The National recently made its tv debut on Letterman. The band played Fake Empire, off its fantastically gloomy latest album Boxer. Gotta love the horn section.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Nick Drake- Family Tree
Nick Drake is the quintessential singer-songwriter. Listeners should be eternally grateful for Pink Moon, Five Leaves Left, and Bryter Layter. So when news arose of a posthumous Nick Drake album, fans rejoiced at the idea of new material. And while Family Tree is merely a collection of home recordings dating back to before Drake's first record, he has lengthened the runtime of his sonic legacy and has also added several gems to an already stunning discography.
Sprinkled in between rough cuts of Drake's b-sides are covers, with Family Tree containing renditions of Bob Dylan, Mozart, and Jackson C. Frank songs among others. Drake's sister Gabrielle and mother Molly also contribute to this release, appearing on numerous tracks to bolster Nick's hauntingly sparse guitar-and-vocals aesthetic.
To be entirely honest, this latest album isn't anywhere near constituting Drake's finest work. With that being said, any new Drake material is welcomed with open arms. So here's the real question: How does Family Tree stack up to Drake's other work?
The truth? Not that well. It does contain a few diamonds in the rough though, namely the cozy piano-laced Poor Mum and the sibling-driven All My Trials. The latter finds Drake's sister Gabrielle exhibiting her quirky lower-pitched vocals to great effect as brother and sister feed off each other and create goosebumps.
A stunning remastered rendition of Five Leaves Left's Way To Blue is perhaps the highlight of Family Tree. The originally grandiose aura of the song is scrapped for a more intimate, pensive state which relies on Drake's compelling vocals and delicate piano work.
Save for a few surprises, Family Tree is what one would expect from a b-sides album. Solid but mostly forgettable. Inspired but rarely ever poignant. Make no mistake, this is no Pink Moon II. However, the brilliant new version of Way To Blue in addition to the interesting Drake family dynamic make this album worth a spin.
6.6/10
Sprinkled in between rough cuts of Drake's b-sides are covers, with Family Tree containing renditions of Bob Dylan, Mozart, and Jackson C. Frank songs among others. Drake's sister Gabrielle and mother Molly also contribute to this release, appearing on numerous tracks to bolster Nick's hauntingly sparse guitar-and-vocals aesthetic.
To be entirely honest, this latest album isn't anywhere near constituting Drake's finest work. With that being said, any new Drake material is welcomed with open arms. So here's the real question: How does Family Tree stack up to Drake's other work?
The truth? Not that well. It does contain a few diamonds in the rough though, namely the cozy piano-laced Poor Mum and the sibling-driven All My Trials. The latter finds Drake's sister Gabrielle exhibiting her quirky lower-pitched vocals to great effect as brother and sister feed off each other and create goosebumps.
A stunning remastered rendition of Five Leaves Left's Way To Blue is perhaps the highlight of Family Tree. The originally grandiose aura of the song is scrapped for a more intimate, pensive state which relies on Drake's compelling vocals and delicate piano work.
Save for a few surprises, Family Tree is what one would expect from a b-sides album. Solid but mostly forgettable. Inspired but rarely ever poignant. Make no mistake, this is no Pink Moon II. However, the brilliant new version of Way To Blue in addition to the interesting Drake family dynamic make this album worth a spin.
6.6/10
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Women And Children First
I've been on a major Radiohead binge lately and stumbled upon this live video of Idioteque that left me speechless. Enjoy.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Can You Understand A Light Among The Trees?
Here is the new video for a remastered version of Way To Blue off Family Tree by the late, great Nick Drake.
The Panicked Paradox Of Day To Day
Here is Bright Eyes performing one of my favorite songs off Cassadaga, Classic Cars live on Craig Ferguson (Isn't he that dude from The Drew Carey show?).
Video Trifecta
While Hanson did craft a pop gem in Middle of Nowhere, their videos were for lack of a better word, awful. Enjoy them in chronological order of their release, with Mmm Bop being followed by Where's The Love and I Will Come To You.
Edit: The scoundrels at Youtube wouldn't let me embed the awesomely atrocious Where's The Love video so it will be replaced by some fan-made one because I honestly couldn't tell the difference at first.
Edit#2: I love I Will Come To You even more now that I know Taylor Hanson has a hilarious orange glow in the video.
Edit: The scoundrels at Youtube wouldn't let me embed the awesomely atrocious Where's The Love video so it will be replaced by some fan-made one because I honestly couldn't tell the difference at first.
Edit#2: I love I Will Come To You even more now that I know Taylor Hanson has a hilarious orange glow in the video.
Huzzah For Hanson!
10 years ago, an album full of the most unapologetically catchy songs I had ever heard was released. The Hanson brothers went from being three fresh-faced kids from Tulsa, Oklahoma to overnight sensations in 1997, riding the indomitable wave of Mmm Bop and subsequent hits Where's The Love and I Will Come To You. On the strength of those well-chosen singles, Hanson became one of the biggest acts on the planet and rendered marginally effeminate features attractive (to 13 year-old girls).
However, the appeal of the band did not lie in the fact that Taylor was dreamy, that the three band members were brothers, that they all possessed magnificent golden manes, or even that they had written undeniably catchy, concise pop songs. What was so compelling about Hanson was that they crafted these songs as mere teenagers. To this day, no radio act has managed to encapsulate youthful exuberance the way the Hanson kids did on Middle of Nowehere and it's hard to imagine anyone ever will.
While it's easy to dwell on the immensely popular singles found on Middle of Nowhere, it's important not to forget the other stellar songs the Hanson siblings put out on this stunning effort. What distinguished Hanson from the countless other mainstream acts out there was their consistency. Middle of Nowhere wasn't an album with three obvious singles and filler; granted, Mmm Bop was just screaming for radio airplay. With that being said, Where's The Love could have just as easily been replaced by Madeline. The infectious chants of "Here we go round again" are as addictive as any other moment on the album and the chorus itself is as memorable as Where's The Love's if not more so.
This goes to show just how polished and surprisingly cohesive this album truly was, with many of the tracks vying for possible single status. While the record does exhibit a taste for disparate genres at times, every song is characterized by this radiant viscidity that holds the songs together while also allowing them room to breathe.
For instance, funk-infused tracks such as Speechless or Look At You clearly break from the radio pop mold with a groovier more soulful sound. However, these songs still contain the group's typically tight musicianship and Taylor's unique timbre which lets listeners know this is the same band.
One song that caught my attention the second it began was Lucy, where Taylor's crisp and dare I say it, impeccable vocals carry the song as he sings of love lost like it's never happened before. Everyone has known and probably lost a proverbial Lucy and while the Hansons have never been the most verbose nor ornate writers, they manage to convey the solitude and regret of a breakup with great flair and emotional precision.
In fact, the simplicity of the writing is what makes Taylor's broken-hearted sentiments so palpable. The Oklahoma boys' grasp of both the euphoria and despair that can come to the young remains unrivaled in the realm of pop music a decade after Middle of Nowhere's release (take that Jojo).
While there are 3 ballads on Middle of Nowhere, the real standout is I Will Come To You, a gorgeous piano-driven masterpiece in which Taylor Hanson attempts to reassure a special someone that he will stand firm and be there rain or shine. This is terrifically precocious on Hanson's part, in that most pop songs written by adolescents usually feature fairly self-centered subject matter. Here we see the Hansons pushing their own envelope and expanding the theme of Middle of Nowhere, transitioning from lovelorn saps to dependable friends. In addition to that, Hanson's keen sense of melody shines through on this track as pleasant piano work and ethereal na-na-na-nas reminiscent of Hey Jude enchant listeners.
I Will Come To You embodies all that is great about Hanson. While it isn't the most musically or lyrically grandiose song one will ever encounter, any established pop act could have released it and it would have still been the centerpiece of that artist's album.
Hanson were the voice of a generation for that one fateful summer, a 3 month period during which I was acquainted with effulgent pop harmonies and charming poetic naivety. While the jubilant and ubiquitous hit Mmm Bop did garner most of Hanson's praise and has to a certain extent defined the band, Middle of Nowhere was so satisfying a listen 10 years after its original release that I have to reiterate Taylor Hanson's words and wonder "Where's The Love"?
However, the appeal of the band did not lie in the fact that Taylor was dreamy, that the three band members were brothers, that they all possessed magnificent golden manes, or even that they had written undeniably catchy, concise pop songs. What was so compelling about Hanson was that they crafted these songs as mere teenagers. To this day, no radio act has managed to encapsulate youthful exuberance the way the Hanson kids did on Middle of Nowehere and it's hard to imagine anyone ever will.
While it's easy to dwell on the immensely popular singles found on Middle of Nowhere, it's important not to forget the other stellar songs the Hanson siblings put out on this stunning effort. What distinguished Hanson from the countless other mainstream acts out there was their consistency. Middle of Nowhere wasn't an album with three obvious singles and filler; granted, Mmm Bop was just screaming for radio airplay. With that being said, Where's The Love could have just as easily been replaced by Madeline. The infectious chants of "Here we go round again" are as addictive as any other moment on the album and the chorus itself is as memorable as Where's The Love's if not more so.
This goes to show just how polished and surprisingly cohesive this album truly was, with many of the tracks vying for possible single status. While the record does exhibit a taste for disparate genres at times, every song is characterized by this radiant viscidity that holds the songs together while also allowing them room to breathe.
For instance, funk-infused tracks such as Speechless or Look At You clearly break from the radio pop mold with a groovier more soulful sound. However, these songs still contain the group's typically tight musicianship and Taylor's unique timbre which lets listeners know this is the same band.
One song that caught my attention the second it began was Lucy, where Taylor's crisp and dare I say it, impeccable vocals carry the song as he sings of love lost like it's never happened before. Everyone has known and probably lost a proverbial Lucy and while the Hansons have never been the most verbose nor ornate writers, they manage to convey the solitude and regret of a breakup with great flair and emotional precision.
In fact, the simplicity of the writing is what makes Taylor's broken-hearted sentiments so palpable. The Oklahoma boys' grasp of both the euphoria and despair that can come to the young remains unrivaled in the realm of pop music a decade after Middle of Nowhere's release (take that Jojo).
While there are 3 ballads on Middle of Nowhere, the real standout is I Will Come To You, a gorgeous piano-driven masterpiece in which Taylor Hanson attempts to reassure a special someone that he will stand firm and be there rain or shine. This is terrifically precocious on Hanson's part, in that most pop songs written by adolescents usually feature fairly self-centered subject matter. Here we see the Hansons pushing their own envelope and expanding the theme of Middle of Nowhere, transitioning from lovelorn saps to dependable friends. In addition to that, Hanson's keen sense of melody shines through on this track as pleasant piano work and ethereal na-na-na-nas reminiscent of Hey Jude enchant listeners.
I Will Come To You embodies all that is great about Hanson. While it isn't the most musically or lyrically grandiose song one will ever encounter, any established pop act could have released it and it would have still been the centerpiece of that artist's album.
Hanson were the voice of a generation for that one fateful summer, a 3 month period during which I was acquainted with effulgent pop harmonies and charming poetic naivety. While the jubilant and ubiquitous hit Mmm Bop did garner most of Hanson's praise and has to a certain extent defined the band, Middle of Nowhere was so satisfying a listen 10 years after its original release that I have to reiterate Taylor Hanson's words and wonder "Where's The Love"?
Song of the day
As a belated birthday gift to Sufjan Stevens who turned 32 a few days ago, today's song shall be his track Chicago off the stunning album Illinois.
Monday, July 9, 2007
I Taught Myself How To Grow Old
Here is the video for Off Broadway off Ryan Adams' latest, Easy Tiger.
Ryan Adams- Easy Tiger
At 32 years of age, Ryan Adams is already one of the more prolific songwriters in the business. With 9 albums under his belt in a meager 7 years, Adams has become one of the most renowned alt-country artists on the planet. Sadly, many of the 9 albums he's released are average at best. In fact, it could be argued that everything since 2001's Gold has been dismal.
The final verdict on Adams' latest isn't clear just yet but Easy Tiger does mark a slight maturation in the ex-Whiskeytown frontman's bibulous twang, with the New York native putting forth crisper, more refined songs than ever before. While this album does contain instances redolent of the Come Pick Me Up era, Easy Tiger sadly suffers from the flaws Adams can't seem to shake from his more recent work.
Easy Tiger kicks off with a rock n' roll bang as dizzying guitar lines introduce Adams on Goodnight Rose. There is a prevailingly positive theme on the album's opener as Adams claims "Don't live your life in such a hurry, life goes by us so so fast. And the sun will come up again and I will be here. If you get scared, just hold my hand". Solid lyrics and a catchy chorus has me hoping Goodnight Rose may serve as this record's New York, New York.
The next song to capture my attention is the all-out rocker Halloweenhead. That's right Halloweenhead; I couldn't believe it was the name of a Ryan Adams song either. The songs preceding it were fairly pleasant yet forgettable tracks and when the guitar comes chugging in seconds into the fourth song, it was clear that this was to be one of the record's standouts. Chugging guitars and dirty rock n roll vocals is most certainly a departure for Adams but he pulls it off with surprising swagger and aplomb. The track is so damn enjoyable that I feel compelled to exclaim "guitar solo!" every time the second chorus comes to a close.
Oh My God, Whatever, Etc. follows Halloweenhead and despite being a mellow acoustic number, doesn't drag the album down and does a nice job in preventing Easy Tiger from losing any steam. The pleasant acoustic guitar-driven track finds a more self-aware Adams claiming "I'm open all night and the customers come to stay/And everybody tips but not enough to knock me over."
Things then take a turn for the worse. Tears of Gold is memorable for all the wrong reasons as the group vocals seem out of place and distracting while The Sun Also Sets has loud, busy choruses for the sake of cacophony.
Thankfully for Adams and his faithful fans, Off Broadway isn't far away and enthralls listeners with haunting vocal harmonies and dynamics that perfectly conjure melancholy. The brevity of the song (2:32) is its only shortcoming as it effectively manages to redeeem what was rapidly becoming a worrying situation.
Adams has clearly grown musically and while progression is to be commended, he happens to be one of the few musicians for whom regression would likely be the wisest artistic move.
Easy Tiger is a documentation of how far Adams has come and where he hopes to be as he clearly dabbles in all of his prior work on this release.
Hints of the more subdued, pensive moments from Gold can be found on Off Broadway and the throwback song-for-a-rainy-day aesthetic from Heartbreaker manifests itself on Oh My God, Whatever, Etc. Unfortunately, the poorer songs' faults outweigh the encouraging signs as far too many tracks take cues from Adams' less interesting releases.
No stranger to heavy criticism, he should get his fair share for Easy Tiger, a generally enjoyable, focused effort from a musician who's finally coming of age. Thing is, it was Adams' inebriated, unfocused ramblings that constituted the essence of his appeal.
5.7/10
The final verdict on Adams' latest isn't clear just yet but Easy Tiger does mark a slight maturation in the ex-Whiskeytown frontman's bibulous twang, with the New York native putting forth crisper, more refined songs than ever before. While this album does contain instances redolent of the Come Pick Me Up era, Easy Tiger sadly suffers from the flaws Adams can't seem to shake from his more recent work.
Easy Tiger kicks off with a rock n' roll bang as dizzying guitar lines introduce Adams on Goodnight Rose. There is a prevailingly positive theme on the album's opener as Adams claims "Don't live your life in such a hurry, life goes by us so so fast. And the sun will come up again and I will be here. If you get scared, just hold my hand". Solid lyrics and a catchy chorus has me hoping Goodnight Rose may serve as this record's New York, New York.
The next song to capture my attention is the all-out rocker Halloweenhead. That's right Halloweenhead; I couldn't believe it was the name of a Ryan Adams song either. The songs preceding it were fairly pleasant yet forgettable tracks and when the guitar comes chugging in seconds into the fourth song, it was clear that this was to be one of the record's standouts. Chugging guitars and dirty rock n roll vocals is most certainly a departure for Adams but he pulls it off with surprising swagger and aplomb. The track is so damn enjoyable that I feel compelled to exclaim "guitar solo!" every time the second chorus comes to a close.
Oh My God, Whatever, Etc. follows Halloweenhead and despite being a mellow acoustic number, doesn't drag the album down and does a nice job in preventing Easy Tiger from losing any steam. The pleasant acoustic guitar-driven track finds a more self-aware Adams claiming "I'm open all night and the customers come to stay/And everybody tips but not enough to knock me over."
Things then take a turn for the worse. Tears of Gold is memorable for all the wrong reasons as the group vocals seem out of place and distracting while The Sun Also Sets has loud, busy choruses for the sake of cacophony.
Thankfully for Adams and his faithful fans, Off Broadway isn't far away and enthralls listeners with haunting vocal harmonies and dynamics that perfectly conjure melancholy. The brevity of the song (2:32) is its only shortcoming as it effectively manages to redeeem what was rapidly becoming a worrying situation.
Adams has clearly grown musically and while progression is to be commended, he happens to be one of the few musicians for whom regression would likely be the wisest artistic move.
Easy Tiger is a documentation of how far Adams has come and where he hopes to be as he clearly dabbles in all of his prior work on this release.
Hints of the more subdued, pensive moments from Gold can be found on Off Broadway and the throwback song-for-a-rainy-day aesthetic from Heartbreaker manifests itself on Oh My God, Whatever, Etc. Unfortunately, the poorer songs' faults outweigh the encouraging signs as far too many tracks take cues from Adams' less interesting releases.
No stranger to heavy criticism, he should get his fair share for Easy Tiger, a generally enjoyable, focused effort from a musician who's finally coming of age. Thing is, it was Adams' inebriated, unfocused ramblings that constituted the essence of his appeal.
5.7/10
Song of the day
Today's song of the day is Ingrid Michaelson's The Way I Am, not to be confounded with the decidedly more abrasive Eminem song of the same name.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Song of the day
The first song of the day in over a week I believe, is Prison Is Private Property by Rocky Votolato.
You Wouldn't Want An Angel Watching You. Surprise, Surprise, They Wouldn't Want To Watch
Here is the first single off Boxer, Mistaken For Strangers.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
The National- Boxer
You're pink,You're young
You're middle-class
They say it doesn't matter
Fifteen blue shirts and womanly hands
You're shooting up the ladder
Marked by the notion that we are aimlessly going through the motions, young adulthood can be downright dreadful. Reaching for the skies when standing on your own two feet should suffice, you work toward goals you had never set out to accomplish. You ogle that corner office, bemoaning it one moment and longing for it the next.
This is all too familiar to The National, who captures these fleeting wants and needs brilliantly on its latest opus Boxer. Boasting brooding orchestral arrangements, the band finally uncovers its sonic niche on this gorgeous ode to the disenchanted work force.
The most immediately distinctive facet of this New York troupe is the vocals. Hints of Lou Reed, Leonard Cohen, and Stuart Staples (of Tindersticks) can be detected within Matt Berninger's timbre as he speaks of blindfolded men being carried through trees with the nonchalance of someone merely describing their day. In Berninger, The National is fronted by one of the most compelling voices in rock music. It just wasn't always on display in the band's previous work. While 2005's Alligator is interesting at times, the occasionally raucous approach did not complement what Berninger brought to the table. And when you've got such a sensational talent at the helm, not taking full advantage is absurd.
The National commits no such blunders on this release. Every song on Boxer is an absolute gem which, while capable of standing on its own, serves as a chapter in one continuous, fluid tale; a bridge from one dissected moment to the next.
The band emerges with richer textures which accompany Berninger's engrossing croon far more adequately this time around. The piano, organ, trombone, trumpet, bassoon, cello, viola, violin, clarinet, flute, and french horn round out the band's arsenal as Boxer takes listeners on a late-night stroll by vacant stores and deserted city streets.
At first glance, this may seem overwhelming but the influx of new instruments perfectly adorns the baritone vocals without ever eclipsing them; Boxer never becomes grandiose nor does it ever transgress its prevailing message, which is one of personal ennui and drab day-to-day routine.
Sometimes you go la di da di da di da da
Until your eyes roll back into your head
On the lyrical plane, Berninger paints a muddled picture of urban despair. Detailing the tedium of professional life while offering the latitude necessary for interpretation, Berninger is either a true poet or a bumbling fool who can't string a coherent thought together. At this point, it has become inconsequential to the journey.
The National's latest effort defies all that "indie" has come to embody. No synthesized blips, no curveballs for the sake of diversity, no token instrumental track, no pretension. Only twelve numbers that come together to form a wistful, cohesive unit. A flawless marriage of orchestral composition and modern rock.
One time you were a glowing young ruffian
Oh my god it was a million years ago
This is growing while having no desire to. This is nostalgia in a 3-piece suit. This is that chasm, that abyss that divides providing for yourself and being provided for. This is leaving those who provided for you. This is their dream come true. This is becoming someone. This is making it. This is loathing the vehicle you drive, the job you've slaved for, the path you chose. This is lack of direction. This is settling down. This is compromise. This is pining for the past. This is regret. This is not teetering over lines but being trapped between them. This is working class prose. This is vague aspirations becoming utmost priorities. This is complacency. This is living your life half awake in a fake empire. This is the whisper of a trumpet amidst a crowd. This is restlessness. This is the life of a professional. This has never sounded so good.
9.1/10
Friday, June 22, 2007
So Let Us Rejoice In All This Pink Noise
Here are are two singles off Cassadaga, posted in chronological order of release with Four Winds followed by Hot Knives.
Bright Eyes- Cassadaga
Seconds into the new Bright Eyes album Cassadaga, listeners can tell this is a slightly different journey this time around.
Ominous, swooping dissonance drowns out a vocal track of a woman as she discusses self-actualization and how one shouldn't fear "the trip". Conor Oberst then enters the fray with his trusty acoustic guitar which is to later be met with light percussion and angelic, subdued backing harmonies. The song is entitled Clairaudients (Kill Or Be Killed), referring to clairaudience, a facet of parapsychology pertaining to extra-sensory perception and one's ability to obtain information by means of paranormal auditory channels.
The spoken word intro has become Bright Eyes' calling card, this time pairing a somewhat bizarre, cryptic conversation with an ethereal sonic landscape. Needless to say, this was quite the start to Cassadaga.
Having been released April 10th, I've deemed that a sufficient amount of time has elapsed in order for me to construct a level-headed, unbiased critique of my favorite band's most recent offering. As I've grown in tandem with Conor Oberst's stumbling, disturbing, and at times uncomfortably honest work, I had high hopes for Cassadaga.
After hearing the Four Winds EP which contains the new album's first single by the same name, and considering Bright Eyes' last album I'm Wide Awake it's Morning (I have written off Digital Ash In A Digital Urn as an unfortunate anomaly), a neo-folk album was to be expected. And the Omaha boys don't stray too far from the mold they created with their 2005 masterpiece I'm Wide Awake.
While Bright Eyes is usually characterized by Oberst's soul-crushingly personal lyrics, it has become customary to find lush, orchestral instrumentation within much of the band's work as well. This album is no different in that respect, with newly official member Nate Walcott manning the string and horn sections. In addition to that, long-time contributor Mike Mogis has also joined the ranks. The roster changes are quite apparent on Cassadaga as the songs soar within fuller, more expansive musical realms.
Oberst continues to evolve on his part as a songwriter, approaching his work with a more universal message in mind, as opposed to his earlier material which was anchored in self-evaluation bordering on self-pity; mature is the first word that comes to mind when attempting to qualify the new album.
While Oberst's relentless inability to censor himself will be missed, I am glad he has progressed as a writer and isn't content to remain stagnant and stick with what is quickly becoming a rote and contrived formula. Then again, Oberst has never been one to rest on his laurels when taking into account his mind-boggling output over the years (11 albums in 9 years). Easily one of the most prolific writers of the decade, his work is more polished yet abstruse than ever before, more focused while remaining entirely vague. This is perhaps the prevailing theme on Cassadaga, uncertainty.
After Clairaudients comes the album's first single, Four Winds. A fantastic song featuring Walcott's work on the violin and Oberst's stellar writing, this song encapsulates how much of a wunderkind Oberst truly is. The background vocals kick in at the just the right moment as Oberst exclaims: "She just can't sustain the pressure where it's placed. She caves". No other song on Cassadaga is quite as uptempo and energetic as Four Winds, which really was a curveball (but a welcome one) to the Bright Eyes faithful.
The following song is more indicative of how this album will unfold. If The Brakeman Turns My Way is also a strong track and does a decent job of not being lost in the shuffle considering what preceded it. The band's second single is next. Hot Knives meanders near what should become the band's new home as the band rediscovers its distorted, dizzying roots while coupling it with hints of lavish instrumentation. It's the best of both worlds and debatably the highlight of the album.
Oberst also writes what are arguably the finest lyrics of his career on this track with "Oh, I've made love. Yeah, I've been fucked...so what? I'm a cartoon, you're a full moon. Let's stay up."
Sadly, the susebquent song is the most disappointing track on Cassadaga. Make A Plan To Love Me is far too reliant on the background vocals of Eisley's Dupree sisters and the insipid, uninteresting string section had me reaching for the skip button seconds after it began.
Fortunately, Soul Singer In A Session Band is next and picks up right where Hot Knives left off. Bright Eyes strikes a healthy balance between rich sonic landscapes and an indie sensibility once again and strike gold. More outstanding lyrical prowess courtesy of Mr. Oberst on this track: "I had a lengthy discussion about The Power of Myth with a post-modern author who didn't exist. In this fictitious world, all reality twists. I was a hopeless romantic, now I'm just turning tricks."
Oberst really does impress me with every outing as he manages to craft one incredibly thoughtful tale after another. While he has always been the central figure of Bright Eyes, he has finally taken a backseat to the songs themselves and this makes for a novel direction.
Make no mistake, he remains the band's heart and soul. But Oberst humbly bowing out to the music has the band embarking on wholly different journey.
While Cassadaga is not Bright Eyes' finest work, it shows signs of great promise. Rock's "boy genius" has grown up and takes listeners on a swirling, dizzying albeit musically comforting ride in his head. All I can do as a listener is strap myself in and hope Oberst's prose can once again spin the needles on my musical compass all out of whack.
7.7/10
Ominous, swooping dissonance drowns out a vocal track of a woman as she discusses self-actualization and how one shouldn't fear "the trip". Conor Oberst then enters the fray with his trusty acoustic guitar which is to later be met with light percussion and angelic, subdued backing harmonies. The song is entitled Clairaudients (Kill Or Be Killed), referring to clairaudience, a facet of parapsychology pertaining to extra-sensory perception and one's ability to obtain information by means of paranormal auditory channels.
The spoken word intro has become Bright Eyes' calling card, this time pairing a somewhat bizarre, cryptic conversation with an ethereal sonic landscape. Needless to say, this was quite the start to Cassadaga.
Having been released April 10th, I've deemed that a sufficient amount of time has elapsed in order for me to construct a level-headed, unbiased critique of my favorite band's most recent offering. As I've grown in tandem with Conor Oberst's stumbling, disturbing, and at times uncomfortably honest work, I had high hopes for Cassadaga.
After hearing the Four Winds EP which contains the new album's first single by the same name, and considering Bright Eyes' last album I'm Wide Awake it's Morning (I have written off Digital Ash In A Digital Urn as an unfortunate anomaly), a neo-folk album was to be expected. And the Omaha boys don't stray too far from the mold they created with their 2005 masterpiece I'm Wide Awake.
While Bright Eyes is usually characterized by Oberst's soul-crushingly personal lyrics, it has become customary to find lush, orchestral instrumentation within much of the band's work as well. This album is no different in that respect, with newly official member Nate Walcott manning the string and horn sections. In addition to that, long-time contributor Mike Mogis has also joined the ranks. The roster changes are quite apparent on Cassadaga as the songs soar within fuller, more expansive musical realms.
Oberst continues to evolve on his part as a songwriter, approaching his work with a more universal message in mind, as opposed to his earlier material which was anchored in self-evaluation bordering on self-pity; mature is the first word that comes to mind when attempting to qualify the new album.
While Oberst's relentless inability to censor himself will be missed, I am glad he has progressed as a writer and isn't content to remain stagnant and stick with what is quickly becoming a rote and contrived formula. Then again, Oberst has never been one to rest on his laurels when taking into account his mind-boggling output over the years (11 albums in 9 years). Easily one of the most prolific writers of the decade, his work is more polished yet abstruse than ever before, more focused while remaining entirely vague. This is perhaps the prevailing theme on Cassadaga, uncertainty.
After Clairaudients comes the album's first single, Four Winds. A fantastic song featuring Walcott's work on the violin and Oberst's stellar writing, this song encapsulates how much of a wunderkind Oberst truly is. The background vocals kick in at the just the right moment as Oberst exclaims: "She just can't sustain the pressure where it's placed. She caves". No other song on Cassadaga is quite as uptempo and energetic as Four Winds, which really was a curveball (but a welcome one) to the Bright Eyes faithful.
The following song is more indicative of how this album will unfold. If The Brakeman Turns My Way is also a strong track and does a decent job of not being lost in the shuffle considering what preceded it. The band's second single is next. Hot Knives meanders near what should become the band's new home as the band rediscovers its distorted, dizzying roots while coupling it with hints of lavish instrumentation. It's the best of both worlds and debatably the highlight of the album.
Oberst also writes what are arguably the finest lyrics of his career on this track with "Oh, I've made love. Yeah, I've been fucked...so what? I'm a cartoon, you're a full moon. Let's stay up."
Sadly, the susebquent song is the most disappointing track on Cassadaga. Make A Plan To Love Me is far too reliant on the background vocals of Eisley's Dupree sisters and the insipid, uninteresting string section had me reaching for the skip button seconds after it began.
Fortunately, Soul Singer In A Session Band is next and picks up right where Hot Knives left off. Bright Eyes strikes a healthy balance between rich sonic landscapes and an indie sensibility once again and strike gold. More outstanding lyrical prowess courtesy of Mr. Oberst on this track: "I had a lengthy discussion about The Power of Myth with a post-modern author who didn't exist. In this fictitious world, all reality twists. I was a hopeless romantic, now I'm just turning tricks."
Oberst really does impress me with every outing as he manages to craft one incredibly thoughtful tale after another. While he has always been the central figure of Bright Eyes, he has finally taken a backseat to the songs themselves and this makes for a novel direction.
Make no mistake, he remains the band's heart and soul. But Oberst humbly bowing out to the music has the band embarking on wholly different journey.
While Cassadaga is not Bright Eyes' finest work, it shows signs of great promise. Rock's "boy genius" has grown up and takes listeners on a swirling, dizzying albeit musically comforting ride in his head. All I can do as a listener is strap myself in and hope Oberst's prose can once again spin the needles on my musical compass all out of whack.
7.7/10
Song of the day
Today's song of the day is a Starman by David Bowie, an artist pretty much everyone with ears should appreciate.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I Wish You Would Put Yourself In My Suitcase
Here is the video for Coconut Records' first single off Nightiming, West Coast. Enjoy.
Coconut Records- Nighttiming
It is fairly common nowadays to find Hollywood actors and actresses branching out into the music industry. Despite an utterly cursory knowledge of mainstream culture, I know that Bruce Willis, Keanu Reeves, and many other thespians have dabbled in rock music. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for my ears), most of these "multi-talented" artists fail to make any waves in the business.
This actually renders Jason Schwartzman's diminutive Hollywood status beneficial to his musical aspirations. Schwartzman consequently has a better chance of being taken seriously without being scoffed at for wanting to be more than bespectacled toolbox Max Fischer from 1999's Rushmore. With that being said, crafting good tunes always helps.
Schwartzman's band Coconut Records doesn't fail to deliver either with its debut Nighttiming. The album embodies all that is great about balmy summer weather. Hot weather is at its best when shorts and flip-flops are required, by shirtlessness is not. When you can step out on your deck and not have to skip around frantically in order to avoid foot burn. Schwartzman and company achieve this healthy balance on their debut effort no less, which is filled to the brim with enchanting oooh's and aaah's as lead singer Schwartzman expounds on fairly tepid yet entirely relatable issues.
Let it be said now that this band is not anchored in lyrics. The band thrives on creating radiant pop melodies and they pass that sonic test with flying colors. Nighttiming, which sounds like some dismal dance record, kicks off with the band's first single West Coast. Within the first few seconds, listeners can tell that this is not just a pastime to Schwartzman. He has devoted time and energy into creating crisp, concise pop songs that can still be genuine and tell a believable story. Set to absolutely grandiose harmonizing in the background, lead singer Schwartzman weaves a story of solitude and homesickness as the aahhh's swirl and soar. Quite the start.
The next song is title track, one of the few songs that actually seems to fit under the album's moniker (which makes sense since it is after all the title track). With dizzying keyboard lines and pulsating drums, the song is essntially 170 seconds of indomitable head-bobbing and foot-tapping. The two aforementioned actions are all one should really want out of summer music and Coconut Records induces this behavior effortlessly with every addicting hook and vocal harmony.
Clocking in at about 33 minutes and a half, the album is terse as stated earlier, but it doesn't make it any less memorable. If anything, the brevity had me longing for more. Some albums tend to be overdrawn and as a result, forgettable. This album does not contain any filler. Sure there are weaker tracks (Summer Day, which coincidentally landed a spot on the Spiderman 3 soundtrack) but they are far from mediocre and still have their place within the album's big picture.
One thing to keep in mind when analyzing Nighttiming though, is the shift in direction midway through the record. The first half of the album is quite jaunty and uptempo while the last half is far more laid-back and often finds a solo (barring the background vocals) Schwartzman plucking away on his guitar with the odd synth line thrown in for good measure. While this aesthetic isn't as bouncy as the first 15 minutes of the record, the shift isn't sufficiently drastic to detract from the overall theme, giving Nighttiming an organic feel.
One by one, Schwartzman's quasi-lullabies run their course to finally lead into the fantastic closer, The Thanks I Get (not a Jeff Tweedy cover if anyone's wondering, although that would be interesting). This track is an appropriate culmination to the album, with the amalgamation of both halves creating a pleasant backdrop for Schwartzman's slightly distorted vocals as he claims: "It was obviously the summertime that made you change your mind". Pop bliss.
Schwartzman has managed to avoid the crossover artist stigma and his band has in turn constructed clever, ingenious, and most importantly catchy songs that are definitely worth a spin. Coconut Records have released one of the best of 2007 so far and are among the few artists capable of creating buoyant pop music that never falls into trite, saccharine territory. Buy it now.
7.5/10
This actually renders Jason Schwartzman's diminutive Hollywood status beneficial to his musical aspirations. Schwartzman consequently has a better chance of being taken seriously without being scoffed at for wanting to be more than bespectacled toolbox Max Fischer from 1999's Rushmore. With that being said, crafting good tunes always helps.
Schwartzman's band Coconut Records doesn't fail to deliver either with its debut Nighttiming. The album embodies all that is great about balmy summer weather. Hot weather is at its best when shorts and flip-flops are required, by shirtlessness is not. When you can step out on your deck and not have to skip around frantically in order to avoid foot burn. Schwartzman and company achieve this healthy balance on their debut effort no less, which is filled to the brim with enchanting oooh's and aaah's as lead singer Schwartzman expounds on fairly tepid yet entirely relatable issues.
Let it be said now that this band is not anchored in lyrics. The band thrives on creating radiant pop melodies and they pass that sonic test with flying colors. Nighttiming, which sounds like some dismal dance record, kicks off with the band's first single West Coast. Within the first few seconds, listeners can tell that this is not just a pastime to Schwartzman. He has devoted time and energy into creating crisp, concise pop songs that can still be genuine and tell a believable story. Set to absolutely grandiose harmonizing in the background, lead singer Schwartzman weaves a story of solitude and homesickness as the aahhh's swirl and soar. Quite the start.
The next song is title track, one of the few songs that actually seems to fit under the album's moniker (which makes sense since it is after all the title track). With dizzying keyboard lines and pulsating drums, the song is essntially 170 seconds of indomitable head-bobbing and foot-tapping. The two aforementioned actions are all one should really want out of summer music and Coconut Records induces this behavior effortlessly with every addicting hook and vocal harmony.
Clocking in at about 33 minutes and a half, the album is terse as stated earlier, but it doesn't make it any less memorable. If anything, the brevity had me longing for more. Some albums tend to be overdrawn and as a result, forgettable. This album does not contain any filler. Sure there are weaker tracks (Summer Day, which coincidentally landed a spot on the Spiderman 3 soundtrack) but they are far from mediocre and still have their place within the album's big picture.
One thing to keep in mind when analyzing Nighttiming though, is the shift in direction midway through the record. The first half of the album is quite jaunty and uptempo while the last half is far more laid-back and often finds a solo (barring the background vocals) Schwartzman plucking away on his guitar with the odd synth line thrown in for good measure. While this aesthetic isn't as bouncy as the first 15 minutes of the record, the shift isn't sufficiently drastic to detract from the overall theme, giving Nighttiming an organic feel.
One by one, Schwartzman's quasi-lullabies run their course to finally lead into the fantastic closer, The Thanks I Get (not a Jeff Tweedy cover if anyone's wondering, although that would be interesting). This track is an appropriate culmination to the album, with the amalgamation of both halves creating a pleasant backdrop for Schwartzman's slightly distorted vocals as he claims: "It was obviously the summertime that made you change your mind". Pop bliss.
Schwartzman has managed to avoid the crossover artist stigma and his band has in turn constructed clever, ingenious, and most importantly catchy songs that are definitely worth a spin. Coconut Records have released one of the best of 2007 so far and are among the few artists capable of creating buoyant pop music that never falls into trite, saccharine territory. Buy it now.
7.5/10
Song of the day
Hello everyone. What looked like a gloomy, rainy day in Montreal has turned into a rather pleasant sunny one. Therefore, today's song is China by Chris Holmes.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Do I Still Want Her Now That I'm Free Like A Tree And My Roots Are Deep?
Here is Fourth of July's video for In Debt off the band's debut Fourth of July On The Plains. Yeah it's got this random army theme going on but it's a good tune nonetheless.
Fourth Of July- Fourth Of July On The Plains
Arguably the first season-appropriate album of the summer, Fourth of July On The Plains is a charming feel-good effort filled to the brim with off-kilter anthems. Boasting an ex-The Anniversary member on its roster, Fourth of July delivers track after track of layered vocals and simple yet addictive melodies on its very first effort.
These aren't the most complex tunes one will ever encounter but they do throw slight curveballs at the listeners. The musicianship is tight and polished and this paired with cleverly biting lyrics is enough to push the band past any formulaic twee-pop stigma. The Lawrence, Kansas band's first full-length is as solid a debut as I can recall from 2007 (aside from Coconut Records whose album I should probably review at some point) and if this is a glimpse of what is to come, Fourth of July may have just forged themselves a place within the genre.
After leaving throwback rockers The Anniversary, Adrianne Verhoeven has joined the ranks of Fourth of July and she brings with her a keen sense of melody which is fairly evident the second Fourth of July On The Plains begins. The vocal harmonies are spot-on and while the music isn't intricate by any stretch of the imagination, it is effective in helping lead singer Brendan Hangauer convey his thoughts. Pulsating guitar lines and cascading percussion kick off the first track Be Careful in which Hangauer exclaims "I wouldn't listen...I'd have my hands over my ears" as a subtle trumpet utterance finds its way into the fold. The start/stop aesthetic to the track is crisp and proves to be a good indicator of where this record is headed. Hangauer's vocals are strong and aren't overly flawed which makes the band instantly more accessible than say Neutral Milk Hotel or The Decemberists. The former seem to have influenced Fourth of July in some spots though, especially in moments when the odd instrumentation peeks its head into the fray.
The highlights of Fourth of July On The Plains are the songs when the band sounds like a fine-tuned collective and not disparate factions. The rather obvious cohesion can probably be explained by the fact that half of the band are related to each other. The concordance of the members is most audible on tracks when the band is operating at a quicker pace and making full use of chanted group vocals, namely on Long Gone and Purple Heart.
The most striking quality Fourth of July displays on its debut is its incredible sense of melody and pop sensibility. Every song on this debut is catchy. However, one can only write so many accessible hooks without some material spilling over. At times, it feels as though the songs run together and it becomes difficult to discern one ditty from another when not entirely familiar with the album just yet. This isn't to say that Fourth of July never switches it up though. Tracks like the quasi-prairie ballad Why Did I Drink So Much Last Night and the keyboard-heavy She's In Love demonstrate just how interesting this band can grow to become; "can" being the term emphasized in that last sentence. Many bands show signs of promise early on and then drop the ball on their sophomore effort. Here's hoping this isn't the case with this sextet.
7.2/10
These aren't the most complex tunes one will ever encounter but they do throw slight curveballs at the listeners. The musicianship is tight and polished and this paired with cleverly biting lyrics is enough to push the band past any formulaic twee-pop stigma. The Lawrence, Kansas band's first full-length is as solid a debut as I can recall from 2007 (aside from Coconut Records whose album I should probably review at some point) and if this is a glimpse of what is to come, Fourth of July may have just forged themselves a place within the genre.
After leaving throwback rockers The Anniversary, Adrianne Verhoeven has joined the ranks of Fourth of July and she brings with her a keen sense of melody which is fairly evident the second Fourth of July On The Plains begins. The vocal harmonies are spot-on and while the music isn't intricate by any stretch of the imagination, it is effective in helping lead singer Brendan Hangauer convey his thoughts. Pulsating guitar lines and cascading percussion kick off the first track Be Careful in which Hangauer exclaims "I wouldn't listen...I'd have my hands over my ears" as a subtle trumpet utterance finds its way into the fold. The start/stop aesthetic to the track is crisp and proves to be a good indicator of where this record is headed. Hangauer's vocals are strong and aren't overly flawed which makes the band instantly more accessible than say Neutral Milk Hotel or The Decemberists. The former seem to have influenced Fourth of July in some spots though, especially in moments when the odd instrumentation peeks its head into the fray.
The highlights of Fourth of July On The Plains are the songs when the band sounds like a fine-tuned collective and not disparate factions. The rather obvious cohesion can probably be explained by the fact that half of the band are related to each other. The concordance of the members is most audible on tracks when the band is operating at a quicker pace and making full use of chanted group vocals, namely on Long Gone and Purple Heart.
The most striking quality Fourth of July displays on its debut is its incredible sense of melody and pop sensibility. Every song on this debut is catchy. However, one can only write so many accessible hooks without some material spilling over. At times, it feels as though the songs run together and it becomes difficult to discern one ditty from another when not entirely familiar with the album just yet. This isn't to say that Fourth of July never switches it up though. Tracks like the quasi-prairie ballad Why Did I Drink So Much Last Night and the keyboard-heavy She's In Love demonstrate just how interesting this band can grow to become; "can" being the term emphasized in that last sentence. Many bands show signs of promise early on and then drop the ball on their sophomore effort. Here's hoping this isn't the case with this sextet.
7.2/10
Song of the day
Today's song of the day is The Flaming Lips' cover of the Queen classic Bohemian Rhapsody.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Song of the day
Another radiant day in Montreal calls for a happy pop song. Here's If She Wants Me by Belle & Sebastian.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Double Dose Of Audiovisual Goodness
Here are the official video for My Old Ways and a live video of Dr.Dog performing this same song on David Letterman respectively.
Dr. Dog- We All Belong
Have you ever felt like you knew a stranger on a far more personal level than you actually did? As if anything said individual would divulge would not be news to you whatsoever? Like you could predict every single plot twist of a teen drama without even knowing the premise of the program? And you simply needed the build-up to jog your memory?
That was my very first impression of Dr. Dog's latest offering We All Belong. With seemingly familiar instances at every turn, the heavily Beatles/Beach Boys influenced album felt like setting foot in a house I had grown up in but had completely forgotten.
Making a slight transition from recording on an eight-track to a 24-track for this album, Dr. Dog gets more adventurous on this release and puts forth a new take on their radiant, fuzzy pop songs. The band makes use of well-placed piano and string sections in addition to richer vocal textures to attain new musical ground and it is presented with great precision and panache. The record kicks off with Old News, a jaunty piano-driven number that sets the tone as the lead and background vocals ebb and flow to create an ethereal yet entirely pungent sound.
The juxtaposition of the light and delicate with the spirited and buoyant is a recurring theme on Dr. Dog's third full-length, as lo-fi almost sluggish verses hand the baton over to livelier choruses.
After the opener comes the first single off We All Belong, as a synth line ushers in My Old Ways. The bare-bones verses pour into a piano-laden bouncy chorus while the band expounds on "The lonely one who's never been alone" before claiming that "I don't ever want to go back to my old ways". A slight curveball is thrown at listeners late in the game with the title track holding the unorthodox position of closer. And We All Belong (the song) plays its part beautifully in concluding the album as the song is ambushed by jaw-droppingly orchestral vocals and marching band-esque percussion for the last 2 minutes or so.
The welcome addition of lush instrumentation to Dr. Dog's repertoire helps fill gaps in a previously stellar yet incomplete sound, which has in turn given the band a chance to finally flourish within (and with any luck, beyond) the indie genre.
Unlike the countless other bands taking cues from 60s pop icons though, Dr. Dog isn't as quick to add contemporary elements to its throwback sound. The end result is an album that really does sound like it could have been released 40 years ago. Sun-soaked melodies over fuzzy distorted guitars paired with witty, acerbic lyrics ("I don't want to die in your arms...I just want to die"- Die Die Die) makes for a winning combination.
In a just world, We All Belong would be a serious contender for album of the year. Long story short, this is what pop SHOULD be.
8.7/10
That was my very first impression of Dr. Dog's latest offering We All Belong. With seemingly familiar instances at every turn, the heavily Beatles/Beach Boys influenced album felt like setting foot in a house I had grown up in but had completely forgotten.
Making a slight transition from recording on an eight-track to a 24-track for this album, Dr. Dog gets more adventurous on this release and puts forth a new take on their radiant, fuzzy pop songs. The band makes use of well-placed piano and string sections in addition to richer vocal textures to attain new musical ground and it is presented with great precision and panache. The record kicks off with Old News, a jaunty piano-driven number that sets the tone as the lead and background vocals ebb and flow to create an ethereal yet entirely pungent sound.
The juxtaposition of the light and delicate with the spirited and buoyant is a recurring theme on Dr. Dog's third full-length, as lo-fi almost sluggish verses hand the baton over to livelier choruses.
After the opener comes the first single off We All Belong, as a synth line ushers in My Old Ways. The bare-bones verses pour into a piano-laden bouncy chorus while the band expounds on "The lonely one who's never been alone" before claiming that "I don't ever want to go back to my old ways". A slight curveball is thrown at listeners late in the game with the title track holding the unorthodox position of closer. And We All Belong (the song) plays its part beautifully in concluding the album as the song is ambushed by jaw-droppingly orchestral vocals and marching band-esque percussion for the last 2 minutes or so.
The welcome addition of lush instrumentation to Dr. Dog's repertoire helps fill gaps in a previously stellar yet incomplete sound, which has in turn given the band a chance to finally flourish within (and with any luck, beyond) the indie genre.
Unlike the countless other bands taking cues from 60s pop icons though, Dr. Dog isn't as quick to add contemporary elements to its throwback sound. The end result is an album that really does sound like it could have been released 40 years ago. Sun-soaked melodies over fuzzy distorted guitars paired with witty, acerbic lyrics ("I don't want to die in your arms...I just want to die"- Die Die Die) makes for a winning combination.
In a just world, We All Belong would be a serious contender for album of the year. Long story short, this is what pop SHOULD be.
8.7/10
Goombas Can Suck My Balls
Being the dork that I am, I stumbled upon a fairly amusing video of some dude trying his hand (and failing) at the most challenging Super Mario Bros levels I've ever seen. Really, the level of difficulty is epic. Enjoy.
Song of the day
I am unsure whether I'm going to write anything substantial today or not, but the least I can do is change the song of the day. Today's is Cold December by Matt Costa.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
I'm A Cartoon, You're A Full Moon...Let's Stay Up
In case you missed Bright Eyes on David Letterman, here they are performing Hot Knives off their latest effort, Cassadaga.
Let Us Lay In The Sun
Here is a live video of Jeff Mangum performing the title track off the critically acclaimed In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, and sporting some ridiculously awesome sweater no less.
The Fool
What a relief. After months of failed attempts, I finally understand what all the buzz is about. I am at long last able to fully appreciate the band many have made a living out of lionizing: Neutral Milk Hotel.
While I still can't fully immerse myself in the band's work prior to 1998's In The Aeroplane Over The Sea (namely On Avery Island), said album is simply brilliant. I can now see the bearing this recording has had over many of the bands I enjoy and this renders the release all the more impressive. Anchored in Jeff Mangum's clever songwriting and plaintive, howling vocals, Neutral Milk Hotel came together to arguably form the blueprints of a genre thathas only recently began to flourish; freak-folk. Listeners can discern artists such as indie stalwarts The Decemberists and Arcade Fire who unabashedly wear NMH's influence on their sleeves (in The Decemberists' case, even comparisons about the timbres can be drawn). That alone makes In The Aeroplane Over The Sea a crowning achievement. Despite the credibility NMH has deservingly gained for the music it has helped spawn, let's not let this detract from the music itself. Mangum's aforementioned unique vocals paired with the strumming of an acoustic guitar constitute the core of Neutral Milk Hotel's sound. The band also makes use of quirky, unusual instrumentation to buttress Mangum's endearing albeit technically flawed vocals. Horns, the accordion, and the banjo are all seamlessly added into the mix, each tool playing its role in supporting what would otherwise be a fairly skeletal aesthetic. Neutral Milk Hotel are also a shining example of how to utilize a lo-fi sensibility to their advantage, as distortion soars over the listeners on In The Aeroplane Over The Sea's more raucous moments. All the noise isn't so much a nuisance as it is yet another instrument of sorts. The amalgamation of all of these disparate parties (vocals, unusual instrumentation, distortion) into one cohesive unit creates this dizzying, carnavalesque soundscape...and this absolute mess is gorgeous. I can't say I have encountered such an empassioned vocalist in quite some time (barring Conor Oberst) and backed by all of this cacophony, Jeff Mangum has crafted a raw, unadulterated, noisy sonic masterpiece.
Pick this up if you are in need of genuine, unconventional, and most importantly meaningful music. I don't blame Mangum and the boys for being on hiatus since 1999. I would need a rest too if I had created such an emotionally jarring yet sincere and beautiful album.
While I still can't fully immerse myself in the band's work prior to 1998's In The Aeroplane Over The Sea (namely On Avery Island), said album is simply brilliant. I can now see the bearing this recording has had over many of the bands I enjoy and this renders the release all the more impressive. Anchored in Jeff Mangum's clever songwriting and plaintive, howling vocals, Neutral Milk Hotel came together to arguably form the blueprints of a genre thathas only recently began to flourish; freak-folk. Listeners can discern artists such as indie stalwarts The Decemberists and Arcade Fire who unabashedly wear NMH's influence on their sleeves (in The Decemberists' case, even comparisons about the timbres can be drawn). That alone makes In The Aeroplane Over The Sea a crowning achievement. Despite the credibility NMH has deservingly gained for the music it has helped spawn, let's not let this detract from the music itself. Mangum's aforementioned unique vocals paired with the strumming of an acoustic guitar constitute the core of Neutral Milk Hotel's sound. The band also makes use of quirky, unusual instrumentation to buttress Mangum's endearing albeit technically flawed vocals. Horns, the accordion, and the banjo are all seamlessly added into the mix, each tool playing its role in supporting what would otherwise be a fairly skeletal aesthetic. Neutral Milk Hotel are also a shining example of how to utilize a lo-fi sensibility to their advantage, as distortion soars over the listeners on In The Aeroplane Over The Sea's more raucous moments. All the noise isn't so much a nuisance as it is yet another instrument of sorts. The amalgamation of all of these disparate parties (vocals, unusual instrumentation, distortion) into one cohesive unit creates this dizzying, carnavalesque soundscape...and this absolute mess is gorgeous. I can't say I have encountered such an empassioned vocalist in quite some time (barring Conor Oberst) and backed by all of this cacophony, Jeff Mangum has crafted a raw, unadulterated, noisy sonic masterpiece.
Pick this up if you are in need of genuine, unconventional, and most importantly meaningful music. I don't blame Mangum and the boys for being on hiatus since 1999. I would need a rest too if I had created such an emotionally jarring yet sincere and beautiful album.
Song of the day
First glimpse of the sun here since Saturday means the return of happy indie-pop songs of the day. Therefore, today's track is Jenny by I'm From Barcelona.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Song of the day
Well after being hit with a vicious bout of complacency last week, I am back and ready to assume my espousal duties for the many bands highlighted on this blog. Today's song of the day is To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra off its latest stellar album, Ma Fleur.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Utah Carol- Rodeo Queen
It has taken them 3 albums, but Utah Carol has finally gotten their collective head straight. For the first time in their brief career, the duo has released a record that sounds like them, a focused effort through and through.
The Chicago tandem, comprised of Grant Birkenbeuel and Jinja Davis, have put out a rural folk-pop gem in the form of their latest, Rodeo Queen. On said album, Utah Carol has at long last decided to stray from the formula of previous efforts and have rallied around one predominant sonic theme. The record is mellow and soothing while remaining vivid enough in its lyrics and sound to keep listeners begging for more. The male/female vocal approach constitutes the driving force of Utah Carol; and this aesthetic is redolent of Page France and the Micheal Nau/Whitney McGraw dynamic. This makes for a perfectly angelic, honeyed texture that is held up for Rodeo Queen's entire run-time (43 minutes). Birkenbeuel's vocals are spot-on and surprisingly carry a lot of depth which meshes effortlessly with Davis' dulcet voice, but not so much so that it they ever become one and the same. The vocals are definitely the appeal of the duo and while Utah Carol's instrumentation is interesting, the harmonies are executed with such flair that it becomes an arduous task for listeners to revel in anything other than the twosome's remarkable sonic chemistry.
As for the aforementioned instrumentation, Utah Carol uses it sparingly but to great effect as they tactfully inject an extra touch where they deem it necessary. The band makes use of synths, horns, organs, and vibraphones to construct a rich yet airy soundscape which has become a calling card for the duo. On prior albums, namely Wonderwheel and Comfort For The Traveler, we can detect Utah Carol on its game delivering its brand of down-home countryish pop songs. However, there are instances when they would diverge from what works so well for them and would indulge in quicker, jauntier numbers. These tracks aren't terrible per se, but they certainly don't stack up to the easy-going, cushy tracks heard when Utah Carol is in its element. And now that they seem to be comfortable with the lonesome urban cowboy tales they've weaved, it is safe to say that Rodeo Queen is by far and away their strongest effort to date.
7.4/10
The Chicago tandem, comprised of Grant Birkenbeuel and Jinja Davis, have put out a rural folk-pop gem in the form of their latest, Rodeo Queen. On said album, Utah Carol has at long last decided to stray from the formula of previous efforts and have rallied around one predominant sonic theme. The record is mellow and soothing while remaining vivid enough in its lyrics and sound to keep listeners begging for more. The male/female vocal approach constitutes the driving force of Utah Carol; and this aesthetic is redolent of Page France and the Micheal Nau/Whitney McGraw dynamic. This makes for a perfectly angelic, honeyed texture that is held up for Rodeo Queen's entire run-time (43 minutes). Birkenbeuel's vocals are spot-on and surprisingly carry a lot of depth which meshes effortlessly with Davis' dulcet voice, but not so much so that it they ever become one and the same. The vocals are definitely the appeal of the duo and while Utah Carol's instrumentation is interesting, the harmonies are executed with such flair that it becomes an arduous task for listeners to revel in anything other than the twosome's remarkable sonic chemistry.
As for the aforementioned instrumentation, Utah Carol uses it sparingly but to great effect as they tactfully inject an extra touch where they deem it necessary. The band makes use of synths, horns, organs, and vibraphones to construct a rich yet airy soundscape which has become a calling card for the duo. On prior albums, namely Wonderwheel and Comfort For The Traveler, we can detect Utah Carol on its game delivering its brand of down-home countryish pop songs. However, there are instances when they would diverge from what works so well for them and would indulge in quicker, jauntier numbers. These tracks aren't terrible per se, but they certainly don't stack up to the easy-going, cushy tracks heard when Utah Carol is in its element. And now that they seem to be comfortable with the lonesome urban cowboy tales they've weaved, it is safe to say that Rodeo Queen is by far and away their strongest effort to date.
7.4/10
Song of the day
The song of the day for the 30th of May is No Lies, Just Love by arguably my favorite band and the best lyricist going around today, Bright Eyes (aka Conor Oberst).
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
You Look Like I Could Use A Drink
Hey all, today just so happens to be my birthday so I don't think I'm really up for writing anything of value. Therefore, I shall leave you with perhaps the happiest song I have ever heard, Cheer Up Baby by Dolour.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Song of the day
A rather gloomy day here calls for an end to the reign of sunny pop which has marred the music player so far. Today's song is Again & Again by The Bird and The Bee...still somewhat peppy but to a lesser extent so that counts right?
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Song of the day
Today's little ditty is the title track off The Format's fantastic sophomore album Dog Problems. Oh and I'll be textually raving about them later today.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Gratuitous video
I suppose this is a video of the day of sorts. Heart Made of Sound by The Softlightes.
I Feel Too Restless To Unwind
Alright folks, I've been drawing blanks as to what band to discuss today so I'm just going to go back to bed. Maybe a random video will tide you guys over.
Song of the day
Yet another radiant day here means another relatively peppy song, this time a track by The Anniversary (now defunct) entitled Crooked Crown.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Song of the day archive
For those even remotely interested in the bands discussed on this site, I have added a list which will keep track of the last 5 songs of the day in case you missed the epic unveiling of I Am Not A Camera. It should also help those who enjoyed the song played that day but couldn't figure out what it was at the time. The list is situated on the left-hand side beneath the music player. Go wild.
New York, New York
I can't stand New York but I sure love this song. New York, New York by Ryan Adams.
My Achy Breaky Heart...well not quite
Anyone who hasn't been hiding under a massive rock for the last decade has been able to discern a strange occurrence in the music industry. For some odd reason, everyone (not living in the south or midwest or wherever it is country is most prevalent) hates country music. Now I'll be the first to concede that mainstream cookie-cutter country music is essentially vapid and devoid of substance. Then again, nearly all pop (and I use this term to designate prominence in the mass media and not as a tool to categorize songs sonically) music shares the very same drawbacks. So when I get ragged on for enjoying a fair deal of alt-country, I never quite know how to react. Is it country? Sure I guess. But the soothing down-home twang specific to country artists paired with an indie sensibility constitutes the appeal; the result is strikingly charming, endearing, country-tinged music. These aren't songs about Chevy Trail Blazers or hunting skunks on the bayou. The lyrics are as poignant and thoughtful as in any other respectable genre of music. Besides, you'd be hard-pressed finding better tunes to ride along with the windows down to. So go forth and organize a road trip. Purchase Ryan Adams, Wilco and My Morning Jacket albums. Now get your alt-country on. Tedious top 40-manufactured artists will still be there when you get back. I promise.
Goodnight and Go
Here's a pretty neat live version of Just For Now by Imogen Heap. I'm going to give sleeping a shot now.
Always Love
Here is what I believe to be the centerpiece of Nada Surf's The Weight Is A Gift, "Always Love".
What Is Your Secret?
Alright folks, it's past midnight and I find myself with absolutely nothing to do barring the prospect of yet another restless night. Consequently, I've decided to make use of my spare time/inability to adhere to normal sleeping habits to lionize one of the most underrated indie bands in recent memory: Nada Surf. These eternal underdogs never quite receive the credit they deserve. Other indie bands, chiefly Death Cab for Cutie and Bright Eyes, have made the jump to mainstream visibility while Nada Surf is inexplicably left behind. Well that isn't going to be the case here at I Am Not A Camera. My espousal for this band shall be proclaimed on the rooftops if need be. But back to the matter at hand. If one were to dissect this entire situation (which I have valiantly attempted to do), it becomes difficult to see why this New York trio isn't selling twice as many albums as they are now. Their songs are crisp, catchy, and concise. Isn't that what defines a pop song structurally? It must have just boiled down to the luck of the draw.
While it seems as though the Brooklyn boys have finally attained their sonic niche, their popularity has only decreased since their debut LP, released more than a decade ago. The band's first two full-length efforts, High/Low and The Proximity Effect, were raw and passionate documentations of who these 3 boys were at the time. Said albums also showed glimpses of just how infectious Nada Surf's tracks could be. However, it was clear that the group had yet to hit its stride. Then came 2003's Let Go, an album that found Nada Surf finally forging itself an identity. The release was critically acclaimed (in addition to having a pretty neat CD cover) and it seemed as though Nada Surf had finally entered the winners' circle. At long last, they could sit at the adult's table. Sadly enough, the band could not maintain its high standing in the genre in the wake of more accessible radio-friendly groups cashing in on the blossoming indie craze. Franz Ferdinand and The Killers meant business (pun fully intended). And while these bands were churning out strokes of genius (and by genius I mean horse dung) such as "Somebody told me that you had a boyfriend who looked like a girlfiend" or "If I move this could die, if eyes move this could die. I want you...to take me out!", Nada Surf were toiling away in the studio with producer/Death Cab member Chris Walla working on The Weight is A Gift. Their steadfast dedication to the album shines through the second "Concrete Bed" comes pouring out of the disc. And the band continue to deliver track after track of catchy thoughtful rock. Nada Surf manages to do so in quite versatile a fashion as well, balancing jauntier numbers with pensive, introspective tracks. Simply put, Nada Surf know how to write a good tune. Don't believe me? Well there isn't much I can do about that but call you a douchebag. So remedy your douchebaggery outbreak at once and give Nada Surf a spin.
While it seems as though the Brooklyn boys have finally attained their sonic niche, their popularity has only decreased since their debut LP, released more than a decade ago. The band's first two full-length efforts, High/Low and The Proximity Effect, were raw and passionate documentations of who these 3 boys were at the time. Said albums also showed glimpses of just how infectious Nada Surf's tracks could be. However, it was clear that the group had yet to hit its stride. Then came 2003's Let Go, an album that found Nada Surf finally forging itself an identity. The release was critically acclaimed (in addition to having a pretty neat CD cover) and it seemed as though Nada Surf had finally entered the winners' circle. At long last, they could sit at the adult's table. Sadly enough, the band could not maintain its high standing in the genre in the wake of more accessible radio-friendly groups cashing in on the blossoming indie craze. Franz Ferdinand and The Killers meant business (pun fully intended). And while these bands were churning out strokes of genius (and by genius I mean horse dung) such as "Somebody told me that you had a boyfriend who looked like a girlfiend" or "If I move this could die, if eyes move this could die. I want you...to take me out!", Nada Surf were toiling away in the studio with producer/Death Cab member Chris Walla working on The Weight is A Gift. Their steadfast dedication to the album shines through the second "Concrete Bed" comes pouring out of the disc. And the band continue to deliver track after track of catchy thoughtful rock. Nada Surf manages to do so in quite versatile a fashion as well, balancing jauntier numbers with pensive, introspective tracks. Simply put, Nada Surf know how to write a good tune. Don't believe me? Well there isn't much I can do about that but call you a douchebag. So remedy your douchebaggery outbreak at once and give Nada Surf a spin.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
My Work Here Is Through
Junkyard by Page France with an alternate ending that completely caught me by surprise when I was searching for videos.
Come And Carry Us Away
It has been about 2 years now since I was first acquainted with Page France. I was gleefully scrolling down the artists on Pure Volume that fateful day, presumably (and unfortunately) seeking out more angst-ridden popcore. Little did I know that day that this seemingly innocuous folk-pop band would steer my musical compass in a drastically different direction. What I discovered was a Maryland quintet who have constructed the most gorgeous tracks to grace my speakers in recent memory. The sound of the band is anchored in lead singer Micheal Nau's high-pitched-but-not-nasal croon which is nicely supported by childhood friend Whitney Mcgraw's heart-wrenchingly beautiful, somewhat childish voice. The instrumentation is relatively sparse at times, relying exclusively on the acoustic guitar, and rich at others, when the tambourines, drums, and keyboards enter the fray. Never do the music or vocals overpower either party. This harmony between the two driving forces of song strikes a balance so soothing it gives Page France's tracks an airy, ethereal dimension I can't recall any other artist achieving since My Morning Jacket. The notes sit on clouds as listeners drift away to a realm filled with cherubins, circus elephants, kings, and queens. Nau flexes his lyrical muscles and weaves elaborate yet innocent fairy tales designed to convey general truths, or maybe rather truisms.
On Page France's debut Hello, Dear Wind released in 2005, which dare I say it is quite simply a masterpiece, the song titles are just about as concise as any listener will encounter (with the longest moniker being "Trampoline"). The reason I bring up this seemingly trivial fact is the notion of just how powerful those single words the band has chosen to designate their tracks can be. And this can also be applied to the band's songs as well. Like a skilled journalist, Page France manages to pack an incredible amount of thought into their work while remaining terse. Not often have I come across poignant music that manages to avoid being dreary and over-wrought (cough*post-rock*cough) which makes Page France a veritable diamond in the rough. There haven't been many bands who have come together to craft such delightful, dreamy gems and with the release of their new album entitled Page France and the Family Telephone, Page France may find itself maintaining its reign over my speakers for months to come. Please do yourselves a favor and pick up everything these guys (and gal) have ever released. You won't be sorry.
On Page France's debut Hello, Dear Wind released in 2005, which dare I say it is quite simply a masterpiece, the song titles are just about as concise as any listener will encounter (with the longest moniker being "Trampoline"). The reason I bring up this seemingly trivial fact is the notion of just how powerful those single words the band has chosen to designate their tracks can be. And this can also be applied to the band's songs as well. Like a skilled journalist, Page France manages to pack an incredible amount of thought into their work while remaining terse. Not often have I come across poignant music that manages to avoid being dreary and over-wrought (cough*post-rock*cough) which makes Page France a veritable diamond in the rough. There haven't been many bands who have come together to craft such delightful, dreamy gems and with the release of their new album entitled Page France and the Family Telephone, Page France may find itself maintaining its reign over my speakers for months to come. Please do yourselves a favor and pick up everything these guys (and gal) have ever released. You won't be sorry.
Song of the day
Yet another beautiful day in Montreal and this means another sunny pop song. Today's little slice of sonic bliss is Hello June by Kite Flying Society, an indie band out of San Diego not be confounded with the screamo band by the same name. Enjoy.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Field Music
I'll try to include an official or live video with the features I write every day. So to continue the long upheld tradition (one day) of video accompaniment, here is Field Music's In Context.
Sit Tight
While critics sing the praises of recent releases from indie powerhouses such as Bloc Party, Arcade Fire, Arctic Monkeys, and Modest Mouse, these supposed pundits have overlooked perhaps the most refreshing band to emerge from the genre this year. Field Music, a trio from Sunderland in the UK, have put out an absolutely charming album in the form of Tones of Town released in February of 2007. Without sacrificing originality, the band has managed to create songs that can carry a common theme throughout the entire record. And the band does so with a veritable cornucopia of instruments, making use of strings, the piano, synths, and the obligatory bass, guitar, and drum parts. What makes Field Music's inclusion of this plethora of tools compelling is that nothing stands out on its own. None of these sounds come off as a gimmick to intentionally stray from the pack; they intertwine and come together to take the shape of cohesive, endearing pop songs.
It's always a slightly arduous task to describe a band to individuals unfamiliar with the music but I'll do my best to make it as visually stimulating a simile as possible. Essentially, Field Music sounds like the Beach Boys filtered through post-punk to then be mixed with a sensible dash of britpop into an endless coffee mug of sonic goodness. Was that needlessly verbose enough for you? Anyway, let's take a break from my glorious wordplay and focus on the music itself.
The background vocals on Tones of Town inject a little whimsy (the Beach Boys facet) into every track while the lead vocals are clear, crisp, and deliver the lyrics with great aplomb. While the lyrics aren't anything to fawn over, they cut to the chase and provide listeners with more than decent storytelling. However, it remains clear that the words aren't tantamount to the sonic aspect of the band. Field Music said in a recent interview that they were of the opinion that anything can constitute "pop" music. It's simply a matter of writing stellar catchy songs. And Field Music don't just talk the talk. They deliver the goods by means of their latest which is chock full of intricate, somewhat unconventional pop songs that should all find a way to bypass the wall hipsters have put up in an effort to be cantankerous pricks. If Field Music can serve up more gems in the vein of Tones of Town, we may observe a recalibration of the pop genre in the near future and who knows, they may even convert a few of the more stubborn listeners obsessed with a band's obscurity rather than their work along the way. For the time being, I'm perfectly content playing Tones of Town and patiently waiting for the world to take notice.
It's always a slightly arduous task to describe a band to individuals unfamiliar with the music but I'll do my best to make it as visually stimulating a simile as possible. Essentially, Field Music sounds like the Beach Boys filtered through post-punk to then be mixed with a sensible dash of britpop into an endless coffee mug of sonic goodness. Was that needlessly verbose enough for you? Anyway, let's take a break from my glorious wordplay and focus on the music itself.
The background vocals on Tones of Town inject a little whimsy (the Beach Boys facet) into every track while the lead vocals are clear, crisp, and deliver the lyrics with great aplomb. While the lyrics aren't anything to fawn over, they cut to the chase and provide listeners with more than decent storytelling. However, it remains clear that the words aren't tantamount to the sonic aspect of the band. Field Music said in a recent interview that they were of the opinion that anything can constitute "pop" music. It's simply a matter of writing stellar catchy songs. And Field Music don't just talk the talk. They deliver the goods by means of their latest which is chock full of intricate, somewhat unconventional pop songs that should all find a way to bypass the wall hipsters have put up in an effort to be cantankerous pricks. If Field Music can serve up more gems in the vein of Tones of Town, we may observe a recalibration of the pop genre in the near future and who knows, they may even convert a few of the more stubborn listeners obsessed with a band's obscurity rather than their work along the way. For the time being, I'm perfectly content playing Tones of Town and patiently waiting for the world to take notice.
Song of the day
Today's song of the day is The Way The Lazy Do by Dr. Dog. Be sure to catch their late night television appearance tonight on David Letterman. Their new album We All Belong is out now.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
I'm not willing to invest any more time in this venture.
Ok I've come as close as I can get to having a player on my page. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite fit but you get the idea. It's a warm sunny day out so today's belated daily song is Easy Girl by Coconut Records. Hollywood actor Jason Schwartzman fronts this clever indie-pop band. Go buy their album Nighttiming now.
Song of the day
I'm working on finding a way to have some sort of song of the day feature which would play a different song on my page every day. It may be enough of an incentive to come visit every once and a while.
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