My natural inclination is to hate Creedence. Maybe its their straightforward sound and John Fogerty's plain wail coupled with their misleading mythology, bringing you swampy, down home, southern-fried rock straight outta... San Francisco? A band's personality matters, the story matters, it all matters, and if you're banking on authenticity, faking it geographically seems like a weird way to start.
The album's solid enough if you get past that, chugging along dead simple, the longer the song, the simpler the sound, everything just stretched out to absurd lengths, lending the full-album even more rootsy sludge than it has on a song-by-song basis. The guitars're dirty and clean, the singing is rough and clear, everything as sharp and slick and dull as a stick 3/5
Thursday, January 31, 2013
#727 Soft Machine - The Soft Machine
An early "experimental rock" album, one of the first to play with song length and note length, hypnotic rhythms and droning tones to create music that melts time; many of the great, strange bands that have played with repetition, from Can to Boredoms*, surely owe a debt to this. It takes The Doors' extended organ-drenched solos and strips them of their songiness, creating jams that don't sound performed, but transmitted whole from beyond.
There's something slippery and unknowable here, decidedly listenable, but somehow not listen-to-able, as everything drifts by. Something strangely perfect and entrancing spun from bass, drums, organ, voice, and sound 4.5/5
* edit 2/4/13: also, all 3 are bands where your instinct might be to put a "the" before their names, but where there is no actual "the" in their names. Weird!
There's something slippery and unknowable here, decidedly listenable, but somehow not listen-to-able, as everything drifts by. Something strangely perfect and entrancing spun from bass, drums, organ, voice, and sound 4.5/5
* edit 2/4/13: also, all 3 are bands where your instinct might be to put a "the" before their names, but where there is no actual "the" in their names. Weird!
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
#726 Guided by Voices - Earthquake Glue
After the peerless Bee Thousand and the solid Alien Lanes, I'd heard enough consensus that Guided By Voices had gone downhill that I'd never heard another note of Robert Pollard's impossibly prolific output. Word is that their recent string of three comeback albums is actually pretty solid though, which rekindled my interest in the band, which lead me to listen to this, which I thought was one of those three, but is actually from 2003? God these guys are and are not prolific, in turn, who can keep track. I haven't listened to anything they've recorded in about 20 years, so it's all new to me. This, whenever it was recorded, met but did no exceed my modest expectations.
On an album thick with big riffs and no small love for 90's style big-chord riffage, Pollard's best weapon is still his voice. It remains rich with nuance and able to wobble onto and off of chords, quiver onto and off of notes, drawing lines taught and letting them bounce back into place with palpable relief, rendering songs like Useless Inventions and The Best of Jill Hives thrilling with euphoric melodic release. On the best songs perfectly chosen chords provide a solid foundation for the soaring vocal arches that makes GBV so exciting.
Of course, there's none of that boundless, effortless, ex nihilo songsmithing that Bee Thousand was built on. That can never be recaptured, and this is decidedly just an album of regular songs written and recorded by a man, not the shards of some sonic virgin birth. And as an album, its unevenly paced, patchy in quality, and not altogether inventive in any particular way. But it is strangely listenable, stirring up moments of pop beauty often enough that it's probably worth your trouble 3/5
On an album thick with big riffs and no small love for 90's style big-chord riffage, Pollard's best weapon is still his voice. It remains rich with nuance and able to wobble onto and off of chords, quiver onto and off of notes, drawing lines taught and letting them bounce back into place with palpable relief, rendering songs like Useless Inventions and The Best of Jill Hives thrilling with euphoric melodic release. On the best songs perfectly chosen chords provide a solid foundation for the soaring vocal arches that makes GBV so exciting.
Of course, there's none of that boundless, effortless, ex nihilo songsmithing that Bee Thousand was built on. That can never be recaptured, and this is decidedly just an album of regular songs written and recorded by a man, not the shards of some sonic virgin birth. And as an album, its unevenly paced, patchy in quality, and not altogether inventive in any particular way. But it is strangely listenable, stirring up moments of pop beauty often enough that it's probably worth your trouble 3/5
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
#725 Jethro Tull - Stand Up
This first Jethro Tull album is something of a missing link: still decidedly in the tradition of the blue-influenced heavy rockers like Cream and Jeff Beck, but with the seeds of the sound that would become prog. The strange instrumentation (primarily that famous flute), the strange tones, the hitched rhythms, the extravagant themes and delivery; they all add a twist to that basic sound that was swirling around these largely-pre-psychadelia times, keeping the soaring vocals and rollicking bass that make it worth listening to. The epic-length songs and narratives would come later, but even now Jethro Tull show themselves as a band willing to warp convention.
There's something about this that holds this album back from greatness though, that keeps it smoldering but not igniting. Maybe it's Ian Anderson's too-typical vocals, the thinness of the mix, or the passable-but-unremarkable guitar work, but there's better ideas here than execution 3.5/5
There's something about this that holds this album back from greatness though, that keeps it smoldering but not igniting. Maybe it's Ian Anderson's too-typical vocals, the thinness of the mix, or the passable-but-unremarkable guitar work, but there's better ideas here than execution 3.5/5
#724 Jeff Beck - Truth
Heavy crunchy crush that maybe doesn't sound all that groundbreaking until you consider it came out in 1968. That clean guitar sound, the soaring vocals (courtesy of Rod Stewart - what happened to that guy??), that overall big bad hard rock juggernaut roll, this surely influenced the 70's bands that influenced all the rock that followed.
The blues overtones that define the guitar bands of the era make their presence known, but here they're stretched, rendered altogether more rip-roaring and huge than usual. The key seems to be Ron Wood's bass, which throbs high in the mix, rolls on, up and down, lilting and lolling and lurching, giving all the headbobs an extra elliptical whiplash, keeping everything tripping just one step ahead, making everything more exciting.
So, it' great and all. But this kind of guitarey, blues-dipped stuff isn't my scene (see also the Yardbirds, Cream) and I don't actually love Stewart's voice which seems stretched to real the heights it gets to. Once again, I'll leave you with a below-standard score around 3.5/5
The blues overtones that define the guitar bands of the era make their presence known, but here they're stretched, rendered altogether more rip-roaring and huge than usual. The key seems to be Ron Wood's bass, which throbs high in the mix, rolls on, up and down, lilting and lolling and lurching, giving all the headbobs an extra elliptical whiplash, keeping everything tripping just one step ahead, making everything more exciting.
So, it' great and all. But this kind of guitarey, blues-dipped stuff isn't my scene (see also the Yardbirds, Cream) and I don't actually love Stewart's voice which seems stretched to real the heights it gets to. Once again, I'll leave you with a below-standard score around 3.5/5
#723 Feed Me - Death by Robot
Feed Me remains my favorite dubstep guy out there, maybe only because his status as a dubstep guy is kinda questionable. Sure he uses the big warps and bends and drops, but they're usually couched in something more interesting, textured, and nuanced than your average build-build-build-drop-thumpathumpathumpa punk-simple nonsense that's been going around.
Really, the only place he goes wrong is when he gets vocals into the mix, as he does on the title track of this short ep. Feed Me's no daft punk, and robot voices are tougher to pull off than he seems to appreciate. Though the one-one-one-one thumpdown is a fun little joke for binary types.
Far better is gravel, which builds and shifts in unpredictable ways, actually sounding chaotic and dangerous in a way that songs of its kind aspire to and rarely achieve. It's a twisty robot sidewinder, and trying to wrestle it's a fun game. Dialup Days closes things out as a fun little ditty, but something better suited as a mid-album palette cleanser than an EP closer.
None of it matches up to the legendary opening three tracks of Feed Me's Big Adventure, but it gives me hope that this guy's got enough ingenuity and touch to survive the ongoing dubstep crash 3.5/5
Really, the only place he goes wrong is when he gets vocals into the mix, as he does on the title track of this short ep. Feed Me's no daft punk, and robot voices are tougher to pull off than he seems to appreciate. Though the one-one-one-one thumpdown is a fun little joke for binary types.
Far better is gravel, which builds and shifts in unpredictable ways, actually sounding chaotic and dangerous in a way that songs of its kind aspire to and rarely achieve. It's a twisty robot sidewinder, and trying to wrestle it's a fun game. Dialup Days closes things out as a fun little ditty, but something better suited as a mid-album palette cleanser than an EP closer.
None of it matches up to the legendary opening three tracks of Feed Me's Big Adventure, but it gives me hope that this guy's got enough ingenuity and touch to survive the ongoing dubstep crash 3.5/5
#722 Tim Buckley - Goodbye and Hello
No no no.
My theory is that Tim Buckley had a thousand tiny gnomes in his throat, each crafting more and more intricate notes, each trying to produce them as fast as possible, dumping them one after another from his mouth, their output washing voluminously into the microphone, each trying to make them more and more elaborate to appease the dragon-queen Quarandara, who will take on gnomish form and mate with the gnome who makes the most grand quavering piece of over-inflected moaning that will still fit through Buckley's gaping golden lips.
This theory would, at least, explain the overwrought goulash that slathers this wax, and would be perfectly in line with the preposterous mythologizing that it endeavors to pile higher and higher to the heavens. It's so preposterous, so overblown, it makes The Pentangle sound like Blind Lemon motherfucking Jefferson.
I didn't like it 1.5/5
My theory is that Tim Buckley had a thousand tiny gnomes in his throat, each crafting more and more intricate notes, each trying to produce them as fast as possible, dumping them one after another from his mouth, their output washing voluminously into the microphone, each trying to make them more and more elaborate to appease the dragon-queen Quarandara, who will take on gnomish form and mate with the gnome who makes the most grand quavering piece of over-inflected moaning that will still fit through Buckley's gaping golden lips.
This theory would, at least, explain the overwrought goulash that slathers this wax, and would be perfectly in line with the preposterous mythologizing that it endeavors to pile higher and higher to the heavens. It's so preposterous, so overblown, it makes The Pentangle sound like Blind Lemon motherfucking Jefferson.
I didn't like it 1.5/5
Monday, January 28, 2013
#721 Pink Floyd - Piper at the Gates of Dawn
I'd heard all of Pink Floyd's big albums, basically the ones that Jake liked when he was giving me a crash course in classic rock back in the day: Dark Side of the Moon, The Wall, Wish You Were Here. Heavy, psychey stuff, all.
This album starts off a little wierd, sure, with Astronomy Domine (sounding a bit like late Blur, actually), but then things are actually kind of sunny for a while there. You get thinking you're in for a feel-good album, especially, say, if you've just been listening to a lot of Moby Grape. "What happened to you, Pink Floyd?" you wonder. You used to be such a happy little band; what happened?
Well, this happened, as the whole album goes down a hole. Is this the world's first bad trip album? It starts to swirl on Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk, and then its 9 minutes of Interstellar Overdrive. This isn't "look at the pretty colors" music this is "fold into yourself and watch the universe die" music. Be thankful they put form to this madness in the later years, in its purest form its a little rough for my taste. Relevant, must-hear, on a whole nother level, but not the kind of trip I'd choose to go on more than once 3/5
fun fact: I had no idea Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk from Reverse Shark Attack was a cover. I think 7 albums is the fastest turnaround I've ever had from presuming a song original to being correct by hearing the actual original
This album starts off a little wierd, sure, with Astronomy Domine (sounding a bit like late Blur, actually), but then things are actually kind of sunny for a while there. You get thinking you're in for a feel-good album, especially, say, if you've just been listening to a lot of Moby Grape. "What happened to you, Pink Floyd?" you wonder. You used to be such a happy little band; what happened?
Well, this happened, as the whole album goes down a hole. Is this the world's first bad trip album? It starts to swirl on Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk, and then its 9 minutes of Interstellar Overdrive. This isn't "look at the pretty colors" music this is "fold into yourself and watch the universe die" music. Be thankful they put form to this madness in the later years, in its purest form its a little rough for my taste. Relevant, must-hear, on a whole nother level, but not the kind of trip I'd choose to go on more than once 3/5
fun fact: I had no idea Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk from Reverse Shark Attack was a cover. I think 7 albums is the fastest turnaround I've ever had from presuming a song original to being correct by hearing the actual original
#720 Moby Grape - Moby Grape
Brother to the Grateful Dead grandaddies of that laid back, crunchy, pre-heavy-psych phase of San Francisco rock and roll. For my money though, this is a lot more tuneful, a lot sunnier, and a lot more fun than the Dead or reverby bands like Jefferson Airplane, who're too lazy and hazy for my taste.
The real key is song length: with 13 songs running about 2 minutes each, this is a record that is tight with melody and idea, with none of the bloat you associate with psychedelia. Moby Grape is here to show you a good time, not just stretch out the good time you're already presumed to be having.
I also hear a lot more influence on modern music here, something in the jauntiness and cleanness of the guitar lines, the texture of the harmonies, and the little bursts of creative zig and zag that evoke some of early 00's indie's finest moments. That, of course, makes it go down all the smoother some 50 years later. 50 years! Jesus.
Excellent album-level pacing and flow's the real key though, with a beautiful second side that makes it easy to get swept up into a 4.5/5
The real key is song length: with 13 songs running about 2 minutes each, this is a record that is tight with melody and idea, with none of the bloat you associate with psychedelia. Moby Grape is here to show you a good time, not just stretch out the good time you're already presumed to be having.
I also hear a lot more influence on modern music here, something in the jauntiness and cleanness of the guitar lines, the texture of the harmonies, and the little bursts of creative zig and zag that evoke some of early 00's indie's finest moments. That, of course, makes it go down all the smoother some 50 years later. 50 years! Jesus.
Excellent album-level pacing and flow's the real key though, with a beautiful second side that makes it easy to get swept up into a 4.5/5
#719 The Pentangle - Sweet Child
Throughout rock there's been entertainers and there's been artists: generally a band is either there to show you a good time or to show you what a good band they are. Can you be talented and show people a good time? Sure. But generally you can tell that a band has set out to impress you with their musicianship or they haven't. Cream and The Rolling Stones are two bands who made rock and roll out of R&B parts, but one came to impress you with their guitar work and one didn't.
The Pentangle came to impress you. They are the best band there is, making the only kind of music there is. They are the ones cutting through all the crap. They're keeping it real. They're artists. It's obnoxious.
Lengthy, indulgent solo pieces, complex arrangements, and just an air, an aura, a smell of pretension, over everything. Attitude aside, the playing is executed perfectly well, but the singing has that folky, keening dissonance brought by people used to trying to sing over top of instruments like tuneful blues shouters, and it's kind of a deal breaker.
Unpleasant singing plus an unpleasant attitude's a lot to overcome. Not my scene 2.5/5
The Pentangle came to impress you. They are the best band there is, making the only kind of music there is. They are the ones cutting through all the crap. They're keeping it real. They're artists. It's obnoxious.
Lengthy, indulgent solo pieces, complex arrangements, and just an air, an aura, a smell of pretension, over everything. Attitude aside, the playing is executed perfectly well, but the singing has that folky, keening dissonance brought by people used to trying to sing over top of instruments like tuneful blues shouters, and it's kind of a deal breaker.
Unpleasant singing plus an unpleasant attitude's a lot to overcome. Not my scene 2.5/5
Sunday, January 27, 2013
#718 Laura Nyro - More Than a New Discovery
In a recent conversation with Sherman Alexie in The Believer, Neko Case muses about how doing a sad song in a major key, or in a happy tone, or otherwise complicating its nature, somehow made it sound sadder still. Then along comes an album that explores that idea, confirming and defying, it, sometimes at the same time. Heck, Nyro explores just about every kind of sadness-delivery mechanism there is, getting into the soul from every angle, singing torch songs, death songs, and whatever beautiful bittersweet thing California Shoeshine Boys is.
So look, I don't even know if I can say this without sounding like some kind of bigot, but it bears mentioning that I assumed Nyro was black when I first heard this. Wait! Before you cast the first stone, listen to some Temptations, some Stevie, some Mary Wells, maybe the Top of the Stax compilation, and then this album and tell me you don't hear a thread running on through them. She's got that kind of cut-to-the-bone power that I mostly associate with the aforementioned, who, you know, happen to be almost entirely black, and are almost entirely excellent. We make do with the information our pattern-finding brains derive.
That aside: there's some heartfelt stuff here that I will confess being affected by. Not my scene, not my sound, but the girl can sing, and the songs hit hard 3.5/5
edit 7/13/15: god. I'm the worst reviewer of music ever.
So look, I don't even know if I can say this without sounding like some kind of bigot, but it bears mentioning that I assumed Nyro was black when I first heard this. Wait! Before you cast the first stone, listen to some Temptations, some Stevie, some Mary Wells, maybe the Top of the Stax compilation, and then this album and tell me you don't hear a thread running on through them. She's got that kind of cut-to-the-bone power that I mostly associate with the aforementioned, who, you know, happen to be almost entirely black, and are almost entirely excellent. We make do with the information our pattern-finding brains derive.
That aside: there's some heartfelt stuff here that I will confess being affected by. Not my scene, not my sound, but the girl can sing, and the songs hit hard 3.5/5
edit 7/13/15: god. I'm the worst reviewer of music ever.
#717 The Pretty Things - S.F. Sorrow
A spectacularly inventive album, ringing with originality, validating its pedigree of Abbey Road recording, Norman Smith production, and (arguably) Tommy-inspiring impact. That it was the fourth-most famous album released that week in 1968* is understandable, but its general obscurity is baffling.
An early concept album, once again inspiring comparisons to Nirvana, it tells the tale of a sadly sensitive, beautifully fantastic tale of a man out of place, though one finding wholly less happiness than Simon Simopath. Production tricks abound, weaving songs from clockwork gossamer, swerving in melody and time just at the edge of flow, teetering tunefully on two wheels. Anything that makes me say "this is good" out loud is probably flirting with a gold tag, only a lagging last third keeps this from being a full on five.
An overlooked masterpiece, check it out if you have a reasonable threshold for pretentiousness and any kind of hunger for classic, late 60's wild-eyed exploration of pop's boundaries 4.5/5
* The White Album, Beggars Banquet, and The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society. Jesus!
An early concept album, once again inspiring comparisons to Nirvana, it tells the tale of a sadly sensitive, beautifully fantastic tale of a man out of place, though one finding wholly less happiness than Simon Simopath. Production tricks abound, weaving songs from clockwork gossamer, swerving in melody and time just at the edge of flow, teetering tunefully on two wheels. Anything that makes me say "this is good" out loud is probably flirting with a gold tag, only a lagging last third keeps this from being a full on five.
An overlooked masterpiece, check it out if you have a reasonable threshold for pretentiousness and any kind of hunger for classic, late 60's wild-eyed exploration of pop's boundaries 4.5/5
* The White Album, Beggars Banquet, and The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society. Jesus!
Friday, January 25, 2013
#716 FaltyDL - Hardcourage
An album of slightly glitchy, vaguely housey electronica, everything
running elliptical with repetition that doesn't fit into clean, hard
4/4's. The playful tracks, say Straight & Arrow and For Karme,
are the most successful; the rest drag a bit slowly, ring a bit murky,
seemingly going for Four Tet flickery nostalgia or Endtroducing
emotional throb, but just not getting there.
And that not getting there is the problem. This album's lagged in my review queue for a while now, defying my ability to say anything about it. You listen and it doesn't click onto anything, drifting in one ear and out the other without leaving much of a mark, failing to fail or excel, making little emotional or intellectual impression. Maybe there's an artfulness to its loping subtlty, but I can't say it inspires me to kick out anything higher than 3/5
And that not getting there is the problem. This album's lagged in my review queue for a while now, defying my ability to say anything about it. You listen and it doesn't click onto anything, drifting in one ear and out the other without leaving much of a mark, failing to fail or excel, making little emotional or intellectual impression. Maybe there's an artfulness to its loping subtlty, but I can't say it inspires me to kick out anything higher than 3/5
#715 Deep Purple - In Rock
Riffs!
This is stripped down proto-heavy-metal, pretty much what you'd expect if you've heard any Deep Purple songs*. The songs lurch and roll, slow and go, riffs pushing on and on, seemingly content to go on and on forever until wrestled to the ground by their makers. This is music that's playing downhill.
Meanwhile Ian Gilian moans and wails over top in ecstatic pre-cliche. Seriously, this is the blueprint, it cannot be overstated, to a thousand heavy metal albums.
Which leaves it as a first-but-not-necessarily-best entry in rock history; even when the tempo's high the blunt-instrument chug of these songs is more likely going to put you to sleep than slap you awake. This is rock. Hard like a rock, simple like a rock, heavy like a rock, steady like a rock. If you're looking to bob your head endlessly like an Oregon-bound ox, then this will do the job, your head will bob and bob and bob. And hey, that's worth something 3/5
* easy "have I heard any Deep Purple songs?" test. Have you ever played Rock Band? You've heard Highway Star. Have you ever seen a band that learned how to play their instruments exactly a year ago? You've heard Smoke on the Water
This is stripped down proto-heavy-metal, pretty much what you'd expect if you've heard any Deep Purple songs*. The songs lurch and roll, slow and go, riffs pushing on and on, seemingly content to go on and on forever until wrestled to the ground by their makers. This is music that's playing downhill.
Meanwhile Ian Gilian moans and wails over top in ecstatic pre-cliche. Seriously, this is the blueprint, it cannot be overstated, to a thousand heavy metal albums.
Which leaves it as a first-but-not-necessarily-best entry in rock history; even when the tempo's high the blunt-instrument chug of these songs is more likely going to put you to sleep than slap you awake. This is rock. Hard like a rock, simple like a rock, heavy like a rock, steady like a rock. If you're looking to bob your head endlessly like an Oregon-bound ox, then this will do the job, your head will bob and bob and bob. And hey, that's worth something 3/5
* easy "have I heard any Deep Purple songs?" test. Have you ever played Rock Band? You've heard Highway Star. Have you ever seen a band that learned how to play their instruments exactly a year ago? You've heard Smoke on the Water
Thursday, January 24, 2013
#714 Ty Segall / Mikal Cronin - Reverse Shark Attack
I don't have any hard numbers, but I might have reviewed more albums by Ty Segall than any other artist on this blog. Love his stuff, and dude is prolific.
Reverse Shark Attack is another awesome entry, leveraging a sloppy, brilliant album structure. First, a suite of 2-minute little bangers, all a touch more overblown than usual, give the entire first side a frantic, immediate energy. Those lead into the punishing highlight, Take Up Thy Stethescope and Walk, which leads into the epic title track that closes the album. It's a wooly three-act'r that quavers Wavvesily, descends into melted madness, and then froths itself into a jaunty baja surf waveup that can't help but get the heads slamming. Combined, it's a masterful piece of pacing: that climax demands a good, slow setup, and the jittery restlessness of those first 6 tracks makes said setup feel like a relief rather than an act of patience.
It's not just that Segall can write a riff, and its not just that he's nails the blasted production that's become his trademark; if that's all you have all you get is another scuzz punk revivalist. It's his showmanship, his humor, and his suite of remarkable unknowable touches that puts him over the top, and marks him as one of the most important forces in modern rock and roll 4.5/5
Reverse Shark Attack is another awesome entry, leveraging a sloppy, brilliant album structure. First, a suite of 2-minute little bangers, all a touch more overblown than usual, give the entire first side a frantic, immediate energy. Those lead into the punishing highlight, Take Up Thy Stethescope and Walk, which leads into the epic title track that closes the album. It's a wooly three-act'r that quavers Wavvesily, descends into melted madness, and then froths itself into a jaunty baja surf waveup that can't help but get the heads slamming. Combined, it's a masterful piece of pacing: that climax demands a good, slow setup, and the jittery restlessness of those first 6 tracks makes said setup feel like a relief rather than an act of patience.
It's not just that Segall can write a riff, and its not just that he's nails the blasted production that's become his trademark; if that's all you have all you get is another scuzz punk revivalist. It's his showmanship, his humor, and his suite of remarkable unknowable touches that puts him over the top, and marks him as one of the most important forces in modern rock and roll 4.5/5
#713 Procol Harum - A Salty Dog
An enjoyable, accessible piece of prog, with songs that start off minimal and grow slowly, ever so slowly, until the next thing you know you're engaged with the music and a little surprised to realize it. There's a pop orchestral sweep to this that predicts the sound of ELO, with touches of theatricality, beauty, and Kinks/Small Faces music hall bounce.
It's hard to overlook how thin the mix is though, especially in light of Brooker's Peter Gabrielesque longing-laced wail. In an era when overwhelming richness was the sound, this comes across as a bit slight. Get past it if you can and you'll unearth some quietly pleasant, subtly intricate, insidiously involving songsmanship 4/5
It's hard to overlook how thin the mix is though, especially in light of Brooker's Peter Gabrielesque longing-laced wail. In an era when overwhelming richness was the sound, this comes across as a bit slight. Get past it if you can and you'll unearth some quietly pleasant, subtly intricate, insidiously involving songsmanship 4/5
#712 Buffalo Springfield - Buffalo Springfield Again
A good, solid, weird, messy album, all at the same time. Word is there was some turmoil during the recording process, but it seems to have worked. The songs, collectively, feel untamed and wily and surging with creativity, settling into the background groove of attention-rewarding intricacy, as your listening demands. Its a harder, cooler thing than you might expect if all you know is that Stop Children, What's That Sound song (for what it's worth).
The key are the Young-penned Expecting to Fly and Broken Arrow, which evoke the Beach Boys and Beatles' finest moments, respectively. In between the artsy interludes, some rough-edged, decidedly agreeable, occasionally beautiful rock and roll songs churn past, varying curiously in style. Take the transition between Good Time Boy's James Brown swagger and Rock and Roll Woman's prediction of a thousand melodic, offkilter indie rock songs. And yet it all hangs somehow, coupled by threads long and strong.
I'm always a fan of an album that keeps wriggling out from under you. A cleaner, more cohesive would have been a lot less compelling, a lot less interesting, and a lot less fun 4.5/5
The key are the Young-penned Expecting to Fly and Broken Arrow, which evoke the Beach Boys and Beatles' finest moments, respectively. In between the artsy interludes, some rough-edged, decidedly agreeable, occasionally beautiful rock and roll songs churn past, varying curiously in style. Take the transition between Good Time Boy's James Brown swagger and Rock and Roll Woman's prediction of a thousand melodic, offkilter indie rock songs. And yet it all hangs somehow, coupled by threads long and strong.
I'm always a fan of an album that keeps wriggling out from under you. A cleaner, more cohesive would have been a lot less compelling, a lot less interesting, and a lot less fun 4.5/5
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
#711 Turbonegro - Apocalypse Dudes
The late 90's and early 00's brought the rise of bands that blurred the line between winking mock hard rock and loving tribute hard rock and actual honest to god just straight up hard rock. Generally the rule was: the funnier the band was, the most sincere their actual love for rock was, and the better their actual albums were. Tenacious D? Actually funny, actually reverent, actually pretty good. The Darkness? Less so on every count.
An then there was Turbonegro, who sing about anuses and good head and whatever a Selfdestructo Blast is (a cousin of Explosivo?), all with fuckitall rock energy and the detached swagger of Iggy and Ziggy at their shoutiest. But I don't think they fit the pattern, because I don't think they're joking; I think this is actually how they like to rock, and you're just watching it happen. This was cemented at a Coachella set (do a shot) where the band seemed to be having fun, but not really trying to make us have fun, but accidentally doing it anyway. Which is a pretty good trick if you can pull it off, and they did there, and they do on the disc. Fun shit 4/5
An then there was Turbonegro, who sing about anuses and good head and whatever a Selfdestructo Blast is (a cousin of Explosivo?), all with fuckitall rock energy and the detached swagger of Iggy and Ziggy at their shoutiest. But I don't think they fit the pattern, because I don't think they're joking; I think this is actually how they like to rock, and you're just watching it happen. This was cemented at a Coachella set (do a shot) where the band seemed to be having fun, but not really trying to make us have fun, but accidentally doing it anyway. Which is a pretty good trick if you can pull it off, and they did there, and they do on the disc. Fun shit 4/5
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
#710 Forging Reverie - Motion Canvas
Bad reviews with LocalMusicBoston tags always make me nervous.
Look, this just isn't my scene. These guys are perfectly talented, nailing Incubus-style start-stop prickle and storm, complete with better-than-average soaring vocals and some legitimately solid riffs. The production is great, bordering on too-good, except for some flatness at the very loudest moments.
If you're looking for something to get you through some feelings this will probably do you good.
But I'm too old for this stuff 2/5
Look, this just isn't my scene. These guys are perfectly talented, nailing Incubus-style start-stop prickle and storm, complete with better-than-average soaring vocals and some legitimately solid riffs. The production is great, bordering on too-good, except for some flatness at the very loudest moments.
If you're looking for something to get you through some feelings this will probably do you good.
But I'm too old for this stuff 2/5
#709 Traffic - Heaven Is in Your Mind (US)
Possibly the most fun of the era's blues-flecked, vaguely-jammy rock bands. There are psychedelic elements, but they're used as a means rather than an end. Here's a band that knows how to play, knows how to write songs, and doesn't seem to be trying to impress you with either. The ease with which it is excellent is much of the record's charm.
The exception to pretty much all of that is the batshit pairing of House for Everyone and Berkshire Poppies which together deliver a decidedly British take on psychedelic nonsense, evoking Nirvana or The Small Faces (who I have on the mind lately). Around that everything flows effortlessly listenable, working solidly as an album. Talent, attitude, flow, that's a win 4.5/5
The exception to pretty much all of that is the batshit pairing of House for Everyone and Berkshire Poppies which together deliver a decidedly British take on psychedelic nonsense, evoking Nirvana or The Small Faces (who I have on the mind lately). Around that everything flows effortlessly listenable, working solidly as an album. Talent, attitude, flow, that's a win 4.5/5
Monday, January 21, 2013
#708 Fang Island - Major
Jesus! Day-glo maximalist riff rockers somehow outdo themselves, making the sounds even huger, even more skywardly fistpumpingly endless. This hits harder than their previous, self-titled album paradoxically via clearer lyrics and cleaner riffs. Deciding to elevate themselves from near-instrumental mouthy shouting abstraction, Fang Island has presented us with actual songs.
The result isn't necessarily for the best.
Fang Island was in an impossible situation: their breakthrough album benefited from a sneak attack bonus on unwary listeners who hadn't heard much like it: anything that came after was either going to sound like more of the same, or dilute the impact. This somehow does both: being more overbearing and less exciting. It's fun? But absent the full-throated commitment to rock instead of songsmanship, this just isn't overly memorable 3/5
The result isn't necessarily for the best.
Fang Island was in an impossible situation: their breakthrough album benefited from a sneak attack bonus on unwary listeners who hadn't heard much like it: anything that came after was either going to sound like more of the same, or dilute the impact. This somehow does both: being more overbearing and less exciting. It's fun? But absent the full-throated commitment to rock instead of songsmanship, this just isn't overly memorable 3/5
#707 Toro y Moi - June 2009
Decidedly listenable, sunny, sleepy, deeply-grooved, awkward future-funk sounding like Rick James getting sucked into a computer, and getting comfortable and lonely, turning over the years into a wistful bitwise wizard. And sometimes he listens to Wavves.
Chaz Bundick's voice is mostly vulnerable, but with a quiet, pretty confidence that sucks you in. Music to chill out to, music to get weird to, however you choose to do both 4/5
Chaz Bundick's voice is mostly vulnerable, but with a quiet, pretty confidence that sucks you in. Music to chill out to, music to get weird to, however you choose to do both 4/5
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
#706 Grateful Dead - Grateful Dead
Early Grateful Dead isn't as jammy as you might think! When it's at its best this album's actually pretty focused, serving up som upbeat, goodtimes, rollicking blues-flavored rock and roll. Really, the only truly indulgent jam is the last 10-minute track, and that's a pretty well-established place for an endless song (especially in this era). It's actually a really, fun, bopping album, sounding both spacedout and curiously downhome during its slower moments.
The only hitch is (yet another cover of) Good Morning Little Schoolgirl, which just kind of drags, and the performance conjures a lecherous, menacing image that seems out of line with the rest of the album's sunny vibe. Even with a minimum of jams, vibe is what this band is all about, so I count that as a serious misstep.
I admit it though, this album challenges my notion of Grateful Dead as *just* stoner music. Still not quite my scene, but they're a lot better than I'd thought, growing on me little by little... 3.5/5
The only hitch is (yet another cover of) Good Morning Little Schoolgirl, which just kind of drags, and the performance conjures a lecherous, menacing image that seems out of line with the rest of the album's sunny vibe. Even with a minimum of jams, vibe is what this band is all about, so I count that as a serious misstep.
I admit it though, this album challenges my notion of Grateful Dead as *just* stoner music. Still not quite my scene, but they're a lot better than I'd thought, growing on me little by little... 3.5/5
#705 Simon and Garfunkel - Sounds of Silence
Folk rock with a debt straight back to The Byrds, these guys were fighting uphill with me: I don't really like harmonies, I don't really like the singer-songwriter sound, and I don't have a lot of patience for morose subject matter and tone. And this is mo'-rose. This is some serious depressed shit, just crushed under hopelessness. There are back to back songs that end in suicide. One, and then another! Jesus. As Beavis and Butthead once said about the Everything Hurts video, good news, if you made it through that and didn't kill yourself, I guess you're doing ok.
The only reason works is that the songs really are very beautiful, every note in its right place, floating, cutting, chugging in turn, the vocals flawless, if flirting with too-flawless. The boys pull it off. That the lyrical turns are regularly more interesting than they have to be is a bonus.
The result is influence on countless singer-songwriters and bands alike, with echoes in The Smiths' existential dread, Blur's world-weary narratives, and Stephin Merritt's entire heartbroken menagerie. It's not in my wheelhouse, but for what it is, its pretty darn good 4/5
The only reason works is that the songs really are very beautiful, every note in its right place, floating, cutting, chugging in turn, the vocals flawless, if flirting with too-flawless. The boys pull it off. That the lyrical turns are regularly more interesting than they have to be is a bonus.
The result is influence on countless singer-songwriters and bands alike, with echoes in The Smiths' existential dread, Blur's world-weary narratives, and Stephin Merritt's entire heartbroken menagerie. It's not in my wheelhouse, but for what it is, its pretty darn good 4/5
#704 Jefferson Airplane - Takes Off
Echo!
That 60's giant chamber reverb is the stone of this soup. The guitars mostly chime Byrdsily, low in the mix, letting the sound come on in soft, round holistic waves. There's the occasional decent solo, but this is a real split from the other blues-oriented bands of the time, where musicianship was the focus. This is thinner and more about feel and flash than PLAYING, for better or worse. I'll bet fans of Cream, say, hated this.
Also, I might hate those vocals.
What it does though in terms of psychedelic atmosphere, it does fine, but I'd rather just listen to The Small Faces or a band that really knows how to PLAY 3/5
That 60's giant chamber reverb is the stone of this soup. The guitars mostly chime Byrdsily, low in the mix, letting the sound come on in soft, round holistic waves. There's the occasional decent solo, but this is a real split from the other blues-oriented bands of the time, where musicianship was the focus. This is thinner and more about feel and flash than PLAYING, for better or worse. I'll bet fans of Cream, say, hated this.
Also, I might hate those vocals.
What it does though in terms of psychedelic atmosphere, it does fine, but I'd rather just listen to The Small Faces or a band that really knows how to PLAY 3/5
#703 Jimi Hendrix - Are You Experienced? (US)
701 albums into this project and this is the least sure I've been that this was my first time hearing this album. So many of the songs are so familiar, the album is so remarkable and essential, and yet... I don't own the disc, I don't have the mp3's, I haven't heard it in the last couple of years according to thishere blog, and there were at least a few songs that didn't ring a bell. Upon coming to the conclusion that today was my first list, this is certainly the biggest "embarrassed to post that I just now heard this" album in a while.
Because JESUS. This album. I know the songs, but I've never just put the damn thing on somehow, and I'm an album guy and this is a legitimate album album.
I go through a lot of "are they overrated" games when I think about music and its context, and the hardest bands to consider are often the biggest names. Is Led Zeppelin overrated? Maybe? The Rolling Stones? Yes and no? The exceptions in this stratum are those acts that are so goddamn good that you can just say that they're un-over-ratable. That more or less any claim, up to including, best ever, is acceptable. Therefore: not overrated. Done. Hooray! However, the only ironclad members of this particular sub-pantheon are The Beatles and Jimi Hendrix*
Every time I listen to Jimi Hendrix I know more about the history of rock and roll than I did the last time. And every time I'm reminded, nobody else was doing it quite like this. The feedback, the thunderous riffs, the alternately wistful and apocalyptic guitar lines, the galloping maniac drums and bass, the shitripping rock power on a monumental scale, all executed with a singular combination of technical dexterity, wild spirit, and boundless imagination.
This album is wall to wall with riffs, with moments that knock you off your feet, with twists and turns and wrenching curves. This is rock and goddamn roll, sounding more like a force of chaos than any of the other major acts of the era. This is pure garage rock, and garage rock practitioners are traditionally destined for obscurity as punishment for defiance of well-established taste, but this is just too damn good to go unheralded.
Of course, the heralds have all already heralded. I was mostly just here to apologize for never actually hearing this album before now, and to mark the rectification of that disaster. Let's face it, by now, as with the Beatles, its all been said 5/5
* and maybe The Kinks, but only because they're so regularly so criminally underrated
Because JESUS. This album. I know the songs, but I've never just put the damn thing on somehow, and I'm an album guy and this is a legitimate album album.
I go through a lot of "are they overrated" games when I think about music and its context, and the hardest bands to consider are often the biggest names. Is Led Zeppelin overrated? Maybe? The Rolling Stones? Yes and no? The exceptions in this stratum are those acts that are so goddamn good that you can just say that they're un-over-ratable. That more or less any claim, up to including, best ever, is acceptable. Therefore: not overrated. Done. Hooray! However, the only ironclad members of this particular sub-pantheon are The Beatles and Jimi Hendrix*
Every time I listen to Jimi Hendrix I know more about the history of rock and roll than I did the last time. And every time I'm reminded, nobody else was doing it quite like this. The feedback, the thunderous riffs, the alternately wistful and apocalyptic guitar lines, the galloping maniac drums and bass, the shitripping rock power on a monumental scale, all executed with a singular combination of technical dexterity, wild spirit, and boundless imagination.
This album is wall to wall with riffs, with moments that knock you off your feet, with twists and turns and wrenching curves. This is rock and goddamn roll, sounding more like a force of chaos than any of the other major acts of the era. This is pure garage rock, and garage rock practitioners are traditionally destined for obscurity as punishment for defiance of well-established taste, but this is just too damn good to go unheralded.
Of course, the heralds have all already heralded. I was mostly just here to apologize for never actually hearing this album before now, and to mark the rectification of that disaster. Let's face it, by now, as with the Beatles, its all been said 5/5
* and maybe The Kinks, but only because they're so regularly so criminally underrated
#702 Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life
Massive, unknowable, unreviewable. Wonder goes all over the map here, getting romantic, political, spiritual and more in every possible combination. It's all got the man's voice, smooth as ever, with that soul bass and then explodes it all. Take Have a Talk With God, that elevates the usual gospel-tinged soul with funky synths, or Pastime Paradise that gets far stranger than Coolio's near-remake would 20 years later, the strangely awesome Contusion gets downright early-post-Hackett-Genesis proggy; maximal, then minimal, then sweet, then strange. Word is 130 people worked on this thing! Mostly brilliant, occasionally uneven, I'm staggered at trying to summarize, newnewnewnew out. 4/5
Monday, January 14, 2013
#701 The Paul Butterfield Blues Band - East-West
Now this is a jam! Another record of amped-up blues standards, as was the style circa '66, but here there's a fire and energy that so many of the contemporary albums were missing. The harmonica is savage, the bass funky and dark, and the vocals actually are ragged and powerful enough to stand up to the jamming.
I've been listening to enough jazz and experimental proto-post-rock type stuff lately that I almost missed how revolutionary this actually was. When wikipedia, source of all truth, claimed that the 13-minute closing jam was a game-changer I scoffed. The first of its kind? The Grateful Dead? Krautrock? The longform jam was nothing new. oohright. Nineteen sixty fuckin six. Wow. Beats em all. The Stones has just put out an epic-length blues jam, and Dylan was getting up there in his indulgence, but this is an altogether woolier thing: a truly wild, strange, adventurous, downright fuckincrazy raveup, standing way outside of the blues jam tradition. And it's good. Intense and exciting and unpredictable throughout its running time. An epic achievement.
The rest of the album is comparatively tame, but that's not saying much. It's still pretty rollicking blues showmanship, creating cracks in the shell that the final track would shatter. Word is we have drugs to thank. Thanks drugs! 4.5/5
I've been listening to enough jazz and experimental proto-post-rock type stuff lately that I almost missed how revolutionary this actually was. When wikipedia, source of all truth, claimed that the 13-minute closing jam was a game-changer I scoffed. The first of its kind? The Grateful Dead? Krautrock? The longform jam was nothing new. oohright. Nineteen sixty fuckin six. Wow. Beats em all. The Stones has just put out an epic-length blues jam, and Dylan was getting up there in his indulgence, but this is an altogether woolier thing: a truly wild, strange, adventurous, downright fuckincrazy raveup, standing way outside of the blues jam tradition. And it's good. Intense and exciting and unpredictable throughout its running time. An epic achievement.
The rest of the album is comparatively tame, but that's not saying much. It's still pretty rollicking blues showmanship, creating cracks in the shell that the final track would shatter. Word is we have drugs to thank. Thanks drugs! 4.5/5
#700 John Mayall with Eric Clapton - Blues Breakers
I'm been suffering this cognitive dissonance with respect to Eric Clapton. Cream, eh, ok, sure. Yardbirds, perfectly solid. Solo stuff, downright mehhhhh....hhhhhh. Derek and the Dominoes had Layla, that was pretty good?
End result? A solid B- rating, I'd say. I don't know that I get Eric Clapton, one of the biggest, baddest, most important guitar players ever. Am I bad at rock and roll listening?
This album provides some degree of solace; for once I can unequivocally apprecaite the guitarwork, especially that so-signature overblown Les Paul. What a killer tone, here still wild and wooly and writhing around with a mind all its own. The actual album, as with Davy Graham's album, is undermined by weak vocals, sounding thin-throated and reachy and strained. But hey, at least the songs, instrumentally, are killer, especially on the rollicking faster songs that leave you stumbling to catch up and eager to keep trying.
I always knew Clapton was good, its nice to finally feel it, even if only briefly. But then maybe that's just the cognitive dissonance talking 4/5
End result? A solid B- rating, I'd say. I don't know that I get Eric Clapton, one of the biggest, baddest, most important guitar players ever. Am I bad at rock and roll listening?
This album provides some degree of solace; for once I can unequivocally apprecaite the guitarwork, especially that so-signature overblown Les Paul. What a killer tone, here still wild and wooly and writhing around with a mind all its own. The actual album, as with Davy Graham's album, is undermined by weak vocals, sounding thin-throated and reachy and strained. But hey, at least the songs, instrumentally, are killer, especially on the rollicking faster songs that leave you stumbling to catch up and eager to keep trying.
I always knew Clapton was good, its nice to finally feel it, even if only briefly. But then maybe that's just the cognitive dissonance talking 4/5
#699 The Rolling Stones - Aftermath
After trying their hand at original songwriting on Out of Our Heads, the Stones went for it, delivering their first full-on statement of purpose. Most of the songs here are menacing, slightly swaggered-up version of American blues and rock tropes: perfectly solid, but not altogether inspiring.
When the originals get original though, that's when things get good. Think and I am Waiting buzz with Kinsian details, and Under my Thumb and Paint it Black are relentlessly uncanny tracks. The latter in particular is simply unlike anything that came before it, terrifying all along its dense, rollicking route into darkness.
The Rolling Stones, at least on their early albums, are unlike most well-known bands. Usually the hits are the most normal, most accessible songs on an album that just happen to strike a chord, while the wierd stuff is buried circa track 9 and forgotten about*. But the Stones' strangest songs repeatedly end up being brilliant and well-liked, popping up out of seas of uninspired, samey filler. You can't help but wonder, if things turn out so well when they go for it, why don't they go for it more often? How do all your songs sound boring, except for the good ones? Where are all the swings and misses? It's like the devil is charging them on a per-song basis, and they're buying just enough to keep people interested. It's a weirdly believable theory, that 4/5
* corollary: if your weird, one-off song gets popular, that's probably the only song of yours that ever gets heard. Blind Melon comes to mind, but there're countless others.
When the originals get original though, that's when things get good. Think and I am Waiting buzz with Kinsian details, and Under my Thumb and Paint it Black are relentlessly uncanny tracks. The latter in particular is simply unlike anything that came before it, terrifying all along its dense, rollicking route into darkness.
The Rolling Stones, at least on their early albums, are unlike most well-known bands. Usually the hits are the most normal, most accessible songs on an album that just happen to strike a chord, while the wierd stuff is buried circa track 9 and forgotten about*. But the Stones' strangest songs repeatedly end up being brilliant and well-liked, popping up out of seas of uninspired, samey filler. You can't help but wonder, if things turn out so well when they go for it, why don't they go for it more often? How do all your songs sound boring, except for the good ones? Where are all the swings and misses? It's like the devil is charging them on a per-song basis, and they're buying just enough to keep people interested. It's a weirdly believable theory, that 4/5
* corollary: if your weird, one-off song gets popular, that's probably the only song of yours that ever gets heard. Blind Melon comes to mind, but there're countless others.
#698 The Byrds - Mr. Tambourine Man
Harmonies!
This is where knowing your rock history is handy. In the 50's folk and blues and jazz and a whole village of styles collectively raised rock. They poured their hearts and their best years into helping rock grow up into a confident youth with such promise, but also with its own wills and opinions. And then rock went through a teenage rebellious streak, as young genres are wont to do. Fuck you, folk! I wish I'd never been born!, it shrieked as it rode off roaring into the night.
Folk sat alone and honed its quiet presence and wisdom and harmonies. Those harmonies! Embodying cooperation and the human spirit and the vibrating everything that whorls around us all. Rock kept to itself. Rock was about the frontman. Rock was Elvis. Rock was Mick Jagger. Sure, sometimes some pretty rock boys sang together, but seldom, and never with their forefathers' stately grace.
So imagine folk's surprise when here come the Byrds, covering rock and roll songs. By which I mean covering them in huge, molten dollops of harmonies, every song awash in the tidal, endless pull of voices within voices within us all. And now here we are, folk and rock are close again. Too close maybe, leading to incestuous abominations like Fleet Foxes. But I digress.
The actual album? It's good. All I Want to Do and Mr. Tambourine Man in particular are undeniably improvements over the originals (though how hard is that when you're replacing one bad singer with 3 good ones?) and Jackie DeShannon's Don't Doubt Yourself, Babe sounds 30 years ahead of its time with its insistent shuffle and shimmer. And that shimmer, that jangling, chiming guitar. I don't know if they invented it, but this is the first example of it being used this prominently that I've encountered yet.
On some level, though, this isn't an album about sound. Its about feel, swirling up imagined memories of an age I missed by 25 years, making me feel like I was here then, man, but I just can't quite remember, stirring up a mix of televised imagery and whole cloth fabrications. Which is to say, I'll be it was a heck of a thing to listen to in 1965. But I also think you kind of had to be there, and that emptiness takes me down a peg. Fucking 60's. I'm sorry I missed you. I wish we'd met. It'd have been worth being too old to know how to write this stupid blog 4/5
This is where knowing your rock history is handy. In the 50's folk and blues and jazz and a whole village of styles collectively raised rock. They poured their hearts and their best years into helping rock grow up into a confident youth with such promise, but also with its own wills and opinions. And then rock went through a teenage rebellious streak, as young genres are wont to do. Fuck you, folk! I wish I'd never been born!, it shrieked as it rode off roaring into the night.
Folk sat alone and honed its quiet presence and wisdom and harmonies. Those harmonies! Embodying cooperation and the human spirit and the vibrating everything that whorls around us all. Rock kept to itself. Rock was about the frontman. Rock was Elvis. Rock was Mick Jagger. Sure, sometimes some pretty rock boys sang together, but seldom, and never with their forefathers' stately grace.
So imagine folk's surprise when here come the Byrds, covering rock and roll songs. By which I mean covering them in huge, molten dollops of harmonies, every song awash in the tidal, endless pull of voices within voices within us all. And now here we are, folk and rock are close again. Too close maybe, leading to incestuous abominations like Fleet Foxes. But I digress.
The actual album? It's good. All I Want to Do and Mr. Tambourine Man in particular are undeniably improvements over the originals (though how hard is that when you're replacing one bad singer with 3 good ones?) and Jackie DeShannon's Don't Doubt Yourself, Babe sounds 30 years ahead of its time with its insistent shuffle and shimmer. And that shimmer, that jangling, chiming guitar. I don't know if they invented it, but this is the first example of it being used this prominently that I've encountered yet.
On some level, though, this isn't an album about sound. Its about feel, swirling up imagined memories of an age I missed by 25 years, making me feel like I was here then, man, but I just can't quite remember, stirring up a mix of televised imagery and whole cloth fabrications. Which is to say, I'll be it was a heck of a thing to listen to in 1965. But I also think you kind of had to be there, and that emptiness takes me down a peg. Fucking 60's. I'm sorry I missed you. I wish we'd met. It'd have been worth being too old to know how to write this stupid blog 4/5
Saturday, January 12, 2013
#697 The Yardbirds - Roger the Engineer (UK)
A pretty straightforward, stompy, garagey album, with some guitar pyrotechnics, though less than you might expect given the band's ridiculous graduating class. Beck, Page AND Clapton? That's some 2003 NBA draft shit right there.
The actual record is full of rollicking, better-than-average R&B crunch. A total rock solid, classic Classic Rock record, with licks that will occasionally set your face on fire, but nothing, on the album scale, that will burn you to the ground where you stand. Keep the draft metaphor in mind: these guys were just getting started 3.5/5
The actual record is full of rollicking, better-than-average R&B crunch. A total rock solid, classic Classic Rock record, with licks that will occasionally set your face on fire, but nothing, on the album scale, that will burn you to the ground where you stand. Keep the draft metaphor in mind: these guys were just getting started 3.5/5
#696 Them - Angry Young Them
Exciting, jaunty, organ-drenched proto-garage rock that influenced The Doors, and it shows. Van Morrison shows no signs of the mopey warbler he'd become as a solo artist, belting out raving rants with a desperation way ahead of its time. That this came out the same year as the Stones' Out of Our Heads comes as little surprise, the two albums share a certain sound, but Them are a rougher, trashier bunch of punks, less entertainers than beasts caught on tape. The result is an undeniable classic, built on the back of the peerless stomper Gloria 4.5/5
Thursday, January 10, 2013
#695 The Rolling Stones - Out of Our Heads (US)
The Stones are a misunderstood band. Their stomp and swagger can come across as simplistic and uncharismatic,
and I know a half dozen guys who love The Doors and Led Zeppelin and
The Who, but who kind of just shrug and say "I never really saw what the
big deal with them was" when you mention The Rolling Stones. It's easy to hear their singles and deem them unimaginative, or to simply come away, strangely...unmoved. Their music is wildly popular, they're undeniably a gigantic global force to be reckoned with, and yet their music is strangely out of step with the modern world.
I'm usually a big believer the music needs to speak for itself, but I think appreciating the Stones demands some context. It demands understanding that they are quite possibly, quite literally the only band that started off making R&B in its heyday that is still intact and making music today. Furthermore, along the way, they've made only the barest attempts to change: their music sounds out of step with modern music because it is: it is stubbornly still steeped in the traditions it came from. They're not R&B revival, they're not psychobilly, they're an actual R&B band, still on tour forever and ever. And once you see their songs as extensions of that lineage, once you hear their sound applied to covers by the originators and hammered into originals, its much easier to appreciate what they're doing, and why they're doing it, and the message and mastery that that represents.
The band had done originals before Out of Our Heads, but exact moment that smithing of an original, of delivering it hissing and spitting from the forge into the world occurs just as you start side 2 of this record: when the first riffs of Satisfaction* kick in, and tradition is honored and desecrated and never the same. At that moment it all makes sense.
This album is where Jagger fully embraces a James Brown desperation, where the whole band finds its voice, where they finally cut the apron strings and wheel off into the world, not just as performers, but as a creative force. This is where you say, oh, I see what you were trying to do. If you see every album, every hit single that came after as an extension of this moment, as a variation on this leap from tradition to twist, it all makes a lot more sense. Sometimes if you want to understand music, you need to understand the band, and sometimes the only way to do that is to understand their music. When a band's got a history this long, and built itself on the history that preceded it, that can take some effort, maybe more than the casual classic rock fans born 2 decades after the Stones got started has got the gumption to put in.
Heck, I'm a self-professed rock wonk and I'm still figuring out something as basic as The Rolling Stones. That's downright maddening. The more you know, the more you know you don't know; its a cycle that don't end cheap 4/5
* don't let anyone convince you that that song is overrated. It is the perfect realization of the Stones sound, an exciting and bracing and singular moment in rock and roll
I'm usually a big believer the music needs to speak for itself, but I think appreciating the Stones demands some context. It demands understanding that they are quite possibly, quite literally the only band that started off making R&B in its heyday that is still intact and making music today. Furthermore, along the way, they've made only the barest attempts to change: their music sounds out of step with modern music because it is: it is stubbornly still steeped in the traditions it came from. They're not R&B revival, they're not psychobilly, they're an actual R&B band, still on tour forever and ever. And once you see their songs as extensions of that lineage, once you hear their sound applied to covers by the originators and hammered into originals, its much easier to appreciate what they're doing, and why they're doing it, and the message and mastery that that represents.
The band had done originals before Out of Our Heads, but exact moment that smithing of an original, of delivering it hissing and spitting from the forge into the world occurs just as you start side 2 of this record: when the first riffs of Satisfaction* kick in, and tradition is honored and desecrated and never the same. At that moment it all makes sense.
This album is where Jagger fully embraces a James Brown desperation, where the whole band finds its voice, where they finally cut the apron strings and wheel off into the world, not just as performers, but as a creative force. This is where you say, oh, I see what you were trying to do. If you see every album, every hit single that came after as an extension of this moment, as a variation on this leap from tradition to twist, it all makes a lot more sense. Sometimes if you want to understand music, you need to understand the band, and sometimes the only way to do that is to understand their music. When a band's got a history this long, and built itself on the history that preceded it, that can take some effort, maybe more than the casual classic rock fans born 2 decades after the Stones got started has got the gumption to put in.
Heck, I'm a self-professed rock wonk and I'm still figuring out something as basic as The Rolling Stones. That's downright maddening. The more you know, the more you know you don't know; its a cycle that don't end cheap 4/5
* don't let anyone convince you that that song is overrated. It is the perfect realization of the Stones sound, an exciting and bracing and singular moment in rock and roll
Sunday, January 6, 2013
#694 Davy Graham - Folk, Blues and Beyond
There is this entire haunted quarter of folk-tinged rock and roll that I've only recently explored, populated by folks like Nick Drake, the recently discovered Alexander Spence, and now, introducing, Davy Graham. Everything here rings darkly, wisped with deep blue wisps of reverb, sounding shouted from outside if you're inside, inside if you're out, detached and alone and unto itself.
The guitar playing is peerless: complex and nuanced and decidedly listenable, serving mostly to overcome a pretty tuneless vocal performance from Graham himself.
A strange ghost of an album, worth hearing just to clap an echo into your subconscious for a while 4/5
The guitar playing is peerless: complex and nuanced and decidedly listenable, serving mostly to overcome a pretty tuneless vocal performance from Graham himself.
A strange ghost of an album, worth hearing just to clap an echo into your subconscious for a while 4/5
#693 Surfer Blood - Tarot Classics
A frustrating record that starts off strong, loses momentum, and the doubles down on momentum loss, undermining what could have been a perfectly solid little EP by running on too long.
Tarot Classics leads with two of the band's best, catchiest songs, wielding late-Pixies-via-early-Weezer soar and crunch to land a solid one-two punch.
Do things go downhill from there? Sure, a bit. The Pixies debt gets even deeper with a chiming intro straight out of Holiday Song, a catchy enough little beat revs up and then... the song kind of just spins in place. It's a little disappointing, but fine, headbobbale enough, a perfectly good 3rd song filler on a 4-song EP. Finally, we wind down to a comfortable close with Drinking Problem, a minimalist little chugger that hums with a sentimental pulse right out of Astro Coast highlight Anchorage. Nice little set of songs. Eagerly awaiting the next album Surfer Blood.
Except it's not over.
The next thing you know you're listening to two unimaginative remixes of the record's least interesting, most recent-in-the-tracklist songs, so that you end up with 16 samey minutes to close the disc. It's classic subtraction-by-addition, harkening back to my oft-espoused claim that the sacred OK Computer would be better off without one of its last three songs. Sometimes less is more, sometimes you quit while you're ahead. Look at it this way, in this case its the difference between an album that is half great and an album that's one-third great. By the time the last track winds down, you've been listening to boring music for 16 minutes (instead of 8) and your lasting impression is not how great those first two tracks were, but how boring this 23 minute EP was.
Maybe I'm a crazy person that listens to albums the way people watch movies. Maybe more is always better. Hey, two free remixes! But I'd rather have one good album than two mediocre songs 3/5
Tarot Classics leads with two of the band's best, catchiest songs, wielding late-Pixies-via-early-Weezer soar and crunch to land a solid one-two punch.
Do things go downhill from there? Sure, a bit. The Pixies debt gets even deeper with a chiming intro straight out of Holiday Song, a catchy enough little beat revs up and then... the song kind of just spins in place. It's a little disappointing, but fine, headbobbale enough, a perfectly good 3rd song filler on a 4-song EP. Finally, we wind down to a comfortable close with Drinking Problem, a minimalist little chugger that hums with a sentimental pulse right out of Astro Coast highlight Anchorage. Nice little set of songs. Eagerly awaiting the next album Surfer Blood.
Except it's not over.
The next thing you know you're listening to two unimaginative remixes of the record's least interesting, most recent-in-the-tracklist songs, so that you end up with 16 samey minutes to close the disc. It's classic subtraction-by-addition, harkening back to my oft-espoused claim that the sacred OK Computer would be better off without one of its last three songs. Sometimes less is more, sometimes you quit while you're ahead. Look at it this way, in this case its the difference between an album that is half great and an album that's one-third great. By the time the last track winds down, you've been listening to boring music for 16 minutes (instead of 8) and your lasting impression is not how great those first two tracks were, but how boring this 23 minute EP was.
Maybe I'm a crazy person that listens to albums the way people watch movies. Maybe more is always better. Hey, two free remixes! But I'd rather have one good album than two mediocre songs 3/5
Friday, January 4, 2013
#692 Jaga Jazzist - A Livingroom Hush
What was 90's IDM, after all, other than electronic music's version of free jazz? With its bending of time signature, melody and conventional wisdom, it represented a free, wild, incendiary reaction to he unts-unts-unts-unts 4-4-4-4s that largely defined electronica. Probably the most prominent fusion of jazz and IDM sensibilities was Squarepusher, mixing meticulous clockwork drill-and-bass beats with wooly, winding basslines, and this is an album that follows loosely in that vein.
Here, the fiery opening track notwithstanding, the spastic actually don't play all that prominent a role, but there is a glitch Ninja Tune sensibility that throbs behind every detuned note and warped structure. It's a jazz album at heart, but with a body rebuilt with technology, puppeteered by bungee baselines, throbbing with dystopian menace.
A darkly atmospheric album that needs to burst forth more often, too content to retreat into itself, too scared to live up to the promise of its opener, feeling stretched thin and filled in. It's a curse that befell Mouse on Mars circa Idiology and even Squarepusher himself, who never surpassed the mastery of his eponymous theme. These guys have some great ideas, some real jazz-worthy ideas, but maybe not quite enough of them to make an album really pop 3/5
Here, the fiery opening track notwithstanding, the spastic actually don't play all that prominent a role, but there is a glitch Ninja Tune sensibility that throbs behind every detuned note and warped structure. It's a jazz album at heart, but with a body rebuilt with technology, puppeteered by bungee baselines, throbbing with dystopian menace.
A darkly atmospheric album that needs to burst forth more often, too content to retreat into itself, too scared to live up to the promise of its opener, feeling stretched thin and filled in. It's a curse that befell Mouse on Mars circa Idiology and even Squarepusher himself, who never surpassed the mastery of his eponymous theme. These guys have some great ideas, some real jazz-worthy ideas, but maybe not quite enough of them to make an album really pop 3/5
#691 Caetano e Gil - Tropicalia 2
Here's a place where everything rolls, everything surges, tidal and sensual and inexorable. The beats and melodies draw from far-flung sources, but they all go around here, pushing and pulling, no sharp edges, no big drops, everything in and out like waves that never break but just become part of the shore.
These Tropicalia innovators have been at it for 25 years, and here they've still got it. Both sound effortlessly tuneful as they trip across styles, weaving and interleaving for a listening experience that, while failing to flare and bristle and burn like Tropicalia's heyday, sure does go down smooth, a fine liquor mellowed with time 4/5
These Tropicalia innovators have been at it for 25 years, and here they've still got it. Both sound effortlessly tuneful as they trip across styles, weaving and interleaving for a listening experience that, while failing to flare and bristle and burn like Tropicalia's heyday, sure does go down smooth, a fine liquor mellowed with time 4/5
Thursday, January 3, 2013
#690 Miles Davis - Sketches of Spain
If there's any major western style of music I know less about than jazz, its classical, and I'm not sure this isn't a bit of both. Or maybe its neither. I wouldn't know! You see my dilemma.
An album of huge, dramatic moments that you're likely to associate with classical music, with the extended focus on the trumpet that jazz normally trucks in. There are minimal drums, minimal accompaniment of any kind, the spotlight trained blazing on looooong notes, broken up by period of silence, trumpet music stripped nearly bare, possibly escaping classification. Davis, counterpunching at contemporary criticism questioning the album's jazz pedigree quipped "it's music, and I like it". I guess I agree. Except I don't much like it.
There's not much song here, just a single long line of melody at a time, winding and winding around and around, and unless you're a serious trumpet tone wonk that somehow hasn't heard this, I don't know if that's going to be enough to keep you interested.
It's evocative, but in a movie soundtrack way, in that way that suggests something outside itself, suggesting that that suggested something might be the point, that it might be more the point than the music itself. And that something evades me, I just don't get it in my gut. And more generally, I admit it, I just don't get it. I fear you won't either 2.5/5
An album of huge, dramatic moments that you're likely to associate with classical music, with the extended focus on the trumpet that jazz normally trucks in. There are minimal drums, minimal accompaniment of any kind, the spotlight trained blazing on looooong notes, broken up by period of silence, trumpet music stripped nearly bare, possibly escaping classification. Davis, counterpunching at contemporary criticism questioning the album's jazz pedigree quipped "it's music, and I like it". I guess I agree. Except I don't much like it.
There's not much song here, just a single long line of melody at a time, winding and winding around and around, and unless you're a serious trumpet tone wonk that somehow hasn't heard this, I don't know if that's going to be enough to keep you interested.
It's evocative, but in a movie soundtrack way, in that way that suggests something outside itself, suggesting that that suggested something might be the point, that it might be more the point than the music itself. And that something evades me, I just don't get it in my gut. And more generally, I admit it, I just don't get it. I fear you won't either 2.5/5
#689 Clifford Brown & Max Roach - Study In Brown
A jazz album built on runs and tone. The tones are rich and exotic (especially on Cherokee and George's Dilemma) and runs are catchy and melodically satisfying, but here's the problem: they're often doubled, which is a real pet peeve of mine.
It's not that I expect that the main motifs to be improvised, but when two guys play in unison it shatters the atmosphere of spontaneity and energy. It's analogous to the "we like to emphasize the end of the LINE! so we all shout it at the same TIME!" move in rap: I know you're not freestyling, but I don't need to be reminded that you guys are on-script every other bar.
I think if I was a jazz musician, or if I saw more live jazz, I'd appreciate this move more: I'd see what a beautiful thing it is to have two musicians pull of a twirling piece of airshow spectacle in perfect unison. But as abstract music, divorced from the process of performance, it just sounds crowded and overbusy and overbuzzy. Which is maybe a failing of mine. Appreciation takes patience. In the meantime, let's underrate some more motherfuckin' jazz! 3/5
It's not that I expect that the main motifs to be improvised, but when two guys play in unison it shatters the atmosphere of spontaneity and energy. It's analogous to the "we like to emphasize the end of the LINE! so we all shout it at the same TIME!" move in rap: I know you're not freestyling, but I don't need to be reminded that you guys are on-script every other bar.
I think if I was a jazz musician, or if I saw more live jazz, I'd appreciate this move more: I'd see what a beautiful thing it is to have two musicians pull of a twirling piece of airshow spectacle in perfect unison. But as abstract music, divorced from the process of performance, it just sounds crowded and overbusy and overbuzzy. Which is maybe a failing of mine. Appreciation takes patience. In the meantime, let's underrate some more motherfuckin' jazz! 3/5
#688 Telefon Tel Aviv - Fahrenheit Fair Enough
Electronic glitcherey that we would have called IDM in the 90's, evoking the usual suspects like Autechre and Four Tet, though with a bit of that fuzzy nostalgia we associate with The Books. The songs are structured interestingly, but never really manage to connect for more than a moment or two at a time, neither in terms of headbobbing grooves nor heartwarming buzz. The fact that the album flirts with both of those pleasure centers makes it frustrating, but this ends up being little more tahn another clicks-n-blips collection for armchair chinscratcherrey 2.5/5
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
#687 Flume - Flume
This album set up its base camp in some of the ugliest territory in modern music, pitching a tent right between dupstep mountain and a river of sludgy, clumsy tuneless instrumental hiphop plumbed by the likes of Onehtrix and Samiyam. This is a piece of land that can't be wiped off the map fast enough, a stripped wasteland, a feral breeding ground for amateurs eager to use tweaks on others' new tricks as a substitute for creativity.
From these blighted beginnings, to his credit, Flume tries to forge a new path: adding guest vocals, flashes of beauty, and a slinky sensuality to rise from the ashes. And for the most part, it succeeds, finding fresh flesh under the dubstep apple's rotten skin, shaking off the languid tendrils of overslow beats, creating atmosphere with pockets of fresh air. On Top in particular inspires confidence that there's diamonds still down there somewhere.
On the other hand, you can take the music out of the dubstep, but you can't take the dubstep out of the music. There's some fancy new clothes on this album, but they hang from a skeleton of newness for its own sake, and when well-worn tricks poke out from behind the seams the illusion is broken.
I long for a return to tunefulness and craft and melody. Electronic music keeps digging deeper and deeper into the same ground, with legions of 12'ers swarming to any newly discovered pocket of sound and scrabbling over eachothers' corpses to extract a paycheck. Time to move on. Stop digging. Find a new land. Please, move along, doing things wrong for its own sake is done. Bending notes over backwards just to hear them groan is done. Keep it moving. Nothing to hear here 3/5
From these blighted beginnings, to his credit, Flume tries to forge a new path: adding guest vocals, flashes of beauty, and a slinky sensuality to rise from the ashes. And for the most part, it succeeds, finding fresh flesh under the dubstep apple's rotten skin, shaking off the languid tendrils of overslow beats, creating atmosphere with pockets of fresh air. On Top in particular inspires confidence that there's diamonds still down there somewhere.
On the other hand, you can take the music out of the dubstep, but you can't take the dubstep out of the music. There's some fancy new clothes on this album, but they hang from a skeleton of newness for its own sake, and when well-worn tricks poke out from behind the seams the illusion is broken.
I long for a return to tunefulness and craft and melody. Electronic music keeps digging deeper and deeper into the same ground, with legions of 12'ers swarming to any newly discovered pocket of sound and scrabbling over eachothers' corpses to extract a paycheck. Time to move on. Stop digging. Find a new land. Please, move along, doing things wrong for its own sake is done. Bending notes over backwards just to hear them groan is done. Keep it moving. Nothing to hear here 3/5
#686 Lee Morgan - Sidewinder
Usual disclaimer: know fuckall about jazz.
This, though, I like: briskly-paced, brimming with style and intrigue, melodic and beautiful, bristling with energy, full of insistence on movement. Simply one of the most listenable jazz albums I can remember hearing that still sounds complex and mysterious - accessible but unknowable. The runs are punchy, punctuated by good hard little bops, wrapped in agreeable whorls of ostinato. This is what I look for in jazz, whether I know it or not 4.5/5
This, though, I like: briskly-paced, brimming with style and intrigue, melodic and beautiful, bristling with energy, full of insistence on movement. Simply one of the most listenable jazz albums I can remember hearing that still sounds complex and mysterious - accessible but unknowable. The runs are punchy, punctuated by good hard little bops, wrapped in agreeable whorls of ostinato. This is what I look for in jazz, whether I know it or not 4.5/5
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
#685 The Rolling Stones - The Rolling Stones No. 2
Another mostly-covers album, establishing The Rolling Stones as rock-solid R&B revivalists with a rock and roll streak. The band's picked up some swagger since their debut, coming with a bit more energy and menace.
By all accounts, if you played this alongside the Diddleys and Vincents and Waters and blues shouters of the previous decade, it would fit right in. Sure, it's a bit dirtier, a bit less fun, but the same basic pleasure centers get hit. The main real difference? This isn't for girls, at least not in any overt sense. Elvis, Gene Vincent, Jerry Lee Lewis, all those scuffed-edged white rockers did at least the occasional crooning, wisping sentimental ditties for the ladies to swoon over. None of that here*, and that lends the band a certain credibility - the rock hasn't changed all that much, but its attitude and presence and image has, for better or worse 4/5
* except maybe the wildly out-of-place cover of Under the Boardwalk, but its performance so thoroughly fails to achieve any romantic atmosphere, arriving at lewd at best, that I'm just going to hope that wasn't what they were going for
By all accounts, if you played this alongside the Diddleys and Vincents and Waters and blues shouters of the previous decade, it would fit right in. Sure, it's a bit dirtier, a bit less fun, but the same basic pleasure centers get hit. The main real difference? This isn't for girls, at least not in any overt sense. Elvis, Gene Vincent, Jerry Lee Lewis, all those scuffed-edged white rockers did at least the occasional crooning, wisping sentimental ditties for the ladies to swoon over. None of that here*, and that lends the band a certain credibility - the rock hasn't changed all that much, but its attitude and presence and image has, for better or worse 4/5
* except maybe the wildly out-of-place cover of Under the Boardwalk, but its performance so thoroughly fails to achieve any romantic atmosphere, arriving at lewd at best, that I'm just going to hope that wasn't what they were going for
#684 Bob Dylan - Another Side of Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan sucks. Can we just get that out there? I've now choked down every Dylan album of note and feel I have have some modest prerogative to get that off my chest. As I just got done saying, he's a lousy singer and a meandering songwriter and a passable guitar player. Lyricswise, he's a good version of the dude with a guitar at your undergrad beach bonfire, which is to say, still pretty bad. And if some dude at your undergrad beach bonfire got out his guitar and started singing and he sounded like this, you mean to tell me you wouldn't roll your eyes or boo or throw a half-full can of Coors Light at him?
Highway 61 Revisited has its moments, Blood on the Tracks is personal and affecting, and I was willing to give him a pass on his debut where a certain earnestness pushed me over, but here its back to the same insufferable moaning and rambling that I can't take it any more.
Are there clever turns of phrase? Sure. Was I suddenly, inexplicably made melloncholly by Ballad in Plain D? I was! And that's not nothing. But it's not enough 2/5
Highway 61 Revisited has its moments, Blood on the Tracks is personal and affecting, and I was willing to give him a pass on his debut where a certain earnestness pushed me over, but here its back to the same insufferable moaning and rambling that I can't take it any more.
Are there clever turns of phrase? Sure. Was I suddenly, inexplicably made melloncholly by Ballad in Plain D? I was! And that's not nothing. But it's not enough 2/5
#683 Hyper Crush - Night Wave
It's a fine line between exciting and annoying. a girl's laugh in the night. breakdancing dude in a neon hat. really spicy thai food. nipple clamps. It's a line toed by the likes of Spank Rock, Girl Talk, and Dan Deacon, trying to break you out of convention with a kick in the dick that spikes your grin with cringe.
With its overfat synths, banal choruses, relentless repetition, and dead-simple 4/4's, I can't tell if Night Wave is winking, or if this is just the new sound of pop music. If this had come out 5 years ago it might have been brilliant, but right now its either not a joke, or a joke that hits a bit too close to home.
Werk Me is straightforward and abstract enough to work, and work well actually. And some of the hip hop elements are goddamn explosive. But then...
Take Cheap Thrills which puts hard-edged hip hop over vulnerable synths and you get your head bobbing and then "BWEEEEEEEEEooooww", it takes a huge dubstep shit. It's like when you're watching an 80's movie, and you're really feeling like its actually pretty timeless, and then the synth soundtrack kicks in, and you roll your eyes and the moment is over. It's like watching a good comedian, a really good, surprisingly good commedian for a night like this, can you believe this guy, wow this is why I go to open mic night, hah, wow. And then he takes a litteral shit on stage.
The moment is over.
I really liked moments of this album. And then I realized it was really fucking terrible* 2/5
* I still kinda like it though
With its overfat synths, banal choruses, relentless repetition, and dead-simple 4/4's, I can't tell if Night Wave is winking, or if this is just the new sound of pop music. If this had come out 5 years ago it might have been brilliant, but right now its either not a joke, or a joke that hits a bit too close to home.
Werk Me is straightforward and abstract enough to work, and work well actually. And some of the hip hop elements are goddamn explosive. But then...
Take Cheap Thrills which puts hard-edged hip hop over vulnerable synths and you get your head bobbing and then "BWEEEEEEEEEooooww", it takes a huge dubstep shit. It's like when you're watching an 80's movie, and you're really feeling like its actually pretty timeless, and then the synth soundtrack kicks in, and you roll your eyes and the moment is over. It's like watching a good comedian, a really good, surprisingly good commedian for a night like this, can you believe this guy, wow this is why I go to open mic night, hah, wow. And then he takes a litteral shit on stage.
The moment is over.
I really liked moments of this album. And then I realized it was really fucking terrible* 2/5
* I still kinda like it though
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