Sukierae is quite the family affair, and while some may snicker and say that it represents the apotheosis of “dad rock”, it’s a pleasant but affecting listen. Much of the debut album from “Tweedy” will remind fans of what they love about dad Jeff’s day job with Wilco, but the more personal nature of the material mirrors the stripped-down approach of the record and necessitates a separation from the main act. It’s an intimate affair, but a welcome one.
Opener “Please Don’t Let Me Be Understood” recalls Telephono-era Spoon with its distorted repetitive riff, but that’s a bit of a misdirection, as Sukierae mainly consists of ballads or otherwise pleasant diversions. The album is for the most part delicate and subdued, often just Jeff on vocals and guitar with son Spencer accompanying on drums, with the latter careful not to overwhelm the fragile nature of each song. Acoustic guitar is the dominant sound, with electric guitar leads dancing in and out to provide emphasis and contrast as necessary, with the occasional sprinkle of piano providing hints of color. Spencer’s drumming ventures occasionally into intriguing new territories for Jeff, as in the King of Limbs-like stuttering beat of “Diamond Light Pt. 1” (which ends with a bit that recalls an earlier period of Radiohead, specifically “The Gloaming”), but for the most part sticks to keeping it in the pocket and augmenting the music with subtle fills on a spare kit. It’s all a bit “low key”, if you could excuse the pun (note: you are under no obligation to do so).
At seventy-one minutes long, some fans may wonder whether it was necessary for the album to be split into two discs, as Jeff insisted. While the two discs themselves are not necessarily distinct from one another (though the second disc is a bit more subdued), but each disc does have its own shape; for instance, “I’ll Sing It” and “I’ll Never Know” each bring a sense of finality and work as closers. One disc doesn’t stand out from the other, but splitting the album into two does benefit the listener by breaking it up into more manageable sizes. Some may argue that there’s a 12-14 song, 50 minute album hidden in the two discs, but there are not any songs that are asking to be culled from the tracklist. They may not all be standouts, but there are several quality songs and gorgeous moments spread throughout.
Unfortunately, the music world suffered a great loss with the unexpected death of keyboardist Isaiah “Ikey” Owens earlier this week. Like many fans, I first heard of Ikey when the formation of The Mars Volta was announced. Back then, once we consoled ourselves after the disintegration of At the Drive-In, we eagerly looked forward to the next project of Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez. Once it was revealed that they were adding a keyboard player in to that mix, as well as bringing in ringers like Flea and John Frusciante, we were intrigued as to what the final product would be.
Ikey often brought a subtle presence to the songs, with his contributions often difficult to distinguish at first due to the bombastic nature of many of the guitar arrangements. But careful listens that many of the melodies and textures were Ikey’s, and his keyboard playing was an integral part of the overall Mars Volta sound. And even from behind his rows of keyboards and organs, Ikey was an engaging stage presence who would always grab your attention; for instance, when I think of the “Inertiatic ESP” video, it’s his headbobs and glissandos that I remember first.
After working with The Mars Volta for years, he eventually joined up with Jack White in his “Buzzards” all-star backing band, and anyone who has had the fortune of seeing Jack’s solo shows these past few years knows just how special that lineup is. It was while on tour in Mexico with Jack White that Ikey’s unfortunate death occurred, and out of respect for him that the rest of White’s tour dates in the country have been cancelled.
Of course, considering the great talent of Ikey, other groups were eager to hire him as a guest musician. A quick glance at his guest appearances on Wikipedia indicate that artists from a wide variety of genres respected his skills, including El-P, Saul Williams, and Mastodon. Truly, the world lost a great musician.
We were excited to wake up this morning to the news that Wilco had announced that they are releasing the box set retrospective Alpha Mike Foxtrot: Rare Tracks 1994-2014 on November 17th to mark the band’s twentieth anniversary. Not only were we thrilled about the news itself, but we were glad to see that we had an even better reason to feature Wilco in our Feats of Strength series. This time, we’re taking a closer look at one of their greatest songs, “At Least That’s What You Said”.
My first encounter with Wilco was during the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot era, when they became a causecélèbre after they were dropped by their record label for making a difficult album, a decision which backfired for Reprise when YHF became a huge critical hit and brought the band their widest audience yet. However, after downloading a copy and listening to it a few times, I was unimpressed; that’s what happens when you read too many breathless music periodicals that tag the band with labels like “The American Radiohead”. Expectations were simply too high, and I just ignored everything Wilco for the next few years. A few years later, while I was back home from college for winter break, I was perusing the aisles of my local favorite record shop, when I was suddenly captivated by the strains of a blistering guitar solo coming out the store’s speakers. I stopped picking through the albums for a moment and stood there, waiting for the song to finish, before walking over to the owner to ask who had just played this magnificent solo. “Hey man, I just threw on Wilco’s new album. Have you heard it yet?” I was stunned, and immediately (1) reversed my opinion about the band and (2) went and found a copy of A Ghost Is Born and added it to my stack for the day.
The song is split into two halves: a tender piano ballad that gives a glimpse at a moment of potential reconciliation for partners in a painful/abusive relationship and an epic instrumental section let by an ever-building guitar solo. The two parts are delineated by an electric guitar that cuts in right at the two-minute mark, which introduces the major thematic melody, followed by the band joining in on a series of repetitive quarter-note hits. The guitar then switches back to the dominant melody, and the instrumental section begins in earnest, and the true fireworks of the guitar solo begins. It’s at this point that the guitar begins to go off the rails in a bit of barely-contained chaos: at first, the guitar pauses every few measures to go back to repeat different variations of the melodic theme, but then it breaks free from this artificial constraint to let loose some aural pyrotechnics, before one final frantic return to the melody, before slowly dying away with a careful, pulsating tremolo bar dive, as the piano creeps back in. Many listeners have noted the similarities to Neil Young, especially from the Crazy Horse era, and in many instances the guitar captures both a similar tone and style to Young. One can hear echoes of the winding melodies of “Cowgirl In The Sand” and the rich reverb of the lead guitar of “Like A Hurricane” (note specifically the section at about 4:15 in the song), and the focus on microtones and other near-notes in the solo also is a callback to Young’s signature technique. The notes individually don’t all make sense, but when constructed as a whole, you certainly feel all the possible emotion that the guitarist is attempting to wring out.
What is perhaps most notable about this is the fact that the guitarist in question is Jeff Tweedy. Even though he has been one of the few constants in Wilco throughout its history, Tweedy never really got the credit as a pure musician as he deserves. In the early years, he was always compared to his musical partners (Jay Bennett in the early years of Wilco, Jay Farrar from the Uncle Tupelo years), and with the lineup that was hired to tour A Ghost Is Born, he had quite the set of ringers helping him out, including the amazing Nels Cline on guitar (just take a listen to “Impossible Germany” and you will immediately have a deep appreciation for the man’s amazing talent). But it’s Jeff Tweedy who handled all the lead guitar in the studio for Ghost, and he’s never really received his proper due for his work throughout that album; his work on “At Least That’s What You Said” alone should place him on those periodic “Best Guitarists” lists that run every six months or so, but a lot of writers seem to forget who was behind the six string on that one.
The element that makes the solo work is not the technical mastery (though the incredible skill involved should definitely be acknowledged and admired), but Tweedy’s ability to imbue each note with an incredible amount of emotion, each pitched in a way so as to complement the story that he’s trying to tell. He’s compared the instrumental half to an anxiety attack, and within the context of the song, the metaphor makes sense. The slow build-up, the gradual unraveling, the repetition of the same phrase–they all mirror a spiraling out of control, though fortunately a calm is restored by the end of the song. It’s an impeccably crafted solo in all aspects, and yes, it really rips live.
Thurston Moore has a new solo album coming out next week, and NPR has The Best Day available on their First Listen stream. I loved his two most recent solo records, Trees Outside the Academy and Demolished Thoughts, which show a more sedate, folkier version of what one might expect from the Sonic Youth frontman. If that worries you, take comfort in the fact that Moore throws on the distortion for this one.
On Friday we mentioned how Kendrick Lamar’s “i” was received with an underwhelming reaction; however, people were gushing over his appearance on Flying Lotus’s “Never Catch Me” off the latter’s new album, You’re Dead. Enjoy the video, featuring some fantastic dancing by a couple of precocious dancers.
David Bowie released a new song this morning, the jazzy, seven-minute long “Sue (Or In A Season Of Crime)”. It will be available on the upcoming compilation Nothing Has Changed, which aims to replace the version of Changesbowie which is now taking up space on your shelf. At the very least, you can have a compilation which also includes “I’m Afraid of Americans”.
Peter Matthew Bauer isn’t done releasing new material, as he offered up the new track “You Always Look For Someone Lost” on SoundCloud. He also released a new video with an interview that helps explain the song as well.
And last week, Ryan Adams was apparently inspired by the setting and performed a cover of Alice In Chains’s classic “Nutshell” in his show in Seattle. Because “Nutshell” is one of the greatest songs of the last 20 years, you bet we’re going to pass a long a video like this.
Finally, Chicago Reader has an in-depth look at the life of Jason Molina, the former leader of Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co. who unfortunately passed away last year after years of struggle with alcohol abuse and other issues. The piece also examines his continued influence, both through his music and his development of the Secretly Canadian label, and talks to the musicians and friends that mourn his passing but remember his talents fondly. But it also serves as a great introduction to a wonderful musician, with an extensive look at his development and history.
It’s always a treat to see The New Pornographers live, and with the full crew* available for Wednesday night’s show, Portland was in for a treat. Their potent brand of fun power-pop is the kind of music that’s perfect for sharing with a crowd. In theory.
The Crystal Ballroom took the band’s name off the marquee as soon as possible.
In theory, a feedback loop should develop wherein the band’s bright, sugary melodies inspires the crowd to respond with some noise and movement, which in turn invigorates the band to play with more energy, exciting the audience even more, and forever and ever amen. However, last night’s crowd was possibly the deadest group I’ve ever seen at a show in this town, and stood in stark contrast to the music being played on stage. There was perhaps no better illustration of this moment than when the band hits the chorus to the frenetic “War on the East Coast”, about three people jumped in the air ready to dance as soon as the crunch of the downbeat hit, only to find that they were alone in their enthusiasm (granted, I was one of those three). And don’t blame it on poor set placement–the band saved their latest single for the second-to-last spot of the main set, so the crowd should’ve already been warmed up at that point.
While a bit deflating, the band didn’t seem to notice all that much, fulfilling their part of the bargain at least. With both Neko Case and Dan Bejar along for this tour, the band had the full catalog at their disposal. The band emphasized their recent album, Brill Bruisers, playing ten of the twelve tracks in their hour-and-a-half long set, but also made sure to perform the majority of Dan’s songs, ensuring that Bejar wouldn’t remain off-stage for too long (a fact that Carl Newman joked about early in the show). Earlier this week, we expressed our opinion about the new album, and many of the same criticisms still apply even in a live setting; “Brill Bruisers” is a decent opener and “War on the East Coast” could really pop, but otherwise we were waiting for old favorites to pop up. It’s clear that the band however loves the new material (the mere fact that they could rope in both Dan and Neko for this tour says to this, considering that’s not always the case), with Carl mentioning that “Spidyr” is his personal favorite.
The whole gang, though believe me that they’re less blurry in real-life.
The old favorites made for some killer moments–the pop of “Use It” motivated the crowd to move around, while at the other end of the scale the delicate “Adventures in Solitude” moved the audience emotionally. But it was in the two encores that the band truly shined, with the one-two combo of the rousing “The Laws Have Changed” leading into the epic “The Bleeding Heart Show” bringing down the house, with the band’s replacement for long-time drummer Kurt Dahle stepping up to the plate and nailing that brilliant part. I haven’t been able to find out who it was behind the kit, but he went all-out (as evidenced by his sweat-drenched shirt) and did an excellent job all night. This was followed by a second encore of “Sing Me Spanish Techno” and “The Slow Descent Into Alcoholism” providing a perfect finale to the evening (I for one appreciated Carl taking the time to remember the chords to “Spanish Techno”). Even if the crowd was half-dead for the most part, those songs shine through regardless.
It was worth the wait. It had been over a decade since we last had a proper Aphex Twin release, but Richard James has rewarded us with the challenging but beautiful Syro. It’s not a revolutionary new work, but more of a distillation of the best parts of Drukqs with flashes of the brilliance of his 90’s output that put him at the vanguard of the electronic music movement.
The liner notes that inventively catalogs the use of every bit of musical equipment on SYRO
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a huge fan of electronica, and not particularly an expert of the genre (though I’m sure I upset at least a few people by using the catch-all term “electronica). I haven’t been a regular purchaser of electronic music since the Big Beat era; any forays into the area are usually based on the insistent recommendations of friends (Darkside) or from research into musicians with a penchant for experimentation (Tim Hecker). The rise of EDM in the past few years has only been a source of confusion and frustration, as the entire movement seems to be merely a repackaging of sounds and ideas that Richard James perfected back in the 90’s. Mix in the abrasiveness and breakbeats of “Come to Daddy” with the acid-jazz grooviness and distorted finish of “Windowlicker”, and you have 95% of the formula that’s racking up the big bucks at these raves. Just toss in a trick as old as music itself (“the drop” of the bass has always been a trick in a band’s arsenal), apply it in a haphazard fashion, ignore any semblance of rhythm or conception of songcraft in general, and you’ve got yourself EDM.
The album artwork is a list of all the expenses that went into the production of the record
But Richard James sets himself apart from his successors, because it’s clear to even the lay individual that has a much better understanding of the fundamentals of music itself. Even when he’s trafficking in beats that are lined-up with pinpoint precision based on computer formulas and arranged in odd meters, you can still feel a beat. It may be odd, it may be unfamiliar, but it’s not arrhythmic–there’s a method to the madness. James also has an excellent grasp of songwriting, providing careful shape to each song and the album as a whole. The album draws you in with a subtle and trippy beginning, before pumping up the energy with a frenetic middle, before drawing back down and ending with a beautiful, Satie-inspired epilogue (meaning a delicate, spare piano with the barest hints of chord progression and melody, but still capable of evoking immense beauty).
The entire list of expenses, which can be read after unfolding the album cover.
Whether you’re listening to Syro as background music or with intense concentration through headphones, it’s clearly apparent that each sound was created and applied with the greatest of care and precision. Fans will recall many similar tones from the Richard D. James Album, but he also tosses in several new variations as well, with each perfectly calibrated to elicit a particular emotion. It’s difficult to go into more detail, not simply because it’s practically impossible to refer to specific tracks without employing a significant amount of cutting and pasting (James really emphasizes the pointlessness in some respects of distinguishing certain tracks by employing random letters and signifying particular “mixes” for each song, as if we have access to alternative mixes and they’re not just holed up on his hard drive somewhere, though noting the BPM for each track is a nice touch), but also because of the sheer amount of notes and styles in each particular track. Hence, the resort to generalities.
It should be clear then this is an electronic album that casual fans will appreciate. And since the more specialized press seems to be in agreement that his is a great record, I can take comfort in the fact that my inexperienced perspective has at least some solid footing. It won’t be the Kind of Blue of the genre, but definitely a worthy addition to Aphex Twin’s illustrious discography.
The New Pornographers have been one of the most reliable indie rock bands in the last fifteen years, and possibly the unlikeliest to have survived. Those who’ve followed the band or read any of the profiles that were published during the publicity tour for their newest release Brill Bruisers would understand the latter part, considering their unusual origins and group dynamic. The New Pornographers are a “supergroup” that outshined the work of their predecessor outfits, only to find in the wake of their success offshoot bands that have found equal or greater success. It may be hard to grab Neko Case away from her solo work and Dan Bejar from tinkering with Destroyer, but every so often Carl Newman (who has a solo career of his own) pulls it off to give the gang another shot, and it usually pays off.
I first became a fan of the band back in college during the time that their seminal work Twin Cinema was released. I was working in radio at the time, and because I was the kind of worker that did his due diligence, I had noticed a lot of buzz surrounding the album and was excited to find out that we were getting advance tracks from the record. I remember being captivated by the title “Sing Me Spanish Techno”, partially because I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what on earth “Spanish Techno” would sound like (as it turns out, this line of thinking was at least partially responsible for the title–an offhand comment in a conversation referring to “Spanish Techno” was the inspiration). But I was soon captivated by all the wonderful melodies and enraptured by the sheer catchiness of the song, and in an irony of ironies, found myself constantly putting on repeat a song that excoriated the listener for “listening too long to one song”.
Soon I would pick up the album for myself and familiarize myself with the other highlights, from the bouncy “Use It”, to the mysterious “Jackie, Dressed In Cobras”, and the lilting “Falling Through Your Clothes”. It was after a few more listens that I finally came to recognize the epic “The Bleeding Heart Show, a song whose brilliance we recognized with our very first Feats of Strength feature. These tracks always stood out from the rest in my mind, but the rest of the album was at the level that I never felt the need to skip tracks, though I never felt the need to learn their names either. This would be a pattern that I would find in most of their other works–a few standout tracks that are certain to make most setlists, and the rest doing just enough to keep you interested to finish the album. Not a revolutionary analysis, I admit, but the significance of those particular tracks always made the band as much a favorite in my mind as a band whose discography I knew front-to-back.
I then worked my way back, picking up the band’s excellent debut, Mass Romantic. It showed that the group’s knowledge of how to write a killer riff filled with sugar-sweet melodies was evident from the start, from the propulsive “The Body Says No”, to the jaunty title track, and the bouncy “The Slow Descent Into Alcoholism”. The New Pornographers simply had a knack from the start for mixing big guitar chords and riffs with inventive and and playful keyboard lines, as well as simply displaying a keen ear for memorable melody lines. During the time that I spent revisiting the band’s history, I’ll be damned if I didn’t find myself humming the chorus to Neko Case’s powerhouse “Letter From An Occupant”.
Electric Version would be proof that yes, sometimes lightning can strike twice, as the band effectively copied the same formula from their debut. While I have fond memories of the album and always am glad when it it comes up on shuffle, I have the hardest time remembering the specifics of what I love about the record. On the whole, in many ways it’s a louder and happier take on their debut. Any other band would be enormously proud of an album like Electric Version; it’s only problem is that it’s sandwiched between two of the great records of the 2000’s.
It was after the success of Twin Cinema where my tastes began to diverge from the consensus. While many critics and fans were a bit disappointed with Challengers and Together, I find myself listening to these records quite often with a smile on my face. True, the band began to write more ballads and for some it may have felt that the band couldn’t capture the right momentum on each album, but both albums offered the kind of highlights that would spur me to keep listening to these albums time after time. It may have partially been the result of the fact that the band released a song with the lyric of “stranded at Bleecker and Broadway” while I was living at the other end of that block in New York (“Myriad Harbour”), but I always had a soft spot for Challengers. Of course, I think that even the most disappointed critic would be hard-pressed to deny the charms of “Mutiny, I Promise You”.
Together suffered from many of the same critiques as Challengers, but has a slightly better reputation. Again, I point to the fact that the album includes several of the group’s finest work, from “Crash Years” to “Silver Jenny Dollar” to “Up In The Dark”. And it has one of the best openers the band has ever done, with “Moves”.
And so when Brill Bruisers was released earlier this year, it was met with the best reviews that the band had received since Twin Cinema. But once again, I found myself disagreeing with the mainstream opinion. As is the case with the rest of the band’s output, on the whole it’s a fine album. However, it really lacks those two or three standout tracks that will be remembered for years to come and become an eternal part of their regular set (though that is of course assuming a lot with this band). I enjoy the Dan Bejar-penned “War on the East Coast”, and appreciate how they merged Bejar’s more eccentric taste with the regular NP sound, but it feels like a lesser effort on the whole The first four tracks on the whole work pretty well, but there’s nothing that leaves a lasting impression, and the momentum starts to peter out well before the record finishes.
It may be that the artificial tones used in the recording rub me the wrong way, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the case; I for one appreciate the much-discussed use of arpeggiators and love most of the keyboards on the album, so it’s not those 80’s-era type touches that bother me. It may simply be that there is a simple lack of hooks that get me listening “too long to one song” or humming to myself everyday for weeks on end. This is why when in the weeks leading up to its release we spent a lot of time around here linking to articles and reviews about the band, yet we didn’t recommend Brill Bruisers and write-up a full review of the album; in the end we pushed LOSE from Cymbals Eat Guitars, a fantastic record that may have benefited from lower expectations on our end, and not suffered like Brill Bruisers did.
Still, the band has had a fantastic career and well worth checking out, if you haven’t already. And we’ll be there tomorrow night when the band takes the stage at the Crystal Ballroom, even if the show includes a healthy portion of new material.
Some videos and other fun stuff as you realize that while the calendar says “fall”, the weather outside says otherwise…
We’re excited to hear the return of TV on the Radio, and they’re giving fans a glimpse of Seeds with their video for “Happy Idiot”. It stars Paul Reubens as a race car driver trying to drive away from memories/visions of Karen Gillan. Whatever is occurring exactly, we’re not sure, but the driving metaphor matches up nicely with the insistent beat.
Rust Is Just Right 