Tracks Review: Beck - "Chemtrails" and The Hold Steady - "Sequestered in Memphis"

Beck - "Chemtrails"

Perhaps I'm not as well-versed with the Beck oeuvre as I'd like, but this seems extremely left-field , even for him. Like The Killers-doing-Americana left-field. Not to imply that the strongest contender for most awesome Scientologist is in over his head. Beck lays an acid-laced bombshell with this new single, producer Danger Mouse etherealising the vocals to the point of nigh unrecognisability and myriad Wall of Sound instrumentation drifting along with them. It changes gears dynamically from poignant to groovy with a (too harsh) drum fill and outros with a stylish guitar break that ends mid-riff.

There was a long road back to be taken from Guero and The Information, but with a little help fromo "it" guy Danger Mouse, Beck may just pull it off. Look for a full LP in the near future and of course, his slot just prior to Radiohead at Outside Lands.

4.8/5.0



The Hold Steady - "Sequestered in Memphis"

Twin Cities via Big Apple rockers The Hold Steady are poised to drop Stay Positive, their fourth album chronicling Holly, Charlemagne, and sundry other drifters' stabs at drunken profundity. Lyricist Craig Finn has had each album orbit a central theme, if not quite a grand "concept": Boys and Girls in America told love stories and made the band's Beat influences explicit.

"Sequestered" gives little hint where the album as a whole might be headed, except to reassure diehards that the THS formula writ large will remain unchanged. In terms of groups with a narrowly defined sound, unlike the broad brush of say, Radiohead; The Hold Steady are possibly the best band in the world today. The band's schtick, basically unchanged from the first moments of "Positive Jam" in 2004, is laid on thick this time 'round: mile-high riffs from Tad Kubler, Franz Nicolay pounding on piano and organ, sing-along background vocals, saxophone, rough vocals from Finn (despite rumoured voice lessons taken for the Album Four sessions). "Sequestered" falls into The Hold Steady catalog somewhere around "Massive Nights" from BaGiA; catchy, certainly good, but not brave.

The band's straight-ahead rock sound works because it's backed with Finn's vivid songwriting, rather than bravado and posturing like most of the Seventies music it apes, but even the greats aren't great forever. Kerouac died too young to see the revolution he and Ginsberg started decay into corporate decadence. After five albums from the same central players (counting the two Lifter Puller records) and a movement to emo/pop-punk haven Vagrant, do Finn and Kubler face a similar future? Track placement will likely make or break this new record. If this first single is a centrepiece, I can't picture the album flooring me like every time I put any other Hold Steady or Lifter Puller long player. More likely, it will sneak on as a back-ender, keeping up the energy between acoustic songs or some such.

Reality check: this is still The Hold Steady.

4.2/5.0

-RJR

Track Review: Weezer - "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)"

Rating: 3.1 / 5.0

I heard this song was Weezer's "Bohemian Rhapsody". That's only true if you count the fact that it's long, and has a lot of different musical motifs. But first of all, it doesn't hang together like Queen's masterpiece did; it doesn't sound as natural. Besides that, what defined "Bohemian Rhapsody" was its humility, it's world-wearied resignedness. Those qualities are nowhere to be found in the self-inflated, quasi-satirical voice of this song. "Bohemian Rhapsody" never had lines like "if you don't like it, you can shove it / but you don't like it, you love it." Now I get it: it's Weezer. But before we make comparisons to "Bohemian Rhapsody", we need to understand: it's Weezer.

That said, it's unlike anything they've ever done before. It's not the stand-alone masterpiece they probably hoped it would be, but it could be better in the context of an album. And hell, I didn't frankly expect this level of ambition out of Cuomo and Weezer; I thought they had lost all creative impulses. It's at least marginally reassuring to know that I was wrong about that much. There's something on this album. But two singles in, it's still hard to say exactly what.

-PTC

Record Review: Death Cab for Cutie - Narrow Stairs

Rating: 4.4 / 10.0

When we first announced this album here on NLtS, I said it was only a matter of when – not if – I’d get sick of indie rock’s favourite one-trick pony. I’m speaking, of course, of Death Cab for Cutie. Well, it happened. This album has fallen quite flat, and is one of the most impressively unimpressive records released so far this year. No record thus far has been so emphatic about making no strong statement whatsoever. I thought Coldplay would win that award outright, but it looks like even they’re going to try their hand at making music that someone might give a damn about in fifty years. No such ambition here. Apparently, Gibbard et. al. will be satisfied to soundtrack the next season of The Hills.

When Gibbard’s nasal tenor swooped in over the awkward tremolo guitars of “Bixby Canyon Bridge”, I realised how little I’d missed Death Cab. As he stammered his way through that same class of silly, angst-laden lyrics, I got nervous. And then, instead of leading into the shimmering hooky sort of indie pop I expected (I mean, come on, it’s Death Cab), it turned into some godawful grunge pound jam (think “Transatlanticism” on a bad acid trip) – where the dirty, distorted guitars and too-percussive drums supported a not-at-all-catchy-but-clearly-inspired-by-Built-to-Spill riff – that did this gross fade back into that original stilted melody to close out the track.

“I Will Possess Your Heart” definitely wins the “unnecessarily long intro” award. They tacked a seriously monotonous, four-minute self indulgence onto the beginning of a not-very-good pop song in hopes of dressing it up. It didn’t work. “Soul Meets Body” was no grand masterwork, but it had a great melody, and a hook that – love it or hate it – stuck with you. It accomplished its goal. “I Will Possess Your Heart” doesn’t really accomplish much of anything except make Ben Gibbard sound like one of those creepy graduate students that always hits on freshman girls at frat parties.

“I Will Possess Your Heart” is a story of a pathetic man who fantasizes about a girl who he could never have, but denies it on the basis of his non-existent scintillating personality and charm. Sounds tragically like a certain once-vital Seattle indie-rock band. This song is Death Cab’s foot-stomping insistence that they are good and relevant, dammit, and if you don’t think so, then you just don’t get it. At 30, I think it’s high time Ben Gibbard jettisoned the sexually frustrated, emotionally supersaturated pubescent male mindset.

Just as I was wondering who had shot and killed Death Cab’s love for pop music, “No Sunlight” came on. It’s a poppy number to be sure; ostensibly a purported return to “The Sound of Settling”…but it isn’t catchy. Like…at all. The melody isn’t well written, the chorus isn’t memorable, and the arrangement is at once crowded and banal. The song rides on the by now hackneyed juxtaposition between sad lyrics and happy music. But if you want that, go listen to an Eels record. At least E has something to be anxious about.

“Cath…” sacrifices musical sensibility for narrative. The song lacks direction; like the story (and hell, the whole record) itself, it seems to hover around a single idea without ever really settling into it. The result here, as on the rest of the album, is a generally unsatisfying listen.

The Wurlitzer tinged “Grapevine Fires” is by far the record’s best track. Harmonies are lush and pure, and the metric of the lyrics is arresting and smacks of what Death Cab probably should have become after Transatlanticism. Gibbard’s lyrics are less grating and more mellow here; the tones more round than sharp, the melodic intervals more natural and suited to his voice. The arrangement falls in nicely around the Wurlitzer and the best drumming Jason McGerr is probably capable of.

No Death Cab record would be complete without the token asinine extended metaphor, right? Enter "Long Division". As if the lyrics weren't bad enough, the diminished chords in the chorus are an abomination; the tri-tones don’t add depth, they just sound like a mistake. And for God’s sake, he’s singing about fucking division. Nobody likes fucking division. I hate fucking division.

I’m not even going to talk about the end of “Pity and Fear”. I’m not going to dignify it with a substantive response.

You know, in general, Chris Walla’s production has - until now - been good enough to draw my attention from all the things about Death Cab that annoyed me; namely, the lame ass rhythm section, the lame ass lyrics with their contrived academic character, the woefully one-dimensional and formulaic songwriting, and Ben Gibbard. But on Narrow Stairs, the production brings all these faults to the foreground. The production drowns potentially good ideas and leaves bare all the worst melodies and hooks, for all to revel in their mediocrity.

Clearly though, it’s not all Walla’s fault. This production style wouldn't be so bad if the hooks and melodies were worth a damn. The attention to melody that marked DCFC’s previous releases is completely lost on this LP. In their desire to experiment, they have abandoned the last thing that made them relevant: their pop sensibility. I’m no huge Death Cab fan, but whenever I listen to their previous work, I can’t help but hum it later. Not so with this record.

Despite all these flaws, Narrow Stairs is a record that is very difficult to outright pan. It takes no risks whatsoever, so it can’t really fall completely flat on its face. This is yet another frustratingly bland effort from a band that seems to dig deeper into its comfort zone with every release. There is a flash of what might be brilliance (or maybe just dumb luck) - "Grapevine Fires" - on a record that is invincible in its mediocrity. This record is evidence that Death Cab has precious little more to offer the music world unless they take a real risk.

-PTC

Record Review: Sun Kil Moon - April

Rating: 9.2 / 10.0

Greatness never seems to come where you expect it. This year, it's come largely from young bands; an upstart band of pretentious Ivy Leaguers won our hearts on their debut, a relatively unknown Los Angeles freak-folk outfit shocked us all with a fantastic second LP, and a British dance group made it not lame to like dance music again.

The veterans have been pretty quiet this year, except for the old familiar mainstays of folk music. Not long ago, you read a review of John Darnielle's Mountain Goats' Heretic Pride here on NLtS, and now here you are reading a review of yet another exceptional folk album by yet another largely unheralded artist: Mark Kozalek aka Sun Kil Moon.

I've always been disappointed by Kozalek's previous work. I come out of his records usually thinking that they could have been great if certain things had been changed, or if this one song hadn't been on there. In short, most of his work seemed unfinished, or a little bit rushed. I didn't think about Mark Kozalek much except when he released a new album, and every time he did, I would listen to it hoping for the brilliance I knew he was capable of. Until April, that brilliance was just a hope.

This is not an album for the faint of heart or the short of attention span - the quickest number on the record clocks in at 3:56, but most are well over five minutes - but it is by far among the most gratifying records of the year thus far. It is a record that is low on kitcsch, affectations, and gimmicks and rife with competency and honesty. It is the darker Mountain Goats; in many senses, Kozalek's lyrics are more the musings of an everyman and less those of a lyricist.

All of the record's strengths are exemplified on the opening track, "Lost Verses", a meandering nine minute folk epic, a haunting meditation on memories both sweet to have and painful to have lost. Kozalek's delivery is simple, unhurried, and relaxed. Indeed, Kozalek's vocals have never been better. They are confident but reserved, honest but always tasteful (this holds true throughout the record). Behind this, acoustic guitar gently lilts with atmospheric supporting vocals anchoring down his wispy melody.

April is the barest of records; the arrangements are sparse and simple; the record flies beautifully on the strength of its songs. Instead of sounding barren, it instead comes off as fragile and vulnerable, and strikingly beautiful. The songs weave tales of romance and of loss, sung by Kozalek's sweet, rich, gloomy baritone.

For fans of folk, April is an absolute must-listen. Skeptics should stand to attention, because this record is a strong (if perhaps a surprise) contender for album of the year. It's taken a few different albums under a few different monikers, but we finally have Mark Kozalek's magnum opus. It's been worth the wait.

-PTC

Record Review Omnibus

As much as we'd like to, NLtS simply cannot post a full-fledged review of every significant album that comes out. But, seeing as the year is nearly half gone with so much quality music unspoken for, we're posting this as a way of offering more complete coverage. Since we're doing this quick and dirty, half points out of five will be given rather than our normal album scoring.


These New Puritans - Beat Pyramid
This debut immediately brings to mind something like Klaxons, but tastefully restrained. The half year's only dance album that didn't make me feel silly.
4.5/5.0








The Last Shadow Puppets - The Age of the Understatement
Take one of the best young British lyricists around and drop him into a swanky spy film, with a scrappy harmonizing sidekick. Deliciously over-produced and totally unique.
4.0/5.0








Colin Meloy - Sings Live!
Not quite Live at Jittery Joe's, Meloy steps away from his formidable band and delivers a treat to the faithful. The uninitiated may find it a miss.
3.0/4.0








Flight of the Conchords - S/T
An upgrade from the jumble of EPs and mp3 rips previously available, but nothing new and many of the songs suffer from the full studio treatment. Still, this may be the only comedy album this year worth wading through.
3.5/5.0







R.E.M. - Accelerate
While Smashing Pumpkins proved last year that a band already in Cooperstown could release some real garbage, Stipe & Co. put forth a competent album adrift in the no-man-but-Kings-of-Leon's land between commerciality and genuine creativity.
3.0/5.0







The Kooks - Konk
Their debut was ill-conceived but well-executed. Here, there's not a single salvageable musical idea.
1.0/5.0











The Dodos - Visiter
Something out of San Francisco that's not horrific electro or punk? One of the year's few surprises.
5.0/5.0









Hercules and Love Affair - S/T
Just that side of esoteric as to be unenjoyable. Give me Lightning Bolt or Megadeth before this one. James Murphy devotees will find something to like here and there.
2.5/5.0

-RJR

Track Review: Coldplay - "Violet Hill"

Rating: 3.3 / 5.0

In a lot of ways, this track is a step forward for Coldplay, to be sure and fair. The production has jettisoned the alienating sterility of prior releases, and Brian Eno has replaced it with a noisy, almost proggy style that smacks of something like Explosions in the Sky, enveloping Martin's gentle whine in a sea of more-distorted-than-ever guitars and huge cymbals. Production carries this song rather than the songwriting itself (which I think was a wise choice); the drama of the song is in whatever dynamism it can muster (briefly, going from loud to louder and then from louder to reallyreallyreally soft at the end) rather than in any inherent structural quality. But that's just my indie snobbery coming in. Props to the band; joking apart, there's been progress since the debacle that was X&Y.

But it's important to keep in mind that this is a step forward...for Coldplay. It's a predictable and uncertain step, a step into the uncharted territory that Coldplay always seemed to want to pioneer but was never quite up to. It sounds as though the band is fighting for vitality outside of the arena-rock...arena; they seem to want to have their name spoken in the same breath not as U2, but as Radiohead. Problem is, there are still the typical Coldplay-isms here: most obviously the heart-on-sleeve lyrics and the stripped-bare piano based final chorus where Chris Martin takes it down an octave to make things intimate/show his range. So while they may be after vitality and an honour I'm not sure they will ever have (or that they even deserve), but they've made an honest effort here. Unlike their last single ("Speed of Sound"), this track implies that the album to come will maybe take some risks. Whether they will be up to delivering remains to be seen. We'll be watching, of course.

-PTC

Record Review: Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours

Rating: 8.4 / 10.0

It seems like everyone and their mother has put out a dance record. This makes it really hard to find the people that are actually good at it. Dance has become a genre - not unlike folk - that so many people want to get in on that it becomes easy to get lost in the (sizeable) shuffle. It's alarming to hear the amount of hookless crap with uncreative beats and shoddy production floating around out there masquerading as dance music. Just go to the iTunes Music Store and do a genre search for "Dance" to see for yourself; I'll not name names.

In my mind, in a climate such as this, those who do well by the genre should be more richly praised for it. The sophomore album from Melbourne's Cut Copy, In Ghost Colours, is a record that proves the band's dedication to the genre, if not their unparalleled prowess. They are not the best act in dance music today - not even close - but I don't think that anyone could have reasonably hoped for a better record from this crew.

The band carefully infuses their electropop with a rock sensibility - from the "ooh, ooh, ooh"s in the stunning opening track, "Feel the Love". "Lights & Music" incorporates a guitar and vocals breakdown just shy of three minutes that evokes the one between Justin Timberlake's "LoveStoned / I Think She Knows Interlude" from FutureSex / LoveSounds - mind you, that breakdown was one of the better moments on that record. The record even has what I regard to be pure rock songs in "Midnight Runner", which leads seamlessly into the Killers-inspired and insanely catchy "So Haunted".

This album is cohesive on two key levels. First, the songs lead nicely into one another. The album has a definite and sensible arc to it that makes it a much more interesting listen. The songs themselves are also wonderfully organised on a track by track level. The band weds seemingly incompatible elements to create a wonderful atmosphere; this is clearer nowhere than when synthesiser and saxophone blend to beautiful effect on "Hearts on Fire". Generally speaking, In Ghost Colours is never too bare but never too crowded - a balance which is very difficult to achieve. The guitars often take centre stage - they are much more creatively employed than the synthesisers, which is perhaps odd for a dance record, but certainly is refreshing. While LCD Soundsystem's last album payed stronger homage to the electronic side of his sound, Cut Copy has erred on the side of punk, allowing them for a more nuanced record with more varied sound.

Despite the diversity on this record, however, there is still a sameness to it that is curious. It's perhaps due to Whitford's limitations as a vocalist - his range is limited, and he doesn't force the issue or take many risks with it. There are none of the yelps and shouts here that we might find on an LCD Soundsystem record. Whitford is probably a better vocalist than James Murphy, but he is also visibly diffident here, as most of the vocal performances are scripted, diffident, and universally reserved. This impression is all the more strident given the amount of interesting things going on instrumentally. Additionally, while the songwriting is strong, the individual talents of the band members as musicians struggles to keep up, as evidenced by some of the songs that seem to be crying out for a sharper beat, or a lead guitar line. These are ornaments which Cut Copy seem unable to provide, and while their absence doesn't make the record bad, it keeps it from being great. But please, dont' get me wrong. This is a very good, hugely enjoyable record, one that is the result more of dedication to the craft than of pure talent. Take a lesson, children: hard work pays off.

-PTC

Track Review: Weezer - "Pork and Beans"

Rating: 3.9 / 5.0

"I'm going to do the things that I want to do, / I ain't got a thing to prove to you."

So sings messiah-turned-pariah Rivers Cuomo in the chorus to the lead single from Weezer's forthcoming Red LP. Well, it's about god damn time. It's been a hell of a long ride, but this song shows the potential for a return to the charming, self-deprecating form that made Weezer so endearing on their previous and manicoloured eponymous records and the legendary Pinkerton.

This is the Weezer we - or at least I - used to love: incisive (that one line about Timbaland is damn good), nerdy, masterfully, effortlessly walking the line between schtick and satire. It's not perfect (the lyrics sound a lot like a throwback and aren't necessarily the work of a Rivers Cuomo on the very top of his game), it's not as good as the stuff off Blue, but it's the biggest bounce back imaginable from "Beverly Hills" that was realistically possible. It was enough to compel me to suspend my cynicism until I hear the whole record. Consider me aboard the bandwagon (lonely as I may be).

-PTC

Record Review: Tapes 'n Tapes - Walk It Off

When we last left Tapes 1, Tapes 2, 'n, and the other 'n; their most natural step was backward. The Loon was swelling with so many ideas: 90s slacker rock and 00s garage blues battled for supremacy, an instrumental track, few familiar checkpoints from any of the dominant scenes. In short, it was a beautiful mess. It would have been easy enough to retreat to lamer ground: witness Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin's move from TnT's kitchen sink approach on Broom to the play-it-safe Pershing. Producer David Fridmann and the band clearly had something to say on Walk It Off, though.

TnT really come into their own on this record, refining their sound a great deal. They continue to split between Pavement and The Black Keys. Fridmann puts the pieces together nicely: drums and vocals right up front, with crunchy guitar and organ filling in. The band meshes best on "Hang Them All", which may be the year's best rock song so far, and "Demon Apple". Josh Grier's vocals still cover the range of distorted howls and Isaac Brock's passionate growl/yelp. With the general refinement of their sound, the band have landed dead centre in Modest Mouse territory, with a dash of post-Strokes rhythm tossed in.

Grier's lyrics are certainly the weak point of the album. While his material on The Loon was something like clever inscrutability a la Thom Yorke, this time around, they're just vague. This is worrying, as guitar riffs have become less central and the record risks becoming a drummer's showcase with a vocalist yelling tough guy-like slogans like "over line!" into the microphone.

Still, this reviewer appreciates the honesty of Walk It Off. Tapes 'n Tapes owe nothing to spacey LA, hungover New York, whiny Omaha, or overwrought Toronto. They don't wheel out the harpsichord or 40 piece orchestra. They mayn't be trying something new, but they're trying something fresh: making a rock and roll record.

8.0/10.0

-RJR

Record Review: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks - Real Emotional Trash

Rating: 7.1 / 10.0

I'm one of those people who instinctively loves everything Stephen Malkmus does because of what he did with Pavement. For whatever reason, I can't divorce him from his influence on modern day indie rock. I'm not saying I enjoy Pig Lib as much as Slanted and Enchanted, I just like it more because it bears that inextricable link to Pavement, a band that has long held a very special place in my heart.

I don't think I'm alone in this; many a dedicated indie kid has a soft spot for Malkmus. And if not Malkmus, then some other influential and enigmatic indie/alternative pioneer - Thom Yorke, Michael Stipe, whoever you like. I also don't think it's a bad thing; the second we fail to be sentimentally, emotionally connected to and affected by music is the second we should stop listening to music. But it certainly was interesting to review this record. I thought I would unflinchingly laud it; but taking a really good look at it has made me aware of some of the flaws that Malkmus has come to accumulate over time.

Let's focus on the positives first. Malkmus sounds to have settled into himself as a guitarist and into the Jicks as a band. The instrumental work here sounds more liberated and adventurous. "Out of Reaches" features a Wurlitzer breakdown leading into a wonderful guitar solo. The title track stretches out for a thrilling 10 minutes, with an expansive jam in the middle. The mix is rich and full, the drums are more active (fully equipped with fills and syncopated beats). This record sounds more like The Jicks and Stephen Malkmus. And that's not a bad thing. The sound of the record is more casual, more relaxed, and strangely more accessible than most of his catalogue to date while simultaneously taking more musical risks.

Ironically, it is perhaps my love for Malkmus and his work with Pavement that stained this record in my eyes, from a critical standpoint. Instead of seeing a Malkmus channeling his past, I saw him at times clinging to it. The lo-fi lyrical and melodic idiosyncrasy that sounded so effortless and natural with Pavement, sometimes sounds more forced here. The meandering, unfocused narrative of "Hopscotch Willie" betrays the clarity of purpose and attention to detail Malkmus's lyrics used to have (even after Pavement; just listen to "Vanessa from Queens"). There are exceptions to this, the most notable being the standout track "Gardenia". His observations in this song are, like the central metaphor, keen, incisive, and full of charm.

The hi-fi production is something I've never been able to get used to whenever Stephen Malkmus is concerned. In this case, it makes his lyrics sound ridiculous at times. The contrast between the sharp sophistication of the production and the childish whimsy of the lyrics is sometimes charming, but sometimes unwieldy and awkward, like on "Dragonfly Pie" and "Elmo Delmo".

What does this all add up to? For some, it will be a bitter pill to swallow, but Stephen Malkmus - though he might try to fight it - is maturing. The final two songs on Real Emotional Trash belie this fact, especially "We Can't Help You", a world-wearied piano ballad (I know, right?) that reveals the more pessimistic, grounded side of Stephen Malkmus. "There's no common goal / There's no moral action / There's no modern age / From which to run away / There's no grace in love / With a new projection / There's no sky above / For you to cry into." I've never heard it before, but Malkmus sounds genuinely tired as he intones these somewhat hopeless lyrics. It's as though all the tomfoolery that preceded this song was all some kind of ruse to keep our spirits high in a world where there mightn't be much to relish. Perhaps the record's greatest success is also it's most fatal flaw: that Malkmus tries and fails to stay true to his youthful caprice, only to descend, even if briefly, into the depths of adult angst. It may not be consistent, but it's honest and it's genuine. And it's Malkmus.

-PTC

Live: The Mountain Goats 2/29

First off, yes, I know.

After two forgettable, indeed, forgotten openers, New York's Jeffrey Lewis took the Bimbo's 365 stage with his band, the Jitters. Considering the deadly serious intent of The Mountain Goats, they were an excellent appetiser. The set began with a spoken word bit about the many facets of Top Ramen. Also included were three songs with storybook visual accompaniment telling the tale of a violent but wise brain and Lewis' days as a hippie. "The Last Time I Took Acid I Went Insane" left few sides unsplit. It wasn't all laughs, though. Many of his songs turned on his audience, launching into meta-indie commentary including one about an encounter with Bonnie Prince Billy/Will Oldham on an el train that left him feeling cold. Lewis' quick wit and lack of pretense was quite charming, enriching his infectious material.





In contrast, John Darnielle's Mountain Goats were a portrait of professionalism. All three were in suits and presented a set spanning The Mountain Goats' existence, plus nearly the entirety of early Album of the Year contender Heretic Pride. The three piece rock set-up was highly novel, considering the variety of arrangement and style present on their studio recordings. Earlier songs that are essentially tape hiss, guitar, and Darnielle and recent material incorporating strings, choirs, and all manner of John Vanderslice trickery were all run through the same mill into straight-ahead rockers. Mighty egalitarian. The Heretic Pride tracks especially were born anew with a simple band and a heap of energy, as simplicity and heat were two qualities in short supply on HP.



That massive back catalogue must weigh on John Darnille, as he was unable to get past the introduction to "Marduk T-Shirt", forgetting the chords, and later had trouble with his effects pedals. Peter Hughes was channeling Carlos D's dress, swagger, and playing style quite strikingly. Perhaps Carlos D is channeling Peter Hughes? Darnille followed the set with a solo encore before closing with full-band renditions of "This Year" and "Going to Georgia". Professional, stylish, legendary.



-RJR

Record Review: The Handcuffs - Model for a Revolution

Rating: 0.9 / 10.0

It's hard to know where to begin, so I just did a track by track. The record sucks. Someone please teach these people how to write a chorus.

"Car Crash": I think I'd like this song better if it was the lead track to a good (or a decent) record. It's got some charm - the fuzzy guitars contrasted with the shuffling drums got my foot tapping, a vibrophone-tinged chorus with listenable harmonies, a punchy beat with sharp, snappy snare - the melody was a bit weak, but I forgave.

But as the rest of the record shows, everything that went right on this song was a) purely an accident, and b) gone forever. It's all downhill from here.

"All Shine On": The piano falls flatter than flat on this song, and singer Chloe F. Orwell bites off more than she can chew here (that is, trying to sing a melody). She doesn't have a pretty voice, so her voice isn't particularly well suited to this song. I hadn't lost all hope for this record at this point.

"Mickey 66": There are some bad choruses on this record, but I think this one takes the cake. What's really sad is that I think they probably envisioned this as "the hit" on the record. At this point, I knew the record could not and would not be salvaged.

"Can't Get the Girl": Relationship advice from Chloe F. Orwell:
-"If you want to get a little, you better have a lot."
-"You can't get the girl without the good stuff, baby"
-"A little bit of dough is more bang for your buck."
-"A good sense of humour might bring you good luck."
-"If you want all the goods, you better have a good trait. Add a little respect, and you might get laid."
-"The more you giveth, the more you receive."
-"If you want the good stuff, it never is free."
-"You can show me the money, you can play the part, but it won't mean a thing if it's not from the heart."

Put these vague, clichéd aphorisms into practice, and you will be irresistible to women. Thank Ms Orwell later.

"Love Me All the Way": This song sucks.

"Peggy Moffitt": "Peggy Moffitt, you're an inspiration, / original, not the imitation". I actually didn't order a side order of irony with my bad album, so can you take this song back? Oh yeah, the keyboard patch will piss you off if you notice it. In pointing out everything great about Moffitt - the fact that she was "ultra-modern, avant-garde," that she had "got it all," and that "we could never have too much of [her]," etc., The Handcuffs have simultaneously and unwittingly listed all their flaws as a band.

"I'm Not Laughing": If the Vines got the lead singer of the 5678s to sing for them...with ear plugs in so that she couldn't hear what key they were playing in, it would sound like this.

"Don't Be Afraid": "I Think I'm Paranoid" by Garbage called. It wants its sound back. Apparently the reverb-soaked, piano-polluted mess you called a chorus didn't convince anyone that you didn't rip off the other 97% of the song.

"Sex and Violins": I didn't need to be reminded that this pun existed.

"First Class Bossa Nova": Fifth class garbage. The spoken word breakdown is the lamest indulgence on an album that is one 40 minute, 21 second exercise in hackneyed rock-starisms.

"Beg Me Beg Me": I spent the entirety of the song, whether it was the awkwardly sexual, droning verses, or the punky, annoying staccato of Orwell's vocals in the atrocious chorus, begging her begging her to stop singing.

"Jet Baby": Ripping your piano track from Louis XIV is never ever a good idea (those octaves sound just like that one song Louis XIV wrote about having sex with a lot of chicks. You know which one I'm talking about).

-PTC

Record Review: Foals - Antidotes

Rating: 4.1 / 10.0

I'll give you the bad news first. Think Bloc Party meets The Futureheads and they become obseesed with their ambition to be loved by all of England. That is Antidotes, the debut LP from Oxford's Foals, in a nutshell. It's not particularly original. The whole gang of quintessential indie touches is here: funky guitars, horns, "ba ba dah"s, what have you. I mean, it's dance-punky Britpop. Yannis Philippakis is yet another lead singer in a Britpop band to flaunt his regional accent like it's a goddamned prize. It's the most narcissistic, self-aware, contrived record I've heard in a while. There is nothing close to a natural impulse on this record. It never even sniffs of organic. All it is is fake, polished, and prepared.

But for all the grandstanding and pretence of this record, I think it warrants saying that it's still a pretty interesting listen. Okay. It's a britpop record that delivers everything you would expect from a britpop record and nothing - absolutely nothing - that you wouldn't. The hooks are pretty memorable and decently good. The production is very slick and clean (they axed Dave Sitek's - of TV on the Radio fame - mix because there it had too much reverb). Generally speaking, this band takes a page right out of Bloc Party's (circa Silent Alarm) playbook, and throws in more of a punk sensibility. If it didn't sound so sterile, I would be more inclined to excuse this lack or originality. But as it is, this record is little more than flat-out forgery.

It's a shame, because they aren't bad musicians at all. Opening track "The French Open" is a jammy funk fest that allows the talented rhythm section to showcase its ample collective chops. The horns here settle into the support role they play throughout the record. Philippakis's Kele Okereke-inspired chanting/yelping vocal style dominates here and throughout the record, and is inevitably proves to be the weakest link in an otherwise strong - if unoriginal - sound. "Red Socks Pugie" is the most blatant show of laziness with regard to coming up with a decent melody, but the rest of the band creates a tight framework where no shortage of melodies could very comfortably be incorporated. "Two Steps, Twice" is the most shameful exercise in Bloc Party apery (though "Tron" and "Electric Bloom" are right up there too). They don't actually do a terrible job in sounding like Bloc Party, but it sounds like they're trying so damn hard that it ceases to be impressive.

So everything you will hear here has already been done better by someone else. But there's something intangible here...something like talent. I think Foals could, at one stage, be a great band that puts out great albums, provided that they just get over themselves first. This record is brimming with promise (despite what the rating may imply), but it shows a band far too concerned with what everybody else thinks about them. It's hard to beat Bloc Party at their own game. So I think Foals should redirect their efforts to figuring out what Foals sound like, and then trying to sculpt their next record around that sound. Just a suggestion.

-PTC

Record Review: The Raconteurs - Consolers of the Lonely

Rating: 6.0 / 10.0

Say what you will about them, but The Raconteurs took the world by storm a few years back with their debut, Broken Boy Soldiers. That record was more than susceptible to criticism, but what could not be denied about it and the band that produced it (and anyone who saw them perform live, this blogger included, will attest to it) was that both possessed an infectious and raucous energy. The big question leading into their sophomore effort, Consolers of the Lonely, then, was whether that energy could endure. Was it the product of their being on the same page musically, or was it the product of them all being excited to be part of a new project?

Consolers of the Lonely splits the difference between the two, but errs on the side of the latter. It is less dependent upon raw energy and more dependent upon the members' musical skill - displays of tight rhythmic aplomb and dynamic command. When it works, it works. They generate energy without needing to turn the speakers up to eleven, and the effect is powerful. But it doesn't always work. Sometimes the songs are just flat out boring, with no dynamic direction, no builds, no climaxes.

The Raconteurs have expanded their instrumental palette here; incorporating piano, organ, moog, horns, and even fiddle onto this record. There is much more sonic variety, but it is clear that they don't quite know when to use what instruments. Sometimes, like on "Old Enough", they bring in too many instruments and change the stylistic trajectory of the song for the worse. "Old Enough" should not have been a countrified, fiddle-laden square-dance number. Vocal hooks abound, and they would have been better suited to an approach like the one taken on "Hands" on the band's debut. Other times, like "Top Yourself", there isn't enough going on. This track would have benefitted from a little piano sprinkled in to support the electric guitar. When the piano finally does come in (with fifteen seconds to go), it's nowhere near soon enough. "These Stones Will Shout" is also too spare; by the time it actually does pick up, you will have lost interest, I promise, but you will get a taste of what the song should have sounded like: Benson and White's vocals blending seamlessly in front of straight ahead electric guitar.

Sometimes, they get it right. They are well-served by stepping out of their comfort zone on standout track "You Don't Understand Me" boasts a stunning interaction between piano and guitar with an instrumental breakdown that is perfectly tailored to be played live. "Carolina Drama" is the only good "mellow" song on the whole record; a wonderful collage of measures of rhythmic tightness, flashing glimpses of lead guitar, splashes of piano and fiddle (tasteful, this time), with an electric rhythm guitar lurking back in the mix, occasionally rising to prominence. On the other side of things, "Hold Up" is another fantastic track that shows a band playing to its strengths. A talented group of musicians with nearly unparalleled proficiency on their respective instruments with, all supporting the phenomenal guitar work of Jack White. Sadly, this is the only track where this happens.

We - or I - took it for granted that they would never make the wrong choice about who should sing a given song, but they make a few missteps here. Benson takes a crack at "Many Shades of Black", a tune that was written and arranged (beautifully) for Jack White's voice; it would have blended wonderfully with the rich mix of horns, offbeat accented guitars, and keyboards. I love Brendan Benson's voice, but it sounds out of place on this song. The next two songs show the band making the opposite mistake. Behind Jack White's monotone whine on "Five on the Five" can be heard the remnants of a carefully sculpted pop melody that needs the Benson touch. "Attention" shows Jack White trying to sound like Brendan Benson, with disastrous effect. Why try and mimic him when you've got the real thing on hand?

Consolers of the Lonely showcases all of the strengths and the weaknesses that were lurked beneath the surface of Broken Boy Soldiers. It shows The Raconteurs' ability both to take risks successfully as well as their fallibility as arrangers. It evidences their tightness, but also their inconsistency as a songwriting entity. We see their willingness to create energy without cranking up the volume and drive, but sometimes it gets a little boring. It's the classic sophomore slump, from a band that is trying to find its sea-legs, with varying degrees of success. Hopefully, the third record will show lessons learned.

-PTC

Record Review: Gnarls Barkley - The Odd Couple

Rating: 4.9 / 10.0

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

I got really excited a few weeks ago when I heard "Run (I'm A Natural Disaster)" the lead single from Gnarls Barkley's sophomore effort The Odd Couple. I remember thinking that if that song was in any way a portent of what was to come on the record, then Gnarls Barkley would succeed in proving that they had more than just a novelty. What made that song, and St. Elsewhere for that matter, so great were the adventurous arrangements. They got your ears working and kept your foot tapping, brilliantly walking the line between catchy and edgy. The sound "Run" had was thick, with a multi-layered mix supported by a strong beat.

The Odd Couple is neither as catchy nor as edgy as is predecessor or its lead single. Very few of the songs on this record have the sort of get-up=and-go that was found on every track of St. Elsewhere. While I was never bored listening to Gnarls's debut, I found myself waiting for a lot of the songs on The Odd Couple to end.

Some songs are flat out boring ("Who's Gonna Save My Soul"), some songs have atrocious beats (try tapping your feet to "Open Book"), and others have weak or weird arrangements ("Would Be Killer"). Cee-Lo puts forth another exceptional vocal performance (with the exception of his grating, nasal, frankly godawful performance on "Whatever"); he's probably the strongest suit on this record. He picks up the slack created by the weak production as best he can, but often times, his vocals are left to fend from themselves in the midst of a mix that is sometimes too cluttered and sometimes too bare.

The songwriting suffers considerably on this effort too. St. Elsewhere was full of unforgettable vocal hooks and stunning harmonies. The same cannot be said of The Odd Couple. On "No Time Soon", Danger Mouse tries to throw laser noises and a weak lead guitar line into the mix to cover up a song that is without a hook or a beat to latch onto. "Blind Mary" is another example of a song that sounds like the product of laziness - the harmonies are few and uninspiring, and there is no real melodic arc to speak of.

Don't get me wrong, this record is not a total disaster. "Going On" is a great track, probably a standout. Here, the familiar thickness in Gnarls's sound comes through in spades, with a simple but catchy beat anchoring down an arrangement with all the swells, ebbs, and flows, that made "Crazy" so compelling. "Surprise" is another good tune - with a sparse, guitar-based verse leading into a wonderful, hand-clapping, harmony-laden chorus. "Neighbour" isn't bad either, with a warm, full, attention-grabbing arrangement, and a vocal performance from Cee-Lo that will give you shivers.

The feeling I get here is that the record was rushed (ironic that the release date was pushed up). It doesn't feel as well thought-out as St. Elsewhere, in fact, it makes many of the mistakes that St. Elsewhere so skillfully and surprisingly avoided. The quality of the record is derived from one member (which makes the album's title ironic; God, these guys just love the unintentional, unfortunate, and borderline infuriating twists of irony, don't they?). I guess you could say that The Odd Couple is what St. Elsewhere should have been: a cut-corners, hit-and-miss effort, a couple of singles with lots of filler. If I had never heard St. Elsewhere, I might have liked The Odd Couple more. I mean, maybe.

-PTC

Track Review: Death Cab for Cutie - "I Will Possess Your Heart"

You may not believe it, but this is to be the lead single off of Death Stairs' forthcoming Narrow Cab LP. Or whatever. After about a three minute, ultra-lame jam with DCfC's equally lame rhythm section and piano with a surprisingly pleasant tone, B Gib's familiar yawn comes in. The lyrics are pretty typical Gibbard. The details are cutesy, with the occasional odd choice of diction ("possess your heart", really?). He's actually doing some kind interesting stuff vocally, here, which is a nice improvement. The arrangement probably harms this otherwise innocuous song the most, probably. Any time a new section began or a new instrument enters, the transition is botched. After the aforementioned three minute jam, Gibbard comes in sounding off-beat. The bridge just sort of appears and drum tracks switch on and off mechanically. Maybe Chris Walla thinks he's being avant-garde? It's not even crappy-catchy like their last two albums, where a thousand radio plays could eventually get you to tap your foot and nod along all consumer sheep-like. I don't see anyone liking this song much at any point.

1.9/5.0

If you like, you can stream at their Myspace, too.

myspace.com/deathcabforcutie

-RJR

Record Review: Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago

Rating: 7.4 / 10.0

Folk is a tough genre. It takes quite a bit of moxie to presume that you can sit down and record a great album with little more than an acoustic guitar and your pipes. It takes an equal (or greater) amount of talent and skill to make good on that presumption. That's why a lot of the best folk acts out there - Okkervil River and Sufjan Stevens spring to mind - are not really folk acts, strictly speaking. Will Sheff and co. inject their folk with a healthy dose of good, old fashioned rock and roll (especially on their last album, 2007's brilliant The Stage Names), and the veritable orchestra that you'll find traveling with Sufjan hardly fits the folk mould. We don't need to dig too deep to find artists that have fallen flat trying to emulate Nick Drake. Look no further than Alexi Murdoch, a talented fingerpicker with a knack for songwriting who produced one of the most boring albums of 2006 simply due to a dogmatic adherence to simplicity.

I don't know if anyone has what it takes to pull of the pure folk thing anymore. I don't want to sound like a prophet of doom, but we don't have a modern day Johnny Cash. We don't have an heir apparent to Nick Drake or to James Taylor or to Cat Stevens. These were giants of folk music in the traditional sense whose work has not, in my experience, ever been imitated convincingly. Rather, they lay the foundation for an evolution of folk music that has been successful, one that incorporated it into the indie mindset that many songwriters espouse. Attempts at "pure" folk in the vein of the late greats, however, are rarely particularly successful.

So on his debut, For Emma, Forever Ago, Justin Vernon aka Bon Iver is taking a risk. Vernon tries to keep it purely folk. The mix is spare; with little more than acoustic gutiar and bass drum to compliment the vocals. For the most part, this record is a guy with a guitar and a great voice.

But what a voice. I'm inclined to say that few artists - let alone folk artists - have voices with such versatility. On "Flume", he manages to evoke the shrill pain of a Spencer Krug, while on "Skinny Love", he channels the soul of Tunde Adebimpe. And on "Creature Fear", his voice is all Vernon's, soft, soulful, weaving meandering melodies that swirl between deep croons and soaring (but never grating) falsettos.

The versatility of his voice, however, fails to make up for the sameness of the arrangements. In fact, the dynamic character of Vernon’s voice isn’t well suited to the sort of arrangements he presents on this record. There is a disconnect between his distinctive voice and the vanilla arrangements, such that it detracts from the overall quality of the album. The first seven tracks sound more or less like one long track. "For Emma" is a bit more upbeat, with splashes of horns to compliment the vocals and guitar. Sadly, the melody on this track is the weakest one on the whole record. It makes me wonder why Vernon didn't approach every other song that way - the songs with stronger melodies and lusher harmonies could have benefitted from such strokes of instrumental creativity.

I don't think I could say it enough that I cannot get enough of Vernon's voice. But ultimately, this is a record that doesn't know when it's appropriate to pull out the bells and whistles. It is restrained to the point of sounding self-conscious, timid to a fault. Vernon’s next release would do well to be a sight more ostentatious.

-PTC

Track Review: Black '47: "Stars and Stripes"

Rating: 0.0 / 5.0

This is the most generous rating in the history of this blog.

-PTC

Record Review: Muse - HAARP: Live From Wembley Stadium

Recorded June 16, 2007, the HAARP CD is Muse's second live album. Anyone that listened to 2002's Hullabaloo was likely underwhelmed. Though it had that jaw-dropping Tom Waits intro, it ran somewhat short at 11 tracks and included lame b-sides "Agitated" and "In Your World". Having released two hugely successful albums since then, the Muse catalogue and live show have become legendary. I, for one, have seen them four times. It was high time their show was captured again.

After a fairly lame string intro, Muse follow Black Holes and Revelations tour orthodoxy and launch into the Guitar Hero wankery that is "Knights of Cydonia". They end, of course, with the stillborn "Take A Bow". In between, they do a pleasant range of songs from Origin of Symmetry, Absolution, and Black Holes and even include "Unintended" from debut Showbiz. It is well that they recorded a British show (with 90,000 close friends in attendance) as they tended to skimp on material pre-Absolution and a slow song like "Unintended" would be unheard of.

Their live reputation is well-served here, with every song played with ecstatic gusto. "New Born" and "Stockholm Syndrome" are quite unique live, taking on extended guitar solos, stretching out even longer than "Knights of Cydonia". Don't miss the end of "Knights" careening right into the hammer-on bass riff of "Hysteria". The presentation is way over the top and Muse are a spectacle not to be missed.

The source material has gotten decidedly weaker since Hullabaloo, with concise riff-based songs like "Plug In Baby" and "Citizen Erased" giving way to the synth- and pedal-laden radio singles "Knights of Cydonia" and "Invincible". As Matt Bellamy pushes farther off into bizarre keyboard sounds and wild guitar effects, his songwriting becomes increasingly mundane, with spacey verses giving way to familiar chorus hooks. While clearly an affinity for the Tom Morello and Kurt Cobain riffs still exists (not to mention Bach and Rachmaninoff), Muse are increasingly becoming a caricature of themselves, with 70s corporate rock songwriting hidden just beneath the web of conspiracies and UFOs.

Still, "Supermassive Black Hole" may have just breathed some creative life back into the band, where they take on Prince-like slinkyness and let dancing replace moshing. Will they continue to evolve into a dance/glam act, reclaim their roots, or just careen off into Foreigner territory? This fantastic live set could be their zenith. If so, let us revel.

7.9/10.0

-RJR

Track Review: Pete Francis - "Case of Bad Love"

Rating: 1.1 / 5.0

Pete Francis had a great thing going when he was with Dispatch. They rode the "college guys with guitars" wave with astonishing success. Since that group disbanded though, Francis, being forced to make it on his (limited) merits as a musician - has sort of fallen off the radar. But he's decided to soldier on; his new album Iron Sea and the Cavalry comes out next week. This song, "Case of Bad Love", is a preview of that album.

Simply put, it's as if Jack Johnson and Jimmy Buffett had a kid who wished he was Bob Dylan (and James Blunt was godfather). This is a work of meandering folk that is worse than Dispatch, and best described by it's own lyrics. Listening to this song is like "waiting for the pot to boil, but nothing's cooking." The song doesn't go anywhere. The arrangement is static and uninteresting (as is the songwriting; it's hard to tell where verse ends and chorus begins), leaving very little to distract attention from Francis's boyish, affected, vocals. He's not the greatest songwriter in the world - there are no hooks or ear-catching melodies here; and the lush harmonies and occasional splashes of horns from his Dispatch days are nowhere on this song.

I can't help but let my cynical side get the best of me and think that if this guy hadn't been in Dispatch, then this decidedly boring song would never have seen the light of day. But I'll reserve my judgment until I've heard the whole record. We can only hope he took some lessons from his days with Dispatch. I can't believe I just said that.

-PTC