Let the record show my top 10 albums of 2008:
1. Bon Iver- For Emma, Forever Ago...
2. The Loved Ones- Build & Burn
3. Kaki King- Dreaming of Revenge
4. of Montreal- Skeletal Lamping
5. Right Away, Great Captain!- The Eventually Home
6. Gym Class Heroes- The Quilt
7. Coldplay- Viva La Vida
8. The Hold Steady- Stay Positive
9. TV On The Radio- Dear Science...
10. Santogold- Santogold
Looking back on a year always makes me realize how inconsequential parts of it were--all of the things that felt like they had to be huge, life-altering events turn out not to matter that much once you look at the whole 365-day context. Breaking my arm seems like such a little thing now that I'm whole again, and turning 21 was nice, sure, but my life isn't actually that different now. I have no doubt that the one thing that I'll always remember when I look back on 2008 is the election of Barack Obama and the small part I played in his campaign.
Unrelated to the above navel-gazing, today one of my favorite songs came up on shuffle. This song is, technically, about Seattle, but I listened to it obsessively two years ago when I was canvassing in PDX, and this song is Portland to me. It's the best-fitting mash-up/remix I've ever heard, and it reminds me how much I love that city.
The Blue Scholars- Inkwell (Crashed Cop Car Remix)
Blue Scholars at Amazon
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Lupe Fiasco, "Hustlers and Customers"
The holiday season brings us a new track from Lupe, and you know, of course I love it--this guy could cover Crank It and I would probably love it. Here he combines a few measures from some piece of classical music (I can't name what it is, but I'm 95% certain I did ballet to this piece when I was a kid) with a classic, simple beat, resulting in a queer kind of syncopation that my ear finds addictive. There's not much else to the structure of this song, and it is repetitive, but so catchy and interesting that it doesn't get old. Lupe's rapping is pretty much what we expect of him by now: wordy rhymes and lush, vivid ghetto stories with a wide cast of characters. Good stuff.
Lupe Fiasco- Hustlers and Customers
Lupe Fiasco at Amazon
The holiday season brings us a new track from Lupe, and you know, of course I love it--this guy could cover Crank It and I would probably love it. Here he combines a few measures from some piece of classical music (I can't name what it is, but I'm 95% certain I did ballet to this piece when I was a kid) with a classic, simple beat, resulting in a queer kind of syncopation that my ear finds addictive. There's not much else to the structure of this song, and it is repetitive, but so catchy and interesting that it doesn't get old. Lupe's rapping is pretty much what we expect of him by now: wordy rhymes and lush, vivid ghetto stories with a wide cast of characters. Good stuff.
Lupe Fiasco- Hustlers and Customers
Lupe Fiasco at Amazon
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
inspired by
The crust of day-old snow gives way under the sole of my boot, crunching and crinkling like red leaves in autumn. I'm walking from my car (parked almost the whole block away, there's never any fucking parking available on this street, your neighbors must throw parties all the damn time) to your house, and I'm reciting under my breath the words I will say to try and get you back. They will work. I know they will work. You love snow, and yesterday was the first real blizzard of the year, so I predict that you'll be in a forgiving mood. You're probably making yourself tea right now. When you open the door to my face, you'll see that my nose and cheeks are red, you'll see my breath brittle in the air, you'll see that the jacket I'm wearing is practically threadbare, and your impulse will be to invite me in out of the cold. I will have won half the battle. I mumble the words I will say again and again, and they sound more persuasive each time.
Bon Iver- Blood Bank
Pre-order the Blood Bank EP
Bon Iver on Amazon
Bon Iver- Blood Bank
Pre-order the Blood Bank EP
Bon Iver on Amazon
Monday, December 8, 2008
Two:
Esau Mwamwaya & Radioclit are The Very Best
This album/mixtape/whathaveyou is awesome! I freely admit that I lack the vocabulary to say much more than "it's awesome," so there you go. Mwamyaya is Malawian (I don't know if this is actually a word; whatever, he's from Malawi), and he and Radioclit mix traditional Africana with electro, soul & R&B, indie and Michael Jackson. On the album you'll hear familiar strains of M.I.A., Vampire Weekend and Santogold, and each song is more colorful and dynamic than the last. I hope these guys get huge.
Mwamway and Radioclit are letting folks preview and download the album for free over here, so you really have no excuse. Go, grab it, and listen. It will make you happy.
Snow Patrol, A Hundred Million Suns
I feel vaguely like I should be embarrassed for liking Snow Patrol as much as I do. They're "soft rock," I heard 'Chasing Cars' a million times on the radio last summer, and they make the kind of mellow, emotional music that's easy to sneer at. But they write songs that tap into the most delicious strains of longing and melodrama, almost always without crossing that line into saccharine. (And when they do cross the line, I never mind because it's still so satisfying.)
Their latest album feels like a fairy tale that must come to terms with a realistic--and accordingly, unhappy--ending. Gary Lightbody's shaky voice always implies foreboding, and the songs switch constantly from urgent anxiety to bittersweet acceptance. It's very pretty music, lovely even, but its loveliness doesn't mean it lacks substance or weight. Buy it here.
Esau Mwamwaya & Radioclit are The Very Best
This album/mixtape/whathaveyou is awesome! I freely admit that I lack the vocabulary to say much more than "it's awesome," so there you go. Mwamyaya is Malawian (I don't know if this is actually a word; whatever, he's from Malawi), and he and Radioclit mix traditional Africana with electro, soul & R&B, indie and Michael Jackson. On the album you'll hear familiar strains of M.I.A., Vampire Weekend and Santogold, and each song is more colorful and dynamic than the last. I hope these guys get huge.
Mwamway and Radioclit are letting folks preview and download the album for free over here, so you really have no excuse. Go, grab it, and listen. It will make you happy.
Snow Patrol, A Hundred Million Suns
I feel vaguely like I should be embarrassed for liking Snow Patrol as much as I do. They're "soft rock," I heard 'Chasing Cars' a million times on the radio last summer, and they make the kind of mellow, emotional music that's easy to sneer at. But they write songs that tap into the most delicious strains of longing and melodrama, almost always without crossing that line into saccharine. (And when they do cross the line, I never mind because it's still so satisfying.)
Their latest album feels like a fairy tale that must come to terms with a realistic--and accordingly, unhappy--ending. Gary Lightbody's shaky voice always implies foreboding, and the songs switch constantly from urgent anxiety to bittersweet acceptance. It's very pretty music, lovely even, but its loveliness doesn't mean it lacks substance or weight. Buy it here.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Today I got around to listening to 808s and Heartbreak. And you know what it reminds me of? The Mountain Goats' Get Lonely. No, really. They're both essentially concept albums about being dumped, they're both intensely personal, and on these albums both John Darnielle and Kanye dwelled (dwelt?) so much on trying to make the listener feel their sense of loss that they produced albums that were worse than the rest of their work. Both Get Lonely and 808s and Heartbreak are characterized by this sense of vast space. Get Lonely features lots of unbearably slow songs that feature only Darnielle's voice and one haunting acoustic guitar, and 808s and Heartbreak is mostly just Kanye singing with Autotune plus percussion. There's other stuff on the album, but it mostly just serves to highlight. Most of the songs on the album are long, stretching out the emo and attempting to give the songs more weight.
I think one of the reasons the album doesn't really work is that we're used to this kind of thing from, well, The Mountain Goats. And Elliott Smith, and Bon Iver, and Ani Difranco, etc--we're not used to it from pure pop. This sort of crushing rejection, self-doubt and existential angst is both cliché and really difficult to articulate, so listeners want musicians to approach the subject sideways, with metaphor and complex language something less blatant than 'you've broken my heart.' Kanye gives us lines like "don't say you will/unless you will," and most of his lyrical content comes off as clumsy and too surface-level.
I think what he's trying to do with this is interesting--making such a personal, lovelorn and (for better or worse) genuine album that sounds so similar to the R&B pop on the radio that music snobs love to sneer at. I am all for pop music that isn't afraid to be serious. And as a producer, Kanye still has the ability to produce hooks that are fun to listen to and that I can't get out of my head. I think several of the songs work really well on their own, like 'Paranoid' (which has a throwback 80s and Prince sound that I love) and 'RoboCop.' Both of these songs feature more instrumentation and energy than most of the other tracks, as well, abandoning the spaciousness of Kanye's misery to give us well-rounded and catchy songs.
But overall, it falls flat. Maybe this is personal preference: I actually really like Kanye's rapping, and don't like the thought that he's possibly abandoned rap in his music, and I have never liked the way Autotune sounds. I think it's fine for Kanye to experiment and make an album that seems to be more for himself than anyone else. But many defenses of this album that I've read seem to suggest that fans should ignore any faults they hear and love it just because it's personal. I strongly disagree with this. Emotional honesty is not the only rubric of judging an artist's work, and just because Kanye has bared his heart to his listeners doesn't mean that I have any obligation to like the album.
I think one of the reasons the album doesn't really work is that we're used to this kind of thing from, well, The Mountain Goats. And Elliott Smith, and Bon Iver, and Ani Difranco, etc--we're not used to it from pure pop. This sort of crushing rejection, self-doubt and existential angst is both cliché and really difficult to articulate, so listeners want musicians to approach the subject sideways, with metaphor and complex language something less blatant than 'you've broken my heart.' Kanye gives us lines like "don't say you will/unless you will," and most of his lyrical content comes off as clumsy and too surface-level.
I think what he's trying to do with this is interesting--making such a personal, lovelorn and (for better or worse) genuine album that sounds so similar to the R&B pop on the radio that music snobs love to sneer at. I am all for pop music that isn't afraid to be serious. And as a producer, Kanye still has the ability to produce hooks that are fun to listen to and that I can't get out of my head. I think several of the songs work really well on their own, like 'Paranoid' (which has a throwback 80s and Prince sound that I love) and 'RoboCop.' Both of these songs feature more instrumentation and energy than most of the other tracks, as well, abandoning the spaciousness of Kanye's misery to give us well-rounded and catchy songs.
But overall, it falls flat. Maybe this is personal preference: I actually really like Kanye's rapping, and don't like the thought that he's possibly abandoned rap in his music, and I have never liked the way Autotune sounds. I think it's fine for Kanye to experiment and make an album that seems to be more for himself than anyone else. But many defenses of this album that I've read seem to suggest that fans should ignore any faults they hear and love it just because it's personal. I strongly disagree with this. Emotional honesty is not the only rubric of judging an artist's work, and just because Kanye has bared his heart to his listeners doesn't mean that I have any obligation to like the album.
Monday, October 20, 2008
The Mountain Goats on 10/18
As previously mentioned, I am a slavish devotee of The Mountain Goats. To borrow from recent presidential debate speech, there's a fundamental difference between fans of TMG and non-fans (or even casual fans): the unaffected listeners hear a man with a funny voice, spazzy guitar and wordy, kind of pretentious lyrics, and the fans hear a quirky genius storyteller whose poetry and seeming simplicity present the trickiest parts of humanity laid bare. He is practically a messianic figure to those of us who get it, and we look pretty weird to the non-kooks on the sidelines.
I am, without a doubt, in the crazy-in-love camp, yet I still felt somewhat awkward when I arrived at the venue. In part this is because to be a Mountain Goats fan is to be awkward, and in part because I suspected that I was surrounded by people who out-obsessed me--I could tell they were better Darnielle fans than I was because of all the men had bushy beards, and skinny jeans and plaid button-down shirts were everywhere. Clearly there was a uniform and only the truest fans had received the memo. My suspicions were confirmed later, when I was seemingly the only one who couldn't sing along with every word of 'No Children,' the only one who failed to adequately prove their great love of The Mountain Goats! At least I could holler 'hail, Satan' along with the rest of the worshipping crowd.
After I attempted to drown my self-consciousness at the bar, Kaki King took the stage. I was unfamiliar with her before the show, but since Saturday I've been listening to her constantly. She played acoustic guitar more aggressively than anyone I've ever seen, slapping at the strings and giving the her spaced-out post-rock a sharper edge . Her acoustic-driven, often instrumental songs recalled wide-open Western landscapes, cowboys and bandits battling it out in the desert. I know I'll be listening to her the next time I drive through southern Utah and need a soundtrack for Highway 6.
I think John Darnielle might be the most charmingly awkward frontman I've ever seen. He's just a funny-looking-guy, for one thing, with a long bespectacled face that fits the odd stories he tells perfectly because it doesn't at all. He moves around the stage in a sort of disjointed way, kicking out his legs and stomping and generally moving like an excited Tin Man with not enough oil in his joints, but there's a tremendous joy in it. He was constantly grinning, even while singing some of the most tragic lines he's ever written.
The whole band had the same kind of unpolished, almost childish energy, and it gave each song the fuzzy fresh excited feeling that his early, low-fi recordings evoked, only with added intensity thanks to the extra instrumentation. Listening to Mountain Goats recordings a few days later, they all seem just slightly muted and held back. I guess this is always the consequence of seeing an artist who knows how to craft a live sound that's distinct from their studio one. If they really succeed, everything but their voice from the stage might seem like just an echo.
I am, without a doubt, in the crazy-in-love camp, yet I still felt somewhat awkward when I arrived at the venue. In part this is because to be a Mountain Goats fan is to be awkward, and in part because I suspected that I was surrounded by people who out-obsessed me--I could tell they were better Darnielle fans than I was because of all the men had bushy beards, and skinny jeans and plaid button-down shirts were everywhere. Clearly there was a uniform and only the truest fans had received the memo. My suspicions were confirmed later, when I was seemingly the only one who couldn't sing along with every word of 'No Children,' the only one who failed to adequately prove their great love of The Mountain Goats! At least I could holler 'hail, Satan' along with the rest of the worshipping crowd.
After I attempted to drown my self-consciousness at the bar, Kaki King took the stage. I was unfamiliar with her before the show, but since Saturday I've been listening to her constantly. She played acoustic guitar more aggressively than anyone I've ever seen, slapping at the strings and giving the her spaced-out post-rock a sharper edge . Her acoustic-driven, often instrumental songs recalled wide-open Western landscapes, cowboys and bandits battling it out in the desert. I know I'll be listening to her the next time I drive through southern Utah and need a soundtrack for Highway 6.
I think John Darnielle might be the most charmingly awkward frontman I've ever seen. He's just a funny-looking-guy, for one thing, with a long bespectacled face that fits the odd stories he tells perfectly because it doesn't at all. He moves around the stage in a sort of disjointed way, kicking out his legs and stomping and generally moving like an excited Tin Man with not enough oil in his joints, but there's a tremendous joy in it. He was constantly grinning, even while singing some of the most tragic lines he's ever written.
The whole band had the same kind of unpolished, almost childish energy, and it gave each song the fuzzy fresh excited feeling that his early, low-fi recordings evoked, only with added intensity thanks to the extra instrumentation. Listening to Mountain Goats recordings a few days later, they all seem just slightly muted and held back. I guess this is always the consequence of seeing an artist who knows how to craft a live sound that's distinct from their studio one. If they really succeed, everything but their voice from the stage might seem like just an echo.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
feeling the full brunt of the age
Tonight I will see The Mountain Goats perform at In The Venue. I bought my ticket in August and today's date, the concert, seems like sort of a mark of how unsettlingly fast the time between then and now has gone. Whenever time passes quickly before an event I've been looking forward to, I always feel slightly alarmed at the thought that the event itself will be gone just as fast. There's always the hope that I'll be able to press pause during a momentous occasion and savor it and truly enjoy it, and then I find that I've blinked and it's over.
TMG has released an EP for this tour, Satanic Messiah. You can buy it (and pay whatever you want for it) here. Mildly off-kilter piano is threaded throughout most of the EP, and the whole thing is well-suited to the beginning of autumn. When I close my eyes and listen, I can see leaves turning colors and falling.
TMG has released an EP for this tour, Satanic Messiah. You can buy it (and pay whatever you want for it) here. Mildly off-kilter piano is threaded throughout most of the EP, and the whole thing is well-suited to the beginning of autumn. When I close my eyes and listen, I can see leaves turning colors and falling.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
but it's what we've earned
This is the fence outside my apartment complex, facing one of the busiest streets in the city. What's beyond the frame is more than twenty more Obama signs on this fence as 500 South curves into 400--I have no idea who put them up. In the past few months, Salt Lake has been smothered by Obama signs everywhere you look, and all I've seen of the other camp is one McCain-Palin bumper sticker.
And this is Utah. Granted, Salt Lake City is the most liberal part of the state, but it's still Utah.
The other day I heard someone around my age mention their past political apathy and excuse it because they came of age during the Bush Administration. I can see how the past eight years would make anyone apathetic, but overall I don't think my generation is the generation of apathy: rather, I think we are the generation of disillusionment. Our generation is going to get (and is already getting) saddled with the debt, the violence, the environmental damage and all of the bad decisions made by the generations that did such a great job fucking up the 20th century.
But I don't think that being disillusioned and angry is a bad thing. I think it makes us sharper, it gives us momentum, and it gives us the understanding of just how radical a change we need right now. If Obama wins big in three weeks, it will be in no small part because my generation stepped up and called bullshit on the way things have always been.
This song was released right before the 2004 election, but I found myself putting it on repeat in 2006 and again this year. The emotions and the statements continue to be relevant.
Eminem- Mosh
Monday, October 13, 2008
Of Montreal, 'Skeletal Lamping'
Of Montreal's last album, 'Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?' mastered one of my absolute favorite musical tricks: combining grim lyrics and sad sentiments with upbeat, cheerful melodies. They plumbed the depths of misanthropy and nihilism and set it to beats you couldn't help but dance to. Listening to it was like an excellently-written novel featuring a protagonist you were meant to hate.
Of Montreal keeps their sharp edge with 'Skeletal Lamping,' and whereas 'Hissing Fauna...' dealt with existential cynicism and depression, this album focuses more on themes of sexuality. There is romance here, but it's greasy and impure. "Gallery Piece" begins I wanna be your love/I want to make you cry/I want to sweep you off your feet and progresses to I wanna sell you out/want to expose your flaws/I wanna steal your things.
'Skeletal Lamping' is still dance-pop, but the band adds more elements this time. The instrumentation is all over the place, and many songs switch sounds completely halfway through. It has a certain calculated schizophrenia: the opening track, "Nonpareil of Favor," starts with quick hyper beats, then morphs into a country-esque bridge and then a psychedelic breakdown before reaching a three-minute-long shoegaze peak with what sounds like a choir in the background. This beginning is a good indicator for what you can expect--or rather, not expect--from the rest of the album. The influences are varied and the contrasts are ferocious, and I have another great album to listen to when I'm feeling so over humanity but still want to dance.
Of Montreal keeps their sharp edge with 'Skeletal Lamping,' and whereas 'Hissing Fauna...' dealt with existential cynicism and depression, this album focuses more on themes of sexuality. There is romance here, but it's greasy and impure. "Gallery Piece" begins I wanna be your love/I want to make you cry/I want to sweep you off your feet and progresses to I wanna sell you out/want to expose your flaws/I wanna steal your things.
'Skeletal Lamping' is still dance-pop, but the band adds more elements this time. The instrumentation is all over the place, and many songs switch sounds completely halfway through. It has a certain calculated schizophrenia: the opening track, "Nonpareil of Favor," starts with quick hyper beats, then morphs into a country-esque bridge and then a psychedelic breakdown before reaching a three-minute-long shoegaze peak with what sounds like a choir in the background. This beginning is a good indicator for what you can expect--or rather, not expect--from the rest of the album. The influences are varied and the contrasts are ferocious, and I have another great album to listen to when I'm feeling so over humanity but still want to dance.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
'cause I've got the elements
It's been roughly a year since I moved from Portland, OR back to SLC, and today I renewed my lease on this apartment for another year. Somehow, I'm still surprised that there's nowhere else I would rather be. I love this valley, I love its culture, I love that there are so many cultures here, I love the diversity I've found here. I love that it's both the least and most mormon city in the world. I love that this place has a vibrant beating heart that hasn't yet been drowned out by gentrification or yuppies or rising prices or chains. I love when it's trashy and clumsy and less refined and more western than other, bigger, hipper cities. I'm really looking forward to another year here.
I've been revisiting The Thermals lately. They play melodic punk that ranges from poppy and catchy to mellow and droning. The lead singer's vocals match the clanging of the electric guitars, and even though they tackle anti-religious and anti-establishment themes, they usually come off as light-hearted and sardonic, inviting you in on the joke. It's great stuff to crank up in your car and headbang to and yell along with.
And they've held a special place in my heart since I saw them last year in Portland. Sometime in spring '07, I was walking home from Powell's and I saw an advertisement on The Crystal Ballroom's marquee for The Thermals' show that night. I had only heard a handful of songs, but I thought, what the hell, and went by myself. It was a great show, full of simple fun raw energy and loud guitars and shoving crowds, and it was the first time I'd ever decided to go see a band so spontaneously--it was a revelation that I could be the kind of person who went to concerts by herself without planning on it. And not only could I do that, it was easy for me to do that, it was fun, and it was the beginning of a renewed love for live music and a confidence in my ability to go see shows by myself at any time and have fun doing it.
I've been revisiting The Thermals lately. They play melodic punk that ranges from poppy and catchy to mellow and droning. The lead singer's vocals match the clanging of the electric guitars, and even though they tackle anti-religious and anti-establishment themes, they usually come off as light-hearted and sardonic, inviting you in on the joke. It's great stuff to crank up in your car and headbang to and yell along with.
And they've held a special place in my heart since I saw them last year in Portland. Sometime in spring '07, I was walking home from Powell's and I saw an advertisement on The Crystal Ballroom's marquee for The Thermals' show that night. I had only heard a handful of songs, but I thought, what the hell, and went by myself. It was a great show, full of simple fun raw energy and loud guitars and shoving crowds, and it was the first time I'd ever decided to go see a band so spontaneously--it was a revelation that I could be the kind of person who went to concerts by herself without planning on it. And not only could I do that, it was easy for me to do that, it was fun, and it was the beginning of a renewed love for live music and a confidence in my ability to go see shows by myself at any time and have fun doing it.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Smoking Popes, Stay Down
Stay Down is warm, familiar and just the kind of uncomplicated rock that I've been craving lately. There's nothing new or groundbreaking here, just punk-ish electric guitar arrangements, verse-chorus-verse and songs from boys about girls. But this band, now reunited after almost a ten-year break, have been around the block and they've made a well-crafted and catchy album full of simple pop-punk gems. The album opens with 'Welcome to Janesville,' a bright enthusiastic song with plenty of pounding electric guitar and a chorus that begs to be sung along to. From there it moves at its own relaxed pace, hitting the high points exactly when it needs to. This definitely feels like an album from an experienced band--there's no youthful rushing or sloppiness, no needing to prove themselves.
The excellent vocals take the album up a notch further. Josh Caterer's voice is clear and spot-on in every track, and when he's backed by his brother Matt, the harmonies are just outstanding. This is most evident on the last track 'First Time,' an acoustic look at young love that manages to be nostalgic and wistful without getting sappy. The straightforward riffs throughout the song, the understated lovely guitar solo and the pitch-perfect harmonies make this song just right for summer evenings, and my favorite on the album.
Stay Down is warm, familiar and just the kind of uncomplicated rock that I've been craving lately. There's nothing new or groundbreaking here, just punk-ish electric guitar arrangements, verse-chorus-verse and songs from boys about girls. But this band, now reunited after almost a ten-year break, have been around the block and they've made a well-crafted and catchy album full of simple pop-punk gems. The album opens with 'Welcome to Janesville,' a bright enthusiastic song with plenty of pounding electric guitar and a chorus that begs to be sung along to. From there it moves at its own relaxed pace, hitting the high points exactly when it needs to. This definitely feels like an album from an experienced band--there's no youthful rushing or sloppiness, no needing to prove themselves.
The excellent vocals take the album up a notch further. Josh Caterer's voice is clear and spot-on in every track, and when he's backed by his brother Matt, the harmonies are just outstanding. This is most evident on the last track 'First Time,' an acoustic look at young love that manages to be nostalgic and wistful without getting sappy. The straightforward riffs throughout the song, the understated lovely guitar solo and the pitch-perfect harmonies make this song just right for summer evenings, and my favorite on the album.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
is it my birthday?!
I take back any bad word I have ever said about downtown SLC. I don't know how I managed to avoid hearing about this until now, but this year's Twilight Concert Series looks almost too stellar to be true. Like, seriously, I get to see (for starters) The Roots, De La Soul, and The Cool Kids? Downtown, five minutes from my apartment? For free? Where does my city get off being so awesome? I guess I know what I'm doing every Thursday night until September now, geez.
Also looking good is Red Butte Gardens' Outdoor Concert Series. No matter how you feel about the musicians lined up, these shows are probably worth it for the gorgeousness of the venue alone. Wilco is already sold out, but I'm hopeful that if I keep my ear to the ground a solution to that pesky obstacle will present itself.
Also looking good is Red Butte Gardens' Outdoor Concert Series. No matter how you feel about the musicians lined up, these shows are probably worth it for the gorgeousness of the venue alone. Wilco is already sold out, but I'm hopeful that if I keep my ear to the ground a solution to that pesky obstacle will present itself.
Monday, June 23, 2008
if you can drink tap water and breathe the air
Because of my job, I've been listening to my iPod at least eight hours a day, five days a week, and my need for a constant flow of new music is growing exponentially. Unfortunately, even with a ton of new stuff to listen to I still find myself with musical ADD, skipping around and eventually giving up and choosing to shuffle my whole library. I've been trying to make myself focus more and actually process the stuff in my New Music playlist; we'll see how it goes. Anyway, here's one album so far that's kept me from breaking a window to escape my corporate desk job.
Atmosphere, When Life Gives You Lemons, You Pain That Shit Gold
I had a great time at his show when Atmosphere recently came through SLC, and it's taken me a while to get to this album (after his show I got distracted by the Glow In The Dark tour, and the only hip-hop I listened to was Kanye, Lupe and N.E.R.D. for weeks), but I'm really enjoying it. What I'd heard of him before this had mostly been too serious and dry for my tastes, but on Lemons he finds a lightness and bounce without losing the smart grit in his words. A few of the slower tracks don't have beats interesting enough to carry the dourness, but one of my favorites on the CD is 'Guarantees,' a depressing snapshot of a song that's carried solely by meandering acoustic guitar and Slug's voice. Throughout the album he's at the top of his game lyrically, drawing you in to stories of normal-yet-heroic working-class America, and it's like drinking a tall glass of lemonade: sour but refreshing.
Atmosphere, When Life Gives You Lemons, You Pain That Shit Gold
I had a great time at his show when Atmosphere recently came through SLC, and it's taken me a while to get to this album (after his show I got distracted by the Glow In The Dark tour, and the only hip-hop I listened to was Kanye, Lupe and N.E.R.D. for weeks), but I'm really enjoying it. What I'd heard of him before this had mostly been too serious and dry for my tastes, but on Lemons he finds a lightness and bounce without losing the smart grit in his words. A few of the slower tracks don't have beats interesting enough to carry the dourness, but one of my favorites on the CD is 'Guarantees,' a depressing snapshot of a song that's carried solely by meandering acoustic guitar and Slug's voice. Throughout the album he's at the top of his game lyrically, drawing you in to stories of normal-yet-heroic working-class America, and it's like drinking a tall glass of lemonade: sour but refreshing.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Kanye West's Glow In The Dark Tour on 5/23, 5/24, and 6/9
Better late than never, right? I’m trying to be more diligent in terms of at least writing something about each show I see, because I don’t want to look up at the end of 2008 and realize that I’ve seen dozens of shows and only written about a few of them. And with this tour, especially: I flew to Chicago to see it twice at the United Center and then saw it a third time in SLC at the E-Center, and spent close to 100 dollars on two of those tickets. I feel a little like I’ve committed something of myself to this tour, and I don’t want to let it pass by without jotting something down to look back on.
Lupe, N.E.R.D. and Rihanna collectively acted as a great advertisement for the idea of a music industry built around touring and performing, rather than record sales. These artists are all damn good performers, but each one is great in a different way—they all stood out from each other and performed with very distinctive styles. It’s one of the few tours I’ve seen with this many openers that didn’t waste a second on mediocrity, where each musician put as much into their performance as the main act did.
Kanye West put the same effort and skill into performing as the others did, but he took it a step further and pulled the audience into his own narrative. I expected going into the shows that the high cost of the tickets would have to go somewhere, and I wasn’t disappointed: he used huge video screens, a constructed stage, voice-overs and other special effects to pull off this story of Kanye as a space explorer who’s crash-landed on a foreign planet and is just trying to get home. Usually, I don’t have much patience for flashy effects at concerts and elaborate stages mostly bore me, but I do think Kanye chose effects and theatrics that made sense with his music—they always added to the songs instead of trying to be their own thing and detracting. And the big story of struggle, homesickness and eventual triumph mirrored themes that Kanye has used in most songs he’s written.
While the effects certainly helped, the narrative would have flopped and come off as corny if it weren’t for the weight he gave his own words. Say what you want about Kanye and his arrogance, but his big head has never resulted in him producing half-assed material, and this tour is no exception. Kanye held the whole stage by himself, up until Touch The Sky when Lupe joined him, and he was riveting the whole time. He didn’t just rap, he danced and jumped and yelled and used the whole area. Every song was a bigger deal and a bigger climax than the last, and even during the slow, somber ‘Mama,’ he didn’t truly let up, instead demanding the audience scream and clap for his mother at the height of the song. When space-explorer-Kanye is at his most discouraged and doesn’t believe he can go on, the back-up singers and band launch earnestly into ‘Don’t Stop Believing,’ and in the audience you have no idea if you’re singing along ironically or not, but you’re swept up in it either way.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
every gun you ever held went off
Coldplay is one of those bands that, while I've never thought of them as being a band I'm particularly attached to, have produced some of my absolute favorite songs. Much of their material thus far has been boring, soft, and interchangeable, but the songs that they've gotten right (A Rush Of Blood to The Head, Clocks, The Scientist) are ones that I put on repeat for hours, songs that I feel have shaped me, songs that I'm determinedly attached to. These songs have always given me the impression that they were written about things more epic, important and magical than the everyday world, have tapped into the same part of me that loves The Lord of The Rings and Star Wars. But then there's Fix You and Yellow and Trouble and almost every other song they've written, music that mostly I just find listen-able and inoffensive--background music.
But Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends is really fucking good. I've been listening to this album for hours now and I can tell that I'll be listening to it for days more. Whatever quality it is that makes me love The Scientist and Clocks so much, they've infused the whole album with it. This album is expansive and overwhelming--it feels like something larger-than-life being released.
Instrumentally, it's richer than their previous releases. Chris Martin mostly abandons his crooning, sickly-sweet falsetto, giving his voice a richer and stronger sound. They've changed their sound in general, branching out from their generic alt-rock sound with faster rhythms, more bass and electric guitar, and lots of strings. You can hear a greater variety of influences--bluegrass, especially, in Strawberry Swing, as well as hints of synth-pop throughout most of the songs. They still have their signature piano pop hooks, but they've stepped up their game and given us something much meatier. Where previous albums strummed along quietly, Viva soars, demands attention, and even rocks out.
But Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends is really fucking good. I've been listening to this album for hours now and I can tell that I'll be listening to it for days more. Whatever quality it is that makes me love The Scientist and Clocks so much, they've infused the whole album with it. This album is expansive and overwhelming--it feels like something larger-than-life being released.
Instrumentally, it's richer than their previous releases. Chris Martin mostly abandons his crooning, sickly-sweet falsetto, giving his voice a richer and stronger sound. They've changed their sound in general, branching out from their generic alt-rock sound with faster rhythms, more bass and electric guitar, and lots of strings. You can hear a greater variety of influences--bluegrass, especially, in Strawberry Swing, as well as hints of synth-pop throughout most of the songs. They still have their signature piano pop hooks, but they've stepped up their game and given us something much meatier. Where previous albums strummed along quietly, Viva soars, demands attention, and even rocks out.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
an introvert an excavator
Wow, what's up, June? Once again, my grasp of the concept of time and how it passes is tenuous at best. I keep telling myself that I will definitely write up a post about seeing The Used, and then I'll definitely write something about Mac Lethal, and then most definitely Atmosphere, and then I look up and said show was two days ago and I'm seeing someone else already and the images of whomever last performed in front of me are already fading. It turns out that making the time to write about music is a whole lot harder when I have a fully functional arm and therefore have no excuse to avoid my busy life.
And this, this isn't even a substantive post, but I figure it's better than nothing. I haven't been listening to much new stuff lately, but I am loving The Game's new single, Game's Pain. It's drenched in shout-outs and fond nostalgia, and it hits the same heartclench-y chord that made Hate It Or Love It so addictive. It's giving me a reason to listen to the radio, because U92 is predictably already overplaying it, and I get a big sappy grin every time it comes on.
Game's Pain- The Game feat. Keyshia Cole
Between L.A.X. in July, N.E.R.D.'s new album next week, and Santogold's Santogold already putting a spring in my step, it promises to be a good summer.
And this, this isn't even a substantive post, but I figure it's better than nothing. I haven't been listening to much new stuff lately, but I am loving The Game's new single, Game's Pain. It's drenched in shout-outs and fond nostalgia, and it hits the same heartclench-y chord that made Hate It Or Love It so addictive. It's giving me a reason to listen to the radio, because U92 is predictably already overplaying it, and I get a big sappy grin every time it comes on.
Game's Pain- The Game feat. Keyshia Cole
Between L.A.X. in July, N.E.R.D.'s new album next week, and Santogold's Santogold already putting a spring in my step, it promises to be a good summer.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
My Chemical Romance on 4/4, 4/6, and 4/11
I saw My Chemical Romance at The Warfield in San Francisco, at Bamboozle Left in Irvine, and at Saltair in Salt Lake City. There are many bands and artists that I love enough to travel out of state for, but somehow when I'm doing the traveling for MCR I have to fight not to feel embarrassed. Because this band gets a lot of flack from my peers, mostly because they play songs that people really like--and even worse, they play songs that teenaged girls really like. I have never figured out why, if a teenaged girl likes a song, that song is automatically deemed poor quality by the rest of the world. This music taste rule has always struck me as one that must have been invented by teenage boys, or at least by boys stuck in the teenage mentality. Musically, My Chemical Romance couldn't be more different from the pop boy bands of the early '00s, but liking them now carries the same social stigma as liking boy bands did then. (Whereas Justin Timberlake has become beloved by all; go figure.)
I love big music. I love music that isn't afraid to be itself in the most embarrassing and ferocious way possible; I love music that's theatric and emotional and aims to connect. My Chemical Romance is one of my favorite bands because they make music that's big and loud and painfully earnest, because they don't seem to know the meaning of holding themselves back. Almost every song they've written has catharsis written into it, and I think if I weren't incredibly overinvested in their music I would hate it--a middle ground is unimaginable.
MCR's live performances are not polished. The strains of electric guitar that are layered so distinctly on their studio recordings blur and crash together onstage, and Gerard Way's vocals are often uneven. However, they more than make up for it with their stage presence, the sheer momentum of their songs, and a passionate, almost childish dedication to connecting with their fans. They are well aware that it's more difficult for a popular rock band playing arenas to connect to an audience than it is for an obscure grungy band touring in a van to, and they make every extra effort to keep themselves from being alienated. For the duration of their set, you will believe that they love and adore you as a fan, that all they want is for you to scream and jump and sing and be a part of it. Way spent almost more time turning his mic towards the audience for them to sing than he spent singing himself, and on many of the songs from The Black Parade, his vocals were drowned out by the whole audience singing every word.
The hugeness that I love about MCR's albums is even more momentous played live. As performers, they take advantage of every building bridge, every guitar solo, every scream and drum roll finale. They have dropped the makeup and costumes from their live shows, but they're still plenty theatrical, hamming their music up for all its worth. They know why their fans love their music and they deliver, doing justice to every cathartic release possible. They put so much into their shows that I am always surprised that they have the energy to tour at all, that a single performance does not drain them completely.
They are all about giving their fans what they need, on this tour especially: they changed the set list each night I saw them, but the staples included B-sides and songs off of their first record that I never thought I would get to hear live. They know the fan mindset, they know that fans get attached to demos and shitty old songs and the B-sides that aren't on the album for a reason, and maybe it's silly of me, but the fact that they realize this and then reward it made me feel privileged, grateful, and loved after each show. I got to hear 'Kill All Your Friends' performed three times, a gift I never thought I'd receive, and it makes the money spent on tickets and travel seem meaningless. This is why My Chemical Romance will never lose their most impassioned fans no matter how popular and mainstream they get; this is the trick to getting music fans to give you lots of money in this day and age. The downloading age means that it's not enough to get your fans to just love you; you have to give back if you want to reap the benefits.
Kill All Your Friends- My Chemical Romance
Headfirst for Halos- My Chemical Romance
I love big music. I love music that isn't afraid to be itself in the most embarrassing and ferocious way possible; I love music that's theatric and emotional and aims to connect. My Chemical Romance is one of my favorite bands because they make music that's big and loud and painfully earnest, because they don't seem to know the meaning of holding themselves back. Almost every song they've written has catharsis written into it, and I think if I weren't incredibly overinvested in their music I would hate it--a middle ground is unimaginable.
MCR's live performances are not polished. The strains of electric guitar that are layered so distinctly on their studio recordings blur and crash together onstage, and Gerard Way's vocals are often uneven. However, they more than make up for it with their stage presence, the sheer momentum of their songs, and a passionate, almost childish dedication to connecting with their fans. They are well aware that it's more difficult for a popular rock band playing arenas to connect to an audience than it is for an obscure grungy band touring in a van to, and they make every extra effort to keep themselves from being alienated. For the duration of their set, you will believe that they love and adore you as a fan, that all they want is for you to scream and jump and sing and be a part of it. Way spent almost more time turning his mic towards the audience for them to sing than he spent singing himself, and on many of the songs from The Black Parade, his vocals were drowned out by the whole audience singing every word.
The hugeness that I love about MCR's albums is even more momentous played live. As performers, they take advantage of every building bridge, every guitar solo, every scream and drum roll finale. They have dropped the makeup and costumes from their live shows, but they're still plenty theatrical, hamming their music up for all its worth. They know why their fans love their music and they deliver, doing justice to every cathartic release possible. They put so much into their shows that I am always surprised that they have the energy to tour at all, that a single performance does not drain them completely.
They are all about giving their fans what they need, on this tour especially: they changed the set list each night I saw them, but the staples included B-sides and songs off of their first record that I never thought I would get to hear live. They know the fan mindset, they know that fans get attached to demos and shitty old songs and the B-sides that aren't on the album for a reason, and maybe it's silly of me, but the fact that they realize this and then reward it made me feel privileged, grateful, and loved after each show. I got to hear 'Kill All Your Friends' performed three times, a gift I never thought I'd receive, and it makes the money spent on tickets and travel seem meaningless. This is why My Chemical Romance will never lose their most impassioned fans no matter how popular and mainstream they get; this is the trick to getting music fans to give you lots of money in this day and age. The downloading age means that it's not enough to get your fans to just love you; you have to give back if you want to reap the benefits.
Kill All Your Friends- My Chemical Romance
Headfirst for Halos- My Chemical Romance
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Vampire Weekend on 3/31
I lose track of whether or not it’s cool to like Vampire Weekend these days—hipsters are fickle creatures, and the backlash is firmly in motion. Opinions on the band are divided, and I’ve personally mostly been in the middle. I wasn’t crazy about their album upon first listen, but I must admit it’s grown on me. All arguments about hype and cultural appropriation aside, they make well-constructed songs that stand out, and they put their African influences to good use.
Their prep school/ivy league influence was immediately striking. Their merch booth sold ‘Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa’ scarves in the classic prep design along with the usual t-shirts, and while they might be a New York City band, every song reminded me wholly of New England instead. The sounds and content of their album bring to mind studying on the quad on the rare days the sun is out, sneaking into your dorm past curfew, crisp season changes, and old-fashioned upper-class comfort. The songs perfectly capture the curiosity and eagerness of academia, as well as the disconnect from reality that comes with campus life. The vocal stylings bring up feelings both mature and childish, calling to mind the way the same feeling of being between adolescence and adulthood in college.
When it comes to their live show, Vampire Weekend clearly has room to grow. This was most obvious in the vocals, as singer and guitarist Ezra Koenig had trouble finding and keeping his pitches, but the whole band started off the show playing a little awkwardly—the instruments just didn’t seem to blend together to form a cohesive whole. They kept the buoyancy of the songs, especially in the bass parts, but it took them a while to loosen up.
As the show progressed and they chatted more (to my delight, they mentioned their love of Kilby Court several times, as they played that venue when they came through earlier this year), Koenig gradually relaxed, improving the sound of his guitar and his voice. ‘I Stand Corrected’ was the turning point: he put his guitar down and seemed to settle into his voice, letting it come breathy and natural. He hit the hardest notes with understated confidence as opposed to forcing them, and afterwards the show went smoother and their air of self-consciousness evaporated.
They predictably closed with ‘Walcott,’ and it was by far their best number of the night. They let themselves get sloppy and forgot about being delicate or preppy, delivering a thrilling chaotic performance that swept everyone up into its momentum. I’ve often felt that the studio version of this song would grab me more if it didn’t hold back so much; the song is clearly intended to be the show-stopping, penultimate anthem in the album, but it comes off as just a little too prissy. But ‘Walcott’ live delivered just what I wanted to hear, fulfilling the same need in the audience that great live performance always does. It gives me hope that as this band matures, they’ll take their music in a direction even more engaging than their debut. The issues with their live performance will improve as they gain experience, and I look forward to what they’ll bring us next.
Boston - Vampire Weekend
Their prep school/ivy league influence was immediately striking. Their merch booth sold ‘Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa’ scarves in the classic prep design along with the usual t-shirts, and while they might be a New York City band, every song reminded me wholly of New England instead. The sounds and content of their album bring to mind studying on the quad on the rare days the sun is out, sneaking into your dorm past curfew, crisp season changes, and old-fashioned upper-class comfort. The songs perfectly capture the curiosity and eagerness of academia, as well as the disconnect from reality that comes with campus life. The vocal stylings bring up feelings both mature and childish, calling to mind the way the same feeling of being between adolescence and adulthood in college.
When it comes to their live show, Vampire Weekend clearly has room to grow. This was most obvious in the vocals, as singer and guitarist Ezra Koenig had trouble finding and keeping his pitches, but the whole band started off the show playing a little awkwardly—the instruments just didn’t seem to blend together to form a cohesive whole. They kept the buoyancy of the songs, especially in the bass parts, but it took them a while to loosen up.
As the show progressed and they chatted more (to my delight, they mentioned their love of Kilby Court several times, as they played that venue when they came through earlier this year), Koenig gradually relaxed, improving the sound of his guitar and his voice. ‘I Stand Corrected’ was the turning point: he put his guitar down and seemed to settle into his voice, letting it come breathy and natural. He hit the hardest notes with understated confidence as opposed to forcing them, and afterwards the show went smoother and their air of self-consciousness evaporated.
They predictably closed with ‘Walcott,’ and it was by far their best number of the night. They let themselves get sloppy and forgot about being delicate or preppy, delivering a thrilling chaotic performance that swept everyone up into its momentum. I’ve often felt that the studio version of this song would grab me more if it didn’t hold back so much; the song is clearly intended to be the show-stopping, penultimate anthem in the album, but it comes off as just a little too prissy. But ‘Walcott’ live delivered just what I wanted to hear, fulfilling the same need in the audience that great live performance always does. It gives me hope that as this band matures, they’ll take their music in a direction even more engaging than their debut. The issues with their live performance will improve as they gain experience, and I look forward to what they’ll bring us next.
Boston - Vampire Weekend
Sunday, March 30, 2008
put 1 and 1 together
I am definitely feeling my twentysomething-what-should-I-do-with-my-life-why-is-the-sky-blue? apathy and existential angst today. I had an opportunity to buy some excellent, colorful shoes yesterday and didn't thanks to a bout of conflict with consumerism culture, and now I wish I had those shoes instead of the moral high ground; it's sleeting outside and man, Utah, if I wanted precipitation I would've stayed in Portland.
I made a mix of songs to combat weekend morning malaises. Anti-malaise music, if you will.
1. Wonderlust King - Gogol Bordello
2. Better Weather - Kimya Dawson
3. South America - Shoutout Louds
4. That Great Love Sound - The Raveonettes
5. Guerilla Funk - Paris
6. My Sweet Lord - Nina Simone
Grab the whole thing here.
I made a mix of songs to combat weekend morning malaises. Anti-malaise music, if you will.
1. Wonderlust King - Gogol Bordello
2. Better Weather - Kimya Dawson
3. South America - Shoutout Louds
4. That Great Love Sound - The Raveonettes
5. Guerilla Funk - Paris
6. My Sweet Lord - Nina Simone
Grab the whole thing here.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
one last thought to fruition
Another of the albums I bought last week at Graywhale. Perhaps I will finally process them all by the time I'm 60.
Against Me!, Searching For A Former Clarity
I've been vaguely curious about this band for a while, but I admit, when I bought the album it was because it was cheap and used and I just sort of felt like it. I was not at all expecting to fall in love the way I have, to obsess over individual songs and listen to it straight through then on shuffle then straight through again (and again and again). It's given me that wow, this is for me epiphany; it's a funny thing, when music convinces part of you that--no matter how impossible it may be--it was written solely about your experiences and the way you see the world. I'm always wondering what it is about music that does this, how some songs achieve universality by convincing each individual that it's all about them.
I suppose my surprise at loving this album so much comes from the preconceptions I definitely had about what I imagined the band to sound like. I am (sometimes unfairly) skeptical about punk as a subculture and fashion statement, so when I see Against Me! patches smugly worn on people who've also covered their whole body in The Misfits' logo, it turns me off and I think it's probably not music I'll enjoy. I'd heard the brilliant 'Baby, I'm An Anarchist' before, which told me that the band might have some of the same issues with anarchists that I do, but still--I just knew too many punks that didn't realize the song was a parody.
But this album is quite far away from the classic hardcore punk that almost never grabs my imagination. The music slick and intricate, with each song contributing towards a cohesive whole but still standing out on its own. It's got driving bass lines and choruses that are sometimes catchy, sometimes harsh and growling, sometimes funky; you can hear all the influences, from bluegrass (the acoustic guitar that frames 'How Low' could introduce a classic moody country song) to punk to classic rock. There's so much variety here, from the soft and simple 'Joy' to the sarcasti-caustic snarl of 'Miami'. It rocks out and then screams and then makes you dance and smile, offering something to appeal to just about every aspect of my music taste.
The lyrical content is largely political, but there's also personal insecurity; the album title Searching For A Former Clarity is spot-on. In most of the songs there's a definite sense of yearning and searching and just not being sure about the way things are now, and you can tell it's made by a band that's on the verge of making it big and has to grapple with the questions that entails. The lyrics Come on now, how long do think this is really gonna last?/How long can you hold their attention before they move on to the next band? are from a song they titled 'Unprotected Sex With Multiple Partners,' which could easily be interpreted as being about themselves. 'Don't Lose Touch' is sneeringly critical of liberals who are no longer authentic while also criticizing themselves. But the last song on the album, 'Searching For A Former Clarity,' is where the band really digs into their deepest subject material. The song meanders through lyrics that are nostalgic, wistful, sad and final, with no clear choruses or verses, just a slow build. Tom Gabel's voice sounds different here, too, more clear and less growling, finally vulnerable at the end of the whole CD.
Aside from 'Searching For...,' my high points include every note of the epic 'Justin' (seriously, I can't take this fucking song off repeat), the Bowie-like belted choruses to 'Don't Lose Touch,' and the heartsick first few lines of 'Even At Our Worst We're Still Better Than Most.'
Justin -Against Me!
Joy -Against Me!
Miami -Against Me!
Against Me!, Searching For A Former Clarity
I've been vaguely curious about this band for a while, but I admit, when I bought the album it was because it was cheap and used and I just sort of felt like it. I was not at all expecting to fall in love the way I have, to obsess over individual songs and listen to it straight through then on shuffle then straight through again (and again and again). It's given me that wow, this is for me epiphany; it's a funny thing, when music convinces part of you that--no matter how impossible it may be--it was written solely about your experiences and the way you see the world. I'm always wondering what it is about music that does this, how some songs achieve universality by convincing each individual that it's all about them.
I suppose my surprise at loving this album so much comes from the preconceptions I definitely had about what I imagined the band to sound like. I am (sometimes unfairly) skeptical about punk as a subculture and fashion statement, so when I see Against Me! patches smugly worn on people who've also covered their whole body in The Misfits' logo, it turns me off and I think it's probably not music I'll enjoy. I'd heard the brilliant 'Baby, I'm An Anarchist' before, which told me that the band might have some of the same issues with anarchists that I do, but still--I just knew too many punks that didn't realize the song was a parody.
But this album is quite far away from the classic hardcore punk that almost never grabs my imagination. The music slick and intricate, with each song contributing towards a cohesive whole but still standing out on its own. It's got driving bass lines and choruses that are sometimes catchy, sometimes harsh and growling, sometimes funky; you can hear all the influences, from bluegrass (the acoustic guitar that frames 'How Low' could introduce a classic moody country song) to punk to classic rock. There's so much variety here, from the soft and simple 'Joy' to the sarcasti-caustic snarl of 'Miami'. It rocks out and then screams and then makes you dance and smile, offering something to appeal to just about every aspect of my music taste.
The lyrical content is largely political, but there's also personal insecurity; the album title Searching For A Former Clarity is spot-on. In most of the songs there's a definite sense of yearning and searching and just not being sure about the way things are now, and you can tell it's made by a band that's on the verge of making it big and has to grapple with the questions that entails. The lyrics Come on now, how long do think this is really gonna last?/How long can you hold their attention before they move on to the next band? are from a song they titled 'Unprotected Sex With Multiple Partners,' which could easily be interpreted as being about themselves. 'Don't Lose Touch' is sneeringly critical of liberals who are no longer authentic while also criticizing themselves. But the last song on the album, 'Searching For A Former Clarity,' is where the band really digs into their deepest subject material. The song meanders through lyrics that are nostalgic, wistful, sad and final, with no clear choruses or verses, just a slow build. Tom Gabel's voice sounds different here, too, more clear and less growling, finally vulnerable at the end of the whole CD.
Aside from 'Searching For...,' my high points include every note of the epic 'Justin' (seriously, I can't take this fucking song off repeat), the Bowie-like belted choruses to 'Don't Lose Touch,' and the heartsick first few lines of 'Even At Our Worst We're Still Better Than Most.'
Justin -Against Me!
Joy -Against Me!
Miami -Against Me!
The Loved Ones on 3/25
The Loved Ones played with Cobra Skulls and Flatliners at Kilby Court, which is one of the most entertaining spots in the city for me. It's a garage that could maybe fit two cars in a pinch, tucked at the end of an alleyway with an outside area that holds a fire pit with chairs and benches arranged around it. There's a sign on the ticket booth that says "NO MOSHING! sorry brutal dudes!", and most of the walls are covered in band stickers or posters for upcoming shows. There's another run-down tiny building with a table for merch, and across the alley there's one of the grossest venue bathrooms I've seen yet and dingy rooms that have "Bands only!" scribbled on the doors. I've only been to two shows there, and each time the microphones have been barely functional--for this show, most of the bandmembers wrapped bandanas around the mics to keep their lips from getting shocked. I try to support its existence whenever I can.
It's probably quite the feat if you manage not to connect with the audience in a venue so small, and every band that played had fun with us. While I enjoy the physicality that comes with punk shows, on a musical level I can rarely get into classic, old-school hardcore punk. The material starts sounding the same to me after a few songs, and I start itching for something with more melody and less monotonous screaming.
But Cobra Skulls kept a punk sound and still let themselves show off musically, throwing out skillful bass lines and interesting rhythms, and they never bored me. They added rockabilly and ska elements and plenty of wit, playing songs about Ted Haggard and, my favorite, a song in Spanish about Che Guevera t-shirts in strip malls. Flatliners had more classic thrash, their vocalist more of a screamer and their music a little simpler, but they were still a solid band that put on an extreme and enthusiastic show. The frontman broke a guitar string and his guitar strap in the first song, and their momentum just kept building. It's not necessarily music that I'd seek out on my own, but they were great performers and hooked me in for their whole set.
I bought The Loved Ones' Build & Burn shortly after it came out, a little over a month ago. It immediately became one of my favorite recent albums, and I'm always surprised that more people don't know about it. It's pop-punk with Americana and emo influences that isn't afraid to stretch all kinds of musical boundaries, with hopeful and catchy melodies that worked their way quickly inside my heart and a sound that's wholly their own.
They played with so much fucking charm. Dave Hause's voice was scratchier, a lot more raw than it was on the album but still retaining the fullness (combined with just the slightest emo whine) that grabbed me. He had so much fun with the audience, with banter topics ranging from Applebee's to rating which of the opening bands was more buff to upcoming punk shows in SLC to making gentle fun of NOFX. Their newest album is full of slick guitar lines cleverly laid over each other, and their live show definitely emphasized that--the riffs and shredding that begin 'The Bridge' was one of the highest points of the show for me. They also knew how to take full advantage of all the contrasts they've created on the album, such as the intro to 'Selfish Masquerade.' They're an older, experienced band, and the show was perfectly executed but still full of warmth.
The Loved Ones finished their set off with what is probably my favorite song off Build & Burn, 'Louisiana.' It's an ideal song to finish off a set, with a subdued, building intro that explodes into a pounding song with euphoric shredding, a tense excited bridge that echoes the intro, and lyrics that demand shouting along, not to mention a powerful message about Hurricane Katrina. They pulled off the big finish with flourishes and gusto, and ensured that their audience left the garage with bared-teeth grins and their hearts beating louder.
But beyond just playing well live, they made my night better in a different way when they launched into a rant in defense of their female fans and women in general. "Apparently we're not punk?" Hause joked as they recounted an incident with some other punk rockers. 'Whatever happened to punk rock?' was the sulky response they'd received when speaking up against the punks for misogynist speech. Hause went on to earnestly emphasize the importance of respect to women, asking his female fans to tell sexist assholes to fuck off.
They didn't say anything new or groundbreaking, but I wish it were less rare to hear rants like this from male musicians. The music industry is still weighed down by misogyny, and it seems like everywhere I look there's a musical subculture that wants to reject the mainstream, but has held onto mainstream misogyny. It's going to take proactivity to change the ugly concept that if you let too many women into your music scene, it will somehow become inauthentic and worthless. The music I love doesn't always fit in perfectly with my personal politics, and I'm fiercely protective of that combo when I do find it. I have a feeling my devotion to The Loved Ones will last a good long while now.
Louisiana - The Loved Ones
The Bridge - The Loved Ones
It's probably quite the feat if you manage not to connect with the audience in a venue so small, and every band that played had fun with us. While I enjoy the physicality that comes with punk shows, on a musical level I can rarely get into classic, old-school hardcore punk. The material starts sounding the same to me after a few songs, and I start itching for something with more melody and less monotonous screaming.
But Cobra Skulls kept a punk sound and still let themselves show off musically, throwing out skillful bass lines and interesting rhythms, and they never bored me. They added rockabilly and ska elements and plenty of wit, playing songs about Ted Haggard and, my favorite, a song in Spanish about Che Guevera t-shirts in strip malls. Flatliners had more classic thrash, their vocalist more of a screamer and their music a little simpler, but they were still a solid band that put on an extreme and enthusiastic show. The frontman broke a guitar string and his guitar strap in the first song, and their momentum just kept building. It's not necessarily music that I'd seek out on my own, but they were great performers and hooked me in for their whole set.
I bought The Loved Ones' Build & Burn shortly after it came out, a little over a month ago. It immediately became one of my favorite recent albums, and I'm always surprised that more people don't know about it. It's pop-punk with Americana and emo influences that isn't afraid to stretch all kinds of musical boundaries, with hopeful and catchy melodies that worked their way quickly inside my heart and a sound that's wholly their own.
They played with so much fucking charm. Dave Hause's voice was scratchier, a lot more raw than it was on the album but still retaining the fullness (combined with just the slightest emo whine) that grabbed me. He had so much fun with the audience, with banter topics ranging from Applebee's to rating which of the opening bands was more buff to upcoming punk shows in SLC to making gentle fun of NOFX. Their newest album is full of slick guitar lines cleverly laid over each other, and their live show definitely emphasized that--the riffs and shredding that begin 'The Bridge' was one of the highest points of the show for me. They also knew how to take full advantage of all the contrasts they've created on the album, such as the intro to 'Selfish Masquerade.' They're an older, experienced band, and the show was perfectly executed but still full of warmth.
The Loved Ones finished their set off with what is probably my favorite song off Build & Burn, 'Louisiana.' It's an ideal song to finish off a set, with a subdued, building intro that explodes into a pounding song with euphoric shredding, a tense excited bridge that echoes the intro, and lyrics that demand shouting along, not to mention a powerful message about Hurricane Katrina. They pulled off the big finish with flourishes and gusto, and ensured that their audience left the garage with bared-teeth grins and their hearts beating louder.
But beyond just playing well live, they made my night better in a different way when they launched into a rant in defense of their female fans and women in general. "Apparently we're not punk?" Hause joked as they recounted an incident with some other punk rockers. 'Whatever happened to punk rock?' was the sulky response they'd received when speaking up against the punks for misogynist speech. Hause went on to earnestly emphasize the importance of respect to women, asking his female fans to tell sexist assholes to fuck off.
They didn't say anything new or groundbreaking, but I wish it were less rare to hear rants like this from male musicians. The music industry is still weighed down by misogyny, and it seems like everywhere I look there's a musical subculture that wants to reject the mainstream, but has held onto mainstream misogyny. It's going to take proactivity to change the ugly concept that if you let too many women into your music scene, it will somehow become inauthentic and worthless. The music I love doesn't always fit in perfectly with my personal politics, and I'm fiercely protective of that combo when I do find it. I have a feeling my devotion to The Loved Ones will last a good long while now.
Louisiana - The Loved Ones
The Bridge - The Loved Ones
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Explosions In The Sky on 3/24
Monday night I went to see Explosions In The Sky play with Lichens at In The Venue, and as usual, the venue's organization left so much to be desired. At the past few shows I've seen there, In The Venue's line management has resembled some kind of absurdist concept art more than a tool to get people into the venue as efficiently as possible. My friend and I waited outside for probably an hour and a half after doors were set to open. But the club still remains one of my favorite spots in SLC, probably because I've been there so many times that it feels like a second home at this point.
The opener was Lichens, aka Robert Lowe. He began by recording a loop of vocals reminiscent of bird and wind sounds, and he took his time before layering anything else over it. The audience wasn't quite sure what to make of something so quiet and foreign, so the murmuring and chatting never stopped. But the human buzz seemed to add rather than detract to what Lichens was doing, as if it was just another musical layer he was working with.
The guitar layers and distortion that came next reminded me of Ravi Shankar and other sitar recordings--very meandering, very atmospheric, and very not-western. The vocals were both weird and lovely, and Lichens was clearly a talented and innovative musician. But his whole set was one song, and I think I probably would have appreciated what he was doing more if it hadn't been live. It was serene and beautiful, but that can't hold my attention forever at a show, and unfortunately after a while I was paying more attention to how much my feet hurt than I was to Lichens onstage.
It was kind of odd to see Explosions In the Sky take the stage and discover that, oh, they're just four dudes with guitars and a drum set, like any other band. Their music is so expansive that part of me was expecting a full orchestra. But then it was "Hi, we're Explosions In the Sky from Texas" (the only stage decoration was a small Texas flag, and I will always be a sucker for art that retains a strong sense of place) and their signature cherubic guitar lines began, and any illusion that they could be any other band evaporated.
Explosions play for corporeality, both theirs and the audience's. The guitarists and bassist moved with a kind of synchronized swaying that intensified as the songs built from their mellow beginnings, and crescendoed in manic, full-body pounding at various climaxes in the set. I have to say, I really never expected to see this band rocking out so hard, their arms swinging and jerking, more reminiscent of hammering than strumming a guitar. There was plenty of playing while on their knees as well, and one of the guitarists danced across the stage to drum with a second pair of sticks, adding even more urgency. One of my biggest motivations for seeing live music is that there's little to compare to seeing and feeling it when a musician is utterly wrapped up in their performance, and Explosions took that to a degree that swamped the audience.
And while it may be cliché to say of a band that "the music just gets inside you, man," for the duration of the set, this band's output became another system in my flesh, like the nervous or respiratory. They never betrayed this body trust; the softer guitar lines acted as a promise not to drop and break me during their biggest tidal waves.
It's difficult for me to identify what highlights happened during which songs because they never stopped between songs, choosing instead to play straight through and blend the set together. The audience couldn't clap or cheer much without the sound drowning out the next song the band would already be starting. The overall effect meant the experience was more like seeing a symphony than seeing a rock band, meant that I was awed and gratified by the band's work in its entirety rather than listening specifically for familiar melodies and band banter. Obviously I like listening to band banter and recognizing my favorite songs live, or I wouldn't go to shows, but this way of playing was the perfect and only choice for this band.
I did pinpoint Your Hand In Mine, which happens to be the theme song of the TV show Friday Night Lights. Explosions clearly savored the song, stretching out those first few measures before finally giving us the addition of the drums. There's always something special when a band gives the audience the song people clearly want most, a sense of satisfaction and triumph that flows back and forth between performer and listener. It was insanely expressive in a way that only this band could manage to be, something that would have been ruined had they a singer to emote.
This was definitely one of the most special live experiences I've had recently, and I'm both grateful and greedy, already wanting to see them again.
Catastrophe And The Cure -Explosions In The Sky
Your Hand In Mine -Explosions In The Sky
The opener was Lichens, aka Robert Lowe. He began by recording a loop of vocals reminiscent of bird and wind sounds, and he took his time before layering anything else over it. The audience wasn't quite sure what to make of something so quiet and foreign, so the murmuring and chatting never stopped. But the human buzz seemed to add rather than detract to what Lichens was doing, as if it was just another musical layer he was working with.
The guitar layers and distortion that came next reminded me of Ravi Shankar and other sitar recordings--very meandering, very atmospheric, and very not-western. The vocals were both weird and lovely, and Lichens was clearly a talented and innovative musician. But his whole set was one song, and I think I probably would have appreciated what he was doing more if it hadn't been live. It was serene and beautiful, but that can't hold my attention forever at a show, and unfortunately after a while I was paying more attention to how much my feet hurt than I was to Lichens onstage.
It was kind of odd to see Explosions In the Sky take the stage and discover that, oh, they're just four dudes with guitars and a drum set, like any other band. Their music is so expansive that part of me was expecting a full orchestra. But then it was "Hi, we're Explosions In the Sky from Texas" (the only stage decoration was a small Texas flag, and I will always be a sucker for art that retains a strong sense of place) and their signature cherubic guitar lines began, and any illusion that they could be any other band evaporated.
Explosions play for corporeality, both theirs and the audience's. The guitarists and bassist moved with a kind of synchronized swaying that intensified as the songs built from their mellow beginnings, and crescendoed in manic, full-body pounding at various climaxes in the set. I have to say, I really never expected to see this band rocking out so hard, their arms swinging and jerking, more reminiscent of hammering than strumming a guitar. There was plenty of playing while on their knees as well, and one of the guitarists danced across the stage to drum with a second pair of sticks, adding even more urgency. One of my biggest motivations for seeing live music is that there's little to compare to seeing and feeling it when a musician is utterly wrapped up in their performance, and Explosions took that to a degree that swamped the audience.
And while it may be cliché to say of a band that "the music just gets inside you, man," for the duration of the set, this band's output became another system in my flesh, like the nervous or respiratory. They never betrayed this body trust; the softer guitar lines acted as a promise not to drop and break me during their biggest tidal waves.
It's difficult for me to identify what highlights happened during which songs because they never stopped between songs, choosing instead to play straight through and blend the set together. The audience couldn't clap or cheer much without the sound drowning out the next song the band would already be starting. The overall effect meant the experience was more like seeing a symphony than seeing a rock band, meant that I was awed and gratified by the band's work in its entirety rather than listening specifically for familiar melodies and band banter. Obviously I like listening to band banter and recognizing my favorite songs live, or I wouldn't go to shows, but this way of playing was the perfect and only choice for this band.
I did pinpoint Your Hand In Mine, which happens to be the theme song of the TV show Friday Night Lights. Explosions clearly savored the song, stretching out those first few measures before finally giving us the addition of the drums. There's always something special when a band gives the audience the song people clearly want most, a sense of satisfaction and triumph that flows back and forth between performer and listener. It was insanely expressive in a way that only this band could manage to be, something that would have been ruined had they a singer to emote.
This was definitely one of the most special live experiences I've had recently, and I'm both grateful and greedy, already wanting to see them again.
Catastrophe And The Cure -Explosions In The Sky
Your Hand In Mine -Explosions In The Sky
Sunday, March 23, 2008
I went on a 45-minute walk today, the longest walk I've taken since breaking my arm. It's the kind of sunny that makes the sky seem huge enough to be something slightly afraid of, but there's still a slight chill in the air.
I think that the people who sneer at Salt Lake City and Utah in general--both the ones that live here and the ones that don't--haven't quite realized how much progress has been made here. The mere fact that I can take a walk downtownish and actually see other people out walking (on Easter Sunday, no less) is astounding. There seems to be more life here every day. I can feel that the unfortunate values that have shaped this town and state for decades, the values that made me miserable growing up and that made it so necessary for me to leave, are losing in the fight for something better.
I spent more money than I can justify yesterday buying actual CDs. Graywhale CD Exchange has replaced Portland's Everyday Music as my happiest place on earth, and it has been very bad for my wallet to live so close to it. None of the music I bought was new, just new to me, and I'm going to try and write up actual reviews. A big part of the reason I'm starting this blog is to give myself more practice writing about one of the biggest parts of my life right now--music. So these albums are old and it's highly possible I won't say anything that hasn't been said before, but I'm going to spill my thoughts on them anyway.
Cloud Cult, Advice From The Happy Hippopotamus
This is the kind of album that I'd want to listen to if I were recovering from a suicide attempt. It's determinedly hopeful, but not naively so--the album has its harder edges. It's optimistic without denying desperation. There's plenty of whimsy and sweetness, but it never leaves a syrupy aftertaste. The relentless positivity is tempered by a rueful realism: I feel like I shouldn't be sold on lines like I've sailed through hurricanes with just a wooden plank and a smilly face, but the vocalist, though his voice has a definite fragile quality to it, also conveys a watery strength that sells even the silliest hippo and ya-ya lines.
There's plenty in the mix musically. The transitions from acoustic to electric, from synthesizers and violins to grungier sounds, are all smooth and feel perfectly natural. The songwriting is solid and the band isn't afraid to noodle around with riffs for measures and measures before getting to the point of their songs. It's a perfect album for leaving winter behind and deciding to face whatever this next season is going to throw at you; it's like an advertisement for life, or at least for getting through it.
Clip-Clop by Cloud Cult
Start New by Cloud Cult
We Made Up Your Mind For You by Cloud Cult
I think that the people who sneer at Salt Lake City and Utah in general--both the ones that live here and the ones that don't--haven't quite realized how much progress has been made here. The mere fact that I can take a walk downtownish and actually see other people out walking (on Easter Sunday, no less) is astounding. There seems to be more life here every day. I can feel that the unfortunate values that have shaped this town and state for decades, the values that made me miserable growing up and that made it so necessary for me to leave, are losing in the fight for something better.
I spent more money than I can justify yesterday buying actual CDs. Graywhale CD Exchange has replaced Portland's Everyday Music as my happiest place on earth, and it has been very bad for my wallet to live so close to it. None of the music I bought was new, just new to me, and I'm going to try and write up actual reviews. A big part of the reason I'm starting this blog is to give myself more practice writing about one of the biggest parts of my life right now--music. So these albums are old and it's highly possible I won't say anything that hasn't been said before, but I'm going to spill my thoughts on them anyway.
Cloud Cult, Advice From The Happy Hippopotamus
This is the kind of album that I'd want to listen to if I were recovering from a suicide attempt. It's determinedly hopeful, but not naively so--the album has its harder edges. It's optimistic without denying desperation. There's plenty of whimsy and sweetness, but it never leaves a syrupy aftertaste. The relentless positivity is tempered by a rueful realism: I feel like I shouldn't be sold on lines like I've sailed through hurricanes with just a wooden plank and a smilly face, but the vocalist, though his voice has a definite fragile quality to it, also conveys a watery strength that sells even the silliest hippo and ya-ya lines.
There's plenty in the mix musically. The transitions from acoustic to electric, from synthesizers and violins to grungier sounds, are all smooth and feel perfectly natural. The songwriting is solid and the band isn't afraid to noodle around with riffs for measures and measures before getting to the point of their songs. It's a perfect album for leaving winter behind and deciding to face whatever this next season is going to throw at you; it's like an advertisement for life, or at least for getting through it.
Clip-Clop by Cloud Cult
Start New by Cloud Cult
We Made Up Your Mind For You by Cloud Cult
Thursday, March 20, 2008
This thing has sat here for a week while I tried to write up an introductory post, so fuck it, whatever, here I am. I don't know what I'll get from this or what I should expect, or what anyone else should expect--it will probably be primarily for posting about music and about where I live, Salt Lake City, and maybe a little bitching about my broken arm. It might just be a dumping ground, it might evolve into something more.
Here are some songs that I like a lot:
On My Own For That -5G Productions' Remix of Gym Class Heroes'
Why You Wanna -T.I.
Self-Destructive Zones -Drive-By Truckers
I Love You. Let's Light Ourselves On Fire by The Mountain Goats
Here are some songs that I like a lot:
On My Own For That -5G Productions' Remix of Gym Class Heroes'
Why You Wanna -T.I.
Self-Destructive Zones -Drive-By Truckers
I Love You. Let's Light Ourselves On Fire by The Mountain Goats
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