I reckon Manson's backed off trying to shock anyone anymore. Could he at this point? Would it win any new fans? What would be the utility? He's just kicking out the kind of noisy, distantly-blues-related noise that he's into, cranking riffs through an Albini-puncher, an Atticus-fuzzer, raging against Christianity in terms we're mostly numbed to.
I'm actually pretty into the racket, but it's hard to escape the staleness of the shtick. Actual song titles:
- KILL4ME
- JE$u$ CRI$I$
- WE KNOW WHERE YOU FUCKING LIVE
- SAY10
SAY10. SAY TEN. SAYTEN. SATAN. GET IT. Actual repeated lines from that song include "I say God. And you say Say Ten" and "Cocaine and Abel...". Ok, ok we all got shit doodled in the margins of sprial notebooks. This is totally passable late-industrial polished-not-polished racket, but lyrically it feels phoned in, bordering on self-parody. My decade-long quest to figure out if Manson is a talented provocateur or a total fucking hack continues 3.5/5
Monday, November 13, 2017
Sunday, November 12, 2017
#2700 Frank Zappa - Apostrophe
Hot Rats remains my favorite Zappa Album - the purest expression of his mad, jazzy jamming and face-melting guitarwork, without all the goofy thematic trappings. Plenty of goofy trappings here: tales of husky piss, pancake restaurants, and psychedelic charlatans. But in between and underneath, goddamn them grooves. When all the muttering nonsense fades out, good god there's a good band back there making some really insane, really tight racket that will loosen your whole neck and shoulders right on up.
And heck, I admit it, even some of the goofiness won me over
"(this is a dog talking here)"
4/5
And heck, I admit it, even some of the goofiness won me over
"(this is a dog talking here)"
4/5
#2699 Wolf Parade - Cry Cry Cry
Apologies to the Queen Mary was one of my top 10 albums of the 00's, and Expo '86 is an underappreciated masterpiece. So don't take it too backhanded when I say this is the 3rd best album Wolf Parade's made; it's one of the best indie rock albums in years, whatever's that's worth, a reminder that heartfelt, yelping, borderline-dancable rock still has a pulse.
--
When Lazarus Online lays out its staggeringly straightforward tale of withering hope, you brace yourself for some old testament Modest Mousery. And there's flashes of desperation, bouyed by ragged horn flashes - but for the most part the middle section is a little bloodless, reading from the book of indie stompalong repetition, Wolf Parade gone Spoon. The best thing about Apologies was the way it felt like the wheels could come off at any moment, Spencer Krug hammering down the patches on a ship going down and racing at the jetty at a hundred knots. I miss those stakes, this feels polished for a vigorous festival heeltapping.
But by the 3rd act album highlight Who Are Ya comes along, and its all stuttering delivery and everything coming apart and start stops and you screaming in your head at the rain on a desolate night, and you get that flash of hope.
Not to obsess, but one of the best things about Apologies was its pacing. I challenge you to name a set of 3 second-side songs as good as tracks tracks 7-9 on that album. Nobody saves that kind of fire for their second salvo. Which is to say: After Who Are Ya, the last two tracks make a play for that kind of backloading boldness, as Wolf Parade lean on buzzy synths to raise the stakes and bring frission.
--
It's not fair to expect the kind of life-or-death desperation from a band this deep into its career. That this is the least bit interesting is more than most bands can expect 12 years on. And this has real spark.
It all feels a bit planned, a bit written, a bit knowing about what people will groove to at shows between Apologies' underground hits, but man, 4 honest to god good songs, plus totally servicable stompalongs in between? I'll take it in 2017 4/5
--
When Lazarus Online lays out its staggeringly straightforward tale of withering hope, you brace yourself for some old testament Modest Mousery. And there's flashes of desperation, bouyed by ragged horn flashes - but for the most part the middle section is a little bloodless, reading from the book of indie stompalong repetition, Wolf Parade gone Spoon. The best thing about Apologies was the way it felt like the wheels could come off at any moment, Spencer Krug hammering down the patches on a ship going down and racing at the jetty at a hundred knots. I miss those stakes, this feels polished for a vigorous festival heeltapping.
But by the 3rd act album highlight Who Are Ya comes along, and its all stuttering delivery and everything coming apart and start stops and you screaming in your head at the rain on a desolate night, and you get that flash of hope.
Not to obsess, but one of the best things about Apologies was its pacing. I challenge you to name a set of 3 second-side songs as good as tracks tracks 7-9 on that album. Nobody saves that kind of fire for their second salvo. Which is to say: After Who Are Ya, the last two tracks make a play for that kind of backloading boldness, as Wolf Parade lean on buzzy synths to raise the stakes and bring frission.
--
It's not fair to expect the kind of life-or-death desperation from a band this deep into its career. That this is the least bit interesting is more than most bands can expect 12 years on. And this has real spark.
It all feels a bit planned, a bit written, a bit knowing about what people will groove to at shows between Apologies' underground hits, but man, 4 honest to god good songs, plus totally servicable stompalongs in between? I'll take it in 2017 4/5
Friday, November 10, 2017
#2698 Pharoah Sanders - Tauhid
Not an easy listen. Free jazz packed with stretches of patient rumbling and slashes of squawking horns, with sections that are harrowing, endless, or both. Anxious and aimless.
But it gets there, making the case for music that is larger and stranger than human aims. Slowly all that meandering and thrashing takes shape, like some ritual in half-light that summoning melodies and beauty, arriving at some elemental and unknowable sound guided by unfamiliar contours. Too meaningful to be improvised, too alien to be composed, shocking that it even exists. It's transportive, if you're willing to be patient, to earn appreciation 4/5
But it gets there, making the case for music that is larger and stranger than human aims. Slowly all that meandering and thrashing takes shape, like some ritual in half-light that summoning melodies and beauty, arriving at some elemental and unknowable sound guided by unfamiliar contours. Too meaningful to be improvised, too alien to be composed, shocking that it even exists. It's transportive, if you're willing to be patient, to earn appreciation 4/5
#2697 Edgar Jones - Soothing Music for Stray Cats
A confounding, confusing set of songs out of line with linear time. Leading off with outright jazz, dipping into ghostly doo-wop, New Orleans dirges, R&B revenants, wax cylinder blues. None of the songs _are_ any of these styles exactly. It's all pale reflections, all songs _about_ styles, without any clear vision of their own, and I can't decide if its brilliant or a mess or both, landing somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle that 50's-nicking Zappa, graveyard-wandering Waits, and Play-era Moby adumbrate. A haunted hedgemaze of a record; I don't think I liked it, but bumping around in it was a fun little confoundance.
Definitely recommended to anyone looking for anything different, at least 3.5/5
Definitely recommended to anyone looking for anything different, at least 3.5/5
#2696 Land of Talk - Applause Cheer Boo Hiss
Buzzy, bold, anxious, busy indie, led by Elizabeth Powell's swelling desperation, restless tempos tracking and pushing every song into new corners. Piles of guitars rise to shoegazey depths, waves upon waves, exhausting and thrilling as a ride gone wrong 3.5/5
#2695 Daniele Luppi - Milano
Sounds more like a Parquet Courts album with guest vocals by Karen O, so light is Luppi's touch.
But so what? This would be a fucking incredible Parquet Court album, packed with unexpected chimes and horns and flourishes, slathered in the atmosphere of retro Italian decadence, plus Karen O! An uneasy, overdrunk joy soaks into every measure, a curious, compelling little collision 4/5
But so what? This would be a fucking incredible Parquet Court album, packed with unexpected chimes and horns and flourishes, slathered in the atmosphere of retro Italian decadence, plus Karen O! An uneasy, overdrunk joy soaks into every measure, a curious, compelling little collision 4/5
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