Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '2007'

March 4, 2010

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Add Your Light to Mine, Baby” – Lucky Soul
(Words/music: Lucky Soul, available on The Great Unwanted, Ruffa Lane 2007)

Two parts of “Add Your Light to Mine, Baby” stand out the most. First, Ali Howard’s voice finds a sweet spot between clean execution and soulful embellishment. She extends a few syllables and bends a note or two but never to the extent a pop diva might elaborate melodically. This generally precise execution serves the song well – over-performing the vocal, particularly with all of the motion in the arrangement, would weigh down the song. Instead, Howard goes just a step beyond a precise performance right off the sheet music, adding just a touch of personality to her performance.

“Add Your Light to Mine, Baby” needs this relatively clean lead vocal to support the horn melody. The vocals melody is catchy, but the horns provide the song’s hook. This repetitive phrase (including when the key changes near the end) overpowers Howard’s vocal, and it’s simple phrase only makes it catchier. If Howard tried to compete for space with the horns (and I have every reason to believe she’s capable vocally), the song would suffer. Instead, her vocals play a supporting role at times, particularly when she settles in on a longer note. Rather than make her light the brightest in the band, she’s willing to share space.

More on Lucky Soul: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: lucky soul | 2007 | 2000s | ruffa lane |

March 2, 2010

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Rock ‘n Roll Dreams’ll Come True” – Ted Leo
(Words: Tom Sharpling and Jon Wurster, Music: Ted Leo, recorded on WFMU 3/13/2007)

New Jersey free form station WFMU is in its annual fundraiser this week, and tonight is the marathon’s flagship event when Tom Sharpling’s The Best Show on WFMU takes to the airwaves to solicit funds to fuel the station. I’m out of range (by a couple states) to listen to WFMU in the car, but I’ll occasionally check out the live stream on their website to enjoy their eclectic mix of shows, but generally it’s to hear The Best Show. Sharpling, a funny man in his own right, brings in hilarious guests on a regular basis (John Hodgman and Patton Oswalt are among regulars), and when the show isn’t deep in inside jokes (or if I follow the joke, at least), it’s an entertaining bit of live radio.

Ted Leo, a friend of Sharpling (Sharpling wrote the liner notes to Leo’s new album The Brutalist Bricks), has appeared on his show several times, including playing odd requests and covers in exchange for donations to WFMU’s operating fund. His covers range from stellar (“Brass in Pocket” and a WFMU-modified “That’s Entertainment” in 2007, Blondie’s “Union City Blue” in 2008, among others) to ridiculous (Sharpling and Leo performed Streisand & Neil Diamond’s “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” as a duet, for instance), including “Rock ‘n Roll Dreams’ll Come True,” a Best Show inside joke. The song comes from a bit between Sharpling and his comedy partner (and Superchunk drummer) Jon Wurster where Wurster called in as an aged rock star with very specific requirements for casting his surefire hit band The Gas Station Dogs. During this call (which appears on the Sharpling-Wurster disc New Hope for the Ape-Eared and is worth the listen, if only for Wurster’s obsession with details), Wurster’s character Barry Dworkin performs this song, one that only has lyrics and a melody and took nearly two decades to compose. The Sharpling-Wurster bit explains why these lyrics are inane and, well, awful, but Leo manages to make it into a catchy little tune (and even turns it into a riotous stomp on a Chunklet 7” single he split with Zach Galifinakis). It’s catchy enough on its own, but even more ridiculous knowing why Leo committed all of these absurd words to memory.

The Best Show airs tonight between 8-11 PM, so if you’re hanging around with nothing to do, give a listen and see what sort of odd mayhem Sharpling, Wurster, and Ted Leo have in store to try to earn operating capitol for a terrific independent station.

More on Ted Leo: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 23, 2010

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Walk Hard” – John C. Reilly
(Words/music: Judd Apatow, Marshall Crenshaw, Jake Kasdan, and John C. Reilly, available on Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Columbia 2007)

A large part of the appeal to Walk Hard, aside from goofy jokes, comes from the earnestness of the film’s music. John C. Reilly’s Dewey Cox shifts musical styles with the wind, and the film’s songs captured the different musical styles surprisingly well. Sure, the lyrics were generally dumb (this is a Judd Apatow film, for what that’s worth), but the performances could pass as artifacts from their respective eras, at least from a distance.

The title track, Dewey Cox’s signature song, best captures the film’s musical successes. Reilly turns in a solid Johnny Cash impression (even though his vocal tone is stronger than Cash’s) backed by a convincing arrangement mimicking Cash’s early output. Of course, it helps that Marshal Crenshaw wrote the music, giving the song its seamless transitions and, ultimately, making it more than a series of Cash-related puns. It’s difficult to take the song seriously while listening to the words, and even without paying attention it wouldn’t’ pass for one of Cash’s original recordings. Still, from another room, it sounds like a serious and professional recording, and it’s this earnestness that makes the film funny in the first place. If nothing else, “Walk Hard” works well as a sort of “souvenir” from the movie – a reminder of an afternoon spent giggling at a grown man wearing ridiculous outfits singing ridiculous songs.

More on John C. Reilly: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

December 29, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“All My Friends” – LCD Soundsystem
(Words/music: James Murphy, Pat Mahoney, and Tyler Pope, available on Sound of Silver, DFA 2007)

Officially, Some Songs Considered was born last New Year’s Day, driving west on the Mass Pike on my way from Boston back to Connecticut, as it was during this two hour drive that I worked out the idea for it. However, in some ways the groundwork for the project started a little more than a year earlier when I connected on a strangely personal level with “All My Friends.” Sound of Silver came out during a period of time where I felt in limbo and could identify with James Murphy’s meditation on growing old. The strange thing – and the one that compelled me to write about it in the first place – was that I wasn’t the only one with these musical epiphanies. Writers Tom Breihan and Hua Hsu wrote two separate pieces detailing their personal experiences with the song. Breihan’s described an intensely personal experience in the midst of a single recap piece, while Hsu focused on the balance of nostalgia and melancholy in the song as well as a “pleasant shock of recognizing [his] newly 30 year-old self within it.” In many ways, my goal (often unstated) was to do both of these things – capture the raw personal reaction Breihan shares and the eloquent and potent analysis that Hsu explicates. Some days, I come closer than others (and other days I lose sight of these twin goals), but they remain, among others, the guiding thoughts dictating these posts.

Of course, it’s only appropriate that Hsu, Breihan, myself, and many others respond in such profound ways to “All My Friends.” It’s a testament to the song itself – so eloquently described by Hsu in his Slate article that I won’t go too far into it. Still, nearly two and a half years after first hearing Sound of Silver, the opening piano chords still rope me in and rouse my spirit in the way that few other songs accomplish. If nothing else, this realization makes me cherish those rare nights with my distant friends even more. Perhaps someday I’ll outgrow the song the same way I grew into it, but until that day I’ll spin the record, take stock of my life, and think about all my friends near and far.

More on LCD Soundsystem: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

November 10, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Comfy in Nautica” – Panda Bear
(Words/music: Noah Lennox, available on Person Pitch, Paw Tracks 2007)

In the spring of 2008, I went through a month long phase where I would take late afternoon naps listening to Person Pitch. To the best of my memory, I put on the album and made myself comfortable on my bed, intent on listening to the album to try to figure out the big deal behind it. Then, somewhere during the first third of the album, I was too comfortable and nodded off. It’s nothing personal, as I’ve done this with albums that I love, it’s just a byproduct of laying down after a long day at work and having something to focus on that doesn’t require a lot of thought or analysis.

This process continued because it gave me the opportunity to listen to “Comfy in Nautica” as a way of “winding down” before I’d doze off. Initially, I found it jarring despite its hazy qualities. There’s a strong cyclical quality to the song between the music and samples flowing in and out and Lennox’s chant-like vocals. However, the way that the vocal sample lines up with the downbeat makes it feel like its bludgeoning the listener. This is the point to the song (and much of Person Pitch), as Lennox strives for a meditative quality, leaving us to find the patterns that emerge in his patchwork. Alternately, it could be a blank canvas for us to project our own patterns (or meditations, I guess) onto. Either way, it’s the kind of thing that I enjoy and lets me shut down my brain for a few minutes (I have no clue what Lennox is singing about because I never pay attention to the words). It probably also gave me weird nap dreams as well.

More on Panda Bear: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

October 31, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Werewolf Bar Mitzvah” – Tracy Jordan
(Words/music: Jeff Richmond, available via NBC.com, 2007)

One of the more charming parts of “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah,” is the dialogue between Tracy Jordan (alter ego of comedian Tracy Morgan) and his producer. In the world of the sitcom 30 Rock, Tracy Jordan is akin to Martin Lawrence, complete with ubiquitous semi-fame and an IMDB page full of stinkers. It’s believable that Jordan would make a novelty cash-in record, but the premise of this one – somewhere between a Hebrew rite of passage and Halloween – even baffles the man cashing the paycheck. Before the third verse, the producer warns Jordan that the song is losing steam and becoming “sweaty,” prompting Jordan to declare that “this whole premise is sweaty!” (Let’s be honest - it’s less than three minutes long and feels like it’s twice that length). Still, he soldiers on through another plot-driven verse and another spin through the chorus before ultimately declaring that it’s no “Dick in a Box.”

Like 30 Rock itself, “Werewold Bar Mitzvah” approaches comedy with the right blend of absurdity and self-awareness. Jordan’s narrative delves deeper into bizarre details as he tosses aside every horror movie fact and Hebrew vocabulary word he can remember. It’s the way a novelty song works – the hook is the only substantial part, yet it has to go away for a while before we can welcome it back. So Jordan starts telling his ridiculous story and we’re generally ignoring it, waiting for the “spooky, scary” line to come back. Meanwhile, Jordan and producer wink at us the entire way.

Happy Halloween. Mazel tov!

More on Tracy Jordan: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

September 18, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Down the Line” – Jose Gonzalez
(Words/music: Jose Gonzalez, available on In Our Nature, Peacefrog 2007)

A percussion instrument, by definition, creates sound through vibrations set into motion by striking, shaking, or scraping. Even though the guitar falls into the “string section” (I remember my parts of the orchestra from elementary school!), there’s still a percussive quality to the instrument. Sometimes a guitarist will literally turn the guitar into a drum by tapping out a rhythm on the body, and other times a guitarist makes a “scratching” noise by scraping strings muted by the fretting hand. While some guitar lines float through the air like the nimble melody produced by a woodwind instrument, others wrap themselves around the beat, tying the harmony directly to the song’s pulse. I guess this is where the term “rhythm guitar” finds its origin.

The guitar in “Down the Line” feels especially percussive. Gonzalez plays his acoustic guitar with a heavy eighth note feel, threading a melody in between his quick rhythmic strums. He plays it with an unwavering sense of time, giving the song a metronome-like pulse. It sounds like the way the inside of a watch looks – different parts moving independently to accomplish the same purpose. These different elements – the rhythmic guitar line, the melodic thread, and Gonzalez’ vocals – feel like gears working together to move the entire system. Up close it appears brittle with craftsmanship so precise that one wrong note could derail the entire arrangement. Still, taking a couple steps reveals it as a complete structure – one stronger than the sum of its parts.

More on Jose Gonzalez: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: jose gonzalez | 2007 | 2000s | peacefrog |

August 27, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Don’t Stop Believing” – Petra Haden
(Words/music: Jonathan Cain, Steve Perry, and Neal Schon, available on Guilt By Association, Engine Room 2007)

“Don’t Stop Believing” makes people lose rational thought. I don’t mean this as a dig on the song (to the contrary) but rather as an observation. This is the kind of song that given the right setting – behind the wheel at a traffic light, a bar ten minutes before closing time, or that part of the brain where daydreams come from – turns otherwise average folks into air guitar heroes. It’s a song that transcends personal listening habits and generational boundaries. Perhaps it comes from that perfectly played piano intro, or maybe it earned points for the now iconic final scene in The Sopranos, but “Don’t Stop Believing” offers one of the surest bets to get a room singing along. If pressed to name a primary culprit, I think it’s the song’s epic scale that seduces listeners. Everything – Steve Perry’s voice, the lead guitar, the unabashed optimism in the story – sounds the way that a panoramic photograph of a city skyline looks.

Petra Haden’s a capella take on “Don’t Stop Believing” respects this grandeur yet puts its own spin on it. Every sound comes from Haden’s voice (as she’s done with The Who Sell Out and “God Only Knows”) layered on a multi-track, yet the final product sounds like a choir of (admittedly similar sounding) voices. Whether intended or not, Haden’s interpretation captures both the shared public experience of singing “Don’t Stop Believing” with a bunch of other people as well as some of the more nuanced individual “responses” to the song. She interprets each part of the arrangement as different “characters” with different inflection. These characters include the faithful a capella purist flawlessly recreating the piano parts, the air guitar fiend who would recreate the sound while furiously finger-tapping an imaginary guitar, the detached hipster who hides genuine joy behind an ironic spoken-word interpretation of the pre-chorus, the karaoke singer who just slightly over-annunciates the end of each line in the verses, and the joyous masses belting out the chorus at the end of the song. If it’s true that pop songs belong to the public once released, Haden has most of our parts covered for us. All we need to do is stop thinking and join in.

More on Petra Haden: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 30, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Valerie (f/ Amy Winehouse)” – Mark Ronson
(Words/music: The Zutons, available on Version, Columbia 2007)

I have little to no interest in Amy Winehouse’s story. I’m a sucker for backstory, but Winehouse’s sounds like it would just make me angry. That being said, I think she has a killer voice, and I understand why producer Mark Ronson would work with someone like her. She possesses a unique voice that oozes personality, immediately attracting attention. The Zutons’ “Valerie” seems like the perfect star vehicle for her. Ronson surrounds her with his snappy, soulful production that allows Winehouse to assume the spotlight. Where the Zutons performed it as a mid-tempo stomp, Ronson and Winehouse turn it into a romp, complete with horns and a lively beat.

My favorite part of the song, no matter how lively it sounds, is that neither Ronson’s production nor Winehouse’s vocals sound rushed. Ronson stirs up a groove that moves without feeling like it rushes. His drummer (or his drum machine – I honestly can’t tell, so a credit to him if he’s pulling a fast one on me) sits in that pocket slightly behind the beat. It’s not dragging; instead, it makes the track feel settled rather than rushed. It’s a testament to Ronson’s production style that he can make his track feel like it’s played by a well-rehearsed house band. It might turn some people off, but it’s hard to argue against his abilities as a producer. Additionally, Winehouse embellishes on the melody a fair amount, yet she never feels like she’s going all out. Rather than sounding “phoned in,” Winehouse sounds relaxed and even fun as she’s singing the song. When she does climb up into the higher parts of her register, it’s to serve the song rather than flaunt her vocal prowess. For someone who comes across so tortured in the media, Winehouse feels like she’s having fun on this one, leading me to think what Back to Black might sound like once she (or rather, if she ever) settles her demons. She has the potential to become this generation’s most powerful voice if she chooses to put her energy into music.

More on Mark Ronson: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 17, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Betterman” - Eddie Vedder and the Walmer School Choir
(Words/music: Eddie Vedder, available on The Molo Sessions, Ten Club 2007)

It’s easy to write, yet it’s very difficult to write with “voice.” I’m a teacher in my “day job” and helping students write with voice remains the most difficult part of the writing process yet the most important; “voice” separates the average writing from the spectacular pieces, whether it’s a poem, a play, or an academic paper. It’s difficult because, unlike grammar, it can’t be taught through a formula and it usually only develops through repeated attempts. I still struggle to find my own voice every day as I write about songs – sometimes I agonize for an entire evening trying to decide what I want to say or how to say it. Then, on other days, it comes to me clearly and quickly. Sometimes it’s through lots of conscious and subconcious thought (yesterday’s post was an example of that), but other times it comes out of nowhere. It’s almost like the story takes control and dictates how it needs to be told; there’s time to polish it up after the fact and time to tinker with it under the hood, but the main essence – the voice, if you will – screams out as clear as day.

My friend Mike (who I hope will plug any holes I leave in this entry in the comments section) and I have spent a lot of time discussing Pearl Jam (and much more on them another time), and I’ve argued that in a decade or so when Pearl Jam becomes anthologized into whatever will be “classic rock” at the time, “Betterman” will be the song. I’m not saying it will be the only Pearl Jam song that will survive nor is it “the best” or my favorite Pearl Jam song. It is, however, the song that resonates the strongest with fans and non-fans alike – crowds at Pearl Jam shows will hijack the entire first verse and chorus from Vedder, and pop stations will occasionally let the song creep out during ’90s retro programming. I’ve struggled to figure out why exactly this will be the band’s lasting legacy, but I’m starting to think it has to do with this nebulous “voice” idea. Vedder wrote the song as a teenager, drawing on his own personal experiences, and through all its different permutations – solo demos, recordings with his previous band, and the final Vitalogy version – some of the details changed yet the essence of the song endured. Even though he’s writing through a persona, Vedder still radiates through the song, whether written about his own family or not. The plot isn’t as important as the theme – the idea of love’s warm embrace becoming a smothering blanket and struggling with ideas of self-assertion, self-worth, and self-empowerment. As a teen, Vedder’s song became the vehicle for him to tell his truth – to share his feelings with the outside world. Right now, I’m attending the Brave New Voices festival in Chicago with some students, and over the past few days I’m watching young people searching for and finding their voices through spoken word poetry. Looking at this remarkable week of self-actualization, it’s even more incredible how Vedder could compose this song (or the song’s core, at least) as a teenager. Even if it needed more work, Vedder found his voice and will be heard for decades to come. “Betterman” will just be the gateway into what else he has to offer.

More on Eddie Vedder: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 16, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“I’m a Flirt (Shoreline) (R. Kelly f/ T-Pain and T.I. vs. Broken Social Scene)” - The Hood Internet
(Arranged by Aaron Brink and Steve Reidell, available on Mixtape Volume 1, Self-Released 2007)

If music is a rich tapestry, then songwriters are the weavers. They transform raw materials into works of wonder. Whether it’s cotton or musical notes, weavers pull together the basic material while working in a basic part of themselves. This is how a hundred different items come from the same crop, or a hundred different songs come from the same fragment of melody. We admire their skills and marvel at their ability to inject a part of their soul into their art, and while we can study their techniques, it won’t look right unless we find our way to makes our voices resonate through these threads. Without the artist, whether it’s fabric or music, the end product never comes to life.

If music is a tapestry and songwriters are weavers, then DJs are quilters. It’s the DJ’s responsibility to take fragments of other people’s work and create a cohesive blanket. We all like to think we can DJ, but it requires so many factors to be successful to make a quilt that’s pleasing to the senses. I’m not a huge fan of mashups largely because DJs flood the internet with poor final products. It’s easy to find the ugly quilts culled together from the spare parts lying around, and these mashups rarely feel like a warming blanket. The Hood Internet, a Chicago based duo that specializes in the collision between hip hop and slightly left of center indie rock, may not make transcendent quilts every time out, but they have a strong track record of success. My personal favorite marries together R. Kelly’s “I’m a Flirt” with Broken Social Scene’s “7/4 (Shoreline),” and when I try to describe it to someone who hasn’t heard this mashup, I tend to make it sound ridiculous. Then, I play it and it somehow works.

I look at “I’m a Flirt (Shoreline)” in two different ways. First, knowing the source material (admittedly, I know the Broken Social Scene track better than the R. Kelly track), I admire their handiwork stitching together this unlikely pairing. They manage to turn Broken Social Scene’s 7/4 groove into a standard 4/4 beat, making the vocals sound natural with their unwitting Canadian accompaniment. Amazingly, the vocals blend in with the song too (especially T. Pain’s melodic verse, which must be pitch shifted). It’s a complement to the DJs for knowing how to pick the right scraps to stitch together, drawing on different parts of the song to accompany the different vocalists. In addition to admiring the individual selections, the whole quilt works together as a cohesive whole rather than solely as patchwork. Not only do the DJs marry the right part of each together, but they also know how to hide their stitches out of view. Like a tailor putting the stitches on the inside of folds, the Hood Internet turn the songs inside out and thread them together in their audio editor before turning it back around again. Yes, the proof of the work exists, but it’s out of view. We only see the final product – a work of juxtaposition that seems natural rather than forced.

More on The Hood Internet: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 14, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“All My Heroes are Weirdos” - !!!
(Words/music: !!!, available on Myth Takes, Warp 2007)

Lately, I feel like I’ve been paying a lot of attention to formative songs in my personal listening history. It’s strange referring to these important musicians as “heroes” when I’m not writing or (currently) performing music, but there’s a definite element of admiration involved. If nothing else, I admire their innovation – at least innovation in the sense that many of my favorites willfully went outside of their comfort zone. Whether it’s through risk-taking or pushing the envelope, these are reminders that excellence often requires to step out of our comfort zone. I’ve been told (more when I was younger) that these people produced “weird music,” and I think this is the reason they captivated me in the first place. Even if I never got around to starting that noise rock band, there’s a strange comfort in watching something beautiful come out of something unconventional.

!!! pay homage to odd idols appropriately by turning a cacophony of jarring sounds into a fluid groove. They play funk like a rusty bicycle – some of the parts might not please the senses, but together it’s a machine that moves adeptly as it weaves in and out of traffic. Among others, the Talking Heads’ glitch-funk from the Remain in Light era serves as a prominent touchstone of weirdness. Like the ‘Heads, !!! try to cloud the core of the song in an unconventional fog. However, like their weird heroes, the groove cuts right through, letting the freak-show flood light illuminate the dance floor for the rest of us.

More on !!!: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 5, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Fewer Broken Pieces” – David Bazan
(Words/music: David Bazan, available on Fewer Moving Parts, Barsuk Records 2007)

Bands break up all the time, but we still shrug our shoulders at band breakups when the band in question is essentially a single person’s creative output. When David Bazan announced that Pedro the Lion was disbanding, it prompted a few puzzled looks since it was primarily his project. Bazan tackles this directly on his first solo EP, turning the awkward conversations with friends about “going solo” into a song asserting his control. Bazan makes a fair point at the center of the song – “fewer moving parts means fewer broken pieces,” namely that fewer individuals involved with a recording means fewer people to placate. Even though he wrote nearly 90% of the Pedro the Lion songs, Bazan authored and performed all of the songs on his EP – a first in his recording career. Even if it sounds like it could have fit in on the last Pedro the Lion album, Bazan now owns every single second of the recording – every note, every word, every stray sound.

Aside from Bazan’s astute observation (even if it’s a bit of an oversimplification), I’m drawn in to the casual reference he makes to “David Byrne on Bob Costas.” I can’t find the clip online, but a message on a Talking Heads board summarizes the conversation Byrne and Costas had in 2004, placing Byrne as the “focal point of the Talking Heads and the outlet from which all artistical [sic] talent flowed from.” In this context, it’s easy to see why Bazan would look to shed his Pedro the Lion moniker – since he garnered all of the credit for his band, he may as well take it. While Bazan surrounded himself with capable musicians, I’m not sure it’s quite the same as the Talking Heads. Yes, like David Byrne, Bazan was the creative core of the band, but in the studio Bazan bore a greater burden than Byrne. Byrne also had much bigger egos to contend with, sharing writing credits with his bandmates and often producer Brian Eno. It’s a slippery slope – Byrne might have been the primary songwriter and creative influence, but he doesn’t become famous without his band (or Eno’s guidance, probably). Bazan, on the other hand, was the natural focal point of his band. In his case, he was taking complete ownership of what was 95% his in the first place. Byrne went off on his own to show how he could shine independently (and, arguably, has succeeded). If Bazan has anything to prove by going solo, it’s to himself.

More on David Bazan: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

June 17, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Ocean of Noise” – Calexico
(Words/music: Arcade Fire, available on Arcade Fire’s “Intervention” 7”, Merge Records 2007)

For all of the waves that the Arcade Fire’s Funeral made in the year after its release, I’ve seen Neon Bible in many ways as an equally impressive feat. Expectations were through the roof for their second album, and the band delivered. Where Funeral soared with its heart on its sleeve, Neon Bible took the same grandeur and turned it inward, finding a more complex and frightening range of emotions. “Ocean of Noise” embodies this shift, as Win Butler’s protagonist recognizes his inner struggles, acknowledges the lies he tells himself, and fears what he’s truly capable of at the end. He resolves to “work it out” himself because he knows that time alone won’t heal his wounds. If Funeral cataloged a series of tragedies happening around the band, Neon Bible addressed the toll these events took on the individual.

“Ocean of Noise” also marks a more subdued moment in the Arcade Fire’s songbook. “Intervention” might be the epic centerpiece of the album, but “Ocean of Noise” builds in a gracefully reserved manner. There’s still a build to a climax, but it’s gradual and understated with Butler sharing the spotlight with the strings and horns. While other Arcade Fire songs demand attention, “Ocean of Noise” earns it by building on its own terms. Calexico’s cover from the “Intervention” single drives home the song’s arrangement (members of Calexico played on the Arcade Fire’s version as well). Their version gives it a smoother feel and plays to the band’s strengths in their horn section. Calexico’s subdued version pays tribute to the original and underscores the band’s growth as songwriters. They’re not exactly going soft, but Calexico show how the Arcade Fire expanded their palette. Ironically, it took having someone else play one of their most personal and intimate songs for it to come across completely.

More on Calexico: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

June 10, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Heart It Races” – Architecture in Helsinki
(Words/music: Cameron Bird and Architecture in Helsinki, available on Places Like This, Polyvinyl 2007)

For all of the over-analysis that people (especially people like me) lend to music, some music speaks to us on an instinctive level. This is the great leveling power of music; a great piece can transcend culture and time in order to connect with people with little in common. These works find the specific notes that convey a specific meaning. Some parts might get lost in translation (complex lyrical images, for instance), but certain songs implicitly communicate with their audience.

“Heart It Races” works this way for me. Even though the lyrics are in my native language, I have no clue what they’re singing in most of the lines, rendering any type of brilliant narrative or profound imagery useless for me. Instead, I’m drawn to this song for two specific reasons. First, the rhythm connects in a primal way. It’s the type of thing that makes me want to bang along on my desk or on my leg – I know I’ve done this in public and I’m glad that I’m oblivious to the stares and weird looks from other people. The band knows what they’re working with as well, as they’ve made the percussion punchy and impossible to ignore (not that you’d want to ignore it). Still, it’s the melody along with this primal beat that makes “Heart It Races” work for me. Even if I can’t understand they lyrics and the voices are a little shrill, the melody feels uplifting. The whole thing sounds like a weirdly joyous incantation, where the band wants to have a good time. You don’t need me to tell you this, as one listen will be enough to entice you to join in.

More on Architecture in Helsinki: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

About the Blog

Search Posts

SSC on Shuffle

Follow SSC On:

Elsewhere on the web

SSC on Twitter

Meta