12 July, 2008
Time to Get the Party Started
So Many Nights by the Australian band The Cat Empire, is a pumping party album. There are fifteen songs that set the mood for a night of swinging, swaying, and carousing.
Start with the title track, which bumps and and bounces like the best R&B and Soul music. Then try channeling the sensibility of "Panama", a laid-back summer song that would perfectly soundtrack the final hours of a beach party. "Fishies" has a strong Cuban flavor, but also reminds me of the slickness of the 1950s with zoot suits and big, shiny cars. "Sunny Moon" is a song full of contrasting textures. The horns pump in at full-blast, but are then replaced by rhythmic and monotone vocals. "Til The Ocean Takes Us All" has the deep groove of Sublime's best songs, but the vocals have a completely different sonic texture. The sounds are relaxed, but they aren't mellow. "No Mountain" has a reggae loop, and a bass line that rises and falls like the ocean on a calm day. "So Long" is anything but calm, it's a smashing sign off with heavy brass and an insane organ/percussion mix. "No Longer There" is a soft song where crying guitars, piano melodies, and vocal harmonies meld to form a nice song for the quiet hours of the night. This song would make nice sleeping music, but it's one of only a few on the album that really chills out. "Lonely Moon" feels very calypso, while "Radio Song" has undoubted roots in Latin American music and Afro-pop. The rhythm is so strong on these songs, and on most of the songs on the album, that you have to give great credit to the percussion section (Felix Riebl, Will Hull Brown, and Jamshid Khadiwhala) and the bassist (Ryan Monro) who keep everything grooving with precision. "The Darkness" is very experimental, with Middle Eastern and Asian musical influences found alongside hard rock and hip-hop vibes. "Voodoo Cowboy" combines klezmer, swing, psychedelic rock, and American Western style music. It's an amazing explosion of sound-flavors, and it's also very catchy. "Strong Coffee" can keep the party going into the wee hours of the morning, with a punchy melody and a slamming horn solo. "Won't Be Afraid" slides and whirls around a chorus that's boosted by the perfect horn play. The Cat Empire masters of brass are Harry James Angus (full-time member) and Kieran Conrau and Ross Irwin (basically full-time members, who aren't listed as such for reasons I do not know). As a group, they seamlessly weave their horns together, sliding inside and outside of the rhythm and guiding the melodies of the songs. "Wanted to Write A Love Song" starts off like "King of Bongo" by Mano Negra, but then soars into a strong chorus that tangos until the last notes of the album.
So Many Nights never stops being fun or interesting. There's enough continuity to make the songs cohesive, but enough experimentation to keep the listener far from boredom. These are the traits that make So Many Nights such a great party album, but it's the perfect combination of horns, rhythm, and guitar and piano melodies that will keep you dancing from the time the sun sets until the time the sun rises again.
Start with the title track, which bumps and and bounces like the best R&B and Soul music. Then try channeling the sensibility of "Panama", a laid-back summer song that would perfectly soundtrack the final hours of a beach party. "Fishies" has a strong Cuban flavor, but also reminds me of the slickness of the 1950s with zoot suits and big, shiny cars. "Sunny Moon" is a song full of contrasting textures. The horns pump in at full-blast, but are then replaced by rhythmic and monotone vocals. "Til The Ocean Takes Us All" has the deep groove of Sublime's best songs, but the vocals have a completely different sonic texture. The sounds are relaxed, but they aren't mellow. "No Mountain" has a reggae loop, and a bass line that rises and falls like the ocean on a calm day. "So Long" is anything but calm, it's a smashing sign off with heavy brass and an insane organ/percussion mix. "No Longer There" is a soft song where crying guitars, piano melodies, and vocal harmonies meld to form a nice song for the quiet hours of the night. This song would make nice sleeping music, but it's one of only a few on the album that really chills out. "Lonely Moon" feels very calypso, while "Radio Song" has undoubted roots in Latin American music and Afro-pop. The rhythm is so strong on these songs, and on most of the songs on the album, that you have to give great credit to the percussion section (Felix Riebl, Will Hull Brown, and Jamshid Khadiwhala) and the bassist (Ryan Monro) who keep everything grooving with precision. "The Darkness" is very experimental, with Middle Eastern and Asian musical influences found alongside hard rock and hip-hop vibes. "Voodoo Cowboy" combines klezmer, swing, psychedelic rock, and American Western style music. It's an amazing explosion of sound-flavors, and it's also very catchy. "Strong Coffee" can keep the party going into the wee hours of the morning, with a punchy melody and a slamming horn solo. "Won't Be Afraid" slides and whirls around a chorus that's boosted by the perfect horn play. The Cat Empire masters of brass are Harry James Angus (full-time member) and Kieran Conrau and Ross Irwin (basically full-time members, who aren't listed as such for reasons I do not know). As a group, they seamlessly weave their horns together, sliding inside and outside of the rhythm and guiding the melodies of the songs. "Wanted to Write A Love Song" starts off like "King of Bongo" by Mano Negra, but then soars into a strong chorus that tangos until the last notes of the album.
So Many Nights never stops being fun or interesting. There's enough continuity to make the songs cohesive, but enough experimentation to keep the listener far from boredom. These are the traits that make So Many Nights such a great party album, but it's the perfect combination of horns, rhythm, and guitar and piano melodies that will keep you dancing from the time the sun sets until the time the sun rises again.
11 July, 2008
A Matter of Personal Preference
There isn't a lot of screamo, neu-hardcore, and metal that I absolutely love. This is probably a shortcoming on my part, I'm certainly willing to admit the possibility. For some reason, I have a difficult time enjoying unintelligible screaming over shredded guitars. I guess it just bumps up too closely with noise-rock, which is a genre that I usually can't listen to at all. I get headaches. The major exception to this rule (before today) was Killswitch Engage. It may be that the combined screaming and singing is more palatable to me than just straight-up screaming. They also usually have some definable structural qualities to their songs; melody applied to the theme of verses and choruses isn't too much of a stretch for Killswitch Engage. To be completely clear from the outset, I am certain there are other bands that are amazingly talented and enjoyable, and that fall into the genres (or some amalgamation of the genres) listed above. I can say with all honesty that I have not spent much of my time searching. This is an unforgivable gap in my musical education, and if my lovely readers have any recommendations for me (leave them in the comment window), then I would really be pleased to spend some careful listening time in the super-hard rock department. Until this point, I have been a little wary of wandering without any guidance, so I really would appreciate your help.
On that note, I want to mention a fairly new band called Emarosa. They dropped their first album/EP - This Is Your Way Out - in 2007, then had one major member shift: their vocalist left. For a hardcore band, your vocalist can be your biggest tie with the audience, and basically the translator for the sound of the entire band. Emarosa could have been finished before they even really got started, but fortunately Johnny Craig (formerly of the screamo/prog band Dance Gavin Dance) has undertaken this important duty for Emarosa.
The band's first full-length - Relativity - was released this week. I was most attracted to the album cover art at 8:15 this morning, which consists of a photograph of a spiky seed casing (one of those burrs that so influenced the invention of Velcro) and looks like it has been filtered to appear washed out in pinks and yellows. It's kind of a twisted photograph that reminds me most of the '90s bands who seemed so enthralled with filtered photos (Nirvana, Bush, Pearl Jam, and Alanis Morisette all experimented with oddly filtered album art).
When I finally get to the music, it's a pleasant surprise. "The Past Should Stay Dead" screams and swirls with Van Halenesque guitar runs, while Craig's vocals don't lose themselves by screaming into the melee, but instead whisper around the storm and then explode. "Just Another Marionette" finds perfect harmony between all disparate and chaotic elements of the song. Rhythm and melody duet seamlessly, while the vocalization frosts the entire song. "What's A Clock Without the Batteries?" has a start-stop rhythm that gives way to precision percussion, and this makes the whole song feel like a day that will never end sprinkled with moments that fly away (you know the kind of days I'm talking about.) "Heads or Tails? Real or Not" is climactic and dramatic, but again the whispering vocals are perfectly paired with disorder. It makes more sense to me to whisper behind all of the noise and have your voice separated from the sound, than to scream into it and lose everything that you have to say. Craig finds the balance where some screaming propels the song to new levels, but is never just an exercise in futility.
The psychedelic effects are easy to distinguish on "Even Bad Men Love Their Mothers", which strikes me as an album interlude. If we skip ahead a song to "Set It Off Like Napalm", you'll find a hook-laden, head-banging hit in the making. If I owned this album (which I'm sure I will shortly) this song would be on repeat for its sonic intensity alone. "Pretend. Release. The Close" is like a sun-shower of epic proportions. If there were such a thing as a sun tornado, this song would be the musical equivalent. It feels hopeful, and at the same time frustrated and full of anxious energy. "It's Cold In the Shade, Let's Move to the Sun..." is the "exitlude", but it's followed by two half songs that complete each other. "I Still Feel Her, Pt. 1" puts the emo in emetic, in many ways. It's a little slice of soul-crushing heartbreak, with that euphoria of remembering "her" like the sun setting on the horizon. The final song is "A City Called Coma, Pt. 2", and it stumbles through darkness like some kind of Gothic beast. I wish the songs had been reversed at the very least, because "Pt. 1" makes a little room for hope and the possibility of a happy ending (at some point in the future), while "Pt. 2" feels very final and dark. Oh well, there should always be a place to talk about the darkness, even while we're hoping for happy endings, and Emarosa have created a very comfortable place indeed. I wouldn't immerse myself in the music, but when you're in the mood for catharsis Relativity is a good bet.
On that note, I want to mention a fairly new band called Emarosa. They dropped their first album/EP - This Is Your Way Out - in 2007, then had one major member shift: their vocalist left. For a hardcore band, your vocalist can be your biggest tie with the audience, and basically the translator for the sound of the entire band. Emarosa could have been finished before they even really got started, but fortunately Johnny Craig (formerly of the screamo/prog band Dance Gavin Dance) has undertaken this important duty for Emarosa.
The band's first full-length - Relativity - was released this week. I was most attracted to the album cover art at 8:15 this morning, which consists of a photograph of a spiky seed casing (one of those burrs that so influenced the invention of Velcro) and looks like it has been filtered to appear washed out in pinks and yellows. It's kind of a twisted photograph that reminds me most of the '90s bands who seemed so enthralled with filtered photos (Nirvana, Bush, Pearl Jam, and Alanis Morisette all experimented with oddly filtered album art).
When I finally get to the music, it's a pleasant surprise. "The Past Should Stay Dead" screams and swirls with Van Halenesque guitar runs, while Craig's vocals don't lose themselves by screaming into the melee, but instead whisper around the storm and then explode. "Just Another Marionette" finds perfect harmony between all disparate and chaotic elements of the song. Rhythm and melody duet seamlessly, while the vocalization frosts the entire song. "What's A Clock Without the Batteries?" has a start-stop rhythm that gives way to precision percussion, and this makes the whole song feel like a day that will never end sprinkled with moments that fly away (you know the kind of days I'm talking about.) "Heads or Tails? Real or Not" is climactic and dramatic, but again the whispering vocals are perfectly paired with disorder. It makes more sense to me to whisper behind all of the noise and have your voice separated from the sound, than to scream into it and lose everything that you have to say. Craig finds the balance where some screaming propels the song to new levels, but is never just an exercise in futility.
The psychedelic effects are easy to distinguish on "Even Bad Men Love Their Mothers", which strikes me as an album interlude. If we skip ahead a song to "Set It Off Like Napalm", you'll find a hook-laden, head-banging hit in the making. If I owned this album (which I'm sure I will shortly) this song would be on repeat for its sonic intensity alone. "Pretend. Release. The Close" is like a sun-shower of epic proportions. If there were such a thing as a sun tornado, this song would be the musical equivalent. It feels hopeful, and at the same time frustrated and full of anxious energy. "It's Cold In the Shade, Let's Move to the Sun..." is the "exitlude", but it's followed by two half songs that complete each other. "I Still Feel Her, Pt. 1" puts the emo in emetic, in many ways. It's a little slice of soul-crushing heartbreak, with that euphoria of remembering "her" like the sun setting on the horizon. The final song is "A City Called Coma, Pt. 2", and it stumbles through darkness like some kind of Gothic beast. I wish the songs had been reversed at the very least, because "Pt. 1" makes a little room for hope and the possibility of a happy ending (at some point in the future), while "Pt. 2" feels very final and dark. Oh well, there should always be a place to talk about the darkness, even while we're hoping for happy endings, and Emarosa have created a very comfortable place indeed. I wouldn't immerse myself in the music, but when you're in the mood for catharsis Relativity is a good bet.
10 July, 2008
"Rebel Side of Heaven" by Langhorne Smith
I can't decide how I feel about this guy's voice, but I definitely like the music.
All in "the City of Love" is fair
An original musical that goes straight to film? Is that something worth watching? Is it even something with which you really want to be associated?
Love Songs (Les Chansons d'Amour) is just such a movie. Written and directed by Christophe Honore, the film was released in France in 2007, but the soundtrack was just released in the United States a couple months back. The story follows the entanglements of three people (sometimes four) who are in a relationship. Yep, you read that correctly: one relationship with three (sometimes four) people. It's called polyamory, and it forms the foundation on which the drama of Love Songs plays out.
Here's the basic plot. Ismael is in a relationship with Julie, but they both decide that Alice should join them (now I haven't seen the movie, but I get the feeling that this is about more than just sex, although sex seems to play a big role.) It gets more confusing when Julie sleeps with a random guy, whose name I cannot recall now, Ismael is hurt and decides that it might be a good time for him to find someone else as well. Enter Erwann (in case you were wondering, Erwann is a guy). So, I'm pretty open-minded, but at this point I'm also pretty confused. Love Songs has all of the potential to be more confusing than Federico Fellini's 8 1/2, and probably less visually pleasing (although it does take place in Paris). I'm still willing to give it a shot at some point, but for now I think I'll stick to the soundtrack.
It starts with "De bonne raisons" which is Belle & Sebastian meets Carla Bruni. It's a rock song in composition, but in execution it's much too soft to be a "rock" song, and it kind of trickles into folk-rock territory. "Inventaire" reminds me of some of the music from RENT. It's more spoken than sung, and the melody bounces from edgy and dramatic to coy and almost twee. It's a story driving song, and you can tell that it loses some of its character outside of the story. "La Bastille" is morose and pretty, while "Je n'aime que toi" is a song of possibility (as you can probably guess from the title). "Il faut se taire" is gentle and sad, as is "Au parc". In fact, following "Je n'aime que toi" every song has an air of sadness and regret mixed with a smattering of other emotions. It gives me the feeling that this movie does not have a happy ending.
One interesting thing to note about this album, is that the "musical theatre" style music seems to flow much more smoothly in the French language than it does in English. Don't get me wrong, I love musicals, but I often must suspend my disbelief in order to enjoy the seemingly random group singing. It may be that French is a more musical language than English (which I believe it is), and therefore it is more difficult to hear the difference between singing and speaking. To me, it almost always sounds like the French language is being sung, and placing music in the background is altogether natural. There's no doubt in my mind that you could play this album for a friend and not have them realize that it is the soundtrack to a musical. At the same time, I wouldn't recommend listening to the whole album unless you're in the mood for something melancholy. The great soundtrack to a rainy day in Paris is not always synonymous with the soundtrack to a sunny summer day in New England.
Love Songs (Les Chansons d'Amour) is just such a movie. Written and directed by Christophe Honore, the film was released in France in 2007, but the soundtrack was just released in the United States a couple months back. The story follows the entanglements of three people (sometimes four) who are in a relationship. Yep, you read that correctly: one relationship with three (sometimes four) people. It's called polyamory, and it forms the foundation on which the drama of Love Songs plays out.
Here's the basic plot. Ismael is in a relationship with Julie, but they both decide that Alice should join them (now I haven't seen the movie, but I get the feeling that this is about more than just sex, although sex seems to play a big role.) It gets more confusing when Julie sleeps with a random guy, whose name I cannot recall now, Ismael is hurt and decides that it might be a good time for him to find someone else as well. Enter Erwann (in case you were wondering, Erwann is a guy). So, I'm pretty open-minded, but at this point I'm also pretty confused. Love Songs has all of the potential to be more confusing than Federico Fellini's 8 1/2, and probably less visually pleasing (although it does take place in Paris). I'm still willing to give it a shot at some point, but for now I think I'll stick to the soundtrack.
It starts with "De bonne raisons" which is Belle & Sebastian meets Carla Bruni. It's a rock song in composition, but in execution it's much too soft to be a "rock" song, and it kind of trickles into folk-rock territory. "Inventaire" reminds me of some of the music from RENT. It's more spoken than sung, and the melody bounces from edgy and dramatic to coy and almost twee. It's a story driving song, and you can tell that it loses some of its character outside of the story. "La Bastille" is morose and pretty, while "Je n'aime que toi" is a song of possibility (as you can probably guess from the title). "Il faut se taire" is gentle and sad, as is "Au parc". In fact, following "Je n'aime que toi" every song has an air of sadness and regret mixed with a smattering of other emotions. It gives me the feeling that this movie does not have a happy ending.
One interesting thing to note about this album, is that the "musical theatre" style music seems to flow much more smoothly in the French language than it does in English. Don't get me wrong, I love musicals, but I often must suspend my disbelief in order to enjoy the seemingly random group singing. It may be that French is a more musical language than English (which I believe it is), and therefore it is more difficult to hear the difference between singing and speaking. To me, it almost always sounds like the French language is being sung, and placing music in the background is altogether natural. There's no doubt in my mind that you could play this album for a friend and not have them realize that it is the soundtrack to a musical. At the same time, I wouldn't recommend listening to the whole album unless you're in the mood for something melancholy. The great soundtrack to a rainy day in Paris is not always synonymous with the soundtrack to a sunny summer day in New England.
09 July, 2008
DJ Sussex - Mashups & Demos
DJ Sussex - Mashups & Demos
I had to share. They're pretty yummy mashups.
Here's one of my favorites:
Damien Marley's "Jamrock" + The Pharcyde's "Passing Me By"
I had to share. They're pretty yummy mashups.
Here's one of my favorites:
Damien Marley's "Jamrock" + The Pharcyde's "Passing Me By"
Forced to Sin
Emmanuel Jal's new hip-hop album Warchild is an amazingly powerful work of art. Recruited into the Sudan People's Liberation Army as a child, Jal was forced to witness and perform unbearable acts. He eventually escaped the army with other child soldiers, making his way to Nairobi where he attended school.
Warchild mixes many musical styles. Hip-hop and reggae were hugely influential styles in the creation of the album, while African music is woven in beautifully. The first track "Warchild" is powerful, angry, and cathartic. It reminds me of Kanye West's "Jesus Walks", a pounding gospel chorus layered over a military beat. The difference is in the sentiment. Jal's sadness, anger, and overwhelming need to forgive and be forgiven are the emotions that propel "Warchild" from party song status to work of art. It's often very painful to listen to this album, but it's also very important. "Forced to Sin" is a beautiful song that puts me in mind of the Fugees and some of M.I.A.'s more intense work. The song's musical element is light and almost sunshiny, but the vocal work feels beaten down and forced into submission matching perfectly the story in the lyrics. "Many Rivers to Cross" highlights the malleability of Jal's voice, which stretches and soars on this song of escape. He has "many rivers to cross" but he is both lonely and weary, mentally and physically exhausted and haunted by his past and what could be his future. The piano is strongly tied to the calypso beat, and it turns this song into a lullaby of sorts, or maybe more of a mantra. "Baaki Wara" has both beauty and hysteria in its presentation. The repetition of sounds and phrases makes it hypnotizing, but there's an underlying feeling of fear and chaos. Then we get to "Shadow of Death" with peels of thunder, and the imagery of demons and darkness swirling throughout Jal's lyrics. "Vagina" first takes the point of view of an Africa woman, but quickly transitions to lyrics about Africa as a woman who is regularly raped by other countries. It's an interesting and poignant metaphor; Africa is the birthplace of humanity and yet the continent always seems to be in turmoil, abused from within and without. "Hai" is the last song for a little while that has strong ties to African music, and it seems to be the song where Jal recounts his difficulty in escaping Sudan. We then have the trio "No Bling", "Skirt Too Short", and "50 Cent" that deal with very Western issues. "50 Cent" is my favorite. It's a letter of warning to the rapper 50 Cent, and the main point is that he's being "played by the man". He's being used to support stereotypes, while his work is just another form of brainwashing with its own repeated mantra: consuming and being consumed are the only actions worthy of your time. "Ninth Ward" speaks eloquently of Katrina, thoughtfully comparing the American catastrophe with those that happen all too frequently in Africa. "Stronger" carries the message of the whole album: what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, and hopefully instills you with enough strength to fight against it in the future. "Emma" is a dedication the the woman who saved Jal and smuggled him into Nairobi, her name was Emma McCune and she was unfortunately killed in a road accident shortly after bringing Jal to Nairobi. The song is a celebration of rebirth, and of the opportunities that life-changing experiences can give you, and this is really what the album is as well. It's a story of some of the most awful pain and suffering a person could ever experience, but how such experiences can be transcended and applied to actions that could change the world forever. This is a powerful message that should be spread far and wide, and that deserve much more attention than anything I've heard from 50 Cent.
Warchild mixes many musical styles. Hip-hop and reggae were hugely influential styles in the creation of the album, while African music is woven in beautifully. The first track "Warchild" is powerful, angry, and cathartic. It reminds me of Kanye West's "Jesus Walks", a pounding gospel chorus layered over a military beat. The difference is in the sentiment. Jal's sadness, anger, and overwhelming need to forgive and be forgiven are the emotions that propel "Warchild" from party song status to work of art. It's often very painful to listen to this album, but it's also very important. "Forced to Sin" is a beautiful song that puts me in mind of the Fugees and some of M.I.A.'s more intense work. The song's musical element is light and almost sunshiny, but the vocal work feels beaten down and forced into submission matching perfectly the story in the lyrics. "Many Rivers to Cross" highlights the malleability of Jal's voice, which stretches and soars on this song of escape. He has "many rivers to cross" but he is both lonely and weary, mentally and physically exhausted and haunted by his past and what could be his future. The piano is strongly tied to the calypso beat, and it turns this song into a lullaby of sorts, or maybe more of a mantra. "Baaki Wara" has both beauty and hysteria in its presentation. The repetition of sounds and phrases makes it hypnotizing, but there's an underlying feeling of fear and chaos. Then we get to "Shadow of Death" with peels of thunder, and the imagery of demons and darkness swirling throughout Jal's lyrics. "Vagina" first takes the point of view of an Africa woman, but quickly transitions to lyrics about Africa as a woman who is regularly raped by other countries. It's an interesting and poignant metaphor; Africa is the birthplace of humanity and yet the continent always seems to be in turmoil, abused from within and without. "Hai" is the last song for a little while that has strong ties to African music, and it seems to be the song where Jal recounts his difficulty in escaping Sudan. We then have the trio "No Bling", "Skirt Too Short", and "50 Cent" that deal with very Western issues. "50 Cent" is my favorite. It's a letter of warning to the rapper 50 Cent, and the main point is that he's being "played by the man". He's being used to support stereotypes, while his work is just another form of brainwashing with its own repeated mantra: consuming and being consumed are the only actions worthy of your time. "Ninth Ward" speaks eloquently of Katrina, thoughtfully comparing the American catastrophe with those that happen all too frequently in Africa. "Stronger" carries the message of the whole album: what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, and hopefully instills you with enough strength to fight against it in the future. "Emma" is a dedication the the woman who saved Jal and smuggled him into Nairobi, her name was Emma McCune and she was unfortunately killed in a road accident shortly after bringing Jal to Nairobi. The song is a celebration of rebirth, and of the opportunities that life-changing experiences can give you, and this is really what the album is as well. It's a story of some of the most awful pain and suffering a person could ever experience, but how such experiences can be transcended and applied to actions that could change the world forever. This is a powerful message that should be spread far and wide, and that deserve much more attention than anything I've heard from 50 Cent.
08 July, 2008
...And Out Come the Wolves
I never really listened to Wolf Parade's Apologies to Queen Mary, which was a real lapse on my part. I'm usually a very thorough listener, but somehow their first album snuck right by my ears and into more enlightened cd players everywhere. With this oversight in mind, I've taken it upon myself to write a thoroughly enlightened review of At Mount Zoomer, Wolf Parade's decidedly shorter sophomore album. I've read that it was recorded in Montreal at the church owned by Arcade Fire. Maybe I'll hear ghosts and hallelujah choruses. I can only hope.
"Soldier's Grin" zooms through your ears with computerized sound effects. Circuit bending is obviously a technique that has found its place close to the hearts of Wolf Parade. I also hear the grit and the intensity of early Springsteen in this song. Grit and intensity that can really be defined as the fear at the heart of the 1970s and 1980s exponentially magnified by the uncertain energy of youth (It's like diluted Hunter S. Thompson. It's scary shit, but you're numbed to it by your own inadequacy in a world that's so huge.)
"Call It A Ritual" stretches its mumbled lyrics over tight drums and piano, then slides the whole mixture over some static guitar riffs. Listening to the song is a bit overwhelming mentally; in fact, trying to sort out all of the disparate elements made me dizzy. It's better, with this kind of song, to let the whole thing wash over you and just enjoy the full package. The way the vocalists (Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug) duet with the guitar is really beautiful, and even entrancing when you let yourself go.
"Language City" has circuit bent keyboards and piano applied to a simple melody, creating a feeling that spans at least a century of music. It's a time-warped song, because it doesn't let you feel like you're truly trapped in any one era of music. It transcends genrefication, but is still a catchy song.
"Bang Your Drum" immediately puts me in mind of David Bowie. The vocals are a nice mimicry of Bowie's, but the music sounds classically influenced with only a hint of glam rock. It's like chamber music meets the 1980s, which is a fantastic and unusual combo that before now only Sofia Coppola seemed to really notice (if you watch Marie Antoinette you will also notice the surprising compatibility of 1980s pop/rock with 18th century style classical.)
"California Dreamer" stretches out like a desert. Its defining characteristic is the holes in the song, the empty spaces that make the musical surprises so enjoyable. There's nothing really consistent, except for the pounding drums, but the surprise organ swirls and the guitar and bass transitioning perfectly into keyboard lines. The song is spare, but very well-designed.
"The Grey Estates" hits the highest notes of post-punk perfection. Meld the Strokes most appealing songs with those of the Postal Service and more than a touch of "The Comeback" era Shout Out Louds, and you have this perfectly proportioned dance song. (The real question is, can you even put the Shout Out Louds in their own era? Riddle me this, batman.)
"Fine Young Cannibals" really doesn't invoke the band at all, but it happens to be my favorite song on the whole album. The guitar strikes a nostalgic chord, and makes me think of 1950s rock bands who rumbled along with seemingly no thought to the whole soloing business. (I love this music, but I have a hard time trying to put myself in their frame of mind. Was creativity a dirt word?) Anyway, Wolf Parade shakes everything up with echoing and wailing vocals, and some soft piano playing that haunts and shakes the precision of the song.
"An Animal In Your Care" is Violent Femmes meets the most trippy Velvet Underground music. In one word, it's bizarre. The vocals are purposefully weak and reedy, while the music kind of wavers, exploding in puffs of sound in the background. It is all incoherent, and slightly melodramatic.
This is how we make our way to "Kissing the Beehive", the almost eleven minute long finale to the album. The timing on this song sounds both fast and slow in the beginning, and I'm not quite sure how they managed this effect. However they did it, Wolf Parade created a climactic song, with screaming guitars and harmonized vocal howling giving way to a marching beat, and then an explosion of sound. It's a fireworks display or a meteor shower that you can sit underneath with your mouth hanging open in awe. At seven minutes you think it's over, but the song turns around and wails in the other direction for another four minutes. The pounding and the swirling, the unleashed ferocity of the song take their toll. It's a tiring listen, like replaying the final two minutes of "Stairway to Heaven" for eleven minutes (which I know from experience can actually be very fun!) Still, in the end, it's a gratifying listen. Actually, the whole album is a gratifying listen, and not an experience you should skip if you're anywhere near a music store.
"Soldier's Grin" zooms through your ears with computerized sound effects. Circuit bending is obviously a technique that has found its place close to the hearts of Wolf Parade. I also hear the grit and the intensity of early Springsteen in this song. Grit and intensity that can really be defined as the fear at the heart of the 1970s and 1980s exponentially magnified by the uncertain energy of youth (It's like diluted Hunter S. Thompson. It's scary shit, but you're numbed to it by your own inadequacy in a world that's so huge.)
"Call It A Ritual" stretches its mumbled lyrics over tight drums and piano, then slides the whole mixture over some static guitar riffs. Listening to the song is a bit overwhelming mentally; in fact, trying to sort out all of the disparate elements made me dizzy. It's better, with this kind of song, to let the whole thing wash over you and just enjoy the full package. The way the vocalists (Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug) duet with the guitar is really beautiful, and even entrancing when you let yourself go.
"Language City" has circuit bent keyboards and piano applied to a simple melody, creating a feeling that spans at least a century of music. It's a time-warped song, because it doesn't let you feel like you're truly trapped in any one era of music. It transcends genrefication, but is still a catchy song.
"Bang Your Drum" immediately puts me in mind of David Bowie. The vocals are a nice mimicry of Bowie's, but the music sounds classically influenced with only a hint of glam rock. It's like chamber music meets the 1980s, which is a fantastic and unusual combo that before now only Sofia Coppola seemed to really notice (if you watch Marie Antoinette you will also notice the surprising compatibility of 1980s pop/rock with 18th century style classical.)
"California Dreamer" stretches out like a desert. Its defining characteristic is the holes in the song, the empty spaces that make the musical surprises so enjoyable. There's nothing really consistent, except for the pounding drums, but the surprise organ swirls and the guitar and bass transitioning perfectly into keyboard lines. The song is spare, but very well-designed.
"The Grey Estates" hits the highest notes of post-punk perfection. Meld the Strokes most appealing songs with those of the Postal Service and more than a touch of "The Comeback" era Shout Out Louds, and you have this perfectly proportioned dance song. (The real question is, can you even put the Shout Out Louds in their own era? Riddle me this, batman.)
"Fine Young Cannibals" really doesn't invoke the band at all, but it happens to be my favorite song on the whole album. The guitar strikes a nostalgic chord, and makes me think of 1950s rock bands who rumbled along with seemingly no thought to the whole soloing business. (I love this music, but I have a hard time trying to put myself in their frame of mind. Was creativity a dirt word?) Anyway, Wolf Parade shakes everything up with echoing and wailing vocals, and some soft piano playing that haunts and shakes the precision of the song.
"An Animal In Your Care" is Violent Femmes meets the most trippy Velvet Underground music. In one word, it's bizarre. The vocals are purposefully weak and reedy, while the music kind of wavers, exploding in puffs of sound in the background. It is all incoherent, and slightly melodramatic.
This is how we make our way to "Kissing the Beehive", the almost eleven minute long finale to the album. The timing on this song sounds both fast and slow in the beginning, and I'm not quite sure how they managed this effect. However they did it, Wolf Parade created a climactic song, with screaming guitars and harmonized vocal howling giving way to a marching beat, and then an explosion of sound. It's a fireworks display or a meteor shower that you can sit underneath with your mouth hanging open in awe. At seven minutes you think it's over, but the song turns around and wails in the other direction for another four minutes. The pounding and the swirling, the unleashed ferocity of the song take their toll. It's a tiring listen, like replaying the final two minutes of "Stairway to Heaven" for eleven minutes (which I know from experience can actually be very fun!) Still, in the end, it's a gratifying listen. Actually, the whole album is a gratifying listen, and not an experience you should skip if you're anywhere near a music store.
07 July, 2008
I really Lykke you
(Please don't shoot me. Wordplay is my kryptonite - along with laughter.)
I really do like Lykke Li. She hails from Stockholm, Sweden and her simple indie folk songs are enchanting in their way. They're mellow, with random (and often perfect) instrumentation that reminds me of Bjork's music. At the same time, the sound is folk with very clean lines (very Swedish in this regard). I have to wait until August for Youth Novels to be released in the United States; so, until then, I will live with the Little Bit - EP.
Here's the break down. There are four songs, beginning with "Little Bit". The first lyric captured me immediately:
Hands down I'm too proud for love, but with eyes shut it's you I'm thinking of.
It sounds like there's cowbell in the background along with plenty of other percussive noises. The melody stays fairly electronic on "Little Bit", and I find myself following Li's voice like an instrument. There are some vocal quirks that add personality to the song. For example, she draws out the "la" in love, turning it into a "la la la la love".
"Dance Dance Dance" bounces with more of that unpredictable percussion, and espouses the sentiment of T. Rex's "Cosmic Dancer" (it's okay, in fact, it's IMPORTANT to dance when you feel like it). "Words could never make up for what you do" is the line that really says it all. If your hips aren't moving, do you really like the song?
"Everybody But Me" pulls in some regal sounding horns over Lykke harmonizing with...well...Lykke. The layering gives a fairly black and white song all of its shades of grey, adding distinction to a tune that could easily be lost in the midst of all the other shiny tunes floating across the Atlantic.
"Time Flies" uses the highest, most ethereal of Li's vocals over heavy piano to create something that sounds like it was crafted by faeries. The drums and piano have a finality that is only slightly noticeable in Li's tiny voice.
In the end, Little Bit - EP is consistent and distinctive without sounding too strange to be enjoyable. I would definitely be shaking my hips to a couple of the songs, while alternately laughing and shaking my head at the others. In August, we'll see if Youth Novels can outdo this extended play, and if Lykke can step out of the shadow of other Swedish alternative acts and play to her strengths: witty lyrics and unpredictable instrumentation.
I really do like Lykke Li. She hails from Stockholm, Sweden and her simple indie folk songs are enchanting in their way. They're mellow, with random (and often perfect) instrumentation that reminds me of Bjork's music. At the same time, the sound is folk with very clean lines (very Swedish in this regard). I have to wait until August for Youth Novels to be released in the United States; so, until then, I will live with the Little Bit - EP.
Here's the break down. There are four songs, beginning with "Little Bit". The first lyric captured me immediately:
Hands down I'm too proud for love, but with eyes shut it's you I'm thinking of.
It sounds like there's cowbell in the background along with plenty of other percussive noises. The melody stays fairly electronic on "Little Bit", and I find myself following Li's voice like an instrument. There are some vocal quirks that add personality to the song. For example, she draws out the "la" in love, turning it into a "la la la la love".
"Dance Dance Dance" bounces with more of that unpredictable percussion, and espouses the sentiment of T. Rex's "Cosmic Dancer" (it's okay, in fact, it's IMPORTANT to dance when you feel like it). "Words could never make up for what you do" is the line that really says it all. If your hips aren't moving, do you really like the song?
"Everybody But Me" pulls in some regal sounding horns over Lykke harmonizing with...well...Lykke. The layering gives a fairly black and white song all of its shades of grey, adding distinction to a tune that could easily be lost in the midst of all the other shiny tunes floating across the Atlantic.
"Time Flies" uses the highest, most ethereal of Li's vocals over heavy piano to create something that sounds like it was crafted by faeries. The drums and piano have a finality that is only slightly noticeable in Li's tiny voice.
In the end, Little Bit - EP is consistent and distinctive without sounding too strange to be enjoyable. I would definitely be shaking my hips to a couple of the songs, while alternately laughing and shaking my head at the others. In August, we'll see if Youth Novels can outdo this extended play, and if Lykke can step out of the shadow of other Swedish alternative acts and play to her strengths: witty lyrics and unpredictable instrumentation.
06 July, 2008
"All I Really Want" by Alanis Morissette
Do I stress you out?
My sweater is on backwards and inside out
And you say how appropriate
I don't like to dissect everything today
I don't mean to pick you apart you see
But I can't help it
And there I go jumping before the gunshot has gone off
Slap me with a splintered ruler
And it would knock me to the floor if I wasn't there already
If only I could hunt the hunter
And all I really want is some patience
A way to calm the angry voice
And all I really want is deliverance
Do I wear you out?
You must wonder why I'm relentless and all strung out
I'm consumed by the chill of solitary
I'm like estella
I like to reel it in and then spit it out
I'm frustrated by your apathy
And I am frightened by the corrupted ways of this land
If only I could meet the maker
And I am fascinated by the spiritual man
I'm humbled by his humble nature
And what I wouldn't give to find a soulmate
Someone else to catch this drift
And what I wouldn't give to meet a kindred
Enough about me, let's talk about you for a minute
Enough about you, let's talk about life for a while
The conflicts, the craziness and the sound of pretenses
Falling all around... all around
Why are you so petrified of silence?
Here can you handle this?
Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines
Or when you think you're gonna die
Or did you olong for the next distraction
And all I need now is intellectual intercourse
A soul to dig the hole much deeper
And I have no concept of time other than it is flying
If only I could kill the killer
And all I really want is some peace man
A place to find a common ground
And all I really want is a wavelength
All I really want is some comfort
A way to get my hands untied
And all I really want is some justice
Living in a Den of Thieves
I heard "Us" by Regina Spektor at 4:53 a.m. (I know because I checked the WERS playlist). The song is from Spektor's second album Soviet Kitsch, and it could probably be called her first underground hit. On the cover of Soviet Kitsch, Spektor is shown in black and white over a background of matryoshka dolls. She looks into the camera with emotion somewhere between humor and sadness, as she swallows a bottle of alcohol (presumably vodka, but you can never really presume with Spektor). It is on Soviet Kitsch that Spektor comes to terms with herself, and really flourishes as a creative individual.
Her debut - 11:11 - showed the talented vocals and the musicality of the young musician. On a few songs Spektor even showed her lyrical playfulness. The majority of the songs on 11:11 however, strike me as very good Fiona Apple impersonations.
Soviet Kitsch broke free from any singer-songwriter cliches that had Spektor hung up, and as a result it strikes me as a much more personal effort. The cover photograph gives you a sense of what's to be found on the album. Spektor mixes humor and sadness in liberal quantities, dropping quirky anecdotes and unique observations into her lyrics to mix things up a little. Vocally Spektor shows amazing control. She can vibrate a note or phrase in a way that makes the entire song more beautiful. This vocal maturity gives Soviet Kitsch a musical patina, and classical credence. Spektor's humorous insights, and obvious musical playfulness keep the songs from growing stale. It seems as if there's always a new play on words or play on sound that captures me as I'm listening. The layers are ubiquitous, like the matryoshka dolls on the cover.
At 4:53 this morning, I had a bit of an epiphany. I didn't find religion, per se, but on the brink of sleep I did begin to realize my own interpretation of the lyrics in "Us". I try not to force meanings onto lyrics; so it is that after four years of listening to this song, I've finally realized what it means to me.
It all begins with a repetitive piano line that waltzes from major to minor notes.
They made a statue of us
and put it on a mountaintop
Now tourists come and stare at us
Blow bubbles with their gum, take photographs of fun
have fun
They'll name a city after us
and later say it's all our fault
then they'll give us a talking to
then they'll give us a talking to
cause they've got years of experience
The statue, in my mind, is the statue of Liberty. That undeniable symbol of the American immigrant. The city is New York, where Spektor came with her family, and where Spektor lives and works today. The last two lines make more sense when coupled with the chorus.
We're living in a den of thieves
rummaging for answers in the pages
we're living in a den of thieves
and it's contagious
America is a den of thieves. Our entire history began with stolen land, and it is too soon that we forget our own past (our own present, for some) and chastise others for trying to "steal our land". The experienced thieves have seemingly earned the right to ignore their own past and instead place blame on others. This is an interesting thought and one that is pushed even further by the contagiousness of the American dream: freedom. How did we gain our freedom in the first place? By subjugating other people, and by inhibiting and abusing their freedoms. So we move to the next section.
We wear our scarves just like a noose
but not cause we want eternal sleep
and though our parts are slightly used
new ones are slave labor you can keep
I'm still a bit uncertain about the first two lines, although I can guess that Spektor is writing and singing about hiding the clues of immigration behind scarves that are like nooses. They're hanging themselves so they will not be hung by the previous generations of immigrants. The last two lines tie into the subjugation and utilization of people whose backs this country was built upon. Immigrants in this country often become the "slave labor you can keep", and those who refuse to be quietly subjugated are "hung" publicly and openly chastised for being "thieves". The song goes on for awhile longer, although most of the lines are repeated. Spektor has tapped into the great American paradox and one of the most significant examples of our own hypocrisy. How can we preach freedom when we are still building our country on a foundation of slavery? How can we berate others for wanting a piece of the land we stole for ourselves?
"Us" is an excellent song that makes some truly insightful points. It happens to reside on an album that is full of these awesome insights. Keep your eyes on Regina Spektor, and allow her songs to percolate in your mind until you gain some of her insight. She's making modern classics.
Her debut - 11:11 - showed the talented vocals and the musicality of the young musician. On a few songs Spektor even showed her lyrical playfulness. The majority of the songs on 11:11 however, strike me as very good Fiona Apple impersonations.
Soviet Kitsch broke free from any singer-songwriter cliches that had Spektor hung up, and as a result it strikes me as a much more personal effort. The cover photograph gives you a sense of what's to be found on the album. Spektor mixes humor and sadness in liberal quantities, dropping quirky anecdotes and unique observations into her lyrics to mix things up a little. Vocally Spektor shows amazing control. She can vibrate a note or phrase in a way that makes the entire song more beautiful. This vocal maturity gives Soviet Kitsch a musical patina, and classical credence. Spektor's humorous insights, and obvious musical playfulness keep the songs from growing stale. It seems as if there's always a new play on words or play on sound that captures me as I'm listening. The layers are ubiquitous, like the matryoshka dolls on the cover.
At 4:53 this morning, I had a bit of an epiphany. I didn't find religion, per se, but on the brink of sleep I did begin to realize my own interpretation of the lyrics in "Us". I try not to force meanings onto lyrics; so it is that after four years of listening to this song, I've finally realized what it means to me.
It all begins with a repetitive piano line that waltzes from major to minor notes.
They made a statue of us
and put it on a mountaintop
Now tourists come and stare at us
Blow bubbles with their gum, take photographs of fun
have fun
They'll name a city after us
and later say it's all our fault
then they'll give us a talking to
then they'll give us a talking to
cause they've got years of experience
The statue, in my mind, is the statue of Liberty. That undeniable symbol of the American immigrant. The city is New York, where Spektor came with her family, and where Spektor lives and works today. The last two lines make more sense when coupled with the chorus.
We're living in a den of thieves
rummaging for answers in the pages
we're living in a den of thieves
and it's contagious
America is a den of thieves. Our entire history began with stolen land, and it is too soon that we forget our own past (our own present, for some) and chastise others for trying to "steal our land". The experienced thieves have seemingly earned the right to ignore their own past and instead place blame on others. This is an interesting thought and one that is pushed even further by the contagiousness of the American dream: freedom. How did we gain our freedom in the first place? By subjugating other people, and by inhibiting and abusing their freedoms. So we move to the next section.
We wear our scarves just like a noose
but not cause we want eternal sleep
and though our parts are slightly used
new ones are slave labor you can keep
I'm still a bit uncertain about the first two lines, although I can guess that Spektor is writing and singing about hiding the clues of immigration behind scarves that are like nooses. They're hanging themselves so they will not be hung by the previous generations of immigrants. The last two lines tie into the subjugation and utilization of people whose backs this country was built upon. Immigrants in this country often become the "slave labor you can keep", and those who refuse to be quietly subjugated are "hung" publicly and openly chastised for being "thieves". The song goes on for awhile longer, although most of the lines are repeated. Spektor has tapped into the great American paradox and one of the most significant examples of our own hypocrisy. How can we preach freedom when we are still building our country on a foundation of slavery? How can we berate others for wanting a piece of the land we stole for ourselves?
"Us" is an excellent song that makes some truly insightful points. It happens to reside on an album that is full of these awesome insights. Keep your eyes on Regina Spektor, and allow her songs to percolate in your mind until you gain some of her insight. She's making modern classics.
05 July, 2008
"1234 (LIVE)" by Feist
This is an excellent performance. I think this song is better live, than it is recorded.
Tapping a new vein (turning over a new page?)
In any event, it is high time for a change.
I looked through my playlists the other day, only to find that I keep repeating myself musically. For one thing, "Little Wing" seems to pop up everywhere. I love the song, and I do have alternate versions (a live version, a Derek and the Dominoes cover), but how many mixes are really in need of "Little Wing"? I don't want to become musically redundant. ZOX, the Replacements, Peter Gabriel, Rancid, and The Specials can be found consistently in my personal mixes. They're comfort food, I know, but I need to start "mixing" it up a little and playing some of my less loved albums. There's a lot of good music that I have ignored for far too long.
When I'm feeling less then unique, I will often pull a Garden State (for those who haven't seen the movie, 1. It's basically when you perform an action or say something that you're pretty certain no one has EVER said in the same place you are saying it and in the same way; and 2. Go see the movie!!). There are other times when I'm feeling a little more introverted and a bit more vulnerable, so I build a pillow fort in my "bat cave" (a.k.a. my bedroom), I plug in the headphones, and I treasure hunt for new music. Live music venues are excellent for this purpose, along with Myspace, other music blogs, iTunes, and the great alternative radio stations (KEXP, WERS, KCRW). Today, I hit up KEXP to see if they had any new band recommendations, and I found the Cave Singers.
The name conjures hunter-gatherer imagery for some reason, along with smoky fires and Lascaux style artwork. I have in my mind something vaguely primal, and Invitation Songs does buzz with an energy current all its own. There's a tension to the songs that is undeniable, and it's not computer generated or based around the technology inherent in the instruments. The tension is something altogether more natural, like the feeling I have before a thunderstorm. On "Seeds of Night" the Cave Singers strum and percuss like they're in the midst of a sun-shower. The song is warm and playful, and lacking in any sort of artistic pretension. "Helen" is less relaxed and more insistent, but certainly just as enjoyable. It's a rock song with the consistency and stripped-down punk aesthetic of the Replacements' best material. However, where the Replacements have always made dirty, city music, "Helen" is as clean as fresh cut grass. "Dancing On Our Graves" is the evident single, with a rustling, rhythmic melody. "Cold Eye" is very soft, twilight music. The song circles around Pete Quirk's vocals, which are a bundle of contrasts. Quirk's voice has an underlying harsh quality (think braying wolves) that somehow fits in beautifully with the softest songs on the album, "Cold Eye" included. When I listen to "Elephant Clouds" I can just imagine that feeling of lying on the grass and watching clouds hustle by, morphing from dragons into butterflies as they're pushed across the sky. I am a big fan of cloud watching, and "Elephant Clouds" is absolutely perfect soundtrack music. On "New Monuments" the percussion takes center stage (the drums are mic'ed louder than any of the other instrumentals) and lends a harder, more dangerous quality to the song. "Oh Christine" on the other hand is driven by a wailing harmonica that sounds very comfortable in the midst of the basic drum and guitar melody; and "Bricks of Our Home" is a beautiful song that also plays up the harmonica. The bonus track - "Backyards" - is worth mentioning if only for the emotion that it expresses. On much of the album, emotional sincerity is visible (everything seems stripped to its foundation) but the cracking of Quirk's voice as he sings the line "all I want to do is stay here with you" on "Backyards" sends shivers down my spine.
I looked through my playlists the other day, only to find that I keep repeating myself musically. For one thing, "Little Wing" seems to pop up everywhere. I love the song, and I do have alternate versions (a live version, a Derek and the Dominoes cover), but how many mixes are really in need of "Little Wing"? I don't want to become musically redundant. ZOX, the Replacements, Peter Gabriel, Rancid, and The Specials can be found consistently in my personal mixes. They're comfort food, I know, but I need to start "mixing" it up a little and playing some of my less loved albums. There's a lot of good music that I have ignored for far too long.
When I'm feeling less then unique, I will often pull a Garden State (for those who haven't seen the movie, 1. It's basically when you perform an action or say something that you're pretty certain no one has EVER said in the same place you are saying it and in the same way; and 2. Go see the movie!!). There are other times when I'm feeling a little more introverted and a bit more vulnerable, so I build a pillow fort in my "bat cave" (a.k.a. my bedroom), I plug in the headphones, and I treasure hunt for new music. Live music venues are excellent for this purpose, along with Myspace, other music blogs, iTunes, and the great alternative radio stations (KEXP, WERS, KCRW). Today, I hit up KEXP to see if they had any new band recommendations, and I found the Cave Singers.
The name conjures hunter-gatherer imagery for some reason, along with smoky fires and Lascaux style artwork. I have in my mind something vaguely primal, and Invitation Songs does buzz with an energy current all its own. There's a tension to the songs that is undeniable, and it's not computer generated or based around the technology inherent in the instruments. The tension is something altogether more natural, like the feeling I have before a thunderstorm. On "Seeds of Night" the Cave Singers strum and percuss like they're in the midst of a sun-shower. The song is warm and playful, and lacking in any sort of artistic pretension. "Helen" is less relaxed and more insistent, but certainly just as enjoyable. It's a rock song with the consistency and stripped-down punk aesthetic of the Replacements' best material. However, where the Replacements have always made dirty, city music, "Helen" is as clean as fresh cut grass. "Dancing On Our Graves" is the evident single, with a rustling, rhythmic melody. "Cold Eye" is very soft, twilight music. The song circles around Pete Quirk's vocals, which are a bundle of contrasts. Quirk's voice has an underlying harsh quality (think braying wolves) that somehow fits in beautifully with the softest songs on the album, "Cold Eye" included. When I listen to "Elephant Clouds" I can just imagine that feeling of lying on the grass and watching clouds hustle by, morphing from dragons into butterflies as they're pushed across the sky. I am a big fan of cloud watching, and "Elephant Clouds" is absolutely perfect soundtrack music. On "New Monuments" the percussion takes center stage (the drums are mic'ed louder than any of the other instrumentals) and lends a harder, more dangerous quality to the song. "Oh Christine" on the other hand is driven by a wailing harmonica that sounds very comfortable in the midst of the basic drum and guitar melody; and "Bricks of Our Home" is a beautiful song that also plays up the harmonica. The bonus track - "Backyards" - is worth mentioning if only for the emotion that it expresses. On much of the album, emotional sincerity is visible (everything seems stripped to its foundation) but the cracking of Quirk's voice as he sings the line "all I want to do is stay here with you" on "Backyards" sends shivers down my spine.
04 July, 2008
"I Fought The Law (LIVE)" by The Clash
Breakin' rocks in the hot sun
I fought the law and the law won (twice)
I needed money 'cause I had none
I fought the law and the law won (twice)
I left my baby and it feels so bad
Guess my race is run
She's the best girl that I ever had
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the
Robbin' people with a six-gun
I fought the law and the law won (twice)
I lost my girl and I lost my fun,
I fought the law and the law won (twice)
I left my baby and it feels so bad
I guess my race is run
She's the best girl that I ever had
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the
I fought the law and the law won (7 times)
I fought the law and the
It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
Some people may think that it's odd for me to write about an musician from Argentina on the anniversary of our nation's birth. Given the fact that jazz music is the quintessential American art form, and given the plurality of our heritage, I think Oscar Aleman is the perfect musician to celebrate.
Aleman was born in Argentina in 1909. He was a performer from an extremely young age. First, he played with his family, but by the time he was ten he was performing through necessity: an orphan street musician. The back story of many jazz musicians is dark and cloudy (I think this is often true of artists in general). Traumatic events often seem to bubble below the surface of certain types of people. They shape their personalities indelibly, but sometimes only manifest themselves in unorthodox ways, bursting to the surface in fireworks of genius like Kerouac's roman candles. Piaff, Reinhardt, and Aleman all seem to be these kinds of musicians, creating from necessity. Aleman played Gypsy Jazz similar to Reinhardt and Grappelli, at one point even playing in France. He was friends with Django, and had the opportunity to perform with many American musicians during his French tenure. In the 1940s, Aleman returned to Argentina where he would live for the rest of his life, always teaching and performing music.
If you listen to Aleman's recordings, you will get a good sense of his talent and his originality. His "gypsy jazz" was unlike the popular jazz of France and America, and even differed from mainstream "gypsy jazz" itself. Listen to his cover of "Limehouse Blues" and compare it Reinhardt's version. You'll notice that where Reinhardt hustles, bustles, and swings, Aleman strolls and meanders at a jaunty pace that lacks the rush of city life. Reinhardt played fast and loose, but Aleman played with a little more care and a more subtly nomadic swing. "Whispering" is a layered lullaby of the highest sonic quality. It's an eccentric creation that does not have an easily definable melody and because the guitar really stands on its own, but it captures an emotion, movement, and softness that is highly sophisticated for a song so stripped to its foundation. "Besame Mucho" on the other hand, is a more angular song that's full of twists, turns, and short stops. It could be the best theme music for PBS's MYSTERY!. Listen to "Swingin' On A Star" (a song I've always enjoyed) and you'll hear Aleman stretching the melody with his guitar solos. His solos are malleable and dynamic like those of Santana and Hendrix, if not quite as dramatic. "Delicado" incorporates- more noticeably - the Latin American element, than any of the other Aleman songs I've heard. It is delicate, but with strong syncopation and a traveling melody that drifts away from the center and back again. Last, but not least, "Pere Mi Eres Devina" is intensely edgy for jazz music of its time. It honestly reminds me of some of the Doors' more winding, jazzy compositions. There's drama, distinction, and heady swing on this song, and it has to be one of my Aleman favorites.
Aleman was born in Argentina in 1909. He was a performer from an extremely young age. First, he played with his family, but by the time he was ten he was performing through necessity: an orphan street musician. The back story of many jazz musicians is dark and cloudy (I think this is often true of artists in general). Traumatic events often seem to bubble below the surface of certain types of people. They shape their personalities indelibly, but sometimes only manifest themselves in unorthodox ways, bursting to the surface in fireworks of genius like Kerouac's roman candles. Piaff, Reinhardt, and Aleman all seem to be these kinds of musicians, creating from necessity. Aleman played Gypsy Jazz similar to Reinhardt and Grappelli, at one point even playing in France. He was friends with Django, and had the opportunity to perform with many American musicians during his French tenure. In the 1940s, Aleman returned to Argentina where he would live for the rest of his life, always teaching and performing music.
If you listen to Aleman's recordings, you will get a good sense of his talent and his originality. His "gypsy jazz" was unlike the popular jazz of France and America, and even differed from mainstream "gypsy jazz" itself. Listen to his cover of "Limehouse Blues" and compare it Reinhardt's version. You'll notice that where Reinhardt hustles, bustles, and swings, Aleman strolls and meanders at a jaunty pace that lacks the rush of city life. Reinhardt played fast and loose, but Aleman played with a little more care and a more subtly nomadic swing. "Whispering" is a layered lullaby of the highest sonic quality. It's an eccentric creation that does not have an easily definable melody and because the guitar really stands on its own, but it captures an emotion, movement, and softness that is highly sophisticated for a song so stripped to its foundation. "Besame Mucho" on the other hand, is a more angular song that's full of twists, turns, and short stops. It could be the best theme music for PBS's MYSTERY!. Listen to "Swingin' On A Star" (a song I've always enjoyed) and you'll hear Aleman stretching the melody with his guitar solos. His solos are malleable and dynamic like those of Santana and Hendrix, if not quite as dramatic. "Delicado" incorporates- more noticeably - the Latin American element, than any of the other Aleman songs I've heard. It is delicate, but with strong syncopation and a traveling melody that drifts away from the center and back again. Last, but not least, "Pere Mi Eres Devina" is intensely edgy for jazz music of its time. It honestly reminds me of some of the Doors' more winding, jazzy compositions. There's drama, distinction, and heady swing on this song, and it has to be one of my Aleman favorites.
01 July, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)