It's important to give albums their due respect and to try to take the on the terms they present, but holy shit is this boring. Just downright annoying. High art I guess, maybe, but just unlistenable. The exceptions are the organ tracks, which get a nice warm sound with subtleties in the crannies that somewhat justify the repetition. Ik-ook, in particular, is propulsive and satisfying and presents interesting ways of hearing via its segmentations of its repetitions.
As I just mentioned, Glass does repetition. That's kind of his thing around this time. Some call it minimalism (referring to composition not to sound), and that's fine. The problem isn't even necessarily in the minimal compositions, its the actual sounds from which the songs are composed: in so many cases their actual tone isn't pleasant, ringing slightly dissonant. This is maybe revolutionary work as far as synthesizers, but they just sound bad. Listening to something bad again and again isn't good.
Important, maybe. but only listen if you feel like you need to eat your cultural vegetables 1.5/5
Friday, October 26, 2012
#634 Various Artists - Rework: Philip Glass Remixed
Do you like repetition? I said, do you like repetition? I can't hear you!
You better, because its Glass's stock in trade and here his work is used as an outline for a variety of modern, mostly electronic, artists to play with. Fact is, that's about all I know about Glass and his role in this project, and I've never heard any of the originals of any of these songs, so I'm gonna have to take this at face value.
At face value, its all pretty darn good actually. Hypnotic, but interesting, the familiar artists sounding familiar but new through this lens. All things considered, most of this isn't all that indulgent, with reasonable song lengths and approaches to making music. There is surprisingly little that is unlistenable or boring given Glass's reputation for demanding patience.
This is perhaps because of the curation by Beck, perhaps the most straightforwardly pop-minded of the contributors found here. He also houses the main exception to the aforementioned restraint, resulting in a 20 minute, comparatively narrative track that is possibly the album's best.
Starting off with the click and rhythm and buzz of a city coming to life, the songs opens like sun rising through low clouds on a cold morning. The small details fall away and we're awed by monoliths of concrete and steel and before we know it we're on a train out of town, and then a train through the history of the city itself, maybe time itself, before coming to rest in a quiet reflective moment, maybe on a park bench. Maybe everything maybe nothing. This all nearly wordlessly, with Beck's voice echoing through space, a glorious, insane extension of his artiest moments, like the 3-part closer to The Information. I'm tempted to explain how this whole odyssey could be mapped onto Kubrick's 2001, but let's not get ridiculous. It's stitched together from 20 or so Glass tracks, so its hard to know who exactly to give credit to, but the result is something of a masterpiece.
The rest of the album is compelling enough, but there is nothing this narrative or groundbreaking, mostly serving to ride a single idea or groove in a more traditional style. The rest of the tracks are probably worth a three and a half or so, but the Beck track alone is easily enough for a bump to 4/5
You better, because its Glass's stock in trade and here his work is used as an outline for a variety of modern, mostly electronic, artists to play with. Fact is, that's about all I know about Glass and his role in this project, and I've never heard any of the originals of any of these songs, so I'm gonna have to take this at face value.
At face value, its all pretty darn good actually. Hypnotic, but interesting, the familiar artists sounding familiar but new through this lens. All things considered, most of this isn't all that indulgent, with reasonable song lengths and approaches to making music. There is surprisingly little that is unlistenable or boring given Glass's reputation for demanding patience.
This is perhaps because of the curation by Beck, perhaps the most straightforwardly pop-minded of the contributors found here. He also houses the main exception to the aforementioned restraint, resulting in a 20 minute, comparatively narrative track that is possibly the album's best.
Starting off with the click and rhythm and buzz of a city coming to life, the songs opens like sun rising through low clouds on a cold morning. The small details fall away and we're awed by monoliths of concrete and steel and before we know it we're on a train out of town, and then a train through the history of the city itself, maybe time itself, before coming to rest in a quiet reflective moment, maybe on a park bench. Maybe everything maybe nothing. This all nearly wordlessly, with Beck's voice echoing through space, a glorious, insane extension of his artiest moments, like the 3-part closer to The Information. I'm tempted to explain how this whole odyssey could be mapped onto Kubrick's 2001, but let's not get ridiculous. It's stitched together from 20 or so Glass tracks, so its hard to know who exactly to give credit to, but the result is something of a masterpiece.
The rest of the album is compelling enough, but there is nothing this narrative or groundbreaking, mostly serving to ride a single idea or groove in a more traditional style. The rest of the tracks are probably worth a three and a half or so, but the Beck track alone is easily enough for a bump to 4/5
#633 Ty Segall - Twins
I've said it before, but Ty Segall is the face of rock right now, dragging garage rock revival into hellish new places it never wanted to go, giving it sardonic post-punk swagger and a scuzzy modern edge, his output has been impossibly diverse and downright solid given its volume.
Speaking of volume, things are still loud, with that signature colossal buzz bass and frantic fill-filled drums riding under flayed guitars playing the best scum-punk hooks this side of Raw Power.
Listen to They Told Me Too and you'll hear all you need to know, that unstoppable, galloping beat, that shitkicking bass riff, that soaring guitar, sounding written and recorded in about seven minutes and blasted onto the world as a homemade grenade. Or Who Are You, riffing on Are You Gonna Go My Way, and by extension You Really Got Me, and Are You Going to Be My Girl, and by extension Lust for Life, and by extension Motown, and by extension probably half dozen other songs, running them into each other into something offkilter and uncanny, whipping inspirations beyond their limits.
We've got ourselves a modern-day Robert Pollard here folks, but one who's interested in a decidedly modern approach to appropriate-and-wrench songwriting, one who's interested fucking up the production in altogether different ways, one who's got his song-spitting chaingun pointed in a far darker direction. Strap in, goin' down 4.5/5
Speaking of volume, things are still loud, with that signature colossal buzz bass and frantic fill-filled drums riding under flayed guitars playing the best scum-punk hooks this side of Raw Power.
Listen to They Told Me Too and you'll hear all you need to know, that unstoppable, galloping beat, that shitkicking bass riff, that soaring guitar, sounding written and recorded in about seven minutes and blasted onto the world as a homemade grenade. Or Who Are You, riffing on Are You Gonna Go My Way, and by extension You Really Got Me, and Are You Going to Be My Girl, and by extension Lust for Life, and by extension Motown, and by extension probably half dozen other songs, running them into each other into something offkilter and uncanny, whipping inspirations beyond their limits.
We've got ourselves a modern-day Robert Pollard here folks, but one who's interested in a decidedly modern approach to appropriate-and-wrench songwriting, one who's interested fucking up the production in altogether different ways, one who's got his song-spitting chaingun pointed in a far darker direction. Strap in, goin' down 4.5/5
Thursday, October 25, 2012
#632 Handsome Furs - Face Control
Dan Boeckner doing his thing, the result sounding not unlike his work with Wolf Parade, but with some icy distance and electronic edge courtesy of a trip through Eastern Europe. This isn't exactly Berlin Trilogy or Liars' self titled territory (Station to Station at most on the infection-by-frigid-European-distance scale), but its a shift. The wooly, star-burning woods are traded for headlight flickers and apartment windows and isolation. Where Wolf Parade felt connected to the our deeper desires, this album connects to our deeper inhibitions, simmering instead of running wild.
Still, the texture and tunefulness are in place, the energy and hope and promise still lurk around every corner, and the vocal hooks are still some of the best in the ravaged-throat howler wing of house indie rock. Whether he's in a blackout or the black of night, Boeckner's got a knack for lighting a match 4/5
Still, the texture and tunefulness are in place, the energy and hope and promise still lurk around every corner, and the vocal hooks are still some of the best in the ravaged-throat howler wing of house indie rock. Whether he's in a blackout or the black of night, Boeckner's got a knack for lighting a match 4/5
#631 Wolf Parade - Expo '86
Wolf Parade's Apologies to the Queen Mary was one of the finest indie rock albums of the 00's, perfectly paced, nearly filler-free, with about as strong a closing set of 4 or so songs you're gonna find put to plastic. This doesn't hang together quite as flawlessly on the album scale, but its grandfather's* peer in its ability to deliver unstoppable songs full of propulsive beats, scathing guitars, buzzed-out bass, and hysteria-laced grasps at the infinite, all laser straight or knuckleballing headward, as the situation demands.
Its that combination of relentlessly, energetically straightforward, peppered with little unpredictable bursts, that is at the heart of Wolf Parade, where relentless, anthemic calls to arms like Palm Road provide relief from the herky-jerky histrionics of Cloud Shadow on the Mountain, followed by What Did My Lover Say? which takes turns at both, sometimes at the same time. Expo 86 swings a bit too close to the anthemic side and doesn't take as many chances as I'd like to see a band on its third album taking, but it does the sound justice. Doing what you do well, when what you do is this broadly defined and interesting, aint such a bad thing 4/5
* apparently greatness skips a generation, as sophomore effort At Mt. Zoomer was a murky mess by comparison
Its that combination of relentlessly, energetically straightforward, peppered with little unpredictable bursts, that is at the heart of Wolf Parade, where relentless, anthemic calls to arms like Palm Road provide relief from the herky-jerky histrionics of Cloud Shadow on the Mountain, followed by What Did My Lover Say? which takes turns at both, sometimes at the same time. Expo 86 swings a bit too close to the anthemic side and doesn't take as many chances as I'd like to see a band on its third album taking, but it does the sound justice. Doing what you do well, when what you do is this broadly defined and interesting, aint such a bad thing 4/5
* apparently greatness skips a generation, as sophomore effort At Mt. Zoomer was a murky mess by comparison
#630 Skinny Bones - Little Meat
Listen free here! (update: not anymore :(
An album full of warmth and hope and regret, pulling off a balance of electronic sheen and human touch that can't help but evoke Twin Shadow. And while this doesn't quite reach Lewis's timeless highs, this might actually be a more roundly enjoyable album, bristling with Wolf Parade's creaky, detuned energy and desperate pop ravings. And just when we're a song and a third deep in straight up Modest Mouse wailing, A Sudden Blame cracks open into doubletime shuffle and stomp, putting its own stamp on the sound.
As far as I understand it, this is a solo project from an affable guy named Jacob from local band The New Complainers, and I gotta say, the production is rock solid. Clear, warm, rich, beyond what you'd expect from local-band-solo-act-album. An impressive start, here's hoping he sticks with it 3.5/5
An album full of warmth and hope and regret, pulling off a balance of electronic sheen and human touch that can't help but evoke Twin Shadow. And while this doesn't quite reach Lewis's timeless highs, this might actually be a more roundly enjoyable album, bristling with Wolf Parade's creaky, detuned energy and desperate pop ravings. And just when we're a song and a third deep in straight up Modest Mouse wailing, A Sudden Blame cracks open into doubletime shuffle and stomp, putting its own stamp on the sound.
As far as I understand it, this is a solo project from an affable guy named Jacob from local band The New Complainers, and I gotta say, the production is rock solid. Clear, warm, rich, beyond what you'd expect from local-band-solo-act-album. An impressive start, here's hoping he sticks with it 3.5/5
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
#629 Big Joe Turner - The Boss of the Blues
Big, but in the jazzy tradition where the horns do the backing and the horns do the solos, and the guitar isn't even really a meaningful part of the equation. Turner is a big, bold blues shouter in the most traditional sense, and his voice is round and powerful, but a bit bland - this is performance of good music, not of wrestling with personal demons and desperation put to tape. That's probably because this, even in 1956, was a retrospective, recreating early boogie and R&B songs in the studio.
Without that immediacy, without that guitar, without that desperation, this is missing too many of the things that make for a good blues and early rock recording, reading more as blues-flavored big band, which isn't exactly what I, for one, am in the market for just now 3/5
Without that immediacy, without that guitar, without that desperation, this is missing too many of the things that make for a good blues and early rock recording, reading more as blues-flavored big band, which isn't exactly what I, for one, am in the market for just now 3/5
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
#628 David Bowie - Station to Station
Call it vampire soul. Plastic soul makes this music sound too warm, sounding pliable and colorful. If start with the Plastic label, understand that this is hard plastic, this is harsh lines, this is solid shapes. It is a detached alien overlord exiled too long on earth, too tired of inhaling and fucking everything he can find. He limps with great grace through nightclubs connected endlessly by doors to one another, out the backdoor and into the next, constant movement past downheaded dukes, desperate youths and lie-low beerlight, flashes off of glasses. The doors connect again and again, and there are no streets in between and there is no slowing or stopping, there is no progress, and nothing is lost and nothing is resolved and the only thing that is gained is the incremental experience, the drip of another step through life familiar with barest hope-flecks in the details, the barest glimmers of the new.
Like Iggy Pop and Marc Bolan, Bowie comes out the other side of glam finding that the world hasn't changed, that it can't be changed, that only he can change, but he's nowhere left to change. So the beat plods on, he makes music full of life and soul, and drinks of it in the night, and staggers onward with grace undiminished, with the cool perspective of the undead, the charming grace of one who takes without seeing to need, who has much to tell but would rather wield the promise than the reveal.
And you yourself are charmed, by the promise and the grace and the vision and the intoxicating lack of need. Bowie plays it like the brooding boy, the black sheep you can save, the man your mother warned you about, the one who don't need nothing, who plays hard to get without seeming to play, and you're drawn in 4/5
Like Iggy Pop and Marc Bolan, Bowie comes out the other side of glam finding that the world hasn't changed, that it can't be changed, that only he can change, but he's nowhere left to change. So the beat plods on, he makes music full of life and soul, and drinks of it in the night, and staggers onward with grace undiminished, with the cool perspective of the undead, the charming grace of one who takes without seeing to need, who has much to tell but would rather wield the promise than the reveal.
And you yourself are charmed, by the promise and the grace and the vision and the intoxicating lack of need. Bowie plays it like the brooding boy, the black sheep you can save, the man your mother warned you about, the one who don't need nothing, who plays hard to get without seeming to play, and you're drawn in 4/5
Monday, October 22, 2012
#627 Sonic Youth - EVOL
You can't talk about Sonic Youth without talking about noise. Dissonance and racket are at the heart of their MO, though their exact relationship with the guitar and the noises it can make has changed over time. Here is their first attempt to make an actual rock album, as the band takes wet, leaden lumps of noise and shapes them into ten vaguely song-shaped objects. It is clumsy and primitive, less interesting than something noisier, less listenable than what Sonic Youth would do in the following years, compelling mostly as a history lesson in the band's progression 3/5
Saturday, October 20, 2012
#626 The Unicorns - 2014 EP
Here's The Unicorns in microcosm: three tracks (plus a demo version of the title track) that outline their style, each a chorusless, manic little blast of pop. 2014 builds tension on the backs of noisy synths and future disco skitters before breaking out into joyous raveup desperation. Emasculate the Masculine marries funk guitar chug so post-punk guitar crunch, frosted with squonky square wave solos. Finally, Evacuate the Vacuous gives us a taste of the whisper quiet bomb shelter crooner Unicorns, breaking into sunlight only briefly before retreating into darkness, maybe forever.
The first two tracks would have been standouts on a second Unicorns album, the one that never came. 2014 itself, despite bearing some of the Unicorns hallmarks, served to take their sound in a strange, dancy new direction, one we'll tragically never see fleshed out. So we're left to pick over scraps and bones. Such pretty bones. Miss these guys 4/5
The first two tracks would have been standouts on a second Unicorns album, the one that never came. 2014 itself, despite bearing some of the Unicorns hallmarks, served to take their sound in a strange, dancy new direction, one we'll tragically never see fleshed out. So we're left to pick over scraps and bones. Such pretty bones. Miss these guys 4/5
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
#625 The Breeders - Last Splash
A decidedly 90's album, but one that's a lot more solid, with much better flow, and a much deeper bag of tricks than you might expect. There's hard rockers, some stuttering meandering weirdnesses, some Sonic Youth guitar crush, and some straight up Pixies jams (most notably S.O.S.) (though less than you might expect). And then there's Divine Hammer, which is just a fucking great upbeat 90's pop rocker classic. Heck, even cliched Country-tinged closer Drivin' On 9 is way better than it should be.
For an album that was readily discarded as Cannonball + filler, this is actually a damn solid piece of twisty rock and roll that deserves better than its reputation 4/5
For an album that was readily discarded as Cannonball + filler, this is actually a damn solid piece of twisty rock and roll that deserves better than its reputation 4/5
Monday, October 15, 2012
#624 Tame Impala - Lonerism
Everything runs together in a swirl, colors emerging, guitars and synths and voices and their reverberations and refractions interweaving. Its one part psychadelia, one part shoegaze, and extra dollops of Of Montreal, The Flaming Lips, and The Olivia Tremor Control's strangest melodic moments. It sounds like the 60's as filtered through most of the 00's favorite filters. Which is to say this has been done before, at least twice, and has all the trappings of a mushmouthed style I've railed against repeatedly.
And yet it works here, for two main reasons. First, it pulls out the most uncommon and essential trick in music: great songwriting. The particular structures and swirls and highs and lows and repetitions and deviations therefrom are expertly chosen to give a lilting, gorgeous experience that hypnotizes without lulling to sleep.
Second, the bass. It is the one thing that is pure, undoubled, undiluted, running Harrison-pure, giving backbone to the pulsing shapes that run rampant across the record. The bassline is what you follow, and everything else is the landscape you follow it through. That one trick lets this album rise above the swirly everynote muck that pollutes so much of modern indie rock. That and the crackerjack songwriting 4.5/5
And yet it works here, for two main reasons. First, it pulls out the most uncommon and essential trick in music: great songwriting. The particular structures and swirls and highs and lows and repetitions and deviations therefrom are expertly chosen to give a lilting, gorgeous experience that hypnotizes without lulling to sleep.
Second, the bass. It is the one thing that is pure, undoubled, undiluted, running Harrison-pure, giving backbone to the pulsing shapes that run rampant across the record. The bassline is what you follow, and everything else is the landscape you follow it through. That one trick lets this album rise above the swirly everynote muck that pollutes so much of modern indie rock. That and the crackerjack songwriting 4.5/5
#623 Metz - Metz
Rock and roll done up super raw, too rough, too fast, full of analog energy and realness and fear and rage, recent favorite Ty Segall's sound done even harder, but still done so enjoyably, melodically, tunefully, catchily that it barely even hurts to listen to. This is one of the most immediately catchy really heavy albums I've heard in a while - sounding not unlike Nirvana or The Pixies at their loudest, or maybe even Pavement at their Blacktick thrash pinnacles. There's something special and elemental here that I can't put my finger on, something swirling ever-closer to an oncoming, savage garage-rock revival, something that sparks hope for modern rock and roll 4.5/5
#622 Converge - All We Love We Leave Behind
Speedmetal thrash done up with razorwire punk production, with the occasional moments of beauty. Seen alongside the Car Bomb album this approach seems to be a burgeoning thing.
This is chopsville USA though, done up in the grand metal tradition of "how fast and precisely can you play". This is flower-in-the-wasteland rock done with deathmachine hyperspeed efficiency.
And yes, these dudes can play fast, and they can play with precision, and that does result in some moments of severe rock power. But its just too much noise to move me, too quickly desensitizing, the moments of beauty that give it context too far between. Good go to if you're into this kind of thing 3/5
This is chopsville USA though, done up in the grand metal tradition of "how fast and precisely can you play". This is flower-in-the-wasteland rock done with deathmachine hyperspeed efficiency.
And yes, these dudes can play fast, and they can play with precision, and that does result in some moments of severe rock power. But its just too much noise to move me, too quickly desensitizing, the moments of beauty that give it context too far between. Good go to if you're into this kind of thing 3/5
#621 Car Bomb - w^w^^w^w
Noisy. Pure thrash with scant few punches pulled, pull bore screams from hell, chuggachuggachugga fills, wailedupoon guitars, the whole 9 yards, wrung around angular and precise as I've heard done before, landing somewhere between a heavier Dream Theater and a more listenable Lightning Bolt. But then a twist, up sprout these those weird, sweet melodic moments, where vocals and instruments alike relent and show shimmering underbellies, not quite like anything I've heard on an album like this before. They're great moments.
But then, are these moments really that great or are they just rendered beautiful by their contrast with the wasteland from which they've sprung? A moment like Finish It's little closing "woo!" are remarkable in their ability to change the whole tone of the album in one second, a nightmare beast with a little gold star on its forehead. It's these moments of proof that Car Bomb could be pretty and fun if they wanted to be, but withhold in the name of mindcrushing, that give them a strange credibility.
And at least the aforementioned wasteland is a compelling one, full of undulating purple hills and aquamaroon skies and jagged creatures burned black by the end of endless lives. Not anywhere you'd want to live, not even anywhere you'd want to visit again, but a place whose very existence nests in the back of your mind, skittering around now and again 3.5/5
But then, are these moments really that great or are they just rendered beautiful by their contrast with the wasteland from which they've sprung? A moment like Finish It's little closing "woo!" are remarkable in their ability to change the whole tone of the album in one second, a nightmare beast with a little gold star on its forehead. It's these moments of proof that Car Bomb could be pretty and fun if they wanted to be, but withhold in the name of mindcrushing, that give them a strange credibility.
And at least the aforementioned wasteland is a compelling one, full of undulating purple hills and aquamaroon skies and jagged creatures burned black by the end of endless lives. Not anywhere you'd want to live, not even anywhere you'd want to visit again, but a place whose very existence nests in the back of your mind, skittering around now and again 3.5/5
Thursday, October 11, 2012
#620 Killer Mike - R.A.P. Music Instrumentals
The album itself featured a solid helping of heavy, sharp-edged rapping, and this instrumental version helps draw the ear to the buzzy, bigass boom bap that gave that rapping its body. With songs so thoroughly dominated by their hard-hitting vocals, this is more welcome than usual as a way to see what makes them tick.
Standing on its own, this plays a bit limp, not quite hooky enough for background music, not quite interesting enough to demand listening. The best tracks are the more melodic; Anywhere But Here plays like songs off a lost great Air album and Willie Blake Sherwood could just be a delightfully offkilter M83 outtake.
A curiosity, and more worthwhile than your average instrumentals album, but that's not saying much 3/5
Standing on its own, this plays a bit limp, not quite hooky enough for background music, not quite interesting enough to demand listening. The best tracks are the more melodic; Anywhere But Here plays like songs off a lost great Air album and Willie Blake Sherwood could just be a delightfully offkilter M83 outtake.
A curiosity, and more worthwhile than your average instrumentals album, but that's not saying much 3/5
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
#619 Ornette Coleman - The Shape of Jazz to Come
Hey fellow jazz laymen, what do you think of when you think of free jazz? That's what this sounds like, as horns whip up and around and don't quite congeal into much. Which isn't to say that this is without structure: melodic themes emerge, there are riffs and interplays and moments of convergence, but it never becomes a thing you can hold in place, it never quite becomes what you'd call a song in any traditional sense. It is an event, wound woolly over time.
All things considered though, this isn't that radical; its innovations are in the discarding of the piano and chords as backbones, things that we folk aren't liable to much pick up on in any conscious sense. We just know it sounds even more chaotic and unknowable than usual, a bit more catnip in these cats, a bit wilder and more transgressive. For better or for worse, depends on your mood. For the most part, I found it more interesting than enjoyable, and not all that interesting 3/5
All things considered though, this isn't that radical; its innovations are in the discarding of the piano and chords as backbones, things that we folk aren't liable to much pick up on in any conscious sense. We just know it sounds even more chaotic and unknowable than usual, a bit more catnip in these cats, a bit wilder and more transgressive. For better or for worse, depends on your mood. For the most part, I found it more interesting than enjoyable, and not all that interesting 3/5
Monday, October 8, 2012
#618a Feed Me - Feed Me's Escape From Electric Mountain
I went into this EP with an irrational love for Feed Me's Big Adventure, which was nominally dubstep, but without all the drops and noise and jocky bullshit. It's a shame that this is a Feed Me album built on that kind of stuff.
The biggest problems are Trapdoor and One Click Headshot, which are just embarrassing, with their sub-Evanescence bitchy rage samples shitting on the entire track. The rest is actually reasonably solid: Trichitillomania is an ok banger kind of made guilty by association, Embers doesn't lean too hard on its ladysamples and has some transportive swerves, and Relocation is a nice housey meanderer. But on a six track EP two garbage tracks is a lot to overlook. As a full album listen, no better than 2.5/5
The biggest problems are Trapdoor and One Click Headshot, which are just embarrassing, with their sub-Evanescence bitchy rage samples shitting on the entire track. The rest is actually reasonably solid: Trichitillomania is an ok banger kind of made guilty by association, Embers doesn't lean too hard on its ladysamples and has some transportive swerves, and Relocation is a nice housey meanderer. But on a six track EP two garbage tracks is a lot to overlook. As a full album listen, no better than 2.5/5
Sunday, October 7, 2012
#618 Sonny Rollins - Saxophone Colossus
Punchy, propulsive sax-driven jazz that jukes and feints, start-stop, full of sudden runs, hard notes and the silences in between. It's jazz driven by showmanship, by demonstrating the horn player's mastery over his horn, with the combo serving mostly to build the stage for that mastery, only occasionally rising to the fore for a piano solo, drum flourish or the like.
The actual playing is exciting and playful and worthy of close listening, but as someone who knows just this side of fuckall about jazz, its all a bit lost on me. I hope to someday know enough about this stuff to kick myself for not rating it more highly. Hating on your past self is growth 3.5/5
The actual playing is exciting and playful and worthy of close listening, but as someone who knows just this side of fuckall about jazz, its all a bit lost on me. I hope to someday know enough about this stuff to kick myself for not rating it more highly. Hating on your past self is growth 3.5/5
Friday, October 5, 2012
#617 Sam Cooke - Sam Cooke (Weton-Wesgram, 2009)
Strange 3-disc Dutch compilation of Sam Cooke's stuff that I stumbled into somehow.
The first disc is the real Sam Cooke I came looking for, full of deep soul and mourning and love and hope. Cooke's voice is legitimately graceful, more full-bodied and powerful than many of his better-known contemporaries. This is downright listenable, if occasionally goofy, largely unadventurous stuff.
Then its two discs of Jesus Jesus Jesus. Cooke did love him some Jesus. It all sounds samey as hell, and I know its not the singer's fault that it was compiled this way, but its downright unbearable by the end.
I came for a taste of Sam Cooke and I got it. And then I got way too much more. It's like he invited me over to watch the game and then spent 4 more hours talking about the Lord. Gotta judge the whole album, and that's a full third of it. Sorry Sam, I'll try to find something else of yours and give you a fair shake 2/5
The first disc is the real Sam Cooke I came looking for, full of deep soul and mourning and love and hope. Cooke's voice is legitimately graceful, more full-bodied and powerful than many of his better-known contemporaries. This is downright listenable, if occasionally goofy, largely unadventurous stuff.
Then its two discs of Jesus Jesus Jesus. Cooke did love him some Jesus. It all sounds samey as hell, and I know its not the singer's fault that it was compiled this way, but its downright unbearable by the end.
I came for a taste of Sam Cooke and I got it. And then I got way too much more. It's like he invited me over to watch the game and then spent 4 more hours talking about the Lord. Gotta judge the whole album, and that's a full third of it. Sorry Sam, I'll try to find something else of yours and give you a fair shake 2/5
Thursday, October 4, 2012
#616 Miles Davis - Birth of the Cool
Melodic runs runs runs, sometimes a horn, sometimes two in unison, sometimes two different pairs, following, splitting off, coming back, like ribbons behind dancers, like children looping paths across wheatfields.
The sound is carefully orchestrated, as befits a band of nine trying to double each others' voices in a series of pairoffs and squares. There are solos, but nothing extravagant. This is a tight series of songs moving freely, looping and swooping like a flock of birds, and then one wheels off for a solo, but is back before long, and the flock finds a tree and alights 3.5/5
The sound is carefully orchestrated, as befits a band of nine trying to double each others' voices in a series of pairoffs and squares. There are solos, but nothing extravagant. This is a tight series of songs moving freely, looping and swooping like a flock of birds, and then one wheels off for a solo, but is back before long, and the flock finds a tree and alights 3.5/5
#615 Gene Vinent and his Blue Caps - Blue Jean Bop
I loved Vincent's second album, and the first one delivers many of the same thrills. This album lacks the menace that made his self-titled followup to exhilarating, and the overall tone is smoother and sweeter, but there's still an edge: notes hit harder than they needed to be, words sneered out when lesser singers would have smiled, and the whole thing lit up by some jigsaw guitar work.
Doing some research reveals the key to these two albums' greatness, especially relative to other similar records of the time. Unlike, say, Elvis, who used session musicians to fill out his early records, The Blue Caps were a band out playing shows night in and night out, and this was them slamming their set down in the studio. The result is a surplus of that energy that makes this era of rock and roll so incandescent. Vincent and his Caps remain the best act out of the era that I've found so far, and while its followup is a stronger, tighter outing, this is likewise simply essential 4.5/5
Doing some research reveals the key to these two albums' greatness, especially relative to other similar records of the time. Unlike, say, Elvis, who used session musicians to fill out his early records, The Blue Caps were a band out playing shows night in and night out, and this was them slamming their set down in the studio. The result is a surplus of that energy that makes this era of rock and roll so incandescent. Vincent and his Caps remain the best act out of the era that I've found so far, and while its followup is a stronger, tighter outing, this is likewise simply essential 4.5/5
#614 Battles - Dross Glop
A lurching, murky Night of the Living Dead nightmare of a remix album.
Every song is drained bloodless, rendered uncannily detuned, dragging dubby footsteps, repeating unliving patterns in morbid parody of its previous existence. Where Gloss Drop was made lively by unexpected moves and spontaneous production, its evil twin is all sociopathic menace, all cold efficiency, made up of the same parts, but with no light behind the eyes 1.5/5
Every song is drained bloodless, rendered uncannily detuned, dragging dubby footsteps, repeating unliving patterns in morbid parody of its previous existence. Where Gloss Drop was made lively by unexpected moves and spontaneous production, its evil twin is all sociopathic menace, all cold efficiency, made up of the same parts, but with no light behind the eyes 1.5/5
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
#613 VA - The First Rock and Roll Record
Just go get it.
If you have any interest in the history of rock and roll, in where it came from and how it inched into being rock and roll, this is the best crash course there is. Get this triple album compilation epic, like rightnow. Unless you are a one-in-a-million obsessive who has heard ever album ever, with massive Ghost-World level tendrils through old rock vinyl, you'll learn a lot and have a lot of fun doing it.
This collection starts off in the 20's and winds its way forward towards the 50's, playing songs from folk, blues, country, jazz, R&B and countless subslices in between in chronological order, spiraling closer and closer to its core of "Rock and Roll", whipping past its various spokes in turn, pieces sliding into place.
It serves to exemplify how knotty that question of "what was the first rock and roll record?" really is, and its an interesting activity in its own right, asking as each song comes on whether that's "rock and roll", and why and why not, the why slowly becoming easier to answer as time moves forward, the why not getting harder and harder to justify. Heck, there's even some interesting bits of hip hop history hidden in there, as you hear elements that rap songs call back to (Kanye's sampling I've Got a Woman, Outkast's references to 60 Minute Man) and elements that would define the style (Ella Mae Morse And Freddie Slack's House Of Blue Lights practically raps its delivery, and even drops a "homey" in there).
The sounds are too diverse do describe in much more detail, spanning 3 packed discs and 3+ decades as they do, but bears repeating that this is no dry aural textbook but a damn fun listen. The songs hop and swoon and swing and croon and bop and even rock, most sounding dusty and classy and timeless for good measure. One of the best, most interesting finds of this whole project, one I'll return to again and again 5/5
If you have any interest in the history of rock and roll, in where it came from and how it inched into being rock and roll, this is the best crash course there is. Get this triple album compilation epic, like rightnow. Unless you are a one-in-a-million obsessive who has heard ever album ever, with massive Ghost-World level tendrils through old rock vinyl, you'll learn a lot and have a lot of fun doing it.
This collection starts off in the 20's and winds its way forward towards the 50's, playing songs from folk, blues, country, jazz, R&B and countless subslices in between in chronological order, spiraling closer and closer to its core of "Rock and Roll", whipping past its various spokes in turn, pieces sliding into place.
It serves to exemplify how knotty that question of "what was the first rock and roll record?" really is, and its an interesting activity in its own right, asking as each song comes on whether that's "rock and roll", and why and why not, the why slowly becoming easier to answer as time moves forward, the why not getting harder and harder to justify. Heck, there's even some interesting bits of hip hop history hidden in there, as you hear elements that rap songs call back to (Kanye's sampling I've Got a Woman, Outkast's references to 60 Minute Man) and elements that would define the style (Ella Mae Morse And Freddie Slack's House Of Blue Lights practically raps its delivery, and even drops a "homey" in there).
The sounds are too diverse do describe in much more detail, spanning 3 packed discs and 3+ decades as they do, but bears repeating that this is no dry aural textbook but a damn fun listen. The songs hop and swoon and swing and croon and bop and even rock, most sounding dusty and classy and timeless for good measure. One of the best, most interesting finds of this whole project, one I'll return to again and again 5/5
#612 Guana Batz - Held Down to Vinyl...At Last
First-wave British psychobilly, with all of the punk rock intact. Gone are The Meteors' Sci-Fi trappings and mock-horror stylings: this is just nasty, sneering punk done up with fast bass and guitars to give it that retro edge. Here it reads as more of a gimmick, a way to stand out as a punk band, than an actual homage to rockabilly roots. You won't feel a love an reverence for rocks burgeoning rebellious streak, just a twist on punk ugliness. As punk, its fine, but nothing special 2.5/5
#611 Kitchen's Floor - Looking Forward to Nothing
Australia is just dripping with scuzzy, couldntgiveafuck punk these days. Megaphone overblown, overloud, repetitive doomy droners with this propulsive pump and strange, stoned glimmer of hope straight out of Wavves. Jagged guitars reverbing to forever, songlength organ notes, and yet, strangely light somehow. A good trick, one that I'll bet works even better live 3.5/5
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
#610 Bob Dylan - Bringing it All Back Home
Bob Dylan, romping and stomping, not yet drunk on his own legend, just going for it, singing like he might never get another chance and like this chance will last forever with a backing band that's got a million years to spend in the studio but they're gonna use the first take anyway, unhurried at making this rather fast song, unworried about these rather heavy words, just stumbling along with a great lifelong urgency.
This is less mindblowing than Highway 61's endless expanses, less heartfelt than Blood on the Tracks, but this is the blueprint, this is the house that the highway and the tracks and the Nashville Skyline itself all pour from. This is the house Bringing it all Back Home calls home.
Which is to say that it is seminal, pure Bob Dylan, pure unlistenable yowling, pure guitar jangle and slide and twang, straddling genius and madness and nonsense, and a strange timeless soul; more so than any of his albums, that singular moment soul 4/5
This is less mindblowing than Highway 61's endless expanses, less heartfelt than Blood on the Tracks, but this is the blueprint, this is the house that the highway and the tracks and the Nashville Skyline itself all pour from. This is the house Bringing it all Back Home calls home.
Which is to say that it is seminal, pure Bob Dylan, pure unlistenable yowling, pure guitar jangle and slide and twang, straddling genius and madness and nonsense, and a strange timeless soul; more so than any of his albums, that singular moment soul 4/5
#609 Blind Lemon Jefferson - Blind Lemon Jefferson
This is old blues. Old as dust blues, dust blowing off of a creaky record player old, Jefferson's trembling wails rising from dust-covered timeline floorboards.
The emotion carries, less in word than in feeling, in the jaunty, jumbled plucks offset by that endless wail. Minimal and elemental, pre-band, pre-rock, dang, pre-jazz, damn near pre-music somehow, harkening back to a place that stepped out of time.
You'll need a real specific setting to want to put this record on, but if you find that time and place you best not be without it 4/5
The emotion carries, less in word than in feeling, in the jaunty, jumbled plucks offset by that endless wail. Minimal and elemental, pre-band, pre-rock, dang, pre-jazz, damn near pre-music somehow, harkening back to a place that stepped out of time.
You'll need a real specific setting to want to put this record on, but if you find that time and place you best not be without it 4/5
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