Top Five

Bone-Chilling Songs for Halloween

Ghosts, ghouls, devils, and beasties have always haunted rock and pop music. As in any art form or expression of popular culture, it is impossible to escape the inexplicable need to terrify ourselves. These demons have emerged through the cracks in many different ways, from haunting portraits of bluesmen selling their souls to the devil to campy graveyard dance parties. Since Halloween is more about a fun scare than a straight-faced exploration of the dark side of humanity, I've favored tunes that are both spooky and danceable.

5. Frankenstein - New York Dolls
Belonging in the proto-punk camp right alongside The Stooges and The Velvet Underground, the New York Dolls mixed gritty rock'n'roll with aggressive, cryptic lyrics and a disorienting sense of androgyny. They dressed up like girls for their gigs and played songs about nice girls who went wrong under the pressures of the big city. Frankenstein is perhaps the best example of this - a brutish, clunky rocker that has to ask you one question: "Do you think you could make it with Frankenstein?" This actually sounds more like punk-as-we-know-it than either of the aforementioned and ostensibly more influential bands. In 1973, the Dolls created a monster - four years before the Sex Pistols and The Clash would bring it to life for the world at large.

4. One Hit - The Knife
The only song to break my top five from the last two decades (not to mention this year), "One Hit" has earned it's place here on merit of its vocal performance alone. I don't think that it actually has anything to do with Halloween, but I had to check the liner notes to make sure the male vocals weren't credited to a werewolf or a goblin. The Swedish brother/sister duo has always been a bit creepy, and somehow this song retains a genuine spookiness in spite of its over-the-top monster-on-the-mic affectation. Plus the hook is so damn catchy that I'll probably be walking around the office howling under my breath for the rest of the day, creeping the hell out of my co-workers. Such is the price of inventive snyth-pop, I suppose.

3. Thriller - Michael Jackson
The most famous music video ever? An album of the same name with more hits than google.com? What more can be said about this song? Okay, yeah, it's clearly a cheesy Hollywood schlock-fest on the scare-o-meter, but I remember the Vincent Price cameo creeping the hell out of me when my dad played the record for me as a kid. It was the first time I realized that pop music could be scary. I can only imagine that countless children of the eighties had the same experience.




2. I Put a Spell on You - Screamin' Jay Hawkins
It would be demeaning and misleading to simply refer to Screamin' Jay Hawkins as the first shock-rocker. He was - without a doubt - but the emergence from coffins on stage, the constant companionship of a skull named Henry, and the creepy mustache were only the exterior affects of a truly unique and frightening performer. "I Put a Spell On You," a Hakwins original recorded in 1956, walks the line between kitsch and horror, but 50 years later the campiness only adds to the unbelievable strangeness of the recording. Legend has it that Hawkins' producer got this unhinged performance from Screamin' Jay and his band by serving them a huge meal and plying them with plenty of liquor before doing a take. The woozy carnival aggression of the band is undeniably creepy, and Hawkins' manages to shout, scream, and froth between his lyrical lines while still maintaining a sense of control - making this possessive ode feel positively manic.

1. The Monster Mash - Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers
The indisputable apex of monster pop, "The Monster Mash" is not only the most famous Halloween anthem, but also the most terrifying. Bobby "Boris" Pickett combines elements of avant-garde sound collage and demented teenage pop to convey his stark and chilling view of humanity - deep down, we are all monsters and we all must dance. Every time he sings "The zombies were having fun/The party had just begun/The guests included Wolfman, Dracula, and his son," I can literally feel my body temperature drop three degrees. Play this one loud, but for the love of God, never listen to it in the dark alone. Absolutely horrifying.

From The Vaults

Pixies
Doolittle
4AD/Elektra, 1989

When did indie rock start? Conventional wisdom pins The Velvet Underground as the band that got the ball rolling, and that makes a lot of sense considering that they were the first significant cult band. But they can't be really be labeled "indie" or "punk" without the prefix "proto" out front, since they recorded decades before those terms were even coined.
So for the title of First-Actual-Indie-Rock-Band, I think the Pixies are as good a choice as any. They were perhaps the first band to successfully blend punk's aggressiveness, new wave's arty strangeness, and big pop hooks into a unified, inextricable mess. Their first album Surfer Rosa was downright brilliant, but that didn't stop them from one-upping themselves with their sophomore release Doolittle. Frontman Black Francis turns out a handful of absolute classics, and bassist/vocalist Kim Deal proves to be the secret weapon to end all secret weapons with her plodding bass-lines and melodic background vocals.
Doolittle is an extremely referential record that still sounds utterly unique - perhaps serving as the mission statement for the indie rock ethos of grinding up recognizable elements of popular culture into something new. In this sense, everyone from Beck and Pavement to Danger Mouse and Girl Talk are indebted to the album. But Doolittle's influence on indie music is also discernible in a much more direct way. Weezer directly quotes the melody from "I Bleed" at the end of their "Sweater Song," and "Dead" sounds like a near-blueprint for the upbeat freak-out numbers from The Dismemberment Plan's excellent 1999 album Emergency and I. And those are two of the most obscure tracks on Doolittle. The influence of classics like "Debaser," "Here Comes Your Man," "Wave of Mutilation," and "Monkey Gone to Heaven" is incalculable - these are the kind of songs that modern indie rockers trade right arms for in hypothetical scenarios.
But most importantly, none of this historical "significance" stuff get in the way of the fact that this is quite simply one of the most fun records to listen to ever. With the hooks and brevity of a pop album, the aggressive energy of a punk album, and the disturbing weirdness of an art rock album, this is a one-stop shop when you can't decide what kind of mood your in. Gouge away.

MP3: Debaser

Buy Doolittle

Public Image

Comprehending Metal

I read Pitchfork every day. I know that it says somewhere in the Blogger Terms of Use that I am supposed to hate Pitchfork and resent all of their opinions, but I still take them pretty seriously. Sure, I don't agree with everything they say, but by and large I think they know what they are talking about.
But when they told me that I should listen to a heavy metal album (Mastodon's Blood Mountain), I was skeptical. I consider myself an adventurous listener, and I will give anything a try, but my tastes tend to be a bit on the wussy side (see - every post before this one).
Still, my curiosity was piqued, and I had to at least check it out. And, to a certain degree I can see what the hype is about. Instrumentally, this album does rock, in an intense and singular way. The lightning-fast riffing and eight-limbed drumming are impressive on a surface level, but what really struck me was the sound of the album - the heaviness has a full-blooded depth to it that evokes the album's title (and makes it seem a little less lame).
But my hang up is this - the vocals. Do heavy metal vocals have to sound like that? That gruff, amelodic, pseudo-demonic, testosteronic shouting? My problem is not that they are scary. I like to be scared by music - hell, one of my favorite albums of the year is Scott Walker's The Drift, which creeps me out to no end. My problem with metal vocals is that they aren't scary. They just seem cliche, over-the-top, even silly. They sound like a kid with one of those fake knife-through-the-head headbands on, tube of fake blood in hand, trying to freak you out.
Now, if they seemed to be embracing the over-dramatic silliness of it, I could go with it. I'm all about accepting things on their own terms. But it seems like they are trying to sound artistic and profound. And I'm not buying it.
But maybe I am simply not their target audience. I think my brother Daniel hit the nail on the head with his reaction to the album - if we were still living in a world were people ran around with massive broadswords slaying things, this music would probably sound awesome. Or if I was a kid that played Diablo and Warcraft all the time, maybe I would have some context to put this into.
But as things are, I just can't find any way to connect to it. I'm listening to some Bonnie "Prince" Billy to recover.
Any metalheads that would care to elucidate the vocal issue, please comment.

MP3: The Wolf Is Loose

Buy Blood Mountain

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Artist Website

Song of the Week

"Hounds Of Love"
Kate Bush

The title track from her definitive 1985 album, "Hounds of Love" shows off everything that's great about Kate Bush - big pop hooks, drums that were obviously recorded in the eighties, sensuality, unabashed romanticism, and idiosyncratic vocals. The chugging single-note cello parts give the song the perfect propulsive energy. One of many artists that got a lot more attention in England than in the States, Bush is becoming something of a cult chanteuse as more and more younger people discover her music. This is not her strangest song, or her most comlex, but in my opinion it is easily her most charming. Plus, it spawned an excellent cover by the Futureheads some twenty years later. They give the song a classic punk treatment and inject it with some delightful energy, but they can't touch the magic of the original.

MP3: Hounds Of Love (Kate Bush)

Buy Hounds of Love

Portrait of the Artist

Low

No band could last for over ten years without changing, but Low seems dedicated to evolving as gradually and minimally as possible. Ceratinly, last year's The Great Destroyer sounds different than their 1994 debut I Could Live in Hope, but the changes have come about over a long peroid of time and are primarily aesthetic. There are a few overdubs on the new record, and some faster tempos. But as far as songs go, Low is still primarily sticking to their original game plan - creating slow, minimalistic songs centered around the gorgeous harmonizing of Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker. They once described their own sound as "a cross between Joy Division and Simon and Garfunkel."
But rather than making their work seem redundant or formulaic, this reliability has only served to set Low further apart from other bands. On the surface, their songs might all sound the same, but none of them sound quite like anything else. They have created their own sonic landscape, and within it there is the possibility for infinite (if subtle) variation.
As far as I can tell, Sparhawk has his electric guitar in open-G tuning for every song Low has ever recorded. Mimi Parker plays simple concert band-style drum parts while she sings. Bassist Zak Sally recently left the band to talk about how much he loves Tool, but he is present on even their most recent album and provides a consistent, occasionally melodic undertow.
In a way, Low's career has been an ongoing exploration of what can be achieved within a set of limitations. The result of their slow tempos is that every word feels deliberate, and their songs connect on an entirely unique level. Still, they have every capability of composing memorable melodies, and this just makes the aching beauty that they squeeze out of their songs hit that much harder.
This song is from their 2001 album Things We Lost in the Fire, which in my opinion is their best. It's a beacon of simplicity, perfect for those days when everything seems too complicated and you don't know if you even feel like listening to music. This won't get in your way. There isn't so much as a superfluous breath.

MP3: Closer

Buy Things We Lost in the Fire

Artist Website

Live Awesomeness

Califone
10/20/06
The 400 Bar, Minneapolis

Califone was in town Friday, supporting their fantastic new album Roots and Crowns. Unfortunately only three of them made it, and though the show had some great moments, it wasn't quite fully awesome. Lead singer Tim Rutili never seemed to get comfortable (and I never got past the fact that he looks just like Woody Allen. Seriously). Still, any excuse to post their cover of "The Orchids" by Psychic TV is worth it, so here it is - the best acoustic track I've heard all year.
And I could tell that they have the potential to be awesome live. It just wasn't their night. Oh, yeah. Here's my full review for howwastheshow.com. Check it!

MP3: The Orchids

Buy Roots and Crowns

Website

Album Review

Beach House
Beach House
Carpark, 2006

For some reason, I found myself more excited than ever to pull out old familiar sweaters this year. As soon as the air started to turn chilly, I felt a sense of comfort wash over me. And though I remembered why it is insane to live in Minnesota - the winters are interminable and deadly cold - I also remembered what I love so much about it. Warmth always feels warmer when the ground is frozen, and comfort is so much more comfortable when preceded by a windy, red-cheeked walk home.
And so, Beach House's self-titled debut couldn't have arrived at a better time for me. Of course, it's not fair to reduce the band's work to the status of a "seasonal" favorite, but everything about this album is just begging people like me to use the word "autumnal" at least once. Beach House's exterior is cold and pale - a lo-fi wash of humming keyboards, fuzzy drum beats and languid guitars, blurring together with Victoria Legrand's distant vocals. But at their core, the songs emanate a dull warmth, bringing to mind the central lyrical image of My Bloody Valentine's song "Soft as Snow (But Warm Inside)."
And though the record is exceptionally consistent in mood and tempo, the subtle touches that make each song distinct become clear with repeated listens. "Autumn and Ivory" has a vague medievel feel to it, calling to mind Nico's Marble Index album. "Master of None" is relatively upbeat and offers some almost-souful vocals from the usually wistful Legrand. "Apple Orchard" is the highlight, though, leaving its dreamy slide guitar and aching tenderness hanging in the air even after it has ended.
It's a quiet, simple, unassuming record, but its musty feeling of familiarity has had me reaching for it whenever I need to warm up a bit. And Beach House have managed to actually fulfill the promise that internet buzz bands always seem to offer - a distinct sounding record that still calls its influences to mind. Fans of Broadcast, Nico, and Galaxie 500 in particular may find this to be their cup of cider. It's not exactly a frontrunner for end-of-the-year lists, but it is a delightful surprise that I know I will return to again and again.

Rating: Sweet (7)

MP3: Apple Orchard

Buy Beach House

Artist's Page on Label's Site

Song of the Week

"Don't Worry Baby"
The Beach Boys

Even before Pet Sounds, Brian Wilson had the full capability to strike on pure melodic genius - the difference is that he was more likely to err to the side of cheesiness or lyrical inanity. Still, the pure gut-level force of "Don't Worry Baby" is undeniable, and cannot even be ruined by a vaguely developed plot about driving your car too fast or something. This would be the best pop song under 3 minutes if "God Only Knows" was 4 seconds longer, and I find myself listening to this tune even more. I think I may have mentioned before that I wish pop music was still catchy. This is what I was talking about. Even if the only two songs the Beach Boys ever recorded were this and "Be True To Your School,*" I would still think they rule.

MP3: Don't Worry Baby

Buy Sounds of Summer: The Very Best of the Beach Boys

* The most terrible Beach Boys song ever.

Top Five

Scottish Bands

Why Scotland? Well, the charming highlands of the northern UK are not only home to kilts, haggis, and my favorite accent in the world, but also to a disproportionate number of fantastic rock groups. Here are my top five, with a track by each.




5.The Beta Band
In the film High Fidelity, record store owner Rob Gordon (John Cusack) tells his employees, "I will now sell five copies of The 3 E.P.'s by the Beta Band" and puts "Dry the Rain" on the stereo. Shoppers' heads begin bobbing.
- "Who is this?"
- "The Beta Band."
- "It's good."
- " I know."
That's the kind of "no doy" appeal the Beta Band have, fastening simple Brit-Poppy melodies to simple trip-hoppy beats. They called it quits after2004's Heroes to Zeros - let's hope it doesn't put John Cusack out of business.

MP3: Dry the Rain

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4. Teenage Fanclub
These guys have been making albums for 15 years now, but they have stayed unswervingly faithful to their power pop ambitions. Big Star comparisons are inevitable, and in fact the Fanclub have the same kind of cult status. And that is because they are not just great pop songwriters, but they also bring a unique sense of personality (and humor) to the proceedings. Their early records (like the excellent Bandwagonesque) also mix in crunchy and noisy guitars a la Sonic Youth and Nirvana, giving them a grungy edge. Try to imagine a world in which neo-grunge snoozes like Staind and Nickelback had listened to Teenage Fanclub instead of Pearl Jam. Sigh. If only. Maybe someday pop will be popular again. Now that's a concept.

ceMP3: The Concept

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3. Cocteau Twins
At the core of the Cocteau Twins are the extremely processed guitar sounds of Robin Guthrie and the light, indecipherable vocals of Elizabeth Fraser. Both musicians are utterly unique in their own rights, which insures that the band sounds like no one else. Most of their output was released on the influential 4AD label, and their sound was aptly described as "dream pop." Occasionally their songs become so light and effortless that it seems like they will simply float away, but when they stumble upon a great pop melody they can be both ethereal and fun. Maybe this is what dance parties in heaven sound like.

MP3: Lorelei

2. The Jesus and Mary Chain
An essential link in a long chain of bands that fused pop songs with guitar noise, The Jesus and Mary Chain served as an influential midpoint between The Velvet Underground and more modern groups like My Bloody Valentine, Sonic Youth, and Dinosaur Jr. Their debut, Psychocandy, is also one of the very best albums of the eighties. Of all the noise pop bands, they sound the most detached, delivering both the deceptively pretty pop songs and the punky rockers without so much as a sneer. The drumming is sparse and unambitious, and every song is injected with with icy distortion. They may be something of a one-trick pony, but it's a stunning trick, and on Psychocandy at least, it never gets old.

MP3: Just Like Honey

1. Belle and Sebastian
Alright, I'll admit it. I'm a sucker for the wussy stuff. Belle and Sebastian are known for being vulnerable and precious, making "twee" something of a household term. But the scope and consistency of their career is really stunning, and they are still going. They would never put themselves at the top of this list, especially since they count Teenage Fanclub and the Cocteau Twins among their favourite bands, but I think they are definitely deserving. Stuart Murdoch and friends started out as something of a lo-fi chamber pop outfit, crafting simple, pretty little songs about schoolkids and outcasts that were augmented by modest horn and string arrangements. They've blossomed into a capable electric pop outfit, and though some fans have decried the more intricate arrangements and production of recent albums, it makes perfect sense as the trajectory of a career that has always been driven by an unabashed love for pop records. The quietest punks have the most charming revolutions, and this is not one to be missed.

MP3: Like Dylan in the Movies

From The Vaults

Dusty Springfield
Dusty In Memphis
Mercury, 1969

I was born in the American South (Kentucky - I don't remember it) and I'm moving to London after Christmas, so I suppose it makes sense that my favorite soul album was recorded by a British pop singer in Memphis.
Or maybe there's no connection there at all. But there is something inexplicable that draws me to this album.
Of course, a lot of its appeal is quite explicable - a great vocalist pushing herself in a new direction and recording a set of top-notch songs with an excellent studio band. I guess Dusty herself was a bit freaked out by the idea of recording in Memphis - they were known for gritty R&B, and her specialty was "big ballady things." And the band, The Memphis Sound, worked in a way she was totally unaccustomed to. Rather than laying down arrangements ahead of time, they worked the songs out organically with the vocalist in the room. As a result, the backing vocals by The Sweet Inspirations are woven right into the fabric of the songs and the instrumentation feels perfectly natural.
Maybe this non-traditional recording approach is what gives the album that extra something special - that makes it feel like more than just a good vocal pop album. I think part of the magic, too, is that Dusty brings something unique to soul material - and that is vulnerability and restraint. I'm sure you've heard "Son of a Preacher Man" plenty of times before - on oldies radio, in the Perkins' bathroom, in Pulp Fiction - but take another listen. The tune is pretty good, but it's Dusty's vocal and the deft arrangement that take it to the next level. The lightness and fragility of the verses just makes the huge hook of the chorus sink in that much deeper (I dare you not to sing along with the Sweet Inspirations on that one). It's telling that Aretha Franklin actually turned this song down before hearing Springfield's version.
My personal favorite of the album, though, is the dramatic, swirling "Windmills of Your Mind," an all-out technicolor ballad. It's big-screen psychedelic touches are perfectly dated - rather than detracting from the song, they make it all the more charming. It's also perfectly suited to Springfield's strengths, slowly swelling from a hushed whisper in her lower register to some all-out soulful belting when the drums finally kick in at the end.
Still, despite all of the pieces coming together so perfectly, I feel like this album should get boring. I mean, it's so immediately accessible that it hardly sounds revolutionary or challenging. And it's not - it's just extremely entertaining while still being convincingly emotional, delivering on all of the promises of what pure pop music should be. This is perfect for those days when I get depressed because it seems like everything's already been done, that there's no way to push popular music further. It serves as a gentle reminder that, even within the confines of middle-of-the-road pop, it is always possible for an artist to extend herself and create something singular.

MP3: Son of a Preacher Man

MP3: The Windmills of Your Mind

Buy Dusty in Memphis

Album Review

The Hold Steady
Boys and Girls in America
Vagrant, 2006

I've been wrestling with Boys and Girls in America for a little over a week now, hemming and hawing over what has shaped up to be the most problematic and divisive album of 2006. I loved The Hold Steady's last album, Separation Sunday. I listened to it every day for a month last summer, and it was one of my unexpected favorites of '05. Now, I hate to be a disgruntled fan whining about how "the band's changed, man," but comparing the two albums does a lot to elucidate what's right and wrong about Boys and Girls in America.
Separation Sunday was exhilarating in its ambition - a rare modern example of a band just going for it. The band rocked with calculated force - deploying every trick in the rock'n'roll book. The fact that they weren't afraid to dredge up rock cliches (like the big pause after the bridge before the heavy riff kicks back in) was refreshing, and added swagger and machismo to Craig Finn's spoken-word lyrics. Finn, for his part, was all over the place - telling tales of shady characters like Gideon, Charlamagne, and Holly the Hoodrat that were peppered with pop culture references, biblical allusions, clever word play, alluring pretensions, and bad jokes. He spit all of it out so fast and with such gusto that it was a giddy pleasure to try to keep up with him. He also positioned himself ambiguously amongst his characters, implying that he was there but never taking an explicit point of view. This gave his tales credibility - he was talking about shallow, messed-up people from among their ranks. He was talking about assholes that got too messed up on drugs while he took another hit. He was the King of the Tools - that guy at a party that would intimidate you even as he pissed you off. You knew there was something hypocritical about him, but you couldn't think fast enough to call him out on it, so you had to respect him. This persona may not have been charming, but it was extremely compelling.
And so, in comparison, the new record is both an advance and a retreat. Finn actually sings on this one (which has made him every critic's new boss), and it turns out the dude can actually write a catchy melody. The band is tighter than ever, and when all the pieces fall together it's a hell of a lot of fun to listen to. Plus, Finn's still referencing Minneapolis like it's required in his contract, and it is unassailably cool to hear my hometown being painted into a rock'n'roll myth. I will never get tired of that.
But then there are the lyrics and the theme of the album. The lyrics themselves are more reserved, lacking the lucidity and cleverness of Separation Sunday. But more important to the album's fate is its subject matter and point of view. The purpose of the album seems to be to take Finn's sharp observational eye to the suburbs and scope out the scene out there, turning the excess of youth into keen meta-party anthems. This is a great idea, and sometimes it works, but occasionally the point of view gets too distant. Whereas it was easy to picture Finn as a degenerate Minneapolis partier, I know very well that he is neither a boy nor a girl in America. When his observations turn into criticisms (as in the obviously derisive "Chillout Tent"), the album loses its compelling point of view and becomes didactic and self-important.
But when Finn plays it straight, the results can be massively successful. Opener "Stuck Between Stations" mixes literary references (however shallow), broad sweeping statements, and Minneapophilia to approach the lyrical density of Separation Sunday. Musically, it's their Born to Runniest, mixing epic piano with crunching electric guitars as Finn lays out his thesis statement:

There are nights when I think that Sal Paradise was right
Boys and girls in America, they have such a sad time together.
Suckin’ off each other at the demonstrations, makin’ sure their makeup’s straight
Crushin’ one another with colossal expectations, dependin’ on discipline, sleepin’ late.

"Stuck Between Stations" works because of its ambition and scope, but other tracks work simply because of their sheer silliness. "Massive Nights" is a rollicking party tune with a sing-along chorus worthy of its title. "Party Pit" is perhaps the best encapsulation of all the merits and inconsistencies of the album. Half way through the song Finn ominously intones "She got pinned down / And I'm pretty sure we kissed...." He then repeats the line "I'm pretty sure we kissed" over melodramatic ascending piano chords that are soon joined by a screaming electric guitar. The hyper-tension builds and builds, and then suddenly the band just kicks back into the laid-back chorus with Finn casually repeating "Gonna walk around and drink some more" over and over and over. End of song. You could call it "over-indulgence" or "everything that's wrong with The Hold Steady," but it's actually laugh-out-loud funny. I'm not sure whether it's supposed to be or not, and I don't really care. It's hugely entertaining either way.
"Citrus," on the other hand, offers a totally new direction for the Hold Steady - the acoustic ballad. And it largely works. Some of the lyrics are a bit overwrought ("I've had kisses that make Judas seem sincere"), but think back to The Replacements. Were Paul Westerberg's acoustic ballads subtle and nuanced? Certainly not. They were just as rough and tumble as the rest of their material, which was what made them so damn charming.
Closer "Southtown Girls" has Finn and Co. swinging for the fences - delivering their catchiest chorus by a country mile. If you don't want to have the melody rattling around your head for hours, you'd best be skipping this one. The song blurs the line between indie and classic rock radio even further. Maybe it's just the sound of a band becoming more versatile. Or maybe it's something more sinister - the bait they use to lure the audience that they seem intent on ridiculing. Cindy Hotpoint of the blog The Rich Girls are Weeping refers to "the band's active hostility toward their target audience" in her review of the album. This is a tension that I have always found intriguing, in a punk rock sort of way, but on songs like "Chillout Tent" and "You Can Make Him Like You" it just starts to feel mean (and not all that interesting).
So...once you have sifted through the contradictions and complexities, is Boys and Girls in America something you are going to want to listen to? Well, I suppose that depends. Are you the kind of person who says "this is stupid" and turns it off? Or are you the kind of person that says "this is stupid" and turns it up?

Rating: Sweet and a Half (7.5)

MP3: Massive Nights

Buy Boys and Girls in America

Artist Website

Album Website

Song of the Week

"The World A Mess, It's In My Kiss"

X

In honor of recent world events (yes, I'm looking at you, North Korea...), this week's song is about the world being a mess. And it being in my kiss. I guess the title says it all. If you've ever tried your hand at songwriting, you may have discovered that if you have a strong enough title, the song will sometimes write itself. I'm not sure exactly what Exene Cervenka's songwriting process was for this tune, but I can only imagine that it was one of those charmed moments. The fidgety verses seem like they can hardly wait to kick back into the propulsive chorus, and I can't blame them. X was one of LA's first great punk bands, and this explosive song capped off their excellent 1980 debut Los Angeles (which was produced by Ray Manzarek of the Doors, incidentally - check out the keyboard breakdown).
I'm adding this one to my top 10 desert island bomb shelter mix.

MP3: The World's A Mess, It's In My Kiss

Buy Los Angeles

Artist Website

Live Awesomeness

Yo La Tengo
10/7/06
First Avenue, Minneapolis

Yo La Tengo has been totally commited to awesomeness for over twenty years now, buidling one of the most consistently stunning and varied discographies in independent music. With the possible exception of Sonic Youth, I can't think of another band that has been worth keeping an eye on for this long. But whereas Sonic Youth's 2006 effort is very solid, Yo La Tengo's is one of their absolute best. Plus, it's called I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass. Live, they put on the best show I have seen all year. But I'm not going to long-wind you with the details here, because I've already spent several words on them in my review for howwastheshow.com.

MP3: Beanbag Chair

MP3: Pass The Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind

Buy I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass

Artist Website

Live Awesomeness

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
with Architecture in Helsinki
and Takka Takka
10/4/06
First Avenue, Minneapolis

Returning to Minneapolis as a headliner, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah defended their blog-darling status with a strong live show, mixing in some promising new tunes with the year-old "classics" from the self-titled debut.
But in the live game, Architecture in Helsinki stole the show, offering more energy and excitement-per-minute than their more hyped peers, and undoubtedly picking up a number of new fans. The good news is that both bands have new albums coming out in the near future (2007-ish) and plenty of rooom to grow.
Full review for howwastheshow.com here.
MP3s and links below.

MP3: Over and Over Again (Lost and Found) - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

MP3: Do the Whirlwind - Architecture in Helsinki

Buy Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

Buy In Case We Die - Architecture in Helsinki

Clap Your Hands Say Official Website

Websites in Helsinki

Portrait of the Artist

Deerhoof

When I was a kid, I got a book of Brothers Grimm fairytales from the library and was shocked to see that the original stories were nothing like the picture book versions my parents had been reading to me. They were magical and whimsical, but they were also full of gruesome and gory bits that had been left out of the Little Golden Books versions. This was a disturbing discovery for me, but also an exciting one.

In my mind, San Francisco's Deerhoof share the same mental cubby as the Grimm Bros - they are childlike and playful one moment and fierce and gnarled the next. Often, they are both at the same time. They rock like a spiky teddy-bear.

Conventional wisdom dictates that they are a "difficult" band, and should take some time to get used to. But I knew that I liked them the moment I heard them. Though their music is clearly directed at horn-rimmed indie kids and features complex spaz-riffs and tricky time signatures, it is hardly intellectual. It's a compact, caffeinated rush, designed to get as many synapses firing at once as possible. They rock harder, pop cuter, and weird weirder than any other band going, and they do it all at the same time. That is the initial joy of Deerhoof - the overwhelming headrush of trying to take it all in at once. But repeated listens prove even more rewarding, as the hooks start to sink into your brain. The thrill of hearing them careen headlong into some wild riff only becomes greater if you are anticipating it.

And their most recent album, last year's The Runners Four found them reaching new heights. It doesn't have quite the same ice cream headache appeal as previous peaks Apple O' or Reveille, but it shows lead singer Satomi Matsuzaki stretching out as a songwriter. All the things that have always made Deerhoof exciting are still present on the album, but the highs are further apart, and thus all the more rewarding. Plus, she is no longer writing lyrics like "panda panda panda." Her lyrics are still playful, but they are clever and well thought-out, adding to both the cuteness and the intelligence factors. But the things that ultimately make The Runners Four such a winner are the same things that have always made Deerhoof great - garage rock energy, sloppy-virtuosic musicianship, and a heaping fistful of fractured melodies - all colliding into one joyous insanity.

Oh, and play it loud.

But not around other people.

MP3: Flower (from Apple O')

MP3: Wrong Time Capsule (from The Runners Four)

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Song of the Week

"Province"
TV on the Radio

TV on the Radio made the move to the big screen with their latest release Return to Cookie Mountain, signing with Interscope and delivering their most ambitious offering yet. "Province" doesn't feature the thrilling rhythms that propel some of the other tracks on the album, but it is the broadest, most anthemic track they have ever recorded. And TV on the Radio is certainly a band that benefits from broad strokes. This track continues their tradition of mashing genres together, fusing elements of Radiohead guitar rock, hip-hop, and soul - and that's just on the verse. The intro features soaring "oohs" reminiscent of the Arcade Fire and the chorus is elevated by an epic shoegaze guitar (and, apparently, background vocals by David Bowie??). The total effect is the perfect mix of sweeping grandiosity and heartfelt sincerity to deliver the hope-in-spite-of-it-all message of the lyrics, which could have come off as trite in the hands of a lesser band. With this album, TV on the Radio have staked out a sound and a thematic landscape all their own, and "Province" is the moment where they stop to enjoy the view.

MP3: Province

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Album Review

The Thermals
The Body, The Blood, The Machine
(Sub Pop, 2006)

Sometimes it's hard to explain why something works. On paper, The Thermals' The Body, The Blood, The Machine sounded like it was bound to fail. The Sub Pop website states that "the lyrics envision a United States governed by a fascist Christian state," and the idea of a (Sub)pop-punk concept album about dystopia had me cringing, fearing obvious, overwrought melodrama.
As it turns out, the album's bald-faced ambition is one of its strongest assets. In a market dominated by cynicism, it's refreshing and invigorating to hear a band take on such a daunting topic so damn earnestly. And despite my misgivings, the Thermals' catchy, anthemic brand of post-millennial punk is the perfect vehicle for addressing fanaticism - it's aggressive, passionate, and absolutely charismatic. And though they do make some obviously ironic statements (ie "we're so pure, yeah we're so pure"), they focus more on specific characters affected by their environment than broad, sweeping statements about the tyranny of a Church State. Most of the songs focus on the theme of escape and are told from the point of view of common people marginalized by the fascist regime. But even these characters seem to believe in the God they are fleeing, and this adds a layer of complexity to the narratives. In "Returning to the Fold," lead singer Hutch Harris sings, "maybe when I die/ I will die escaping / I will die returning to the fold." The conflicting desires to escape the regime and to return to the safety of a community are much more human and engaging than simple anti-Christian propaganda. Harris clearly read 1984 closely enough to realize that the most frightening thing about Big Brother is not that he can kill you, but that he can win you over - he can force you to love the hand that controls you.
But despair isn't the only mood of the album; the anthemic earnestness also allows for some surprisingly effective hopeful moments. "St. Rosa and the Swallows" references the San Juan Capistrano, a mission church in California that is inhabited by swallows that flock to it every year on St. Joseph's day. The narrator of the song pictures himself flying with the swallows, a simple but effective image of an escape to sanctuary. The more extreme "Back to the Sea" is probably the most straightforward song on the album, a pounding devolution anthem:

Two by two
Lord we'll take them two by two

We'll lead them through the pouring rain

We'll lead them to the gas chamber

But not me

I'm gonna crawl...

Back to the sea!

This song is sequenced perfectly; after seven songs of conflicting emotions, the conviction of the narrator to abandon humanity altogether seems all the more extreme.

And then there's the sound of the album. The guitars crunch and bite, as would be expected, but there is also a surprising full-blooded depth to them that makes the album thrilling to play at top volume. There are also some minor embellishments, such as the racing synth line in "A Pillar of Salt," that add to the album's compulsive catchiness. And, most importantly, Harris and company keep it short, never letting the songs drag on any longer than necessary and giving the whole thing the feel of being constantly on the run. It's not until the closer, the apocalyptic "I Hold the Sound," that the Thermals engage in any kind of detour - finishing off the album with a wave of distortion and feedback. But even this doesn't drag on too long, just barely giving the listener enough time to catch his breath before hitting "repeat."

Rating: Excellent (8)

MP3: A Pillar Of Salt

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