Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '2008'

December 23, 2009

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“The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance” – Vampire Weekend
(Words: Ezra Koenig, Music: Vampire Weekend, available on Vampire Weekend, XL 2008)

I will be the first to admit that I have an early track bias. While I may not actively prefer the first few songs on an album, I end up paying more attention to them than the ensuing songs. I’m culpable because my attention for an album generally peaks when I actively seek it out and put it on. Even with some of my favorite albums I might be distracted by something else. However, I want to think that it runs deeper than just attention spans and distractions. If nothing else, I wonder how many bands sequence an album considering “first impressions,” or at least with the knowledge that people like me will generally spin the first side more than the second side.

This bias isn’t necessarily a negative one; in fact, some songs benefit from flying under the radar a little longer, escaping the lightning quick judgment we make instinctively at the beginning of an album. These might be more challenging songs, songs that build on musical or lyrical themes presented earlier, or songs that do something different from the opening sequence. In this case, I’m drawn into “The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance” largely because of Ezra Koenig’s vocal delivery in the song. While it’s not an outright departure from the rest of the album, Koenig offers slight variations on his vocal style. He strains his range slightly at the end of some of the lines, not by screaming, not losing the note, but only slightly out of his comfort range. He sounds a little less relaxed and a hair more anxious as a result, but really only by comparison to some of his more buttoned up vocal performances near the end of the album. He even cracks into a strange falsetto near the end, perhaps as the last twist on his debut album. While “A-Punk” and “Oxford Comma” hooked me early on, “The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance” (and “Walcott,” the penultimate track) is the most played songs on my digital copy of the album. I wonder how that would be different if it changed positions.

More on Vampire Weekend: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

December 3, 2009

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“Kim & Jessie” – M83
(Words/music: Anthony Gonzalez, Yann Gonzalez, and Morgan Kibby, available on Saturdays = Youth, Mute 2008)

If Anthony Gonzalez painted rather than writing songs, he would fill his canvases with bright colors. His melodies burn brightly, often popping out from the rest of the track, especially when played on a synthesizer. When Gonzalez pairs these clear synth melodies with his own hazy vocals and the subdued backing track, the melodies stand out like bright neon bolts across the sky. Calling his songs “cinematic” feels too easy, especially when Gonzalez included clipped bits of dialogue along with his soundscapes. Instead, they evoke emotion the same way a painting might evoke emotions in a gallery; it’s less about the plot details, and more about the mode of expression.

“Kim & Jessie,” described by Gonzalez on his website as “two teenage girls having a drug experience,” works not because Gonzalez works like a painter rather than a screenwriter. We don’t get a lot of details on the protagonists or specifics of their experiences, but these aren’t necessary. Instead, Gonzalez paints just enough of the scene, capturing the euphoric rush and invincibility of youth. His arrangement underscores these feelings too, whether it’s through the larger-than-life drums or the eerily bubbly synthesizer accompanying him during the verse. He also pairs the rushing endorphins with a faint threat in the distance. Whatever it is “lurking in the shadows,” be it drug-fueled paranoia or simply the awareness that this vibrant night will eventually end, stays just far enough away to make its presence known without revealing any of the details. Similarly, the music hints at this threat, whether it’s the way the synthesizer lingers on one chord during the bridge or the way the synthesizers sometimes sound vaguely like screams. Gonzales lays all of these emotions out on his sonic canvas, letting us find different aspects to explore each time we listen. Whether focusing on the vibrant energy, the unspoken darkness, or some other emotion mixed in the haze, it’s up to us to take in the entire painting.

More on M83: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

November 6, 2009

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“I’m Amazed” – My Morning Jacket
(Words/music: Jim James, available on Evil Urges, ATO 2008)

Despite repeated endorsements from friends, including friends I trust, I never really latched on to My Morning Jacket. I have copies of most of their albums but never really listened to them on my own. I even saw them live with Pearl Jam in 2006 and was impressed by their musicianship despite a less than ideal situation (this, in addition to seeing James peform with Conor Oberst and M.Ward years before they became the Monsters of Folk). Still, I never followed through on any of my “leads,” whether from other people or my own experiences with the band. I wish I could give a concrete reason for this, but it really only comes back to a lack of time to listen to all of the records I want to hear.

Ironically, it might have been this indifference that made me take notice of the band. The entire Evil Urges album sounds more like the fluid, shape-shifting version of the band that plays legendary sets I read about rather than the reverb-drenched Crazy Horse disciples I heard on record. So when I spent a quiet Saturday night home with a glass of whiskey and Saturday Night Live, I wasn’t ready to be blown away by “I’m Amazed.” I expected the band to show off their chops, but instead they played a simple, harmony-driven rock song. Instantly, it clicked for me – with this simple song, I saw a band running on all cylinders. Even without tricky chord changes or intricate jams, the guitars still felt forceful, especially during the solo. Most importantly, I saw a band having fun on stage, and when I got Evil Urges, I heard the same things in the studio version as well. Even if it’s not the most complex (or lyrically deep song), James crafted an arrangement that lets his band flourish. While many might argue that “I’m Amazed” doesn’t accurately represent the band’s musicianship (or the eclectic sound of Evil Urges), it captures the band as a group that enjoys what it does and excels at it.

More on My Morning Jacket: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

November 4, 2009

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“The Yankee Flipper” – The Baseball Project
(Words/music: Scott McCaughey, available on The Baseball Project, Vol. 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails, Yep Roc 2008)

I’m the first to admit that I take baseball for granted. I don’t watch as many games as some of my friends, yet I’m always sad when there isn’t a game to watch. I guess at this point in my life it’s one of those things that makes me happy just knowing that it’s there. If I don’t always watch a game (and this year, watching Mets games wasn’t always a relaxing decision), I still like seeing Baseball Tonight or catching scores on the radio. Even if I’m not actively watching games every night, I feel better knowing that somewhere a baseball game is going on.

So when I heard that Scott McCaughey, Steve Wynn, and Peter Buck (among others) collaborated on an album of baseball themed songs, I immediately wanted to hear it. These songs lace together the type of power pop Wynn and McCaughey usually create with stories pulled from baseball lore. In particular, “The Yankee Flipper” immediately stuck out because I remember watching Jack McDowell pitch for the White Sox and Yankees in the 1990s. It turns out that the night before McDowell’s infamous incident where he flipped off Yankee fans, he was out drinking with McCaughey, R.E.M.’s Mike Mills, and Dennis Diken from the Smithereens. McCaughey claims that the story is true, and given McDowell’s own musical pursuits it’s entirely believable. It’s also one of the few instances on The Baseball Project, an album culled from recalled moments of fandom, where the fans in question had an influence on the game itself. Sure, it was ultimately McDowell’s lousy performance (and short fuse) that led to his back page infamy, but it’s also an instance where some diehard fans felt partly responsible. I’m sure that the rock boys felt bad that their friend experienced the backlash (just imagine what that would have been like in the YouTube era!), yet McCaughey feels responsible without ever feeling remorse. After all, it makes him a part of one of our era’s more colorful footnotes.

So tonight, as the Yankees appear on the verge of putting baseball to bed for the winter, consider this a salute (not necessarily the same salute as Black Jack, unless you’re a Philly / Boston fan) to baseball and a reminder that spring training can’t come soon enough.

More on The Baseball Project: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 27, 2009

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“This is Not a Test” - She & Him
(Words/music: Zooey Deschanel, available on Volume One, Merge Records 2008)

On Murmur, R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe sang the line, “not everyone can carry the weight of the world,” and this line popped into my head when trying to think about songs like “This is Not a Test.” Sometimes, we equate weightiness with quality – if it’s not deep, it’s not worth it, and there’s something to be said about art that works in layers and tackles difficult topics. This completely marginalizes music that’s breezy and fun – these types of songs aren’t meant to trigger an existential crisis, but instead these songs are designed with enjoyment in mind. We feel at ease when we hear a light hearted pop song, and it’s a way for us to connect emotionally to the things in our lives that make us happy – a vacation with a loved one, a childhood memory, etc. These songs reflect another part of the human existence that often escapes the critical eye, and even if it’s only fleeting, these songs lighten our spirits and brighten our days.

“This is Not a Test” reaches back to 1960s pop music and evokes the same kind of light-hearted mood in its listeners. The guitar chords are bright and cut right to the forefront, the backing vocals make it seem like a campfire sing-a-long, and the kazoo interlude shows how Deschanel and M. Ward aren’t taking themselves too seriously on this one. Deschanel’s voice suits this type of arrangement – she has a flimsy voice with a slight country inflection, but on a track like this she sounds sweet. Most importantly, Ward and Deschanel understand their purpose. They’re not out to make the lost Bob Dylan album from the ’60s – they’ve set out to make a throwback pop record. When she tries to tackle soul songs out of her league, Deschanel sounds overwhelmed on Volume One, but she sounds right at home when the mood lightens up.

While Ward and Deschanel understood their role on record, their live performance closing out the XX Merge anniversary festival missed the mark. Deschanel, who spent most of her time on stage bouncing like a five year-old and making painfully awkward stage banter, was backed (with a couple additions) by members of M. Ward’s band. The previous night, Ward and his band played a blistering set of his blues-folk hybrid, showcasing the musicianship of every member of his band. Unfortunately, they tried to play all of Deschanel’s songs the same way and Deschanel was unable to command the presence – either vocally or with her body language – appropriate for such a forceful performance. As a result, Deschanel sounded amateurish and skittish. While the album plays to her vocal strengths, the live performance exposed all of her weaknesses. Watching Ward’s band play these songs was like watching an elephant gun shoot out nerf balls, resulting in an underwhelming performance. Worst of all, the band attempted to turn “This is Not a Test” into a rollicking dance number. It sounded like a karaoke version of the song, completely drained of the spirit that makes it enjoyable on record. It was a rare disappointment in an otherwise impressive string of shows.

More on She and Him: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 20, 2009

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“Souled Out!!!” – Conor Oberst
(Words/music: Jason Bosel and Conor Oberst, available on Conor Oberst, Merge Records 2008)

Last weekend I went with a group of friends to see Wilco and Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band opened for them. I’ve been a fan of Bright Eyes since discovering Lifted… a few years ago and had a hard time trying to figure out why he dropped his stage name. I touched on this idea a few weeks ago when I wrote about David Bazan dropping his Pedro the Lion name and thought about Oberst the entire time. For a number of reasons – the intensity of the voice in his songs, my proximity to him in age – Bright Eyes was Conor Oberst, including his affiliation with Saddle Creek and his cracking voice. Unlike Bazan, who essentially surrendered his pseudonym to assume control, Oberst seemed to want to close a chapter of his life. The Oberst on the stage opening for Wilco was far more self-assured and stage-ready than the voice I always heard in those Bright Eyes records (even the last couple). Granted, I never saw Bright Eyes perform, so he may have always had stage presence, but Oberst seemed both comfortable and confident with the Mystic Valley Band behind him, tearing through an hour long set of songs from their two records.

If the Bright Eyes albums were interesting because of their rawness – be it Oberst’s vocal tics or his imagery or storytelling, his two “solo” albums find him loosening up and enjoying the songs. “Souled Out!!!” in particular feels “fun” largely because of the shouted backing vocals in the chorus, but it still retains much of Oberst’s tendencies as a songwriter. His verses still privilege images and details over bluntness, making Oberst seem like a singing journalist detailing his surroundings. Where other songwriters might cut directly to their feelings, he brings us into his mind, sharing all of the different things passing through his line of sight with the trust that we’ll make the same connections that he’s making. He made his name as Bright Eyes wringing tortured emotions out of his acoustic guitar, but here Oberst seems to revel in the conclusion that heaven is “Souled Out.” I see the argument that his songs were more interesting when they scratched at his emotional scabs, but “Souled Out!!!” carries a swagger and confidence rarely seen on the Bright Eyes records. This song, with it’s acceptance that St. Peter won’t be opening his gates, would sound morose on a Bright Eyes record; here, it’s an afterthought to the life he’s leading. Even if these songs aren’t as emotionally arresting as some of his other compositions, it’s hard to deny that he’s growing as an all-around songwriter.

More on Conor Oberst: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 3, 2009

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“Hurricane Jane” – Black Kids
(Words/music: Black Kids, available on Partie Traumatic, Almost Gold / Columbia 2008)

In roughly just a year, Black Kids went from obscurity to oversaturation. This is remarkable on its own, but becomes even more absurd when noting that their debut album came at the end of this stretch. Pitchfork discovered their Wizard of Ahhhs EP on Myspace and turned this very young band into the most desired band at CMJ 2007. What followed made perfect sense in retrospect – a band with a wonderful four song demo EP wasn’t road tested and received lukewarm reactions from the same people who eagerly downloaded their EP. It was, as the Specials put it, “too much too young.” The band needed time to find their footing and catch up to where expectations demanded they should be. Unfortunately, Black Kids had to grow in the spotlight, and when they went through the things that most young bands experiences (short sets, clumsy performances), the backlash began. Still, they deserve a lot of respect for taking Pitchfork’s non-review in stride and (as of last August) becoming a fun, lively band in concert.

It probably didn’t help the band’s case that almost all of their best songs on their debut album came from this demo EP. However, the versions on Partie Traumatic reflect the growth the band experienced over their year in the limelight. With Suede’s Bernard Butler behind the board, “Hurricane Jane” becomes far more precise; the guitar line sounds more defined yet still retains similar reverb from the original. The most notable change occurs when the band slides from this main riff into the verse and from the verse into the chorus – it’s a superior mix where each of the instruments holds its own with the others. It’s not simply a higher recording budget, though; the band sounds more confident, switching from a low key groove in the verse into the looser and freer chorus. Yes, there’s a charm to the EP version of the song, but the album version of “Hurricane Jane” will fit in perfectly with the other feel-good pop songs on your summer mix. Above all, this is a band that’s having fun – and if we expected anything more than a fun, slightly campy record from this band, then we only have our lofty expectations to thank for our disappointment.

More on Black Kids: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

May 25, 2009

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“Another Day” – Jamie Lidell
(Words/music: Jamie Lidell and Dominic Salole, available on Jim, Warp 2008)

Jamie Lidell’s “Another Day” is a love song without the word “love” in it. In fact, it doesn’t have any overtly romantic gestures – at least not ones that would make him end up on the “soft news” part of a local broadcast. Instead, Lidell revels in the day-to-day moments of his relationship – the happy silences, the small discoveries, and the general peacefulness of the day-to-day. It’s easy to be in love during those moments of pure bliss, and every relationship needs these to survive. However, true love turns what some might call “ordinary” or “boring” days into extraordinary days. Lidell’s narrator shares this revelation, describing how he changed from demanding these exciting moments to appreciating the quiet whispers together. I know plenty of people who struggle with these moments and as a result create moments or ecstasy or enragement as habit. Instead, Lidell’s protagonist takes each day for what it is – another day to learn a little more about the person he loves.

About a year ago, my girlfriend Jenny introduced me to Jamie Lidell, and one of our first outings together was to see him at the Paradise in Boston. She raved about his hybrid of blue-eyed soul and electronic manipulations, so I took her word for it and went with her. Lidell didn’t disappoint, doing everything from leading his band through funky arrangements to manipulating and looping his voice for over five minutes while somehow making it sound interesting. By the time he came out from the encore with a TV on his head, I was sold. This is only one of many things Jenny’s brought into my life over the last year. I’ll always associate Lidell’s music with her because of this show, with “Another Day” being particularly special. A year ago today, Jenny and I went on our first “date” (retroactively declared a “date” at least) where we drove around northern Connecticut talking about the radio, sat at a diner way too long, and talked in her car until well after two in the morning. Every day since then, I’ve fallen a little more in love with her each day, in part because she continues to amaze me with everything she does professionally, creatively, and personally. I share this because it’s exactly what I think of when I hear “Another Day” – even if we have a quiet day together walking around, making dinner, and talking, there’s no place else in the entire world I’d rather be and nothing else I’d rather be doing. We’ve had our blissful moments, but in reality she makes all of them blissful for me. I tell her that she’s my hero because I want to be more like her, and in a way this blog is one way that I’ve tried to be more creative and reflective. It’s only appropriate that I should use it to thank her, because without her constant encouragement (and her understanding when I duck away for an hour to type a post when visiting her) there’s no way this blog would have lasted more than a week.

More on Jamie Lidell: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

May 11, 2009

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“The Engine Driver” – Colin Meloy
(Words/music: Colin Meloy, available on Colin Meloy Sings Live!, Kill Rock Stars 2008)

I surprise people with my tepid reaction to the Decemberists. I think they are a fine band with a few superb moments, but some people expect that because I studied literature (and teach it to high school kids) that Colin Meloy’s “literary” style of songs should suit me. I’ve had this discussion a couple times and it usually leads into the revelation that music – be it melody, rhythm, or just sound in general – captures me far more often than words. I’m not saying words aren’t important, but a song needs to be more than just a well written poem to be a successful song. Specifically, a story needs more than a gripping plot to become a song – it needs a purpose for the medium. Perhaps this is why I like a few Decemberists songs yet struggle to sit through an entire album. I’m fine with an album-length narrative thread, but at times the individual songs suffer under the weight of the full-length endeavor.

I tend to enjoy Meloy’s more focused songs – his “short stories” to his “novels, if you will. I prefer to enjoy each song as its own individual entity rather than the means to a greater end; I’d prefer to hear a collection of assorted stories rather than one single narrative. Perhaps this is why I like Meloy’s solo live album so much – without being bound to an overarching theme, Meloy’s songs shine even in this minimalistic setting. Specifically, I’ve always liked “The Engine Driver” as a bit of commentary. In it, Meloy sketches out a couple different characters, giving brief introductions to their physical descriptions and their circumstance. No matter how many characters he creates, his narrator (perhaps Meloy, perhaps not) returns to himself. When he sings that he’s spent “pages upon pages / trying to rid you from my bones” it could be an unrequited love. However, it also could be about the artist’s need to create – in this case, the writer’s need to share a story – meeting with a creative impasse. Meloy’s narrator keeps sketching out these characters yet can’t seem to flesh them out to his liking. It’s difficult for writers of all skill levels – letting an idea escape your brain even if it’s not as perfect as the original thought. When a writer creates the character he or she pictures perfectly, it flows freely. It’s these imperfect moments that are hard to let out of the revision stage. While sometimes these ideas become as good as the effortless ones (think of how many times you’ve read an interview where a songwriter says that the hit single “almost didn’t make the album”), it takes a degree of trust in the idea to let it live in its “flawed” state. In this sense, the author has to love it enough to “let it go” and trust that it’s still worth reading even if it isn’t the original idea. It’s an interesting spin on a love song and good advice for writers, even if it falls into the “easier said than done” category.

More on Colin Meloy: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

May 2, 2009

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“Beautiful Girls” – Deer Tick
(Words/music: Kisean Anderson, Sly Jordan, Ben E. King, Jerry Leiber, Jonathan Rotem, Michael Stoller, non-album track - download at Brooklyn Vegan)

I saw Deer Tick open up for Jenny Lewis back in the fall and I was impressed with them as a live band – I had heard a couple songs prior but it never really latched onto me. Live, however, they were a far more engaging band, letting their songs spring to life, giving these part surf-rock, part punk rock, part country songs the necessary emphasis to make them interesting. They also closed with a rollicking cover of “La Bamba” that worked as a perfect summary of their opening set for a crowd that (mostly) didn’t know the band. I went home with a copy of War Elephant that night and listened to their songs with a new set of ears. The second time around, I found John McCauley’s songs far more interesting, getting deeper into the arrangements and his clever lyrics. Their new album Born on Flag Day comes out at the end of June and while it’s not going to make them household names, a lot more people will take notice as word gets around. (You can hear some of their songs on their Myspace page or on their Muxtape page)

I hesitate to post a cover song by a (largely) unknown band, but I think their version of Sean Kingston’s interpolation of “Stand by Me” showcases a lot of the wonderful qualities that made Deer Tick a compelling live band. Instrumentally, they turn the song into a bouncy alt-country tune, complete with steel guitar and sizzling cymbals. Specifically, the bass sound is phenomenal, doing justice to that distinctive bassline from “Stand by Me.” McCauley playfully sings Kingston’s tale of teenage heartbreak with playfulness rather than irony, a significant factor in the track’s success. While some bands might plow through it as a tongue-in-cheek bubblegum punk song, Deer Tick play to its strengths and has fun with the song, including a lyrical nod to “Stand by Me” in the song’s fading final seconds. I’d probably enjoy it even more if it was a cover of “Stand by Me” the entire way (this being the second cover I’ve written about that references the song), but I’m still impressed that the band would pick a recent pop song that plays to their strengths rather than one just to pull in curious listeners.

More on Deer Tick: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

April 23, 2009

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“Video Tapez (f/ Del tha Funky Homosapien)” – Amplive
(Words/music: Radiohead, remixed by Amplive, available on Rainydayz Remixes, Self Released, 2008)

If The Beatles is the band that crosses generation gaps, Radiohead is the band that crosses gaps within my generation. In high school, Radiohead was the one band that all of my friends, whether they were into metal, punk, jam bands, or Brit-pop, agreed on. They are a musician’s band, a geek’s band, and (often forgotten) a hell of a rock band, so I understand this strange crossover appeal. Of course Radiohead, like the Beatles, has its detractors (even if many do so just to be contrarians), but it amazed me in the late ‘90s to see so many people with different musical interests agree on such an odd band. It helps that Radiohead constantly push the envelope – with In Rainbows alone, Radiohead turned the system backwards by self releasing an album digitally and then negotiating with labels to issue the physical product, not to mention several successful public remix campaigns spurred by the band releasing “stems” of different isolated instrumental tracks calling for remixers of all skills to take part.

Looking back, Amplive’s Rainydayz Remixes collection seems inevitable – in addition to Radiohead’s history of innovation, Thom Yorke’s solo album The Eraser featured more distinct beats, lending a track to the “Us Placers” collaborations between Pharell, Kanye West, and Lupe Fiasco. Even The Beatles, the other critic-proof English rock band, received a remix treatment that made its DJ famous. The skeptic in me wants to think that Amplive took on this endeavor for similar ambitions, but that’s not the point. Rainydayz Remixes turned out just as I imagined – some of the tracks are forgettable and some are interesting. In particular, the remix of “Videotape,” here redubbed “Video Tapez,” might be the sole example of a remix that improved on the original. I hadn’t heard the In Rainbows songs in any of the live recordings before the album came out, but my friends who had seemed most disappointed with the mellowing out of “Videotape” when compared with its more dynamic live version. Amplive takes the slow piano line and gives it a quicker, stuttered feel; this works especially well on Thom Yorke’s vocals, turning his mournful vocal into a viable hook. I’m not saying this is what “Video Tape” should sound like (I like the In Rainbows version, specifically for that weird percussion at the very end), but it’s interesting to hear how someone who had an entirely different agenda for the album interpreted the song. Judging from his Youtube “thank you” disclaimer, Amplive seems thrilled that the band (potentially) heard his remixes, and I’d be curious how Rainydayz Remixes and the remix sites for “Nude” and “Reckoner” will influence the band going forward. It also makes me wish I did something with those “Reckoner” stems I downloaded.

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

April 13, 2009

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“Ruler” – Marnie Stern
(Words/music: Marnie Stern, available on This is It… [title truncated], Kill Rock Stars 2008)

This afternoon, I finally got around to reading Georgia Hubley’s liner notes for her compilation in Merge’s twentieth anniversary SCORE! Boxset, and she starts with an interesting phrase: “I do not enjoy using words to describe what I like about music (or anything, really).” She then, appropriately, writes a great essay that reveals what she loves (in a peripheral manner). On a very basic level, I agree with her sentiment – nobody needs to justify why he or she likes something. Taste is subjective and (as I’m finding) greatly influenced by personal events. Still, I believe that words can and should be spent on explaining why we love specific things in music (and if I didn’t, wouldn’t that make this blog an exercise in futility?). I don’t want to make someone like the same things that I like, and I think that sometimes we fall into that trap of trying to “sell” something through the written word. However, I enjoy the challenge of trying to figure out the things that draw me to specific songs and articulate them in semi-coherent sentences – perhaps this is the writing teacher in me drawing the specific connection between writing and the thought process. Perhaps if I could write songs as well as Yo La Tengo (and more on them another night), I wouldn’t feel this need to tell you, dear reader, about my favorite songs every day. However, this is how I pay tribute to those songs that I love.

Back to Hubley’s introduction for a minute – sometimes words can’t accurately articulate the experience of hearing a song or seeing a band play. Personally, I had that experience with Marnie Stern. After reading reviews, interviews, and testimonials singing her praises, I was intrigued to hear what this “guitar prodigy” sounded like. Even with these warnings of her furious playing, I was still surprised at the intensity in her songs. The combination of her lightning quick finger tapping and Hella’s Zach Hill’s physical assault on his drum kit makes Stern’s songs sound like sonic thunderstorms. I was impressed with In Advance of the Broken Arm, but I can’t say the respect and awe translated into genuine enjoyment – I found that my ears were tired by the time I reached the end of the disc.

“Ruler,” unlike anything on Stern’s debut, stuck with me. By her second album, Stern learned how to harness her raw sonic power to serve her songs. In the verses, Stern pushes full-steam ahead, letting the drums, her guitar, and several tracks of her high pitched voice stir together chaotically. However, Stern pulls back slightly on the chorus by singing in a more relaxed tone and toning down the sonic onslaught (relatively speaking). Where many of her earlier songs sounded like relentless storms, “Ruler” sounds like a well-developed aural hurricane. Having a stronger structural arrangement, like a hurricane ready to reach land, makes “Ruler” that much more dangerous, and like the storms, the most dangerous part comes right around the eye of the storm. Where many could hold out against Stern’s earlier songs, “Ruler,” as Stern’s lyrics suggest, overpowers anyone in its path.

Consider yourself warned, even if it won’t adequately describe what awaits when you press the “play” button.

More on Marnie Stern: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 4, 2009

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“I Told Her on Alderaan” – Neon Neon
(Words/music: Bryan Holloran and Gruff Rhys, available on Stainless Style, Lex 2008)

One problem I have with many futuristic narratives is that far too often, these concepts aren’t innovative. I think many times we make the mistake of confusing “innovation” and “progress” with “futuristic” - just because something is flashier or incorporates more technology doesn’t make it an improvement over our current era. Sure, we might one day have hover cars like George Jetson, but he still faced problems with gridlock (not to mention the unspoken questions of fuel consumption or cost). Is it truly progressive if I still sit in traffic on my way to work? Still, it’s an understandable problem, as we build our concept of futuristic societies with the building blocks we have right now. Chances are, when “the future” comes, it will be different in unimaginable ways (even if human nature will largely be the same).

Music works in a similar way. When we describe something as “futuristic,” it almost exclusively refers to aesthetic qualities. “Futuristic” songs aren’t ones that push the boundaries of songwriting, production, or performance. Instead, the “futuristic” tag refers to how the music sounds on the surface – often sounding shiny and polished. Ironically, this “futuristic” sound relies heavily on an instrument often associated with the 1980s – the synthesizer. This makes sense on “I Told Her on Alderaan” – like the Star Wars reference in the title, the song creates a futuristic feel with elements from the past. While Star Wars took classic narratives and set them in a far off galaxy “a long time ago” even if it seemed futuristic to us. Neon Neon, a collaboration between Super Furry Animals’ Gruff Rhys and producer Boom Bip (aka Brian Holloran), set out to create what Rhys dubbed “a bonkers disco record” inspired by the life and troubles of John DeLorean (designer of the car used in Back to the Future). The result, particularly on “Alderaan,” is a song that has the shiny feel of the future with classic parts. Rhys spins an enormously catchy melody in between’s layers of synthesizers and sound effects, and even the guitar has an icy tone. Even if most of the parts – the source material, the main musical choices, and the stylistic mode – come from the early 80s, Rhys and Halloran manage to turn these old parts into something that sounds vibrant years later. They may not have anticipated the future, but they managed to create something that becomes vibrant and relevant without having to rely solely on retro nostalgia.

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

February 19, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“That’s Not My Name” – The Ting Tings
(Words/music: Jules De Martino and Katie White, available on We Started Nothing, Columbia 2008)

I’ve revealed that I’m a sucker for catchy songs, but I still demand something else – some interesting chords, skillful lyrics, a killer drum beat – otherwise I’d listen to instrumental music all day. That being said, “That’s Not My Name” is the kind of thing I would have hated if I first heard the hook. Katie White sounds like a cross between Toni Basil and any of those female mallpunk brats who put out singles (take your pick). I appreciate her attitude (and it’s her attitude and De Martino’s bass drum that get me through the first minute and a half of the song), but it gets a bit grating when the entire focus rests on her voice; it’s more of a gimmick than a leading player. Unfortunately, this is the part of the song that gets clipped in a commercial. Thankfully, in the States at least, it’s not as ubiquitous as “Shut Up and Let Me Go,” or I might actively loathe this song.

When the second chorus begins, things start to get more interesting. De Martino enters with a second contrasting vocal line as White keeps on telling us names that won’t solicit a reply from her. Then, her sloganeering stops and her sneer becomes a song. While White doesn’t sing like a seraphim, it’s a welcome break after being yelled at for two minutes. The track then rebuilds on this vocal line – the drums join back in with hand claps and some guitar effects. Then, White’s shout returns, followed by De Martino’s line, followed by some more prominent guitar. They took the first two minutes of the song and essentially scrapped it for parts – we never return to the drums and shouting at the beginning, but the duo put the parts back together over this new bed, adding in a few new wrinkles along the way. It’s kind of like a remix mid song, and knowing that the best part comes during the final minute (ironically, the song is a solid minute too long, but I’d cut something from the middle) means that I’ll spend the first three and a half waiting for it to build up to this point. It’s an instance where knowing how the story ends makes reading the prologue a bit more satisfying.

More on The Ting Tings: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 17, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Upon Viewing Brueghel’s Landscape with the Fall of Icarus” – Titus Andronicus
(Words/music: Titus Andronicus, available on The Airing of Grievances, Troubleman Unlimited 2008)

While I love melody (think of how many times I’ve used “catchy” to describe songs over the past month and a half), I also have an affinity for loud, noisy songs. That’s not to say that I like anything turned up to 11 – I’ve tried to understand hardcore a few times and came to the conclusion that it’s not for me. My preferred type of noise still contains a melody. The noise might fracture, rearrange, or obscure it, but there’s still a melodic force driving these songs. I guess I find these songs fascinating for a couple of reasons. First, I think it’s interesting to see how far melodies stretch before breaking. That’s not to say that I like all my pop songs played loud and fast (I tend to abhor punk covers of pop songs) – it’s kind of a case by case basis. Sometimes, the song needs a lush arrangement or a sparce performance to do it justice. Sometimes, the melody serves as the thread holding together the rest of the chaos; it becomes more of a structural element than a spotlight focus. In these cases, the melody lets the band explore different sounds and create a composition that benefits from the cacophony.

Still, as a student of literature, I’m drawn to noisy songs because when done well they tend to hold their secrets in close like a short story. These works reveal different aspects with each exploration, depending on the point of entry. Appropriately, Titus Andronicus combine allusion (perhaps to excess) with their raucous and noisy songs. Like Icarus, Titus Andronicus aim their sights high on The Airing of Grievances, an album bursting at the seams with desperate (and sometimes despondent) vocals, barreling drums, and layers of furiously fuzzed out electric guitars. One might even say that the album sounds like Icarus’ melted wings after he flew too close to the sun – the album spends its 45 minutes sounding on the verge of collapse, while vocalist Sarim Al-Rawi sounds on the verge of an emotional meltdown as well. However, the album works because it revels in its near collapse; it’s almost as if Icarus approached the sun, felt his wings melt, and howled the entire way down like he was on a rollercoaster rapidly dropping. It sounds like a band pushing themselves to the brink and enjoying every feedback-laden moment of it.

One notable thing about the Brueghel painting referenced in this song is that Icarus is a tiny spec in the landscape – without the title, we wouldn’t even know he was there. In a way, Brughel seems to undercut Icarus’ ambition by painting him as a tiny detail within a larger landscape – it’s nice that he strove for greatness, but the world goes on without him. After seeing Titus Andronicus this past weekend, this makes sense, as Al-Rawi constantly put his band into contex with commentary between almost every song. He pointed out friend in the audience, made numerous reference to being from New Jersey and having spent time in Massachusetts (they were playing in Boston), and addressed the crowd with self deprecating charm and a hint of scorn. They played cover songs that framed their upbringing (tearing through Springsteen’s “Badlands”), their musical style (by letting one of their songs seamlessly transition into “Wipeout”), and their understanding of musical history (by covering “Roadrunner” by Boston’s own Modern Lovers). He even repeatedly told the crowd that they needed to leave early because their hometown paper (The Glen Rock Gazette) was taking their picture and it “meant a lot to [their] moms.” Their set was an energetic burst of these combustible songs, but it seemed like Al-Rawi wanted to put his band into context by painting their landscape as much bigger than their own glorious, thrill-seeking drop to the ocean.

More on Titus Andronicus: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

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