Now that we’re all properly psyched up after the US victory over Ghana in the World Cup, let’s get to some cool videos
Our favorite news from last week, which we mentioned on our Tumblr, was the announcement that Death From Above 1979 will finally record a follow-up to their stunning debut You’re a Woman, I’m a Machine. I’ve listened to this album hundreds of times since its release (and the handful of oddball EPs and singles to help complete the short catalog), and it never gets old. The Tumblr post has the video of one of the coolest late night performances you’ll ever see, with the band performing on Conan with a special guest who arrives halfway through the song, so check that out. We’ll see if this song makes the new album:
Mastodon released a video for their single “High Road”, and this one features some LARPers in a fierce battle.
The first few minutes of the new Elliott Smith biopic have been released and are available for viewing; I’m linking to the Pitchfork announcement because it also includes a link to their extensive oral history on Elliott, which is definitely worth reading if you have the time.
For those of you who survive Friday the 13th and the full moon, here are some #longreads to get around to on your weekend.
Earlier this week, we had our review of Hamilton Leithauser’s solo debut, but for those of you who need an additional fix of The Walkmen, Drowned in Sound has the stream for Peter Matthew Bauer’s solo record Liberation! available on their site. The stream wasn’t working for me when I checked, but maybe it will for you; at the very least, you can read Bauer’s track-by-track guide to the album.
Next week also sees the release of Familiars from the Antlers, and Pitchfork caught up with them for an interview. The band talks about a couple of unexpected inspirations for the new album, including Twin Peaks and The Tibetan Book of the Dead.
Stereogum has a look back at Hot Fuss, since we celebrate the ten year anniversary of every decent album that we at the very least half-way remember/are likely to sing a couple songs while drunk at karaoke. (Everybody thinks that they can sing “All These Things That I’ve Done”, but it’s tougher than it seems–they could probably do “Mr. Brightside” however, since the vocal melody is basically the same pitch throughout the song (that said, I still enjoy the album)). However, this provides an interesting behind-the-scenes look in the days before their breakthrough release, and is worth checking out.
AV Club finishes up their “Fear of a Punk Decade” feature with a look at 1999 and…Jimmy Eat World, because that pretty much says everything you need to remember about punk in 1999. Granted, there’s a much more in-depth discussion of a lot of other bands, but let it be known that was the hook to get you reading.
My introduction to Fucked Up was through their album The Chemistry of Common Life, and that initial listen was the first time since Refused’s The Shape of Punk to Come that I was excited about the direction of punk rock. It’s hard to forget that opening of “Son The Father”, with the faint strains of flute dissolving into a gradual cascade of guitars to form an immense wall of sound, only to be punctured by the howling screech of Damian Abraham. It was then that all hell broke loose, and the assault didn’t let up for the rest of the album. It was amazing to hear hardcore punk escape from the box that it had built around itself over the years–here we had all the aggression and fury of the classics, but with music that didn’t focus on the same drumbeat or the same tired melodies. It was clear Fucked Up wasn’t content with repeating the same old formula, and that’s what made them so exciting.
They reached for the stars with their next album, David Comes To Life, an epic rock opera with a complex and detailed storyline. It scored rave reviews from critics, but personally I never fully connected with the album, simply due to its sheer length. It may speak more to my diminished attention span more than anything, but it’s hard to keep engaged with an album that is going 110 mph for 80 minutes; after an initial giddiness that comes from listening to the first third of the record, songs started to bleed into each other and it became a chore to finish the album. For someone like me who prefers to listen to full albums at a time, this is a problem.
Thankfully, Glass Boys is a leaner machine, and it works to the album’s benefit. “Echo Boomer” begins the album in much the same way that “Son The Father” did, using an initial soft touch before packing a wallop; this time, with the flute replaced by a toy piano before the guitars kick in. There’s a better sense of balance throughout the album as a whole, with a natural ebb and flow in tempo and dynamics. “Sun Glass” opens up with the strumming of a summery acoustic guitar, before it kicks the door down with its call-and-response chorus. “Sacred young, feel the sun, vermillion” are not the usual lyrics to a hardcore song, but it speaks to how the band is deciding how to view their place within the hardcore scene; later on, the line “We all get replaced, retconned and upstaged, life turns a page” states the fear directly. It’s also one of the best lines I’ve heard all year.
The album hits a rough patch in the middle; the songs individually are fine, but when listening in context with the rest of the album and after the rousing opening, they suffer in comparison. However, the album picks up again with the thrilling final three tracks. “Led By Hand” has an intriguing minor-key melody that’s elevated by it’s sing-along background vocals, reminiscent of The Men in the Open Your Heart era. “The Great Divide” ramps the tempo up and it sounds like it’s the most fun the band has had in years. And the title track finishes the album with a blast, keeping the energy up but providing the cathartic resolution that the album needs with each repetition of “Glass Boys”. The album ends as it began, with solo piano, but it captures a more subdued mood (if anything, it reminds me most of the end to Faith No More’s “Epic”–if that’s the inspiration, then it’s the perfect nod to conclude the album).
Glass Boys ends up being the album that fulfills the promise of The Chemistry of Common Life better than David Comes to Life did.* Whereas Refused’s magnum opus showed how punk rock didn’t have to be confined to a specific genre, and could incorporate musical ideas ranging from electronica to jazz, Glass Boys shows that you can have all the intensity of hardcore without being constrained by the same formula time and time again. Yes, Damian Abraham’s gruff bark will be the first thing that gets the neophyte’s attention, as well as the ferocity of the attack from the music. But there is scope and sweep to the album behind it that helps amplify the band’s search for meaning, as they reflect on their place within the music world and their relationship with their audience. It’s a coherent, cohesive statement, and despite the themes of the album, hopefully this is the beginning of a new chapter for Fucked Up.
*I saw this pointed out somewhere on the internet, but it is rather interesting that the artwork of David Comes to Life and Glass Boys seem to have been switched–the statue of David is used for Glass Boys, and two glass light bulbs are used for David Comes to Life (in the shape of a heart (fitting the Queen of Hearts character) or testicles (if held upside-down)). Considering the time in between the albums and the tension within the band during that time period, it would be amazing to find out if this was indeed planned.
In a week filled with great new releases, it’s Hamilton Leithauser’s Black Hours that outshines them all. The debut album from the former frontman of The Walkmen masters the tricky conundrum that plagues every artist that goes solo: satisfying old fans while justifying the decision to go solo. Hamilton indulges enough touches and signifiers that recall the unique sound of The Walkmen, while experimenting with new ideas and leaving enough of his own personal imprint that makes Black Hours a work distinct enough from his previous output.
Hamilton’s voice is one of the most recognizable in indie rock, and the full range of his rough-around-the-edges style is showcased throughout Black Hours. He switches effortlessly between an exuberant bark (“Alexandra”), to a joyful serenade (“11 O’clock Friday Night”), to a delicate croon (“St. Mary’s County”), and that’s within the space of three songs. The performance on Black Hours is reminiscent of the more recent Walkmen albums, where Hamilton learned to use the right amount of restraint with his voice, and not let its power get out of control. That said, he can still let it out when he needs to, as he does on the exhilarating “Alexandra”.
Listeners should be able to pick out specific instrumental touches throughout Black Hours that evoke the trademark work of The Walkmen. Most notably, there is the clean, trebly guitar that appears in songs like “I Don’t Need Anyone” and “Bless Your Heart”, so it should be no surprise that it’s former bandmate Paul Maroon that helps out with guitar, strings, piano, and organ on eight of the ten tracks. There are other small callbacks that should grab the attention of Walkmen fans, most notably a chorus form “11 O’clock Friday Night” of “You and me and everybody else” that seems designed to specifically evoke one of their best-received albums.
Even with all these details that hearken back to his previous band, Hamilton does enough to separate Black Hours from his previous work. “5 Am” is a spare, haunting ballad that would fit nicely in Leonard Cohen’s back catalog, and “The Silent Orchestra” continues with that retro-ish feel with the use of a playful backing orchestra, a style befitting that of a classic Dean Martin or Sinatra record. There’s the goofy marimba from “11 O’Clock Friday Night”, which sets the tone with a melody that rips off the old “Updated Score” sound from ESPN’s BottomLine ticker, and is soon matched by a prominent bass and embellished by the guitar. The careful use of strings throughout the album add a new dimension to many of the songs, but most effectively on “Self-Pity”. In the end, Hamilton doesn’t fully escape the identity of his old band; album closer “The Smallest Splinter” would fit perfectly within the tracklist for Heaven, and the careful, midtempo ballad is one of the highlights of the album. But that’s okay–when you were a member of one of the best indie rock bands of the past decade, no one should complain that the new music sounds a little bit like the old stuff.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s always a good idea to see Eels live. Their reputation may not suggest it (singing a lot of bitter and sardonic ballads certainly helps contribute to a certain impression otherwise), but the band is usually guaranteed to turn in a memorable performance. Steve Perry didn’t show up Sunday night, but the crowd definitely had a great time nonetheless.
It’s summer, evening shows are starting when it’s still light out
In previous years, we had seen the band perform with a string quartet, feature a documentary about E’s physicist father and answer letters from fans, and create a retro-themed variety show. This time around, the band ditched the matching track suits (and full beards) from the Wonderful, Glorious tour for more serious attire, fitting the mood of the band’s melancholic and reflective new album, The Cautionary Tales of Mark Oliver Everett. It took a few songs before I settled on an appropriate descriptor, but an offhand comment by E realized that the suit-and-tie ensembles gave the group the look of a serious jazz quintet. The comparison fit, because while several songs were a bit slower and more introspective, the band was still able to rev it up when the tune required it.
The show began with the instrumental opener of Cautionary Tales, which segued into a delicate cover of the old classic “When You Wish Upon A Star”. The early songs were a mix of material from the new album and the Hombre Lobo/End Times/Tomorrow Morning trilogy, a batch that E remarked was full of “downers”, but were appropriately received by the audience nonetheless. E kept the mood light with quips like that, asking the audience to forgive him for not behaving like a rock star and blowing his nose in a break between songs due to a cold, and informing the crowd that Portland folks welcomed him with a nice bag of cocaine, and that it should kick in any minute. E never gets enough credit from the press for his humor and his willingness to engage the audience, but the crowd certainly appreciated it.
The band in their snazzy attire
The pace would pick up when the band dipped into old favorites, like “Grace Kelly Blues”, “I Like Birds”, and “My Beloved Monster”. The band was in fine form, and the fact that it was the same lineup from the Wonderful, Glorious tour probably helped the cohesiveness, as they effortlessly switched instruments and altered the arrangements. It was a homecoming for three of the four backing members, as The Chet (guitars, pedal steel, melodica), Honest Al (upright bass), and Knuckles (drums/percussion, or “the yard sale back there”, as E joked) were all from the PDX area, and perhaps they were inspired by playing in front of a hometown crowd. But the quality of the band and it’s always changing dynamic helps emphasize another great point of catching Eels live, and that’s that the band is always willing to alter a song or approach it from a new angle. This was most commonly seen with their attempts to make “Novocaine for the Soul” fresh after playing it thousands of times, but on Sunday it was seen in reworkings of great songs like “Fresh Feelings” or “Last Stop: This Town”, both of which kept the spirit of the original versions but were intriguing new takes of the songs.
After a false encore, where E ran into the crowd and hugged audience members, and after a real encore break, the band ended with a beautifully sublime “3 Speed” and two excellent covers, an elegant rendition of “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” and a gorgeous version of Harry Nilsson’s “Turn On Your Radio”. The band then exited to a standing ovation, and the crowd was left hoping that the band would return soon, and wondering what they have next in store (even twenty years after their debut).
That was not the only salacious thing to happen this weekend–it appears that Neil Young’s Twitter account was hacked, and followers ended up receiving a bunch of porn suggestions. Apparently, all is well now, so you’ll need to check in with another classic rock legend for your porn fix (as a commenter pointed out, David Crosby would probably be a great bet).
A couple of links to check out from NPR–first, there’s Spoon performing the brand new track “Rent I Pay” live in New York; and speaking of New York, they also have the early stream of Familiars from NYC’s The Antlers. In the email sent to fans about the stream, The Antlers mentioned that there will be limited edition white label copies of the LP available at some of the band’s favorite independent record stores.
Lots of news and profiles and interviews for a weekend of #longreads.
Interpol announced that they will be releasing their new album entitled El Pintor this fall, on September 9. If you’re wondering about the name, yes, it is Spanish (for “the painter”), but if you look closely, you should realize it’s an anagram of the band’s name (the stunning cover art helps a little bit in making the connection). It appears they haven’t officially replaced departed bassist Carlos D, as Paul Banks assumed bass duties for the album in addition to his vocal and guitar work.
We finally got official word that the new Spoon album will be released on August 5, and it’s to be called They Want My Soul. We’re still not exactly sure what the “R.I.P. June 10” business is quite yet, but it makes sense considering the album title. Check out this great interview that the band did with NPR.
AV Club takes a look at Travis’s The Man Who for their Permanent Records feature through the lens of their influence on Coldplay, while making a case for the album on its own merits. I have long been a fan of that album, not just for their adolescence-ready lyrical themes (is there a more universal sentiment than wondering at some point “why does it always rain on me?”), but also for some gorgeous guitar work. The solo in “As You Are” has to rank among the high points of music in 1999, not necessarily for its technical merits but for its ability to capture the emotional climax of the song.
This week saw some big new album releases for indie rock, and we’ll be working our way through reviews soon, but in the mean time you can look at multiple interviews with Parquet Courts, one with the New York Times and another with Stereogum, and if you’re looking to get into the post-hardcore sound of Fucked Up but are not quite sure you’re ready for it, Stereogum’s top ten should provide a useful guide.
As I’ve said before, 1994 was a huge year in music, so there’s going to be a ton of retrospectives this year. This week, the eyes of nostalgia turn to Stone Temple Pilots, as Stereogum celebrates the release of Purple, probably their best album (though contrary to their claim, the band never was and never will be better than Pearl Jam; let’s just acknowledge STP was better than their detractors claim and move on).
And finally, since the weather seems to have officially changed into summer, now’s the perfect time to check out this look back at the beginning of Warren G’s career and his influence on the rise of G-Funk, courtesy of Pitchfork.
According to the rushed pace of the standard Internet cycle, it’s probably more than a little late to the game to do an in-depth discussion on Coldplay at this point. I mean, their new album came out nearly a month ago! Even if you were interested in reading a thinkpiece on the band, you probably have had your fill weeks ago. You’re probably even less inclined than usual to read a semi-glorified album review for something that you could have listened to multiple times already.
Of course, these are issues separate from the fact that it’s Coldplay that would be the subject of analysis. The mere mention of their name is enough to get Internet Folk riled up to offer their witty take, usually a negative one at that. Then again, I’m not the first person to acknowledge this fact, as most pieces on Coldplay are offered from some sort of an apologist’s perspective. So I’m just going to lay my cards on the table: I’m a Coldplay fan. As I’ve put it before, “That’s right: I have opinions on Coldplay b-sides.”
Now here’s where we go over all the caveats. I’m a fan in the sense that I will buy each of their albums as they’re released, but there’s no guarantee that I will continue to listen to them as the years go by (in fact, it’s been several years since I’ve listened to X&Y, and I’ve made it a point to specifically not-listen to that album over the years–the play count on my iTunes for that album remains at zero, and you can go back three laptops and find that to be the case). I’m a fan in that I will occasionally offer a defense of their musicianship or some of their works, but I’m not one to go out of my way to convince people. I’m not exactly the zealous advocate that Coldplay may require.
I still listen to their first two albums fairly regularly, and I would argue that Parachutes and A Rush of Blood to the Head are two of the best albums of the 00’s. It’s striking that often you will find that many of Coldplay’s detractors will concede that there are at least a couple of good songs on those albums; what’s even more impressive is that there isn’t a general consensus on what those specific songs are, and if you add the vote totals up for each song, you would end up with votes for half of each album. “Shiver” or “Don’t Panic”, “Everything’s Not Lost” or “Spies”? “The Scientist” or “Amsterdam”? ,”Clocks” or “Politik”? It’s easy to make a case for any of these songs (except for “Yellow”, which was of course their first breakthrough hit–I won’t stand for any argument for it, and it’s the one area where I’ll agree with the detractors. Go figure).
Once A Rush of Blood to the Head made Coldplay the biggest band in the world however, it would undercut the identity that gave them their success in the first place: that they were the underdog. It’s hard to believe the person singing a lyric like “So I look in your direction, but you pay me no attention” from “Shiver” when he’s married to Gwyneth Paltrow, or that the frontman of the best-selling band on the planet would be contemplating suicide, as in “Amsterdam”. They were no longer the plucky underdog, they were not the confident favorite. This would even box the band in musically, as they built their reputation on more intimate, simple songs. Even when they would explode with emotion, there was still an element of restraint. Sure there are big and brash pounding chords on “Politik”, but they resolve to a delicate conclusion by the end (pay close attention to the subtle melody that overlays the chords, that is the true movement in the song).
X&Y is the sound of a band spinning its wheels as it realizes it has these issues. Luckily, the group realized that from an artistic perspective, that it needed a change in focus (they never would have a problem from a commercial perspective–X&Y opened up at #1, as they would for the rest of their career). The band realized that they needed to alter their style, and hiring Brian Eno was a great way to start. That’s why Viva la Vida works much better as an album–they realize their place, but they also realize that now they can indulge in more adventurous musical experimentation. Mylo Xyloto was conceived similarly, except any subtlety was brushed aside in favor of amplification of all their traits, good and bad. It’s still better than X&Y, but it would take a conscious effort on my part to seek out (most of the time I forget the album even exists, honestly).
Sadly, with the recent turmoil in Chris Martin’s personal life, the band could conceivably claim the mantle of their earlier albums. Musically, it makes sense as well–after a couple of albums of experimentation, the time is ripe to return to the original formula and make more intimate songs. Ghost Stories does that, but in the process it seems to miss out on the strengths of those early albums. Guitars are generally discarded and drums are programmed, with only the bass given much of anything to do. By de-emphasizing their instrumental strengths, it often has the aura of being a Chris Martin solo album more than a Coldplay album. This was a band that had an underrated guitarist that would use novel chords, provide incisive leads, and had a complete mastery of tone, and a group that had a drummer that had a wonderful rhythmic sense and had great control over both powerful hits and subtle flourishes.
Despite these flaws, Ghost Stories does have its merits, and at least shows that the band is still willing to engage in musical left turns (the multi-tracked vocals reminiscent of Bon Iver in “Midnight” are an example where the experimentation works). It will make a fine late-night album, but it won’t take the place of Parachutes or A Rush of Blood to the Head quite yet.
I remember first hearing of Sharon Van Etten back when her previous album Tramp was released. In reading the press materials for the record, the mentions of The National and The Antlers immediately grabbed my attention–Aaron Dessner of the former produced the album, and she provided the haunting vocals on the latter’s “Thirteen” from Hospice. Add in the fact that she had a habit on stopping by the AV Club for their “Undercover” series, and I was sold. I picked up Tramp and was entranced by her unique voice, a sweet yet vulnerable timbre equipped with a slight countryish tinge. Songs like “Warsaw” and “Magic Chords” would stick in my head for days, but for many “Serpents” was the song that got people’s attention (it helped that it was used for a promotion for “The Walking Dead”, but hey, who am I to knock where people first hear great music?)
Are We There turns out to be an excellent showcase for the musical growth of Van Etten. Before, most songs would reveal themselves at the beginning and consist of mainly basic elements; you would hear the verse and the chorus, usually using the same instruments, and have a good idea for how the rest of the song goes. On Are We There, Van Etten instead opts for the “slow-reveal” approach, gradually building songs from the ground-up, slowly adding layers and building to thrilling climaxes. Often these climaxes are mirrored by a cathartic release as Van Etten shares especially painful and confessional lyrics. The ending of “Your Love Is Killing Me” is an unforgettable example, as she expands on the chorus to reveal that “You love me as you torture me; you tell me that you like it” as the band swells around her.
Van Etten also branches out with different instrumentation, moving beyond more traditional folk/rock standards. Piano and guitar is still present, but are augmented by careful touches of strings and horns (as in the sublime “Tarifa”) or the occasional use of a drum machine or other programming (“Our Love” bears more than a passing resemblance to a Beach House song with the minimalist programming and soft female vocal). The single “Taking Chances” makes use of the latter, building on a programmed drum beat with mellow keyboard, with the guitar saved for accented hits during the chorus.
Still, the selling point remains Van Etten’s uniquely beautiful voice and her personal songwriting. The album is often dark, though there are moments of black humor that provide a bit of levity, as seen in the album closer “Every Time The Sun Comes Up”, where she stretches lines like “People say I’m a one-hit wonder, but what happens when I have two? I washed your dishes then I shit in your bathroom” out to great effect. Even so, the saddest and bitterest songs leave the greatest impression, with the effects of “Your Love Is Killing Me”, “I Know”, and “You Know Me Well” lasting long after the album is over. Are We There doesn’t have the same evenhanded flow as Tramp, but the peaks are often higher.
And you have to appreciate an artist that provides a list of “Recommended Listening”, and includes the likes of The War On Drugs, Suicide, Spiritualized, Kurt Vile, and The Men, among several others. Thanks Sharon, now I have additional homework to do.
Soundgarden released several deluxe reissues of their classic album Superunknown today, and along with their recent rollicking performance of the album in full, it seems like now is the perfect time to spotlight the band for our Feats of Strength examination. When discussing the brilliance of Soundgarden, it is absolutely required that one mentions the sheer musical talent of each person in the group, and how each contributed significantly to the group’s unique sound. From Chris Cornell’s dynamic and immense vocal range, to Kim Thayil’s distinctive and exhilarating leads, to Ben Shepherd’s dark and groovy basslines, and to Matt Cameron’s complex patterns and fills, each member represents some of the finest talent to ever pick up an instrument. For the young musicians out there, any one of those guys would serve as a fine role model for your playing.
The point of that glowing introduction was to illustrate that it would be pretty easy to point to just about any song in Soundgarden’s deep catalog and use it to show off a particular strength of the group. Oh, you want an idea of Chris Cornell’s range? Check out that ending to “Slaves and Bulldozers”. You’re doubting Kim Thayil’s ability to shred? I have no idea how you managed this, but somehow you’ve apparently ignored rock radio over the last twenty years completely, and so have completely avoided “Spoonman” or “Black Hole Sun”. However, those examples are the kinds of displays of technical prowess that should be obvious to anyone with ears; you don’t need someone like me to point them out. Instead, I’ve chosen to highlight something much simpler and easy to overlook over the first few listens.
As I mentioned before, Matt Cameron is known for some complex drum patterns, such as the one used for “The Day I Tried to Live”; part of that was unintentional, and the result of fitting odd riffs to a workable drum beat. However, the one used for “Limo Wreck” [embedded above] is one of the most basic drum beats in music: the waltz. Step-two-three, step-two-three; boom-chk-chk, boom-chk-chk. The genius is not in the selection of the pattern itself, but its use as support for the lyrics. The waltz pattern, with its echoes of stuffy and old high society, provides the perfect ironic backdrop to lyrics that celebrate the imminent demise of the gaudy and materialistic upper classes.
It took several listens over the years before I noticed this pattern; the waltz is not clearly telegraphed, as is often the case (either in title or in the opening drumbeat). But now it’s often the first thing I think of when I listen to this song, and it provides an indelible image in my mind of a snooty ballroom dance, with each participant oblivious to the crumbling of society around them. And while the band has claimed before that they often don’t think of time signatures when writing a piece, I can’t imagine that this subtle touch was spontaneous, but instead planned to perfection.
Rust Is Just Right 