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“Cannibal Resource” – Dirty Projectors
(Words/music: David Longstreth, available on Bitte Orca, Domino 2009) 

David Longstreth’s interview with the Onion A.V. Club was one of my favorite pieces from 2009.  In it, Sean O’Neal fed Longstreth pull quotes comparing the Dirty Projectors’ most recent album to other bands.  Longstreth gives some interesting responses to a few of them (and in the process reveals that he’s the type of guy who refers to other musicians as “cats”), but most of the more ridiculous ones he brushes off with various degrees of disgust and amusement.   It’s an amusing read, but it also underscores the hollowness of criticism that only describes bands in terms of the other people that it sounds like, as Longstreth’s answers to some of the more ridiculous claims better describe his band’s sound than the writers who coined these absurd comparisons.

O’Neal’s introduction to the piece sums up the reviewer’s conundrum: “[T]hat old music-reviewer standby becomes especially worthless, as everyone scrambles to find a way to describe something that, speaking honestly, sounds like nothing that came before it.”  Bitte Orca combines so many different types of sounds that it’s impossible to describe all of them (and shows the folly of “spotting” a couple of them and generalizing these similarities to the entire album).  It almost makes more sense to talk about the songs as a series of juxtapositions – be it abrupt turns in a different direction or an unusual combination of sounds.  “Cannibal Resource” cycles through a series of sounds – the underwater sounding guitar in the opening, the wordless female vocals, a 12-string acoustic guitar joined by an electric guitar – with Longstreth’s unconventional vocals.  The song starts by cycling through each of these once before the layers start to bleed together – soon a stray “oooooh” cuts through the guitar lines, punctuated by a laboriously strummed chord on the acoustic guitar.  “Cannibal Resourse” lays out the plan for the rest of the album by introducing some of the key players – specifically, how these players (the female vocalists, Longstreth’s guitar, the syncopated percussion) take on different roles and serve different purposes throughout the rest of the album.

More on Dirty Projectors: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: dirty projectors | david longstreth | 2009 | 2000s | domino records | onion a.v. club |
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“Walking with Thee” – Clinic
(Words/music: Clinic, available on Walking with Thee, Domino 2002)

I go long stretches of time in between listens to Clinic, but when I hear a song like “Walking with Thee,” I feel like I still know every twist and turn.  It’s not that it’s a predictable song; instead, I spent a lot of time learning these songs passively by listening to it repeatedly.  Every play, whether putting the “Walking with Thee” single on my record player, putting the album on, or letting the songs pass through on shuffle, offered another opportunity to commit another part of the song to those deep recesses of memory where things like this lie in deep storage until needed.  I probably go weeks without actively thinking about a band like Clinic, but as soon as the song starts, it’s like those neurons in my brain immediately know where to find the case file, carefully built up over years of sporadic listens.

As a song, “Walking with Thee” feels like a time capsule not only because it comes right back when I hear it, but also because it feels like it belongs in another era.  It sounds like a distorted modern take on the late 1960s garage rock genre.  The lead organ riff could fit in on the Nuggets compilation if they played it on vintage equipment.  The arrangement stays simple, riding this superb riff and a fairly simple, repetitive lyric, gently shifting from segment to segment.  On one level, this sounds like something the kids down the street could play.  However, just like the first wave of garage rock, some intangible separates songs like this from the amateurs.  In this case, it’s a general sense of uncertainty that haunts the song.  No single element points at it, but I feel a minor sense of dread in the deepest part of the song.  Perhaps from listening to other Clinic songs, it’s a weird feeling of paranoia that something else lies in the song.  Regardless, it’s this deviation from the more carefree garage rock of the 1960s that distinguishes “Walking with Thee” from its predecessors.

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

TAGGED UNDER: clinic | 2002 | 2000s | track analysis | domino records |
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“A Certain Romance” – Arctic Monkeys
(Words/music: Alex Turner, available on Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, Domino 2006)

Back in January, a Los Campesinos! song helped me come to the conclusion that our personalities may constantly evolve yet always retain some bit of all of our previous stages; in essence, there’s this thread within our evolving selves that runs from our youth well into adulthood.  If nothing else, this was my theory for why youthful energy in songs resonates so powerfully with me.  However, having elements of our youth embedded in our personalities isn’t always advantageous.  Sometimes, these strange things from our past reappear suddenly.  These events, or rather “these people,” aren’t people that we outright disown.  In fact, these are people that we share a lot of history with and are valuable friends even if we don’t see them that often.  However, the problem arises when this person becomes a sort of time capsule; perhaps this person brings out old habits or uncomfortable stories.  However, the worst version of this is when you’ve moved on and grown up and this person, like a time traveler, hasn’t given up his immature ways and become an embarrassment by association.

Alex Turner, the principle songwriter for the Arctic Monkeys, was twenty when this song came out – old enough to have experienced this phenomenon.  In “A Certain Romance,” he offers an explanation for these “time travelers” to his newer friends – these people are crude and ill-tempered, but he counts some of them among his friends.  While he’s quick to point out that they lack “romance,” Turner also makes sure to qualify his description with a slight admiration for their lack of pretension and ruthless authenticity.  It’s a tricky balancing act – Turner’s narrator tries his best to give respect to his hooligan friends while still distancing himself from their violent behavior.  Rather than come to a clear resolution, Turner treats the situation with a nod and a wink and hopes that we’ll recognize his predicament and let it slide without further comment.

Alternately, “A Certain Romance” works as a commentary on Turner’s contemporaries.  They’re too concerned with the immediate moment, whether it’s with fashion concerns, settling grudges, or engaging in hedonism, to look at the big picture.  Everything becomes a quest for status, whether it’s updating your ringtone or vanquishing the guy looking at you strange.  Turner respects their right to be different, and the wistful quality to his voice makes it seem like he either envies or pities their existence.  Chances are that it’s a mix of the two – wishing he could subsist on simple pleasures yet mourning the fact that he can’t convince them to go beyond the moment.  Instead, these friends provide constant opportunities to look inwards and question whether ignorance (or social ignorance, in this case at least) truly is bliss.

More on Arctic Monkeys: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: arctic monkeys | 2006 | 2000s | domino records | los campesinos! | track analysis | slight social digression |
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“Fireworks” – Animal Collective
(Words/music: Animal Collective, available on Strawberry Jam, Domino 2007)

Right now, the internet is abuzz about Merriweather Post Pavilion, and for good cause.  The latest Animal Collective album combines the odd vocals and unconventional sounds with some increasingly cohesive songwriting.  It’s (after only a couple listens) a challenging record that manages to reveal just enough in interesting sounds and textures on the first listen yet reveal more of itself after time.  This is the type of record that people are going to have strong opinions about all year long (and, to a lesser degree, beyond that point), and in that sense the band’s succeeded – art (and some will argue that this is art) should evoke strong opinions and should not receive universal praise or condemnation.  It’s better to be loathed passionately than to be ignored, and Merriweather Post Pavilion will bring Animal Collective to many new ears, prompting the numbers on both sides of the argument to swell.

One of the common threads in the discussion of the new record discusses how the new set of songs are exactly that – songs – as opposed to the sometimes meandering, dissonant, and anarchic recordings in their early catalogue.  Those championing the record are calling it a satisfying blend of craft and chaos; many of these songs have a structure and melodic thread holding it together while still letting the experimental flourishes stray away just enough.  Personally, I’ve started to find the last couple Animal Collective albums listenable; I realize that I’m a song-first person in that I’m a sucker for well made compositions.  “Fireworks” was the first moment that I found myself drawn into an Animal Collective song, perhaps because it’s the first Animal Collective song where I’ve been drawn in by the arrangement.  The percussion running through the song sounds like it’s on the brink of caving in the entire time (perhaps it’s the triple meter or perhaps it’s different layers) yet it stays consistent the entire song.  Different melodic phrases enter – the toy piano, the wordless background vocals, and the muddy electric guitar among others – and exit throughout the song, but their reoccurrences bring a certain familiarity (as well as a hypnotic quality) to the song.  Avery Tare’s vocals shift between calm singing and impassioned yelling, but utilize the same melodic phrase throughout the whole song.  On paper, the song sounds like it’s a droney trance track, but the different combination of these melodic pieces in different layers keeps the song sounding interesting.  Additionally, when something deviates from the standard phrase – usually Tare’s vocals either by moving to a half time feel or shifting into the polarizing yelp from earlier Animal Collective records – new textures are born.  Even Tare’s yelp fits the song well – where an entire song of screams might not fit my taste, a few instances offer something new into the mix.

I’m not saying that I’m a convert (far from it), but the band’s recent output starting with “Fireworks” has my attention.

More on Animal Collective: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: animal collective | 2007 | 2000s | domino records | track analysis | comparision to current release | indie rock |
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