A few quick thoughts on the 2009 albums I don't have enough to say about to warrant more full-featured write-ups:
It's Blitz - Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Sample)
It's a little more electronic and dance-oriented than the band's previous albums but, other than that, this is basically more of the same. That isn't bad, though; Karen O still has a powerful vocal prescience (though she's more restrained by the heavy focus on rhythm here), Nick Zinner still turns out nicely jagged guitar riff with seeming ease and the band still knows how to crank out the hooks. It has basically the same problems as their other records, too (the singles overshadowing the album tracks, throwaway lyrics) but that comes with this territory. Nothing more or less than another set of Yeah Yeah Yeahs tunes, It's Blitz won't likely win the band any new fans but it will keep their base satisfied and sometimes it's okay for a band to do that, particularly when their established formula works as well as it does here.
Hold Time - M. Ward (Sample)
The only evidence that this is M. Ward's first album after his participation in the highly successful She & Him project (with acclaimed indie actress Zooey Deschenel) is that the production is a touch more polished than his others (oh, and Deschenel turns up to do backup vocals on "Never Had Nobody Like You"); a few more string-sweetened passages , a fairly good Luncinda Williams cameo and a more generalized sonic clarity. That said, it provides everything Ward's fans have come to expect: cabaret piano-ballads (the title track), country tunes ("Rave On"), spindly folk ("For Beginners") and melodic guitar-rock ("Never Had Nobody Like You"), all delivered with Ward's light-brush vocal tones and impeccable lyrical guitar work. Sometimes the production can overwhelm the songs ("Jailbird" is severely underwritten), but, really, Ward's hit a successful streak of records since he decided to start singing and this is no exception.
Life On Earth - Tiny Vipers (Sample)
Three words: female Mark Kozelek. If that doesn't sell you, I don't know what to say.
Hymn To The Immortal Wind - Mono (Sample)
Basically, every new Mono record sounds like the previous one with one new thing added. In this case, they bring in sweeping string arrangements to compliment the already-powerful emotional force of their carefully composed instrumental post-rock. Sometimes the strings take the songs from "emotive" to "cheesy" but, most of the time, they work wonders. Mono's one of those bands that people tend to either "get" or not; if you "got" them before, rest assured you still will here.
Sounds of the Universe - Depeche Mode (Sample)
It's no Violator but, then again, what is? A step up from the band's previous album Playing the Angel (which I thought relied far too heavily on overly-watery and cheap-sounding synth tones), this record hearkens back to the more rock-influenced Depeche records of the early 90's; in my book, that's a good thing. The songwriting is, of course, not as consistent (and there's nothing of the caliber of "Enjoy The Silence" on here) but it's still fairly sturdy. Highlights include the bent funk of "In Chains", the vintage Nintendo-sounding "Fragile Tension" and the sweeping industrial grind of "Come Back".
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
THE MORE I SEE, THE LESS I SCREAM
- Summer TV recommendations:
Hung: funny as hell, surprisingly poignant when it wants to be, mostly great acting, well-defined characters. And, really, this has the best premise (and the best posters) for a show, basically ever. The only bad thing is that it comes on right after, ugh, True Blood, so, you may have to see an unfortunate ending scene of it in order to watch Hung; it's not too great of a price, in my opinion.
Hell's Kitchen: really, it's got Gordon Ramsey, that's the only reason to watch this. If he isn't there, this becomes Top Chef, which sucks. This is totally a guilty pleasure for me, no doubt about it, but, what can I say? I like a tough-but-fair hardass yelling at people and throwing plates when they screw up.
Mad Men (when it comes on in August): the first two seasons rocked, I don't expect this one will be any different. I am mildly concerned about the writers' claims that this season will be more fast-paced, as the story is almost irrelevant to my enjoyment of Mad Men: it's all about the characters, the social commentary and the gorgeous production design. Still, the promo image they've released greatly increases my anticipation.
- Back onto the music tip:
Journal For Plague Lovers - Manic Street Preachers (Sample)
Right off the bat: I will likely come off very gushing in this write-up, I don't feel it's unjustified, but, I'll warn you beforehand. That said, this is, in my opinion, the best album of 2009 so far and it'll take something else truly amazing to unseat it as my top record before the years end. I've already played it through top-to-bottom more times than I can count and I still don't think I'm anywhere close to being tired of it.
I've talked about the Manics on this blog previously and copious amounts of words have been devoted to the band's history, so, I won't reiterate that here. Check out the band's Wikipedia page if you'd like the full story. Very briefly, and the context of this album, though: Guitarist/lyricist Richie Edwards disappeared in 1995 and has never been seen since, he was finally classified legally dead this year and, as such, his remaining bandmates decided to pay a tribute to him; all the lyrics contained on Journal For Plague Lovers come from a folder of various poems and ideas that Edwards gave to the band a few weeks before he disappeared. Some of the words contained therein were made into the songs on the band's first album as a trio (1996's Everything Must Go) and the words here represent the rest of them (or, at least, the rest that were usable for these purposes, band bassist Nicky Wire was stated that "some of them are little haikus, just four lines").
Now, this idea could go really bad, really fast in two main ways: Firstly, it could come off as very exploitative of Edward's memory and legacy, a cheap marketing to garner attention from those who may have otherwise dismissed the Manics in recent years. The album does carry a faint whiff of this, but, the band seems fairly aware of this potential pit fall in interviews done on the promotional circuit for the record and they were, of course, careful to get approval from Richie's surviving relatives before going ahead with the project. But, even if they weren't aware, the Manics have never really been capable of being anything other than 100% sincere at all times and they've always kept a 25% cut of their profits sitting around for Edwards should he ever return, so, I'm willing to say that the use of his words comes more out of love and respect for their lost bandmate than as an attempt to grab ears.
However, if the lyrics weren't any good this would still be a misfire from the get-go. Therein lies the second big problem with the idea: what if the words that weren't used yet are simply the rancid table scraps that never deserved to see the light of a recording studio anyways? Richie wasn't always on, the way a lot of people like to believe he was. He was certainly one of the more astute and clever lyricists of his time, and his affinity for packing his songs full of historical and literary references remains admirable and unique within the rock cannon. However, he also had a tendency to speak in grand pronouncements, that sometimes contradicted themselves, and to artificially pump up the melodrama in his words for effect. He's still certainly miles ahead of 99% of rock lyricists (who, for some reason, still can't seem to reach beyond "I'm sad because this chick broke up with me" and "I want this chick so bad") but the comparisons he's often afforded (Sexton, Plath, etc.) aren't really warranted. With all that said, however, this is a sturdy set of words: mostly less bleak than the towering monument of nihilism that was 1994's The Holy Bible (though that says more about just how bleak The Holy Bible is than anything else), it still probes a lot of interesting ideas and concepts, mostly about the falsehoods and insecurities of modern society, rarely heard on rock recordings. There is a slight problem that comes from the band's approach, though. Namely, some of the songs consist of only one verse and a chorus which are repeated twice. It isn't that big of a deal but it does prove somewhat distracting at times. There are also a couple clunkers and groaners here and there (the chorus of "Me & Stephen Hawking" is particularly eye-rolling) but they're far outnumbered by the genuinely intriguing ideas (the brilliant martyrdom deconstruction of "Doors Closing Slowly"), intentionally horrifying character portraits (the love-as-masochism of "She Bathed Herself In A Bath Of Bleach") and tangled word-salads (I'm still trying to pull apart "This Joke Sport Severs") that Richie, with slight posthumous editing from Nicky Wire, presents here. Even when the words don't work in totality for a song, there's always at least an ear-grabbing phrase or two in there ("Marlon, J.D.'"'s opening of "he stood like a statue/as he was beaten across the face", for example).
Of course, all the great lyrics in the world wouldn't mean very much if the band didn't bring it musically; this is a rock record, after all, not a poetry collection. Now, the band recorded (most of) this one with legendary studio rat Steve Albini but it's not quite as raw a recording as that would suggest (probably because they had someone else mix it later). It still does come across with his standard dry drum sound, scracthy guitar attack and overall "live" feel, despite occasional embellishments like the swooping string section on "This Joke Sport Severs" and the light piano twinkles on "Facing Page: Top Left". Unlike the racked post-punk/industrial/hard rock nightmares conjured up on The Holy Bible, Journal For Plague Lovers sticks relatively close to the arty, but hard-hitting, arena rock formula that the band has traveled in since Everything Must Go, albeit a rawer and more emotional form thereof. This is a good thing; that formula is a quite sound one, with its focus on memorable hooks and guitar riffs, but for the last couple of albums the band seems to have been kinda rudderless and lacking in passion. Journal welds these two crucial points of the great Manics songs (the professionally-constructed songcraft and the raw, bark-at-the-moon passion) together for a truly brilliant set.
One of the more curious things about the record, though, is its (in relative terms for the fairly sonically static group) willingness to stretch that sound out, not in deeply radical ways, mind you, but, it's still there and, for the most part, it works. The two-stepping funk rhythm underlying "Marlon, J.D.", the contradictory cheery refrain on "Jackie Collins Existential Question Time", the gut-punch bass on "Peeled Apples" and the slowed-down chorus of "Me & Stephen Hawking" are certainly departures but the main fact of the band's growing sonic maturity is evidenced by the slower tracks here. If they had been included on The Holy Bible, such songs as "Facing Page: Top Left" and "Doors Closing Slowly" likely would've been musically rendered as sharp blasts of punk-ish energy, but, here they are a shimmering acoustic ballad and a twisted funeral march, respectively. I'm not saying one manner is necessarily better but the variety showcased is certainly cause for celebration (and for people who'd complain, you still have full-tilt rage like "All Is Vanity" and "Pretension/Repulsion" to mull over). It's this sonic variety that allows the record to work in a multitude of settings, at least for me; I've listened to this at the gym, while typing, and while just lying in bed listening and it works equally well in different ways for each context. In addition, James Dean Bradfield's voice is as good as ever and he's still coming up with clever ways to digest post-punk jitteriness into bludgeoning hard-rock riffs and the Sean Moore/Nicky Wire rhythm section proves as rock-solid and dependable as ever.
If the album does have one flaw, it's Wire's lead vocal turn on the closer "William's Last Words"; he's very, very shaky as a singer and the song doesn't do a whole lot to justify it being the record's longest song. That said, since the lyrics to it read like a suicide note from Richie (and Bradfield was apparently, and understandably, too shaken-up to sing it), I'll give the band that one little over-indulgence.
One could level the complaint that this album is simply The Holy Bible's little brother, but, in all honesty, that's what I wanted out of it: Another chance to hear a great band be driven on to create genius music by an at-times-brilliant lyricist. In fact, that approach towards songwriting can also be termed as a throwback to an earlier era where one person wrote the words, another wrote the music and another sang it. Well, in that case, I'll propose this: Richie James Edwards is the Cole Porter to the Manics' Nelson Riddle and Frank Sinatra, think about it.
Hung: funny as hell, surprisingly poignant when it wants to be, mostly great acting, well-defined characters. And, really, this has the best premise (and the best posters) for a show, basically ever. The only bad thing is that it comes on right after, ugh, True Blood, so, you may have to see an unfortunate ending scene of it in order to watch Hung; it's not too great of a price, in my opinion.
Hell's Kitchen: really, it's got Gordon Ramsey, that's the only reason to watch this. If he isn't there, this becomes Top Chef, which sucks. This is totally a guilty pleasure for me, no doubt about it, but, what can I say? I like a tough-but-fair hardass yelling at people and throwing plates when they screw up.
Mad Men (when it comes on in August): the first two seasons rocked, I don't expect this one will be any different. I am mildly concerned about the writers' claims that this season will be more fast-paced, as the story is almost irrelevant to my enjoyment of Mad Men: it's all about the characters, the social commentary and the gorgeous production design. Still, the promo image they've released greatly increases my anticipation.
- Back onto the music tip:
Journal For Plague Lovers - Manic Street Preachers (Sample)
Right off the bat: I will likely come off very gushing in this write-up, I don't feel it's unjustified, but, I'll warn you beforehand. That said, this is, in my opinion, the best album of 2009 so far and it'll take something else truly amazing to unseat it as my top record before the years end. I've already played it through top-to-bottom more times than I can count and I still don't think I'm anywhere close to being tired of it.
I've talked about the Manics on this blog previously and copious amounts of words have been devoted to the band's history, so, I won't reiterate that here. Check out the band's Wikipedia page if you'd like the full story. Very briefly, and the context of this album, though: Guitarist/lyricist Richie Edwards disappeared in 1995 and has never been seen since, he was finally classified legally dead this year and, as such, his remaining bandmates decided to pay a tribute to him; all the lyrics contained on Journal For Plague Lovers come from a folder of various poems and ideas that Edwards gave to the band a few weeks before he disappeared. Some of the words contained therein were made into the songs on the band's first album as a trio (1996's Everything Must Go) and the words here represent the rest of them (or, at least, the rest that were usable for these purposes, band bassist Nicky Wire was stated that "some of them are little haikus, just four lines").
Now, this idea could go really bad, really fast in two main ways: Firstly, it could come off as very exploitative of Edward's memory and legacy, a cheap marketing to garner attention from those who may have otherwise dismissed the Manics in recent years. The album does carry a faint whiff of this, but, the band seems fairly aware of this potential pit fall in interviews done on the promotional circuit for the record and they were, of course, careful to get approval from Richie's surviving relatives before going ahead with the project. But, even if they weren't aware, the Manics have never really been capable of being anything other than 100% sincere at all times and they've always kept a 25% cut of their profits sitting around for Edwards should he ever return, so, I'm willing to say that the use of his words comes more out of love and respect for their lost bandmate than as an attempt to grab ears.
However, if the lyrics weren't any good this would still be a misfire from the get-go. Therein lies the second big problem with the idea: what if the words that weren't used yet are simply the rancid table scraps that never deserved to see the light of a recording studio anyways? Richie wasn't always on, the way a lot of people like to believe he was. He was certainly one of the more astute and clever lyricists of his time, and his affinity for packing his songs full of historical and literary references remains admirable and unique within the rock cannon. However, he also had a tendency to speak in grand pronouncements, that sometimes contradicted themselves, and to artificially pump up the melodrama in his words for effect. He's still certainly miles ahead of 99% of rock lyricists (who, for some reason, still can't seem to reach beyond "I'm sad because this chick broke up with me" and "I want this chick so bad") but the comparisons he's often afforded (Sexton, Plath, etc.) aren't really warranted. With all that said, however, this is a sturdy set of words: mostly less bleak than the towering monument of nihilism that was 1994's The Holy Bible (though that says more about just how bleak The Holy Bible is than anything else), it still probes a lot of interesting ideas and concepts, mostly about the falsehoods and insecurities of modern society, rarely heard on rock recordings. There is a slight problem that comes from the band's approach, though. Namely, some of the songs consist of only one verse and a chorus which are repeated twice. It isn't that big of a deal but it does prove somewhat distracting at times. There are also a couple clunkers and groaners here and there (the chorus of "Me & Stephen Hawking" is particularly eye-rolling) but they're far outnumbered by the genuinely intriguing ideas (the brilliant martyrdom deconstruction of "Doors Closing Slowly"), intentionally horrifying character portraits (the love-as-masochism of "She Bathed Herself In A Bath Of Bleach") and tangled word-salads (I'm still trying to pull apart "This Joke Sport Severs") that Richie, with slight posthumous editing from Nicky Wire, presents here. Even when the words don't work in totality for a song, there's always at least an ear-grabbing phrase or two in there ("Marlon, J.D.'"'s opening of "he stood like a statue/as he was beaten across the face", for example).
Of course, all the great lyrics in the world wouldn't mean very much if the band didn't bring it musically; this is a rock record, after all, not a poetry collection. Now, the band recorded (most of) this one with legendary studio rat Steve Albini but it's not quite as raw a recording as that would suggest (probably because they had someone else mix it later). It still does come across with his standard dry drum sound, scracthy guitar attack and overall "live" feel, despite occasional embellishments like the swooping string section on "This Joke Sport Severs" and the light piano twinkles on "Facing Page: Top Left". Unlike the racked post-punk/industrial/hard rock nightmares conjured up on The Holy Bible, Journal For Plague Lovers sticks relatively close to the arty, but hard-hitting, arena rock formula that the band has traveled in since Everything Must Go, albeit a rawer and more emotional form thereof. This is a good thing; that formula is a quite sound one, with its focus on memorable hooks and guitar riffs, but for the last couple of albums the band seems to have been kinda rudderless and lacking in passion. Journal welds these two crucial points of the great Manics songs (the professionally-constructed songcraft and the raw, bark-at-the-moon passion) together for a truly brilliant set.
One of the more curious things about the record, though, is its (in relative terms for the fairly sonically static group) willingness to stretch that sound out, not in deeply radical ways, mind you, but, it's still there and, for the most part, it works. The two-stepping funk rhythm underlying "Marlon, J.D.", the contradictory cheery refrain on "Jackie Collins Existential Question Time", the gut-punch bass on "Peeled Apples" and the slowed-down chorus of "Me & Stephen Hawking" are certainly departures but the main fact of the band's growing sonic maturity is evidenced by the slower tracks here. If they had been included on The Holy Bible, such songs as "Facing Page: Top Left" and "Doors Closing Slowly" likely would've been musically rendered as sharp blasts of punk-ish energy, but, here they are a shimmering acoustic ballad and a twisted funeral march, respectively. I'm not saying one manner is necessarily better but the variety showcased is certainly cause for celebration (and for people who'd complain, you still have full-tilt rage like "All Is Vanity" and "Pretension/Repulsion" to mull over). It's this sonic variety that allows the record to work in a multitude of settings, at least for me; I've listened to this at the gym, while typing, and while just lying in bed listening and it works equally well in different ways for each context. In addition, James Dean Bradfield's voice is as good as ever and he's still coming up with clever ways to digest post-punk jitteriness into bludgeoning hard-rock riffs and the Sean Moore/Nicky Wire rhythm section proves as rock-solid and dependable as ever.
If the album does have one flaw, it's Wire's lead vocal turn on the closer "William's Last Words"; he's very, very shaky as a singer and the song doesn't do a whole lot to justify it being the record's longest song. That said, since the lyrics to it read like a suicide note from Richie (and Bradfield was apparently, and understandably, too shaken-up to sing it), I'll give the band that one little over-indulgence.
One could level the complaint that this album is simply The Holy Bible's little brother, but, in all honesty, that's what I wanted out of it: Another chance to hear a great band be driven on to create genius music by an at-times-brilliant lyricist. In fact, that approach towards songwriting can also be termed as a throwback to an earlier era where one person wrote the words, another wrote the music and another sang it. Well, in that case, I'll propose this: Richie James Edwards is the Cole Porter to the Manics' Nelson Riddle and Frank Sinatra, think about it.
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