christmas Day and Little Saint Nick), close to becoming canonical classics themselves, do much to prove this point.

And when She & Him are a-rockin’ and a-rollickin’ is when this album is most believable and enjoyable, and the playful back and forth of Baby, It’s Cold Outside is certainly the album highlight. But more often than not, the low key, understated production of say just Zooey on ukulele or with M on guitar, means that a lot of this is rather samey, and sometimes her delivery is seemingly phoned in, almost indifferent.

Ultimately, these shortcomings are minimal and do little to distract from the overall enjoyment of this album, especially as a background listen, which is essentially what Christmas music is for in most settings. And while She & Him do pretty much keep with the standard renditions (mad props for “presents ON the tree”), those of you wishing to sing along may want to pull out some Johnny Mathis or Dean Martin for a ‘round the fire sing along.

Over and Under Special Edition: The Best & Worst of Queen

2011-11-30T19:23:00.000-08:00

One of the factors in sculpting the diversity of Queen’s sound was that all four members were capable, distinctive songwriters. And while Freddie Mercury and Brian May tackled the bulk of those duties, John Deacon and Roger Taylor certainly contributed some excellent tunes, some of which were hits – even if they shouldn’t have been (written). They all shared common elements, but also carried telling characteristics as to who penned what, as Freddie was often the more theatrical, Brian the more technical, John the more plain spoken sentimental and Roger just straight up brass balls rock n roll. Sometimes these traits made a great song classic, and other times they just hampered a tune to death.

Here’s the best and the worst and the underrated from all involved:

Freddie

Best – Ok, part of me wants to say, “the entire Black side of Queen II,” and be done with it. For all intents and purposes, I’d be absolutely correct. But this is one song here, so, without a doubt, it has to be Bohemian Rhapsody. I don’t care how many times you’ve heard it or how many more times you will, this song is amazing…for 1975, for 2015, whatever, just to have that all in your head and manage to get it out is a feat in and of itself. The fact that so many people in the world GOT IT and continue to GET IT…well, even if we don’t get it, we love it. If you don’t start rockin’ Wayne n Garth style after the operatic interlude, you’re dead, and if you don’t shed a tiny tear when Freddie laments “I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all,” you’re also dead. Basically, everyone alive should like this song.

Worst – I think this one is just a personal dislike for me and not really a bad song, but I can’t stand Liar on the debut. It’s just so forced, so lesser than what Freddie was capable of, that it’s almost intolerable. And in its defense, that’s what a lot of Queen’s first album is; they had a developed sound without fully finding a voice, and an attitude without truly knowing which outlet to funnel it through. There are some extreme and underrated winners on that album, but there are enough “Oh please” moments to drop it out of the top 5 of their albums, and Liar is the trump card.

Underrated – Seriously, here is where I could honestly say, “the entire Black side of Queen II,” 'cos it's just SO overlooked, but again, focusing on just the single song, I’ll refer to my previous paragraph and offer up My Fairy King, which is certainly one of those “extreme and underrated winners.” It starts off with a bit of a hustle and flow, acts like it’s gonna take off and then drops down to a barely whisper before changing gears yet again and morphing into one of the most moving build ups in rock n roll and a running piano bit that seriously brings me chills. In addition, this is an early showcase of what these boys could do vocally, winding in and out and overlapping each other with crescendos and cadences enough to prove that Bohemian Rhapsody didn’t just come out of nowhere.

Brian

Best – Hear me out. Yes, there are LOADS of KILLER Brian May tunes, from Now I’m Here to Dreamer’s Ball and so much in between and everywhere else. But listen, my boy wrote a song that you can play and sing the entire thing by just stomping and clapping. And EVERYONE knows it. Yes, even my mom. We Will Rock You is THE (i.e. TEH) quintessential arena anthem, an in-your-face to anyone and everyone who isn’t worth your time, but you’re gonna thumb off to them anyway. And with that raw, crazy solo at the end, this really isn’t a pop song or even a rock song, it’s an experimental rant, an Avant-garde diatribe, and you’ve been bouncing it off the bleachers since you were in knee pants.

Worst – Ok, I’m gonna be sort of a jerk here, and yeah, I get what it’s all about, but Teo Torriatte is a bit of a snoozer. I guess Brian’s got worse songs out there (I’m looking at you, Tear It Up, you too, Dancer), but this one just tries way, way too hard. It’s a nice song, got a good melody, and the adoring shout out to their Japanese fans is awesome, but coming at the end of two albums worth of big chorus epics, I don’t know if it’s just the final straw on the proverbial camel, or if I’m missing something or if this song really isn’t all that. And ok, yeah, really, it is all that, I mean it’s excellently performed, but at the end of the day it’s too textbook, too sterile, too just there. But hey, it still beats over half of News of the World.

Underrated – This is a bit of a goofy choice, but I’m gonna say She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettos). After a mostly blistering (in all the ways Queen can) side two of Sheer Heart Attack, this sweet, low key “stomper” really takes things to another level, even blissful, with nice layers of Beatles-reminiscent vocals and a persistent if unobtrusive melody taking things quite literally up and out into the ether. Of course they couldn’t let it end with quite such reverie, and a nice revival of In the Lap of the Gods shakes the needle off the groove.

John

Best – Again, sometimes you have to go for the obvious and You’re My Best Friend is John’s without question. Never has a sweeter song been written to, for or about anyone (and lucky is the gal to whom it nods), and yet it still maintains elements of apprehension and longing due to the absolute vulnerability displayed. And though these are John’s words and melody, it’s Freddie who brings them to life, gives them feeling and makes what could have been cheesy scribbling to a high school crush on the back of a notebook one of the greatest songs ever written, not just to love, but absolute companionship.

Worst – In a previous post I lauded John as the quiet but reliable weapon in the Queen songwriting arsenal, and you can go here for those thoughts. But even as I wrote that article, I realized he delivered some clunkers, and I Want to Break Free just might be the worst. Honestly, the video for this song is one of my earliest memories of Queen and I thought they were a joke band. Of course now I get the joke, but the song still doesn’t do much for me. As I’ve lamented before in these pages, far too often production will kill a good tune, and through the 80s tell-all gloss I can hear what this song would have been like on say News of the World…but it would have still only been an enjoyable but unessential ode to pent up frustration – which is essentially what it is in present form.

Underrated – To again mention the previously written post, one of the “hidden gems” on an album that delivers track after track of big, boisterous and fantastic songs (yes, I’m talking about Jazz), In Only Seven Days takes the cocksure audacity and quirky elegance of the album’s first half and turns it over on its ear with a delightful, straightforward and simply beautiful ditty about finding (and losing) love while on vacation. As a gawky kid turned awkward adult, it’s more than easy to slip into the role of the protagonist and be overwhelmed by the unforeseen, unprecedented circumstances of having the casual apple of your eye think you’re quite a peach yourself – and then lose it all to the inevitability of circumstances. I like to think he got her email address before they had to go home…or maybe he can look her up on Facebook.

Roger

Best – My lost buddy Tim, who really got me into Queen, was never much of a fan of Roger’s efforts. Initially that tainted my view as well, but over the years I’ve come to really enjoy his basic, bad boy bravado approach to rock n roll with songs like Tenement Funster and Sheer Heart Attack. But for me, his greatest songwriting offering is I’m in Love with My Car, a flat out love song to his current speedster, full of clever innuendos and boosted by a bombastic backing track of big guitars and grand choral arrangements, that is, when broken down, quite a beautiful song. It’s cocky and it’s unapologetic and it’s absolutely one of Queen’s greatest moments.

Worst – Look kids, Radio Ga Ga is complete twaddle. I guess Roger was trying to keep up with the current sounds of the New Wave, and he succeeded in delivering a radio hit, but bombed in creating a memorable or worthwhile song. This isn’t even cheese, it’s just sterile synth and certainly Queen’s weakest single.

Underrated – I love Drowse because it’s the exact opposite of your typical Roger tune. As the title would suggest, it’s a subdued, hazy rollick, and those phased out, dreamy slide guitars really bring the magic. To me it feels like an indie rock song that could have been written and recorded anytime in the past 15 or 20 years, instead of over 35 years ago, and I think, like the majority of their work in the 70s, that’s a testament to the timelessness and longevity of Queen at their most forward thinking best.

Queen is Dead, Long Live Queen!

2011-11-22T14:14:00.000-08:00

Twenty years ago this week the world lost a major voice in rock music. I can remember exactly where I was when Kurt Loder announced on MTV News at 10 minutes before the hour that Freddie Mercury had died. It was a Thursday afternoon and I was 18, a senior in high school and had just gotten home. I stood in front of the television in my room with my arms crossed and a perplexed look on my face because just 24 hours before, Kurt had announced that Freddie was HIV positive. I turned off the TV, put Queen’s Greatest Hits on the record player and listened to it several times in a row before my mom called me to dinner.

While at the time I was not near the Queen fan that I am today, it was the first time a major rock celebrity had died in my cognizant existence (i.e. Lennon and Bonham I was too young to take note/care) and it struck me pretty hard. These rock stars were, after all, quite mortal.

It took me a few more years to really begin to appreciate Queen for more than a slew of super hits, and I’ve touched on that a bit on a previous post. But something Queen showed me and the world was that you could be sexy without being sleazy, and you could be campy and effeminate without being weak or really any less manly; that there is laughter amongst heartache and sobriety within joy; that you can sing about every day things like vacations and cars and cats and rock just as hard and with as much purpose as when you sing about girls, fairies, death or someone you despise; and that at the end of the day it’s all about enjoying what you do, so that you can do it well.

Queen embraced over the top rock and combined it with over the top fashion, creating a style of music that was everything and yet nothing else all at once. I don’t believe there was a major musical genre that they didn’t at least touch on, from straight rock to jazz to calypso to country to rag time and on and on, and yet all with a certain flair that was distinctly and unmistakably Queen.

The focal point in all of this was of course Freddie. Even on the songs he didn’t take lead on, his presence was known, lurking, hovering, giggling in the corners of fills and the spaces between notes. You cannot say the word “queen” in reference to anything without me first thinking of Freddie and then moving on to whatever the subject at hand is. That’s how much of an impression he made not only on me, but on the world of popular music. His was a voice so distinctive that, to my knowledge, no one has even attempted to imitate it, to incorporate it into their own self. No one else could be quite so passionate and tender, so brazen and feisty, so immediately capable of croons and venom within the same album, song or verse. Even when he was blowing the roof off, he did so effortlessly, as if he were just toying with the idea of completely annihilating the entire room with one note from his throat. And all the way to the end, making those last three albums, when the band knew what was going on, his voice never quavered, never lost that majesty, that thrill, that absolute sincerity that made the cheesiest lines convincing, even gospel.

And even when Queen began to, in my mind, lose vision and lag and begin to put our more “market” material, there was still that twinkle in Freddie’s eye that said, “You know you like it.” Yes, it’s true, even the stuff I don’t care for I certainly don’t hate, and that’s all because Freddie Mercury made me a believer.

Homage

2011-11-15T10:57:00.001-08:00

Sunday night my daughter was goofing around with my iPhone (she’s only 11 months old, so even “goofing” is stretching it, but she sorta gets it) and through a series of finger plays managed to pull up the iPod portion, get to the song list and select Alex Chilton by the Replacements. Both she and my son stopped what they were doing, their eyes lit up and they started to dance. It was a pretty great moment for a music loving father.

I’m not a huge Replacements fan, but I’m not a passing one either, and I certainly have a lot of respect for where they came from and their role in the ongoing saga of rock n roll music. Alex Chilton, from their 1987 album Pleased to Meet Me, is easily one of the top five songs from a catalog of winners that also brought us Can’t Hardly Wait, Bastards of Young, Achin’ to Be, I Will Dare and a slew of others, courtesy of the pen of Paul Westerberg.

Paul Westerberg

And just as I can pay my respects to Westerberg and what he did with the Mats and continues to do as a solo artist, Alex Chilton in turn pays huge homage to the man of the same name. Chilton, who sadly passed away last year, is very well (un)known via classic rock radio as the lead singer for the Box Tops and their airwaves staple The Letter. More influentially, and adoringly, he’s known as the leader of Big Star, whose 1972 debut #1 Record is easily one of the most important albums in the development of alternative rock music, essentially drawing the blueprint for power pop, and influencing everyone from REM to Primal Scream – and of course the Replacements.

Even having said all of that, I’m not a huge Big Star fan either, and actually prefer their sophomore album Radio City. But that certainly doesn’t mean that Alex Chilton the song is not a fantastic offering of power pop perfection. If it’s that obvious to a couple of kids whose combined age isn’t even half a decade and who spend too much time watching Pingu, then it should be infinitely so to anyone who appreciates a good tune in any genre.

Alex Chilton

From the start, Alex Chilton is an insistent rocker, with all verse-chorus-verse ingredients in place, hammered to perfection and turned up to eleven. Westerberg speculates if his hero isn’t in fact from another planet, as well as jokingly references his notorious obscurity. But even as it pokes fun, it heaps loads of adoration, and you’d be hard pressed to find a “song for…” that is more well written to encapsulate what the subject matter is all about, plainly displaying influences and trying (and succeeding) to impress. It’s all pulled off with a rough elegance that only the Replacements could have produced, allowing college kids to dance in the late 80s and toddlers to do the same today.

Such is the timelessness of the song, the men behind their creation, the music that inspired and influenced them and the whole kit and caboodle known as rock n roll.

Abandon of Rock n Roll

2011-11-14T08:00:00.000-08:00

It’s been awhile since my last post. Per usual it’s life stuff taking over, and that’s cool, as long as I eventually get a chance to drop a few musical lines in your direction.

In an effort to pop a few entries out back to back, this week I’m focusing on the individual song. I’ve done this a bit in the past, but I don’t think I warned you about it ahead of time.

Not that the outcome will be any different.

Radio Birdman

So, this first offering comes from Australian protopunk outfit, Radio Birdman. Who? Exactly. Most anyone I know had never heard of this band until Sup Pop released an “essentials” collection back in 2001 (which I heard thanks, again, to msp). But long story short, these guys were the all that and a “that’s not a knife, this is a knife” back in the Aussie indie rock scene of the mid to late 70s. Seriously, to read about it, they were the stuff of legends.

Brash, raw, aggressive, their music can take you places, from cruising the strip, to being down and out, to catching a tuff gnarl and riding it clean onto the beach and then hopping off for a cold one. Rob Younger is the Down Under Iggy Pop, loud and straightforward, howling like a madman one instant, and then stepping back for a more contemplative, if not necessarily tender, moment of openness the next.

Rob Younger

And to be sure, the Stooges are Radio Birdman’s most obvious influence, lifting their name directly from the former’s 1970 classic, TV Eye (which also opens RB’s debut full length). This is understandable in a big way because lead guitarist and principle songwriter Deniz Tek, was an Ann Arbor transplant and undoubtedly grew up with Iggy and the boys in his backyard.

But where Radio Birdman decidedly steps aside from the Stooges (and I’m saying aside, not ahead), is sheer technical prowess and an overall sense of cohesiveness. While Iggy and Co often sound like a train wreck in the final stages of disaster (and those of you who know what I’m saying know I mean that in the very best way), under Tek’s guidance, Radio Birdman harnesses that same (raw) power and hones it to a razor’s edge of realized punk pop perfection. Throw in some fist pumping, head banging, hip shaking sing-a-long choruses (somewhat reminiscent of, though I’d say uninfluenced by/separate from, the Ramones), and there’s really little else you could ask for.

Deniz Tek

Another thing that sets Radio Birdman apart from the Stooges and most every other proto-pre-garage punk outfit, and also due to their aforementioned technical prowess, is that they oftentimes do not shy away from, and in fact embrace, what at the time would have been considered “conventional” rock n roll. In short, if it grooves and shakes, these guys celebrate it to the T and execute it to the…er, U.

So, having said all of that, Snake, from their debut EP Burn My Eye, is an exceptional example of most everything Radio Birdman was capable of at the height of their powers. For me, this is a raucous celebration (musically) of the true spirit of rock music, with a set of lyrics that, while a touch obscure, essentially boil down to taking a girl where she wants to be, and with a title like Snake, where that is seems pretty obvious. By the time I get to the first chorus, I’m ready to jump up on a table and start dancing, singing, shouting for the sheer joy of it. And then we get to the solo, which in itself is a marvel, a true work of rock wonder, blistering, uplifting, direct, it’s everything that’s right about being able to play that well and doing it because you should (instead of because you can).

Whenever I listen to these guys, I’m bound to hit the repeat button three or four times once Snake comes around (the same is true for Descent into the Maelstrom as well). Long story short, this song is an anthem, not just (or rather really) to sex, but to the free abandon of rock n roll (or any honest music in general).

Revised Early Thoughts

2011-10-21T22:37:00.000-07:00

So, we’ve all heard about this Lou Reed/Metallica thing, right? I’ve chatted with lots of folks about this one, some decidedly bigger fans of one over the other, some indifferent to both, others rather fond of both, and yet all scratching their heads about as much as everyone seems to be outside of the five participants themselves, who claim it’s the best work they’ve ever produced (ok, Lou says since VU, he’s not that senile).

A more unlikely pairing of artists there is not, and while I can certainly see Metallica giving a nod to Lou, the reverse seems less likely…but obviously, what do I know? I mean seriously, on paper this does not work at all, and so my initial thoughts were that this was going to be the biggest bomb since the Hindenburg met flame (too soon?), or would be a surprise hit sleeper that was the greatest, most unlikely winner since I got my chocolate in your peanut butter, and you got your peanut butter in my chocolate.

Actually, that’s a no brainer…but how about since my dad once made scrambled eggs with clam chowder. It wasn’t bad at all. I’m never gonna eat it again, but it wasn’t terrible.

Ok, way off topic there…

So, a few weeks ago the first 30 second or so snippet came out and we all grappled for the play icon (the curious, the hopeful, the bored at work)…and we were all so underwhelmed that we couldn’t even make fun of it. The music was subpar by even the worst metal standards and Reed’s way too up front vocals just sounded like the incoherent ramblings of an ex heroine addict (and at least half of that last statement is solid truth).

And then today I got the full version of that song, The View, and because it’s Lou Reed, and in spite of the fact that it’s Metallica (who in my opinion lost everything under the bus with Cliff), I decided to give it a full and honest listen. I did twice. And I blew it off twice. But honestly, I didn’t.

Earlier this evening I tweeted that this song was growing on me, and later on was emailing my good pal MSP in response to his similar feelings to my realization. I thought I’d share that with you as well:

i was playing the lou-tallica song for karla (she's not overly familiar with either artist, but i was trying to "explain" it to her), and when playing it in the car it just sorta clicked with me. i mean when i first heard that one snippet i thought "ok, this is a red herring, they're just teasing us and the real deal will be something else." i mean seriously, that riff is what high school kids play over and over in their first garage band. if i could paint it white and stencil "metal riff" in black, block font, i would. but lou's delivery is, if nothing else, full of conviction, like he's believing it, behind it, inspired by it, etc, and when he starts yelling at the end, i think it really pulls it together. (i mean, has he ever yelled like that before?) so i got to thinking, this is a concept album, which in theory are supposed to flow and be cohesive as one unit, so to just pluck a song out of context so to speak, it's like a fish wriggling out of the water...you can see it's colors and contours, but not in the right environment. so i'm officially intrigued by this album, unofficially looking forward to it and secretly hoping to champion it.

So, there you have it… And with the release just over a week away, I’m telling you right now that I’m not poised at the starting line to run out and buy it, but when given the chance, I will certainly listen to it with honest, open ears and maybe, just maybe…well, you know.

Curin' with JT - Part 4 – Decline and Resurgence

2011-10-13T11:58:00.000-07:00

Bloodflowers (2000)

JT’s thoughts: Oh no! Robert is depressed again and instead of yielding an amazing album, what this album ended up being was, well, just depressing. Robert had hoped this album to be the ending of a trilogy that started with Pornography and included Disintegration; sadly, it was nowhere near the caliber of either and this album stands today as one of the worst Cure albums, and at times a real chore for the listener. (C)

Favorite: ‘Out of this World’

Least: ‘Watching Me Fall’

Gem: ‘Where the Birds Always Sing’

Me – This one was a real disappointment for me back when it first came out. I recognized it as sounding “classic Cure,” with all of the right elements in attendance, but that sound was so intended, so well placed, it was obviously forced (aka uninspired). This means that while it was good, it certainly wasn’t great, and so after a few listens I pretty much let BF fall by the wayside. I was compelled to tackle this one early on for this project because I wanted to start trying to familiarize myself with it as I listened through the rest of the albums. I have to say that I enjoy it quite a bit more 10 years down the line. The band is reaching back, with moments that grab from all of their previous three albums (for better or worse), which adds a sense of familiarity and cohesiveness. Robert is nostalgic in more ways than just the music, grappling with aging/mortality, his own relevance and what seems like writer’s block. It’s in these frank and revealing moments that his former glory shines through, though with a different hue, giving Bloodflowers a warmth and depth I had missed in my mid-20s, but still doesn’t beg it to be re-listened to with so many other choices. (B-)

Fave: Watching the Fall

Least: 39

Gem: The Last Day of Summer

The Cure (2004)

JT’s thoughts: This is to Bloodflowers what Wish was to Disintegration...and seeing how Bloodflowers was no Disintegration, this is no Wish. The songs on this album range from boring but listenable to forgettable to completely terrible. The few bright spots aren’t bright enough for me to ever choose this album over one of their classics and the bad songs are just enough to keep me away. By the time this album came out, the disappointment it caused was about enough to give up hope that the Cure would ever release another good album, much less a great album. (C-)

Favorite: ‘Taking Off’

Least: ‘Us or Them’

Gem: ‘Alt.End’

Me – This is the second “difficult” Cure album for me (the first being BF). But while Bloodflowers sounds exactly like a Cure album, this one does not. As is often the case, it’s the production that makes or breaks it for me, and the Cure is heavier in a way that is unlike Pornography or The Top or some of the more abrasive moments of Kiss Me, but more like “metal” and yet not like metal at all, just more “rock n roll” but not really that either. Skip it… To me the songwriting is more inspired than on Bloodflowers, with moments that hearken back to the jangle of WMS or even Wish, but when put through such a “heavy” production filter they lose the bounce that would have made them downer pop bliss, and instead come off as edgy and sludgy. At the same time, I really don’t mind the production at all. The hooks are still present, simply harder to get to as the “rockin’” sound rather muddles a bunch of pretty good tunes that should otherwise shimmer…well, like Bloodflowers does. But that’s really on the slower songs, ‘cos the more upbeat tunes benefit well from the crunchier shell, but it still doesn’t sound like a Cure album, just a rock band with Robert on vocals. I understand the step in another direction, the trying something new, and ultimately it works ‘cos the Cure is an engaging album, but without repeat (and deliberate) listens, it’s also a forgettable one. (B)

Fave: Before Three

Least: Us or Them

Gem: Taking Off

4:13 Dream (2008)

JT’s thoughts: As I said, I was just about to give up until William purchased the first single (‘The Only One’) from this album and let me check it out, and with each subsequent single that was released (‘Freakshow’ then ‘Sleep When I’m Dead’ and finally ‘The Perfect Boy’) my excitement grew. So much so that I actually purchased 4:13 Dream on the day it was release (the first time I had done this since Wild Mood Swings). What I found upon listening ranged from good to great with no real clunkers on the album...while the singles do stand out, the album tracks are solid and overall this is the best listen from beginning to end the Cure have released since Wish. (B+)

Favorite: ‘The Reasons Why’

Least: ‘It’s Over’

Gem: ‘The Hungry Ghost’

Me – I had a lot of anticipation for this one because of the whole singles release scheme they had going on leading up to the release of the album. I loved all four singles (and b-sides) that came out before the album, so my excitement was pretty high. Thankfully I was not disappointed. To me 4:13 Dream combines the better aspects of both Bloodflowers and The Cure (classic Cure sound, pop sensibilities) with overall better songwriting. Not every song is a knock out winner, but at the same time there are no standout losers either, and it’s a good flow from front to back. What that means is 4:13 Dream is solid, enjoyable, a return to form and a worthy “comeback” in my opinion of Mad Bob and his abilities. Everything sounds fresh if familiar and most importantly, effortless and fun, as if they band is enjoying what they’re doing for what it is instead of trying to make a pinnacle Cure album, and that in itself is going to make the difference every time. (A-)

Fave: It’s Over

Least: Switch

Gem: Siren Song

Spoken & Spelled

2011-10-05T21:54:00.001-07:00

In the 1981, anything goes world of post punk’s New Wave, which was just beginning to swell, Depeche Mode were a bit of a trend setter, trading in guitars for keyboards and a gruff, gritty exterior for a pretty boy glam that was as ambiguous in look as the music it fronted was androgynous in style. Of course the gun shot snares, bleep-bleep synths and expressive if coldly delivered vocals weren’t 100% original, as Kraftwerk and similar Kraut Rock outfits from the previous decade were a huge and obvious influence, but Depeche Mode also incorporated disco and dance pop that gave their sound a breadth and depth that was immediately warmer, more intimate and ultimately more front facing than what was happening on the continent.

Today marks the 30^th anniversary of Depeche Mode’s landmark debut, Speak & Spell, which first introduced the world to David Gahan’s hypnotic vocals (if in a less distinguished and still embryonic form) and (to a much lesser extent) the songwriting brilliance of Martin L. Gore.

Speak & Spell is an anomaly (among anomalies) in the Depeche Mode catalog for multiple reasons, the most noticeable being that this is the only album with founding member and (then) principle songwriter Vince Clarke, who after this album would move on to further success as one half of Yaz(oo) and even more so with Erasure.

Clarke’s songwriting style is markedly different from Gore’s, which is obvious by comparing most of the album with the latter’s compositions, most notably Tora! Tora! Tora! While still dark in delivery, Clarke conjures a "digital 50s" danceability and an almost whimsical playfulness in tracks like Boys Say Go!, New Life and the winkingly asexual What’s Your Name?, with themes often focused on life as a young man on the city social scene. And while songs like Photographic and Puppets do lean a bit more to the sinister side of things, they’re almost impish romps in comparison to what Gore would offer when at the helm just one year later.

Despite Clarke’s departure, the remainder of the band knew they had some winners to keep in their arsenal and Just Can’t Get Enough especially (aside from being an alternative rock classic) has remained part of their live roster into the 21^st century. But from a legacy standpoint, Depeche Mode, along with New Order et al, were highly influential in making dance pop more than Top 40 filler, but something edgy, enduring and ultimately, well, punk. While Speak & Spell is not Depeche Mode’s (or Vince Clarke’s) best set of songs, the groundwork it laid for future New Wave, pop and dance acts (both good and bad) cannot be overestimated, and while it does stand somewhat separate and apart from other Depeche Mode classics like Some Great Reward, Violator and Playing the Angel, all of those albums owe at least a partial nod to the one that poured the concrete for the foundation, making the rest possible.

Curin' with JT - Part 3 – Mainstream Success

2011-09-29T14:09:00.000-07:00

Disintegration (1989)

JT’s Thoughts: No album that I’ve ever listened to has had the same staying power and makes me feel the way that this one does. Robert is at his dreary, gorgeous, dreamy best and the band couldn’t sound better. Easily the strongest album in the Cure’s cannon and after 20+ years of constant listening remains my favorite album of all time...period. (A+)

Favorite: ‘Prayers for Rain’

Least: ‘Fascination Street’

Gem: ‘Untitled’

Ok, here we go… JT and I call this one “the Big D” because, well, everything about it is simply big, huge, massive, etc. The personal and emotional involvement I have with this album really makes it difficult for me to be objective, while at the same time there’s nothing I can say that will adequately convey how important this album is, not just to me but period. This is what the previous ten years had lead up to, and yet there was really no way of knowing, from Kiss Me, what those tinkling chimes at the beginning of Plainsong were going to reveal. With keyboards providing an elegant, flowing backdrop, and chiming guitars cutting through with pristine beauty, Robert’s plaintive vocals and lyrics are the cap piece to a mood that is so deliciously melancholy and so sinisterly enjoyable that it’s almost a frightening listen. In a subconscious way, this album has spawned attempted duplications (even by the Cure) for over twenty years, and while that is the ultimate compliment, nothing stands up to the dark, majestic masterpiece that is Disintegration. (A+)

Fave: Untitled

Least: Lullaby

Gem: Closedown

Wish(1992)

JT’s Thoughts: This album is the little sister companion piece to Disintegration in my book. Songs such as ‘End’, ‘The Edge of the Deep Green Sea’ and ‘Letter’s to Elise’ would’ve fit the mood if not tone of Disintegration, but Robert busts out some of his strongest pop songs and spices things up a bit. ‘Friday I’m in Love’ as well as ‘High’ are wonderfully infectious shimmering pop songs and while this album is no Disintegration, I don’t think anyone really expected it to be. (B+)

Favorite: ‘End’

Least: ‘Wendy Time’

Gem: ‘Friday I’m in Love’

It’s hard to follow up on perfection, and with Wish the Cure sorta tried but also sorta didn’t. The better moments are when they’re going for the latter. This means “bubble gum” pop ditties like High, Friday I’m in Love and A Letter to Elise stand out like shining stars, while more concise “ballads” like Apart, Trust and To Wish Impossible Things are understated gems that get lost between sprawling mini epics like Open, End and From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea. That’s not to say that these latter songs are bad, and I’ve enjoyed re-exploring them for this project, but they sometimes tend to lose focus, and so seem a little pedestrian and ultimately hamper the flow of the album. Throw in a couple of funky head scratchers like Wendy Time and Doing the Unstuck (again, not saying they’re bad songs, they just don’t quite “fit”), and Wish is an extremely uneven listen, especially when one considers some of the fantastic b-sides that could have replaced more “meandering” numbers and fleshed this album out nicely into a collection of mope-pop perfection instead of the indecisive feel of “should we carry on with the scope of the Big D or step in other directions?” (B+)

Fave: A Letter to Elise

Least: From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea

Gem: Cut

Wild Mood Swings (1996)

JT’s Thoughts: I can’t think of a more perfectly named album than this one by the Cure. The album is a mess and completely all over the place mood wise, is strangely compelling at times and downright boring at others. To me the singles are the high point on this album... “The 13th” is the most quirky pop song the band had released since “The Lovecats,” which came out 13 years earlier. All and all this album is an interesting listen but after “Round & Round & Round” the album seems to drag on a bit. (C+)

Favorite: The 13th

Least: Trap

Gem: Round & Round & Round

Initially, WMS starts off as almost a Wish mark 2 with the wailing, epic lament of Want. But by track two things take a quirky, sardonic turn with Club America and pretty much tangent off in one direction or other for the rest of the album. When it first came out I was extremely underwhelmed, but these are songs that really, really stick in your head and over the past 15 years I’ve really come to love it, to the point where it’s in my all time top five Cure albums and one of the ones I reach for most frequently. I know folks saw/see this as a departure, but really, looking back over the past 1.5 decades of their career to that point, the Cure has always been about producing the unexpected while still maintaining a signature melancholy sweet sound. I liken WMS most to Japanese Whispers for a good blend of fun and sulk, and to Kiss Me in the sense of dynamic scope (without being quite as tediously long). As with Kiss Me (and Wish before) it’s the upbeat numbers that work the best, though here they dabble in various styles from bossa nova to jazz (that’s what she wants), with some fantastic horns that go nicely with the more standard Cure-esque pop outings. Still, there are several nice ballads, and ballads more in the “traditional” sense of rock n roll with more straightforward acoustic arrangements (yet another departure), especially the unrequited love song Jupiter Crash, that always takes me back to younger days and the early uncertainties of fresh adulthood. At the end of the day, this is another very mixed bag, yet it’s this diversity that keeps everything interesting, and (unlike Wish) a lack of multiple pseudo epics allow WMS to traverse its emotional peaks and valleys almost seamlessly, making it a highly rewarding listen and a “latter day” (and overlooked) standout for the Cure. (A)

Fave: The 13^th

Least: Want

Gem: Return

Living in a post-REM world

2011-09-21T11:17:00.001-07:00

You can just type "REM break up" in the search engine of your choice and get the official scoop on the best from Athens (which is saying a lot), who are now calling it a day.

I can certainly understand the reasons for this. They've made multiple impressions on the musical world over the past 30 years and their legacy is in tact; they've earned their honest millions and can retire in comfort; and last year's Collapse into Now was a definite high note to go out on, encapsulating not only the various elements of the classic REM sound, but still continuing to explore fresh territories that are ever interesting and exciting. Plus, Peter has about a million other guitar commitments. ;-)

So it's all good, right?

I've got 15 albums of mostly fantastic music to either lean on or simply enjoy in the future as I have in the past, and while I may greedily want more and more new music, I don't necessarily need it. No good thing lasts forever, kids.

But that's all foundational history, and like the work of the Beatles and The Doors have lived on, REM will as well in the exact same way. But I was never around for the Beatles and the Doors when they existed, that was someone else's loss, the shock of another generation. So for me personally (and millions of other 30/40 somethings), I honestly can't imagine a world without REM as some sort of functional entity, as they've been a part of my life for longer than they haven't, which is longer than any friends I currently have. That thought right there sorta shakes me, because under the same idea, in another 30 years time I could have none of the friends I do now, but still have REM's music.

And while we've had our (one-sided) ups and downs, and for awhile there in the mid 90s I denied them like Peter to Christ, like any personable, meaningful, heartfelt relationship, there will be times of appreciation and ingratitude, an emotional feast or famine, but in the end you always come back to what is true and good and wholesome, and 100% of the time (even with the clunkers), that has been REM.

But even though good friendships far too often drift apart and fade away, it's the memories that will sustain us until the next meeting, or at least keep us smiling fondly when we know we'll likely never see old Bob again. And with music it's a bit easier to put on a disc and for a moment recapture that feeling you had when you were 16 and hearing Wolves, Lower for the first time, the excitement you felt and the friends you shared it with, which is rather a win-win, 'cos not only does it rekindle the love you have for that music, but it also conjures a warm feeling of nostalgia for folks who are God knows anywhere, but hopefully doing ok.

(Ah, the pangs of growing older in a linear existence.)

That's the beauty and power of music, and few were any better at evoking that power than REM.

So, Michael, Peter, Mike and Bill, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU...you have been here, and you are everything.

Curin' with JT - Part 2 – Pop Leanings

2011-09-20T20:24:00.001-07:00

Japanese Whispers (1983)

JT’s thoughts: While the music change is drastic from Pornography to this “album,” some of the themes remain. Robert does blow us out with a few truly playful pop songs, but the overwhelming material here is of a darker nature. ‘Just One Kiss’ could’ve fit nicely onto Pornography and ‘Lament’ sounds like a leftover track from the Faith, but the true brilliance of this album lies in the ‘singles’...’Lovecats’ and ‘Let’s Go To Bed’ are easily two of the best pop songs that Robert ever wrote. (B+)

Favorite: ‘Let’s Go To Bed’

Least: ‘Speak My Language’

Gem: ‘Lament’

Me: Another fairly major stylistic shift, as the acrid bitterness and heavy handed doom of Pornography is gone. But instead of falling back to previous outings, they take their signature mope and run it through the synth pop filter du jour in a way only the Cure could. This is the first outing where they are doing much more instrumentation than the existing band could effectively pull off in a live setting (mostly just a duo here) and there are loads of fun and interesting little keyboard flourishes, guitar fills and just random noises going on to fatten up the sound considerably. Also, we get the return of Robert’s whimsy and playfulness, especially on the two “full band” jazzy numbers, Speak My Language and super fan fave, The Love Cats. I remember thinking how patchy this album was stylistically, but now I know better, and since this is really a US collection of three UK singles, it’s hard to fault a lack of cohesiveness, and I sorta wish each single and its b-sides were lumped in order. But the way it’s spread out works pretty well as a legit album, and Japanese Whispers is a perfect bridge between the Cure’s post punk beginnings and the pop that would make them alt-super stars. (A-)

Fave: The Upstairs Room

Least: Lament

Gem: Just One Kiss

The Top (1984)

JT’s thoughts: While easily the weakest of the early Cure albums, there are enough great songs on here to put it head and shoulders above most of the other stuff that was coming out during the same time period. This album, Robert’s work with Severin as the Glove and Japanese Whispers are nice transition pieces that would lead to the Cure’s breaking through to the mainstream over the course of the next three albums. (B-)

Favorite: ‘Piggy In The Mirror’

Least: ‘Give Me It’

Gem: ‘Dressing Up’

Me: For all intents and purposes this is a Mad Bob solo album, as he played everything but the drums, and even Lol Tolhurst was relegated to “other instruments.” Coming off the high water mark of Let’s Go to Bed, The Walk and The Love Cats (aka Japanese Whispers), one would think that pop bliss was just around the next record groove, but no. The Top is a dark affair, perhaps even more so than the violent Pornography, because at least there we find some relief through activity. Now it’s just a wallowing in self-misery (so to speak) and the album is a sludgy, somewhat complex listen as a result. In fact, it’s the first Cure album that I’d say is better to break down and take in pieces rather than as a whole, as the songs themselves are mostly pretty good, sometimes excellent, but only the latter when they bounce and attempt to be happy, or at least content, in their melancholy. This is the most experimental album since Seventeen Second, but fuller, more developed and staying within defined song structures. There are a lot of atonal dirges (Wailing Wall, The Top) replacing the lush beauty of say Faith for a cold, sterile atmosphere of complete isolation. Other songs are wild and frenetic (Give Me It, Shake Dog Shake), searching for a hold and an identity. Some are like madcap carnival music (Piggy in the Mirror, Bananafishbones), but any whimsy is covered by a lurid creepiness that is equally ingratiating and off putting. And still others try to be bright, shimmering pop (The Caterpillar, Dressing Up, Birdmad Girl), but still maintain a certain barren gloom that is hard to shake. These latter are also the most satisfying lyrically, though there are some other nice (if disturbing) images scattered throughout. Overall, The Top feels like an unfocused effort that is hampered by its indecision, which mars all but the very best tunes and makes the rest so dreary in the murk, that there’s more effort than ecstasy in this brand of misery. (B)

Fave: Birdmad Girl

Least: Give Me It

Gem: Piggy in the Mirror

The Head on the Door (1985)

JT’s thoughts: Easily the most poppy of the Cure albums since TIB/BDC, and containing the breakout singles ‘Inbetween Days’ and ‘Close to Me,’ this was the Cure’s first major introduction to mainstream radio and MTV. Many of the songs on this album sound a bit dated (hey it was 1985, what do you expect!) in recording but the hooks and melodies are all exactly where they need to be and as such, this album is an amazing, easy and enjoyable listen. (B+)

Favorite: ‘Push’

Least: ‘Screw

Gem: “Six Different Ways’

Me: Ok, first off I want to say that, with similar production either way, there’s not much difference between many of these songs, as far as style goes (Latin flair, prominent synths, bouncy rhythms), and those from The Top. However, production is the key, and overall HOtD is a much livelier, more upbeat affair. (So I’m basically saying that production could have saved The Top or killed HotD.) Having said that, while the signature sulk is still in place, it’s presented playfully, almost tongue in cheek, as if Robert has embraced the melancholy he’s known for and is going to have a bit of fun with it. But again, it all falls to production, and the post break up lament of In Between Days would have sounded like a jump off a cliff under the weight of The Top, instead of a lighthearted, “la, la,” devil may care romp. It’s the juxtaposition of happy music and sad words that make it so deadly and delicious. In a similar vein, Close to Me would have been more sinister, the Baby Screams more vicious, Six Different Ways more morose and The Blood, well, that’s still a song about a hangover, so you can’t help but giggle. As they stand here, these songs are teasingly glum, never taking themselves too seriously, but also not so paper thin as to blow away in the wind. There is still some true darkness thematically, even in the shimmering “bubble gum” of In Between Days, and some numbers (Kyoto Song, Sinking) are strong indicators that despair and questionable deeds are really only a click away. (A)

Fave: Push

Least: Kyoto Song

Gem: Screw

Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (1987)

JT’s Thoughts: And with ‘Just Like Heaven’ the Cure had officially arrived in the mainstream, and what an album to do it with...at 18 Songs and over an hour of music, Kiss Me is a bit of a monster. Robert must’ve been overflowing with creative juices at this time and hits on all different moods from melancholy (‘One More Time’ & the Disintegration sounding ‘A Thousand Hours’) to angry (‘Fight’ and ‘Shiver and Shake’) to happy(ish) (‘Hey You!’ & ‘Hot Hot Hot’) to lovelorn (‘Just Like Heaven’ & ‘Catch’) and nearly knocks it all out of the park. There are a few slight missteps and as a rule 18 songs is just overkill, but Robert somehow makes it all work. (A)

Favorite: ‘Catch’

‘Least: ‘Shiver and Shake’

Gem: ‘The Perfect Girl’

Me: I’m gonna level with ya…I really don’t like this album. Of course there are a lot of essential Cure songs on here, not only the well known (Just like Heaven) but more obscure as well (All I Want). Robert is in full form from playful to tortured and in/out of love, with a nice blend of upbeat and dreamy numbers showcasing pretty much everything the Cure could do well, up to that point. Honestly, aside from a handful of sorta trite throwaways (Shiver and Shake, Fight), there’s not a bad song on the album, but with a few exceptions, I rarely get excited when I’m listening, just recognize that these are good songs by a great band, enjoying the experience from that perspective but nothing more. I think the issue for me is twofold. 1) This is a dreaded double album, and broken down just right, this could be two “to the point” and therefore stellar releases (or at least one and some good b-sides). 2) The production/performance is rather stiff, and while HotD may sound more “80s dated,” those songs are loose and vibrant, while much of Kiss Me suffers from a stifled, claustrophobic atmosphere that hampers rather than enhances the outcome. As a result, while I love a good 95% of these songs, I never want to hear them in this setting. And really, maybe that’s just me. (B+)

Fave: Just like Heaven

Least: Shiver and Shake

Gem: All I Want

Curin' with JT - Part 1 – Uncharacteristic Beginnings and Early “Goth”

2011-09-12T15:55:00.000-07:00

JT and I have been at it again, this time tackling the rather lengthy back catalog of the Cure. I think it’s safe to say that, along with the Smiths, the Cure was the musical magnetism that first brought our friendship together nearly 20 years ago. That being said, the importance of this band on our lives, both separately and as the Duo of Awesome, was at one time immense, and doubtless our musical tastes and general perceptions of life and how to live it (to throw in a little REM there) wouldn’t be quite the same without them.

Mad Bob

So, again, when we bash on a record a bit, it’s from the tough love perspective of a true fan who expects much from their heroes and whose disappointment is great when they fail to deliver. I will say here that over the past couple or so releases, our faith (pun intended) in the Cure as a reliable source for inspiring music has rather waned, and we have literally spent hours discussing whether that change was in us as older folks or in the band as, er, older folks. However, with the output of their latest effort, 4:13 Dream, we together found a spark that made us think that Mad Bob and crew still had it, and I think it’s safe to say that we’re both looking forward to any new material with more aplomb than, well, dread.

Before were get started, note that, for you purists our there, we are including Boys Don’t Cry and Japanese Whispers as proper albums, even though they’re technically singles collections for the US market (though we both decided to lump the former in with Three Imaginary Boys).

Also, for the sake of reader digestion, I’m breaking these albums down into four separate posts.

Ok, now that we have that business out of the way, get out your lip stick, your eyeliner, pull on your hair, pull on your pout and let’s move…

Three Imaginary Boys/Boys Don’t Cry (1979/1980)

JT's thoughts: These albums are both extremely strong. They weren’t (totally) punk. They weren’t (totally) new wave. What they had was a very strong set of catchy punky new wavey pop songs that still sound fantastic 30+ years later. The addition of both “Boys Don’t Cry” and “Killing An Arab” gives Boys Don’t Cry the decided edge on rating. (TIB- B, BDC- A)

Favorite: (TIB) “Fire In Cairo”, (BDC) “Boys Don’t Cry”

Least: (TIB) ‘The Weedy Burton’ (BDC)“So What”

Gem: (Both) ‘Another Day”

Me: In 1979 Robert and Co were pretty much jumping on the punk/post punk bandwagon and to me they sound like they’re trying to be the Buzzcocks. That in and of itself is neither good nor bad, just what it is, because the end result is some great pop punk and some, well, songs. Of the two collections, Boys Don’t Cry is the most consistent because it contains all the singles (Killing an Arab, Jumping Some Else’s Train, Boys Don’t Cry) plus the best songs from Three Imaginary Boys (Accuracy, Grinding Halt, Fire in Cairo, Three Imaginary Boys). The problem with Three Imaginary Boys itself is that songs like Meathook, So What and Foxy Lady (the only instance in the Cure of a cover on a proper album or when someone other than Robert took lead vocals) are charming but ultimately uninteresting throwaways, not worthy to stand up against even third tier numbers on Boys Don’t Cry (which are second tier numbers on Three Imaginary Boys) like Object or Subway Song. There’s very little to point to what they would do just a year later (Three Imaginary Boys, Another Day), though occasionally this sound would pop up again in future efforts. Basically, this batch of songs was one to get out of their system, which they do amply in most instances, while others present some of the best examples of the genre. (3IB – B+/BDC – A-)

Favorite: Jumping Someone Else’s Train

Least: Foxy Lady

Gem: Another Day

Seventeen Seconds (1980)

JT's thoughts: The Cure start to come into their own on this album. TIB/BDC were both fun poppy albums, but this album truly sounds like a ‘Cure’ album. There were hints of where the band were headed with ‘Three Imaginary Boys’ and ‘Subway Song’ but I can only imagine the shock on the A&R men’s faces when they heard the album and there were no obvious singles. Having said that, next to the Big D this album has always been my favorite by the Cure...we’ll see if by the end of these reviews I still feel that way. (A+)

Favorite: “Seventeen Seconds”

Least: “The Final Sound”

Gem: “In Your Room”

Me: From the first notes it’s obvious that this is a completely different type of music from the Three Imaginary Boys Don’t Cry era. Augmented to a four piece and with two new members, it’s almost a different band, but I think this has more to do with Robert’s vision than personnel changes. Slower, sparser, stripped of basically all but the barest bones of pop conventions, in a lot of ways Seventeen Seconds is more sketches than fully realized songs. But the ones that are (Play for Today, A Forest, M) remain some of the strongest of the Cure’s early output, while other minimalist offerings (Secrets, At Night, Seventeen Seconds) and a couple of soundscape pieces (A Reflection, Three, The Final Sound) showcase an experimental vulnerability that they would never quite touch on again. There is very little jangle or bounce, even on the more upbeat tunes, and the bleak lyrical imagery, often present on Three Imaginary Boys Don’t Cry, is matched by the music all the way around, as any lightheartedness from before is completely thrown to the side. This is more a mood setter than the depths of despair that would come later, so in a lot of ways Seventeen Seconds is the rough outline of everything the Cure would do for the next couple of years, and even throughout the rest of their career, and should be listened to as a whole instead of dissected song by song. (A)

Favorite: M

Least: At Night

Gem: Secrets

Faith (1982)

JT's thoughts: This is it...this is where the Cure began developing the label that still clings to them despite the variety of phases and sounds the band have gone through. This is the beginning of the Cure as GOTH but it isn’t really. The songs are too strong and timeless to truly be labeled any one thing but, as the press tends to do, they said Goth and 30 years later the Cure are still a Goth band. If this is Goth, this and Pornography have to be the best Goth albums ever released, because Robert never gets lost on making ‘scary’ songs so much that he forgets to make beautiful songs. Suck that Peter Murphy! (A)

Favorite: ‘The Funeral Party’

Least: ‘Primary’

Gem: ‘’The Drowning Man’

Me: Aside from maybe Boys Don’t Cry (or more like Standing On a Beach), I have the most memories of this one pre Disintegration; just dark, foggy nights on childhood FL back roads, freaking out friends with the downbeats and somber lyrics. This one was pretty much a guidepost for me between about 15 and 18 and is still my overall favorite Cure album. But musically speaking, whittled back down to a trio with the loss of keyboardist Matthieu Hartley, Faith is ironically more keyboard heavy than Seventeen Seconds, and the addition of these keyboards, along with more overall F/X, helps to fill out much of the sound, picking up nicely where the latter album left off. Faith also benefits from a more fully developed set of songs, almost all low key, morose outings with plaintive melodies over lush and sweeping or tribal, rhythm-centric backdrops. The best moments of the album are the last two songs, The Drowning Man and title track; minimal, emotive and grief ridden dirges that (along with the Funeral Party) were the first true stamp of the gloomy, gothic shroud that has haunted the Cure, and made them millions, ever since. This album more than any other points to what they would do eight years later with Disintegration, and while they certainly became more frantic and foreboding in the space between, they were never as delicate or lovely. (A+)

Favorite: The Drowning Man

Least: Primary

Gem: Doubt

Pornography (1982)

JT's thoughts: Ok, at times, Robert does get a bit scary on this album, but again he never forgets the craft of song (Again, suck that Peter Murphy!), and while these songs are bleak I never feel anything but empowered listening to this album. The drums are almost tribal and very driving, leading to a feeling that this is perhaps the closest the Cure ever got to recording a ‘metal’’ album. (A)

Favorite: ‘A Short Term Effect’

Least: ‘Pornography’

Gem: ‘A Strange Day’

Me: Turn the despair knob to 11, please. I guess in some ways Pornography is the logical follow up to Faith, at least lyrically, as Robert has gone from pensive to bitter and often acts out his emotions in violence instead of gloomy complacency. Musically it’s so much heavier, so much more biting, abrasive and just downright sinister when compared to the sweeping, elegant heartache of Faith, it’s hard to believe this is the same band. I think the key ingredient here is anger, even fury, and this is most evident with the drums, which are pounded like hammers into anvils, never letting up, and the rest of the instruments follow suit. Even the lightest moment (A Strange Day) is wrapped in mystery and confusion, and the rest of the album is a diatribe that more than once pushes towards murder. But having said that, there is quite a lot of beauty beneath the icy keyboards and drilling guitars, as lovely vocal melodies (The Figurehead, Cold) weave their way in and out of the barrage, making this bitter pill not only bearable, but enjoyable again and again. Turn it up for maximum misery. (A)

Fave: Siamese Twins

Least: A Short Term Effect

Gem: The Figurehead

So Long, Old Friend

2011-09-08T20:20:00.000-07:00

As some of you may know, a few months ago I posted about Borders going out of business, an excursion I took with JT to one of their locations and three cheap(ish) purchases I made as a result of their unfortunate (but understandable) demise.

Well, it now seems that the last local Borders standing, the one that I once frequented often, sometimes daily, is in its sunset days. This past Saturday, with music now at 60% off, it seemed like the right time to make a final and farewell visit in order to pay my respects. So we loaded up the kids, headed into “downtown” Brentwood and within five minutes Karla had to take the kids back out to the car because Fox was running around like a whirling dervish on crack. Anyway, some really incredible bargains were to be had…while at the same time, some stuff was still so overpriced that while it was a better deal, the principle wouldn’t let me make the purchase. So it goes.

The closing of Borders though is more than just the end of a business; it marks the near end of an era. With music and books being digitized and/or hard copies made so readily available at our fingertips either at home or on the go, “old fashioned” retailers just can’t compete with the cheapness and convenience of it all. And while there are still plenty of folks like me who like the touch and feel of a CD or book in hand, there just aren’t enough of us to float a big company like Borders…especially when I can get a Beatles album cheaper at Target than I can for the discounted price at Borders (I mean duh, people).

But, as I said previously, Borders is where I discovered a lot of new music, fattened up my back catalog and just in general enjoyed killing 30 minutes to an hour perusing their (once) surprisingly diverse shelves, seeing what was the what at the listening stations. (I remember how annoyed I would get when a more obscure disc wasn’t in their database…but the man’s voice was really sincere in his apology.) Honestly, there was no better way to spend a lunch break without involving nudity and/or the Spivey of your choice.

I remember finding the Go-Betweens best of, Bellavista Terrace, listening to snippets of the first three songs, and heading straight for the register. I remember finding Death Cab for Cutie’s Forbidden Love EP, studying the cover, checking the back for the song titles, and tucking it up under my arm, feeling as if I’d found a secret treasure. I remember when I picked up Love’s Forever Changes, Old 97’s Early Tracks and X’s Under the Big Black Sun, and all the reasons why I sought those artists out. I remember, with a giggle, some guy in his early 50s at one of the listening stations going nuts as he jammed out on the headphones, looking over at a woman and her young son, complete strangers, and saying (in a headphones voice), “Abraxas! I love it. You know? They don’t make music like this anymore. Abraxas!” The woman smiled, nodded and walked off, while he kept rockin’. I remember $5.00 surplus sales (Neil Young’s Harvest), $12.99 for new releases the first week (Strokes’ Is This It) and openly cussing a Magnetic Fields CD because there was no way I was gonna pay $18.99 for The Charm of the Highway Strip. It was all glorious.

My time spent in this manner was effectively brought to a close around 2006 when I started working from home and really had no reason to get away from the office for a bit to clear my head with a rewarding distraction and remind myself that there are some things that make putting up with the humdrum of the daily grind worthwhile. Music basically does that for me, and a lot of the artists I discovered at Borders (or at least picked up there) have inspired me in more ways than I can say.

It was really eerie being there this past Saturday, thumbing through the disarray of well rummaged CDs, like looting corpses after a battle for watches and loose change (you know, not that I’ve done that). I found a couple of “Oh yeahs!!,” and a few “Hmmm, maybes…,” and smirked at the ridiculous surplus of certain artists (I’m laughing directly at you, Sufjan Stevens). It was the most crowded I’d ever seen the place save for the midnight purchases of a new Harry Potter book (yes, I am an uber dork). And while that saddened me, it was mostly because I accepted so well the inevitability of it all. Maybe it’s because I’m older and (even) more jaded, and maybe it’s because Borders sorta had it coming ($31.99 for the Damn the Torpedoes reissue? Really??), but I think also because there’s a certain understanding with life that all things, especially good things, eventually come to an end, all chapters close, and all eras fade away and blend into the next. When I look back, I realize that my Borders years were basically two lifetimes ago.

Borders represents a big part of my “free wheelin’” youth (and yes, I bought the Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan there) because I have always identified personally with the music I listen to, and so it’s only natural that the place where I purchased it would maintain a heavy import (as a kid in PC it’s Camelot music, which is also long gone). But with personal retrospect I realize my youth ended quite some time ago, and while I often wallow in nostalgia, those days are truly gone and the closing of Borders is a bit of a symbolic last nail in the coffin. And I accept that, even if I don’t really like it.

Now as for the music I found, I was lucky to get some good deals on some newer releases by favorite artists that I’d not had a chance to pick up. And I also scored some back catalog stuff that I’d either once owned and lost or heard a lot via other folks but never owned myself. Overall, it was a good haul and a satisfying final Borders expedition.

Let’s dive in…

Superchunk

Superchunk – Majesty Shredding (2010): Superchunk was a huge part of my early college years. I can’t stress that enough. But I jumped off the wagon by the mid 90s, not happy with the less “punk” more “indie” pop approach they took with albums like Foolish and Here’s Where the Strings Come In, even though I realize such a move was both obvious and inevitable. By the end of the 90s, I wasn’t even aware when they came out with a new album. So sad, and stupid too. These guys are real innovators, and proof that indie rock can be anything it wants to be. Anyway, they had been silent for nearly a decade before The Leaves in the Gutter EP proved that they were not only back, but that they had returned to the more “old school” pop punk they were initially known (and loved by me) for. Majesty Shredding is more of the same, yet still splashes liberally in the sounds of the aforementioned efforts, touching on just about everything but the more experimental edges most prominent on 1999’s Come Pick Me Up. The results are quite pleasing, and while it’s not as immediately endearing as No Pocky for Kitty or On the Mouth, it (as msp put it) feels like a grower, and with each spin of these bouncy, amped up tunes, that becomes more obvious. I’m sure I’ll have more to say in the future when it all clicks.

My Bloody Valentine

My Bloody Valentine – Loveless (1991): I got this one for a steal, and it was even a bargain before the discount. This album is basically universally considered the best of the shoegaze genre, a flawless masterpiece and so absolutely “the it” that 20 years on, Kevin Shields and Co have yet dared to attempt a follow up. Such is the wonder and danger of music. Sonic, lush, ethereal, deeply melodic and so haunting it has you jumping at shadows, this is music that allows you to do anything, be anywhere, feel everything, enhancing or changing current moods, a canvas of emotion through music. I mean some guy at FSU wrote a thesis on it, so…let him tell you.

Natalie Merchant

Natalie Merchant – Leave Your Sleep (2010): I’m not sure if Natalie Merchant has hit a bit of writer’s block the past ten years, or just gotten lazy, or really has a legit vision, but Leave Your Sleep is the second release of “songs she didn’t write.” To be fair, that’s just the lyrics in this case, which are all poems by well known poets (Robert Graves, E. E. Cummings, etc) relating to childhood. All teasing aside, this is a solid outing, picking up nicely where 2003’s folk standards, The House Carpenter’s Daughter, left off and moving further away from the alt-pop stylings that made her an alterno superstar, and deeper into a more eclectic, world/ethnic/folk/Americana vibe that in 20 years will sound more relevant than Blind Man’s Zoo does now and is ultimately more rewarding at present. And I’ll just stop there before I really do get mean. (Yes, Natalie, Karla and I are still miffed at you.)

Oasis

Oasis – The Masterplan (1998): B-sides collections can be hit or miss, but when you’re Noel Gallagher in the mid 90s and pretty much everything coming off your guitar strings is either brilliant or crunkin’ brilliant, every song is vital. Morning Glory will, to me, always be their shining masterpiece, and since a good chunk of these songs come from that era, this is a collection that is nearly as essential. Acquiesce, Talk Tonight, Rockin’ Chair and the title track are just four standouts among many that not only make this a great catch all, but just a great album period.

Spoon

Spoon – Girls Can Tell (2001): I had a burned copy of this album that I got from Paul Spivey (you know…) along with Kill the Moonlight, and this one not only squashed the other like a grape, it might be one of the greatest albums ever. Why? Because it’s good. Seriously, it’s that simple. This is rock…indie, alternative, pop, bossa nova, whatever, brands don’t matter, ‘cos at the heart, bones and guts of it all, these tunes are catchy, peppy, angsty, fresh and infectious. If this album was a disease, I’d catch it. If this album was a girl, I’d get it pregnant behind the high school gymnasium. Basically, if it were your mom, I’d be your daddy. But really, it’s great. Get it. Now.

PJ Harvey

PJ Harvey – Let England Shake (2011): I love Polly. But sometimes I gotta treat her like a sister and say, “Look babe, that one sorta stunk.” That’s my feeling (if you’ll remember) on her last effort, an official collaboration with John Parrish, 2009’s A Man a Woman Walked By. And that’s Polly for you, sometimes so out there she polarizes even the biggest fans. And that’s a good thing, ‘cos she’s pushing boundaries and likely one day I’ll get it (and maybe Rid of Me too, which I also hate). Let England Shake, in addition to having the running theme of war and specifically English wars, which is awesome, sheds all but her “signature weird” and musically sounds almost classic 80s New Wave/alternative, which means extremely accessible in a retro/nostalgic way, and yet at the same time completely overhauled and updated for tomorrow’s modern ear as only Polly can. And, being the chameleon that she is, what enhances this even more is that her voice, so unique, so capable, is here often so subdued (though not in a White Chalk way) that it sounds unlike her at all, and more like a wounded Kate Bush, lilting, wandering, and yet set with purpose. It’s the kind of album that approaches differently with each listen, and lingers afterward because the melodies never let up and never leave. If White Chalk isn’t careful, Let England Shake just might take the top spot in my heart.

And that’s it. I will likely never have another Borders experience, at least not at the one where I picked up dozens, maybe even hundreds of albums by nearly as many brilliant, wonderful, life altering artists. So thanks again, Borders, for all the good tunes and for sending me out on a high note. Literally.