Radiohead? No, Portishead!

As Radiohead has moved progressively farther from pure rock (and yet continued to retain their musical perfection through almost every innovation), Portishead has moved closer to pure electronic music. When you look back through their respective catalogs, this evolution is not as surprising as it may appear at first.

On Pablo Honey, Radiohead made English grunge (that was more refined than it's American counterpart), but played with different ideas and sound patterns. "Thinking About You", "You", and "Prove Yourself" all contain elements of various genres - musical and lyrical explorations, if you will - that will be furthered on later Radiohead albums.

Dummy, Portishead's debut, is the genius integration of Massive Attack, Moby, and Mazzy Star. In other words, we have creepy, cool, and incredibly beautiful sounds being created by Portishead in the early nineties. Yet, although the album is full of electronic music (with the requisite repeated beats and samples, and computer-generated sounds) there's much more to this album. Five of the eleven songs have strong Jazz undertones, in both the lyrical design and the actual musical sound. Tin Pan Alley and the dirty streets of "unfriendly cities can be heard in the most popular songs on the album: "Sour Times" and "Glory Box". This is not 1980s electronic music, with clean synthetic noises and fake-sounding drum machines, this album is layered and a little messy. Still, all of the elements of electronic music are available, they just aren't being consistently utilized by the band.

The potential was always there, and the bands took advantage of their potential, moving ever closer to each other and farther from their starting points. Listen to In Rainbows and you'll hear a lot of piano, and some definite electronic influence. Radiohead's sound is still "refined" and far from messy, but they are now even closer to Portishead and quite far from Pearl Jam. "15 Step", "Numb", and "Videotape" each repeat one or multiple "hooks", taking advantage of a longstanding trait of electronic music. Piano sounds also come out in full force on In Rainbows.

Third by Portishead (a band that has been quite less prolific than Radiohead) was released today, and has a slower tempo and a darker tone than Portishead's previous albums. "Nylon Smile" wanders and has little lyrical structure. It is pure lament, albeit with a crackling backbeat. "The Rip" is almost freak-folk, and quite as haunting as the In Rainbows equivalent, "Videotape". "We Carry On" and "Deep Water" are musical opposites. One is long, the other short. One is fast and anxious, the other is slow and meandering. "We Carry On" has a beat that is constantly defined, and is the backbone of the song. "Deep Water" is the more melodic home to a humming chorus. "Machine Gun" sounds incredibly computerized, and quite precise. It is probably the song that breaks most from Portishead tradition, and it makes me wonder if the reason Radiohead and Portishead are sounding more alike has more to do with the emotional tangibility of the times (these are scary, hectic, anxious times), than the "natural" evolution of the artists.

Whatever the reason, Portishead and Radiohead have created albums that are complementary. They both tap into anxiety, fear, violence, and creepiness; they both question the value and purpose of the individual; and they both tap into a repetitiveness of structure that is the foundation of most electronic music. They're also both worth a listen, if you have the time and the inclination.

Augustus Gloop

The weather affected my mood, my mood affected my music choice, my music choice affected my mood...

Weather: Gloomy. Actually, strike that, gloopy. The sky reminds me of that glue that hardens on the side of the glue bottle, and then gets progressively more linty as it spends more time in the craft bag with pom-pom balls and pipe cleaners (chenille stems! I almost forgot about that conversation.) Anyway, it's not pleasant. I think it would make a good backdrop for a Sherlock Holmes mystery. Mental note: The next time it rains like this, try to write a mystery!

Music Choice: Well, I began the morning with a homemade soundtrack to battle! I guess it's not technically battle, but what I'm doing will sure be messy. It consisted of some harsh music; rock for angry teenagers, techno for role-playing gamers, and your basic "slightly depressing" soundtrack music. I've upgraded to Alanis Morisette (Jagged Little Pill) and the soundtrack to Grosse Pointe Blank.

Mood: Uncertain, as of yet. Actually, I've been see-sawing between overwhelmingly excited/elated and depressed. What has cheered my spirits (along with eggplant pizza, ratemyprofessor.com, and Ecotone magazine) is Neil Gaiman's blog. That man is awesome! Take, just for example, this one section in his latest blog post ("Entertainers All..."):

If I hadn't slept I would have read -- I'm currently reading Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road. It's wonderful -- a [Chabonesque] [Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser]-ish story, filled with swordfights and intrigue and people in disguise. (I just edited that sentence -- I'd written "currently reading for pleasure" as if there was some other kind of reading -- the sort you endure, I imagine.)

Hahah, you just summed up what I've been trying to express for years! I don't understand the concept of reading for anything but pleasure. :)

Thomas Dybdahl

I've been listening to his music today, and I like it, but I'm unsure about the music videos. Watch a couple, and let me know what you think:

Love Story



From Grace



Tomorrow Stays the Same

Miscellany in the April sunshine

At this very moment, I'm listening to "You'd Rather Run" by Jaymay (which has this amazing line thrown into the middle of her weary evisceration of an ex: "your girlfriend's a spy". Really, doesn't that just sum up everything? Add, "it's funny what you miss, it's funny what you don't", and you already have a song with great lyrics.) The whole album Autumn Falling has had the difficult job of mimicking my mental state since last November, and somehow it has lived up to all of my hopes (dreams, and fears). Listen if you're in the mood for a journey, but also if you just want to hear some undeniably sweet music.

There's an article in the Education section of the New York Times today about the Grateful Dead. "A Deadhead's Dream For A Campus Archive" by Jesse McKinley is a funny little article. It's not particularly exciting to read, but the content is interesting. For those of my readers who dislike reading more than they absolutely have to, I'll sum up the main points. The University of California, Santa Cruz - which is located in an apparently hippy-friendly city - will be compiling an archive of Grateful Dead "paraphernalia" (apparently nothing illegal, although the word choice is suspicious). This University happens to be the home of quite few Neo-Dead Heads and even has a popular class for undergraduates on the Dead's music.

Here are some incredibly cool pictures that NASA released to commemorate the Hubble Telescope's 18th Birthday (WOOOT HUBBLE!): "New Galaxy Images Released for Hubble's 18th Birthday" by Alex Madrigal. They show galaxies colliding, and look almost as convincing as the special effects on the latest Star Wars movie. My mind is completely blown away by these pictures. They are amazing.

Last but not least, one of my childhood heroes has "passed the torch" to my generation. In celebration of Earth Day, Jane Goodall symbolically passed the torch of activism saying (according to Scientific American):

"'The 100 (young people) who are here represent hundreds of thousands of others,'...'You hear them debate some of the problems of the world, and you know there is hope for the future.'"

Wow. These are some big shoes to fill. I'm a fan of Jane Goodall (despite the fact that she named her child Grub), and I even have her words painted on a wall in my house. I guess it's time to start changing the world. Here's the full article, if you guys are interested in reading anything besides my blog:

"Jane Goodall passes activist torch to world's youth"

"Hands" - The Raconteurs

That Previously Mentioned Museum Playlist

I placed these songs together not because they remind me of museums, but because I think they'd be hella sick to listen to in a museum. I'd probably get thrown out of the museum for dancing like a fool, but I don't think I would mind.

"Adouma" - Angelique Kidjo

"Good Morning Good Morning" - The Beatles

"Dirty Harry" - Gorillaz

"Amazon" - M.I.A.

"Summer In The City" - Regina Spektor

"Bug Eyes" - Dredg

"Run (I'm A Natural Disaster)" - Gnarls Barkley

"The River Of Dreams" - Billy Joel

"What's Going On" - Marvin Gaye

"All Of Me/ The Peanut Vendor" - Dick Hyman Group

"Take Five" - Dave Brubeck

"The Enemy Guns" - Devotchka

"Steady As She Goes" - The Raconteurs

Ramblings of an Addict

I don't think of myself as being very high maintenance. In fact, I would say that at least outwardly I'm extremely low maintenance. Right now, I'm sprawling on my bed in a white hippy skirt that has a number of holes and at least two stains. After egregiously neglecting to wear sunscreen the other day, I have a patchy pink burn on my arms and legs, my toe-nail polish is chipping, and my hair has been unceremoniously stuffed beneath a pair of headphones. This is classic me, and I don't care. I do care intensely about the music being piped through those headphones. It's an addiction, and though it isn't always as obnoxious as a shopping addiction or a compulsive craving for spray-tanning, it can be just as physically and mentally ravaging.

The amount, texture, quality, and consistency of the music that I hear can affect my mood for the entire day. If I wake up and Elliott Smith's "Everything Reminds Me of Her" is streaming from my radio, then my blue sky will most likely be tinged with a few gray clouds. If I wake up to the Grateful Dead, then I will have an almost insatiable desire to play outside, a.k.a. hug trees and roll in the grass. At the same time, most of my music has an indelible connection to the people who are currently part of and have been part of my life. Best friends, ex-boyfriends, old friends, and new friends are all tied to songs, as is the majority of my emotional baggage. "Time Bomb" by Rancid will always remind me of the summer of 2004; "Good Riddance" by Green Day of 2005; "Something To Do With My Hands" by Her Space Holiday of 2006; "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" by the Counting Crows of 2007; and 2008, well, I'm don't know yet. Led Zeppelin will always make me think of Spring 2002, but is that a good thing?

It's a gift to know that there's something in this world that I can completely lose myself in, but a curse to know that I can be lost so easily. It's wonderful to feel that you aren't alone in the universe in the existential sense, but at the same time it hurts to know that there will never be quite enough music to categorize and contemplate your personal anxieties and uncertainties, hopes and fears. Sometimes you have to compose your own soundtrack.

So here I sit with my sunburn and my messy hair, listening to Joel after Dylan and ZOX after Mason Jennings, arranging, rearranging, and researching sounds. It's not glamorous to happen upon a "Museum Playlist" from iTunes, and it's not particularly cool to sit here and ponder the connection between a live version of "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and "Sayuri's Theme" by John Willams (And what any of it has to do with museums? And why it all has to be so sad?). The coolness factor, however, has very little to do with the fact that this is exactly what I'm doing at this very moment. At the same time, I'm mentally designing my own museum playlist, and wondering which museum I'll inhabit next; and, I'm also hoping that some of the people who read this post will be inspired to do the same. In the end, the soundtrack of your life (and your life itself) is all what you make of it. Why not make it shine?

"Floetic" - Floetry

The picture quality is crummy, but the song is killer.

"The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" - Gil Scott-Heron

Integrity Playlist

"Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day...He has no time to be anything but a machine. How can he remember well his own ignorance - which his growth requires - who has so often to use his knowledge?"

- Walden, Henry David Thoreau.

I started Walden yesterday. I'm only about six pages into the story, but it's great. I already have about twenty quotations written on a piece of paper. Thoreau tested himself, tested his integrity, and tested the parameters of society and its intersection with human survival. You don't know where the edge is, until you've been over it.

"Reckoner" - Radiohead
From the already famous In Rainbows, this song hovers with looped percussion and Gospel-style harmonized vocals. They are absolutely the band that will be playing when the world - as we know it - comes to an end. Thom York is already there; he's already writing his songs on a different wavelength.

"Electric Bird" - Sia
This song has the benefit of a chorus that rises progressively, and a body that's perfectly understated. It finds the edge and balances perfectly on the knife blade, while breaking free of every constraint that Sia created for her own music on her first album. The song in itself is about constraints, and uses a caged bird (albeit a caged "electric bird") as a metaphor for art that has been boxed into a category.

"24 Preludes, Op. 28: No. 1 in C Major" - Rafal Blechacz (Chopin)
Classical music enchants me. It's the only genre of music that consistently occupies my whole mind when I listen, and I find it difficult to think of other things when it's in the background. This song has an energy, an almost soft anxiety that builds as the song progresses, and then drifts away. It reminds me of cherry blossoms being swept from a tree by the wind, and then swirling in a pond. Cathartic.

"Bertha" - Grateful Dead
"I had to move, really had to move..." basically says it all.

"Freedom Day" - Abbey Lincoln & Max Roach
Snap your fingers in the smoky catacombs of jazz basements, and feel the sound of revolution.

"Stratosphere" - Photon Band

"When our hearts are full, we need much less..."

Honeysuckle Weeks is that rare sophomore album that outdoes the debut. On the album, the Submarines become massive musical personalities, flex their lyrical muscles to the point of inspiration, and take instrumental risks in the pursuit of grandeur. It's partially luck, and partially talent the ensures that it all comes together so nicely. In the end, what sticks with the listener are the ten songs with incredibly positive and hopeful lyrics dressed in the costumes of the book of Revelations. These songs acknowledge pain, hate, deception, greed, apathy, and the possibility of ultimate self-destruction, but all in a way that doesn't discount the overwhelming power of love to conquer all (and no matter you believe, this is something that everyone should believe. It's one of the few things worth believing in!).

We'll begin at the beginning with "Submarine Symphonika" which has faux-Operatic intentions. Blake Hazzard croons about burning cities and broken hearts, but turns it around with that unforgettably redemptive quality of love: you can't help falling into it, even when you've been hurt. The instrumental progression of the song is less enchanting than the lyrics, but even here I find something attractive in the playfulness. These songs deal with intense subjects, but they steer clear of sounds that are either too precious or too common, and come up with a blend that never gets tiring for very long. "Thorny Thicket" combines hip-hop beats and the Baroque sounds of Henry Purcell, under a vocal celebration of (what else?) love. The third song on the album ends up being the best however. "You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie" is explores the guilt of living in "the center of the first world". Hazzard again asks a thought-provoking question "who are we to break down?", and counters with the assertion that:

"Everyday we wake up. We choose love, we choose light, and we try. It's too easy just to fall apart."

And it is, isn't it? Even with all of our stuff, even with all of our opportunities, and all kinds of experiences laid out before us, it is human nature to be unsatisfied and to forget all of the things we have. "1940" follows with a southern Pacific island feeling, and a beat similar to a pack of wandering elephants. It's probably the most interesting song on the album musically, and even lyrically it verges on a dreamlike state of enlightenment (albeit, one that sounds rather drug-induced). "The Wake Up Song" follows with the zipping, buzzing intensity of life being lived. The vocal delivery see-saws between "breaking news" and the voice inside your head, and the lyrics are clock-like in their persistence. "Swimming Pool" utilizes those indelible metaphors of swimming in the deep end, and being saved by love. "Maybe" follows "Swimming Pool" with a main vocal by Hazzard's fellow submarine John Dragonetti, who sings a song about unknowns and variables. "Xavia" celebrates the fact that everyone has troubles, and that we're all united by our uncertainty; while "Fern Beard" is a slightly melancholy description of an overgrown city and the most computerized-sounding of any song on the album. We're lucky that the album doesn't finish with "Fern Beard", but with "Brightest Hour" which strikes me as a slightly more positive song. It still carries the sadness and finality of the end of any good story, but "Brightest Hour" also has the features of a happy ending, and is a perfect choice for the conclusion of Honeysuckle Weeks.


In the next few weeks, you'll probably read a lot about the Submarines and their new album. Their music has already had a write-up in Spin, and as the album's release date gets closer, it's evident (to me at least) that there will be quite a lot of buzz surrounding Honeysuckle Weeks. Remember that the good, the bad, and the ugly that you read, is only ever a shadow of the music that you hear. Try to listen with open ears; and whatever you do, try to enjoy.

"Uncle John's Band" - the Grateful Dead

Well the first days are the hardest days,
don't you worry anymore,
' Cause when life looks like Easy Street,
there is danger at your door.
Think this through with me,
let me know your MIND,
Whoa-oh, what I want to know,
is are you kind?

It's a buck dancer's choice, my friends,
better take my advice.
You know all the rules by now
and the fire from the ice.
Will you come with me?
Won't you come with me?
Whoa-oh, what I want to know,
will you come with me?

Goddamn, I declare,
have you seen the light?
Their walls are built of cannonballs,
their motto is "Don't tread on me".
Come hear Uncle John's Band
by the riverside,
Got some things to talk about
here beside the rising tide.

It's the same story the crow told me;
it's the only one he know.
Like the morning sun you come
and like the wind you go.
Ain't no time to hate,
barely time to wait,
Whoa-oh, what I want to know,
where does the time go?

I live in a silver mine
and I call it Beggar's Tomb;
I got me a violin
and I beg you call the tune,
Anybody's choice,
I can hear your voice.
Whoa-oh, what I want to know,
how does the song go?

Come hear Uncle John's Band
by the riverside,
Got some things to talk about
here beside the rising tide.
Come hear Uncle John's Band
playing to the tide.
Come on along or go alone
he's come to take his children home.

Whoa-oh, what I want to know,
how does the song go?
Come hear Uncle John's Band
by the riverside,
Got some things to talk about
here beside the rising tide.
Come hear Uncle John's Band
playing to the tide.
Come on along or go alone
he's come to take his children home.

"Gospel With No Lord" - Camille

I love seemingly random performance art. It's surreal when she sings "hampster-in-law". Yup, that's probably my favorite part.

"Piano Concerto No. 3" - Sergei Rachmaninoff (played by Dimitris Sgouros)

"Me Cai" - Pacifika

Chill World

I was bouncing around Barnes & Noble yesterday, and I wandered into the media section. My local B&N has a decent selection, with a middling to large classical and soundtrack department, an understandably large pop/rock section, and a smallish collection of world music that nevertheless encompasses more than your average Youssou N'Dour and Angelique Kidjo coffee-house blends.

Anyway, I came across two albums of new music that could be classified as world music, I suppose, although that genre title never seems to really mean anything. The first was the album Asuncion by Pacifika; the second, Fraise Vanille by Helena. They're albums that come from two distinct areas and have two very distinct textures, but are both very relaxing, yet also energizing. I think they're both very zen albums, and by that I mean that they allow me to relax to the point where I can access energy that I might not have realized that I had.

Pacifika begin their album with "Sol", a chanted song over strings, and follow that with "Me Cai" which is layered and rhythmic. "Me Cai" is a perfect summer song, with a lush acoustic quality. "Chiquita" takes the third spot on Asuncion, and flickers and strobes like a bonfire. "Sweet" is the token English-language song, and although it doesn't achieve much beyond its album siblings, it's still a fine song in its own right, with a fair amount of the sweetness that inspires its title. "Paloma" is a party song with an intense Latin flavor and sensuality that make it intoxicating; and, "Mas Y Mas" is a ballad with grungey backing guitars, that lend an attractively unorthodox distortion to Silvana Kane's vocals. "Estrellas de Miel" sounds gypsy-jazz influenced, and the guitars achieve an exquisite backdrop that often sounds like falling raindrops. "Libertad" circles upon itself, as the lyrics argue and debate the sanity of love, and finally just give in to its inevitability. "Cuatro Hijas" is a lullaby tinged with sadness, and "Oyeme" is purely joyful and celebratory. The final track - "Las Olas" - contains some finality, a stain of melancholy, and a bouquet of hope for more music in the near future. Pacifika is quite a band, and they expertly control the mood of their new album Asuncion. Listen and be soothed.

Then of course we have Helena, whose album is pure French pop. The delivery is sunshine and lollipops and flowers in the French countryside, with only a handful of songs hinting at even the concept of Parisian night-life. This is far from the Moulin Rouge. "Le Tourbillon" starts with the album with a perfect highlight of the softness and musical quality of French. With only a flute accompanying her voice at an echoing distance, Helena sounds just the way I imagine Vianne, in Chocolat. Skip ahead to "Adieu Ma Vie", and hear neither sadness nor bitterness in this goodbye, only soft and certain surrender. "Tout Morose" is the fifth song on the album, and wanders carnivalesque through your mind without seeming to have an absolute direction in mind. It's a laid-back song that asks you to take a journey that is important only because of the experience of traveling, not because of the destination. "La Vie De Cocagne" has a vampy horn and percussion sound, while "J'ai La Memoire Qui Flanche" floats down a river of memories in a jaunty little boat. "Caresse-moi J'adore Ca" is enchanting and simple, and the final song - "Minuit Orly" - is a sweet finish to an equally sweet album. Helena sings well, but also has a way of making these songs glow and flow smoothly through your mind. Maybe she has an amazing producer, or maybe she's just an amazing talent. Whatever the reason, Fraise Vanille is an amazingly relaxing album.

"Young Love" - Mystery Jets featuring Laura Marling

Eidolon

Eidolon is the Greek word for a spiritual double or phantom. I think it's an extremely pretty word, that conveys something transient and haunting, and slightly melancholy. The eighteen year old songstress Laura Marling is a personification of eidolon. She's a physically striking pale complexioned blond, who looks as if she should have been placed in a Jane Austen novel as the aristocratic girl with a somewhat dreamy personality and wispy romantic ideals. Those ideals are carefully expressed with her guitar and voice compositions that whisper and wander, but never stray far from the bittersweetness of young love. Laura's voice is haunting in its own way, especially with the echo effect that can be found on many of her songs.

Listen to her new extended play My Manic and I, and you can hear Marling's talent. "New Romantic" (video below) hits many high notes, with it's simple folk trappings and lyrical honesty. It's a raw song with the repeated lyrics: "I will never love a man, cause love and pain go hand in hand, and I can't do it again." Part of Laura's charm is in her ability to acknowledge her inexperience and uncertainty when it comes to love, and her ability to convey this without weakening the sentiment of her songs. She does this well in "Night Terror", which superbly creates the emotional intensity of a nightmare. The backing track is slightly cloying and suffocating, creating that urgent anxiety that typifies nightmares. The title track is rhythmically enchanting, and the lyrical refrain "...and I don't believe him..." is almost a mantra that propels the song forward. "Typical" hits its Regina Spektor-like stride with a laundry-list of disparate ideas that somehow form a coherent picture.

There are only four songs on the extended play, but each song has its own personality and especially beautiful traits. Consistently, Laura Marling demonstrates that age has little to do with ability or emotional depth and insight. My Manic and I is haunting, deep, and quite gorgeous, and it's taken me a month to find a word to describe it: eidolonic.

Jailhouse Blues

When I think of live albums recorded in prisons, well, I actually only think of one album: Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison. Forever memorialized in Walk The Line, with Joaquin Phoenix's man in black brooding over a glass of dirty prison water. The album encompasses a fierce country/blues performance in an unorthodox, but appropriate location.

There is another live prison album which deserves just as much of a musical nod as Live at Folsom Prison, and this is Big Mama Thornton's transparently titled Jail. Recorded at two prisons in the 1970s, the album is only seven songs long. Still, it's truly a piece of art, performed with verve by the woman who wrote songs that are now considered some of Elvis Presley's and Janis Joplin's hits.

Jail begins with a rustling harmonica solo, and then the blues rumble hits the ground running. It's "Little Red Rooster", and Big Mama Thornton sings the blues with just as much energy as the harmonica. "Ball 'N' Chain" is the second song, and the one most notably attributed to Janis Joplin. I'm a huge fan of Joplin's work, and I think her voice is an amazing instrument. However, listening to Big Mama Thornton's vocal control over the soft and hard syllables, and her ability to make a song sound variously harsh and sweet, has me convinces that Joplin must have spent hours trying to mimic her. The similarities in delivery are uncanny. The title song rumbles into the third spot, chronicling the boredom, anxiety, and malaise that anyone can imagine taking hold after days spent in jail. We have "Hound Dog" in the fourth spot, and it's notably more jazzy than the Presley version. Listening to Big Mama Thornton belt the song along with the horn line, I felt like I was hearing it the way it was meant to played, and that is an intensely satisfying experience. "Rock Me Baby" has a sloppy quality, that matches Thornton's slurred vocal delivery. "Sheriff O.E. and Me" is carefree, and seems to have a few blugrass elements, although the blues is still strong and the song is far from direction less. Thornton finishes her concert with "Oh Happy Day", which is quite uplifting and spiritually positive.

The greatest quality of Jail, is not the wonderful music it holds, but the genius that guides the organization of the music on the album. The progress of the songs is as delineated as a well-written story. From the wakeup call of "Little Red Rooster", to "Jail"s very own dramatic plateau that corresponds with the middle of the album, and then the grand finale of "Oh Happy Day" that finishes the album with hope. The album succeeds in conjuring various emotions, and focusing on various topics, but never does it become loaded down with bitterness or inappropriate levels of happiness for the occasion. It's a thoughtful album, and it should garner true artistic status along with Live at Folsom Prison.