I would hope that we provided you with enough #longreads for the weekend with our recent series of Neutral Milk Hotel essays, but just in case, we have a few more links to check out.
The big story this weekend is the first weekend of Coachella. Because you’re all smart enough to avoid the huge crowds and the awful heat, you’ll do what I do and watch the festivities courtesy of their own YouTube channel. That said, I wouldn’t mind if I was one of those people that were deemed important enough that companies would pay just so I could attend a music festival.
Oh, you might have thought that last night’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony was the big story. It was pretty huge, if only for the inclusion of Nirvana. I’d direct you over to the Everybody Loves Our Town Tumblr for all your necessary links, though I’ll specifically link to this interview with grunge experts analyzing the “irony” of Nirvana’s induction, as an anti-establishment force that is now formally a part of the establishment, and this piece that discusses the brilliance of an all-female lineup heading the reunited Nirvana. It’s probably not a good idea to take a look at this setlist at the secret aftershow party that included J Mascis showing up to do classics like “Drain You”, because you’ll be pissed at the fact you weren’t there and are only hearing about this now. But I will link to this video of Kim Gordon performing “Aneurysm”.
And in a nice coincidence with all the Nirvana news this week, we’re about to see one of their major inspirations release their first new album in over two decades soon. Guitarist Joey Santiago of the Pixies did an in-depth interview with MusicRadar talking about his guitar-playing style and gear, and drops some insight into the recording process behind Indie Cindy and the current dynamics of the band..
Last week we were less than pleased with an AV Club article, but they’ve redeemed themselves with a close look at the brilliant Weezer track “Only In Dreams”. I’m only disappointed because I had hoped to do a Feats of Strength on one of my favorite Weezer songs, but they did a pretty bang-up job themselves. I’d only add that part of the brilliance of the guitar solo is that the show-stopping run up the neck is reminiscent of the big solo in “Marquee Moon” and does a great job of creating tension by dancing around the traditional sweet spots on the scale, and that the whole sequence is a perfect parallel to the lyrics and title of the song. But good work.
Neutral Milk Hotel’s reputation was built on the strength of its magnum opus In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. What is it about this album that it has inspired rabid devotees ready to proselytize about its brilliance at the drop of a hat? In this next part, we will closely examine the particular genius of Aeroplane and why it is worthy of such deference.
It is difficult to enjoy In the Aeroplane Over the Sea on the first listen; to borrow a term from economics, appreciation has “a high barrier to entry”. The bizarrely-stocked orchestra of cheap instruments, the ramshackle production combined with lo-fi recording touches, and Jeff Mangum’s raw and unique voice (some kind people may call it “untrained” to be charitable) all become qualities that you come to love, but it takes some time before this occurs. It can be tough to overcome those initial impressions, and that’s how you end up with reactions like this Rolling Stone review (I don’t know if there’s a more “Rolling Stone” review than this, which when not engaged in strained allusions (Tusk and the MacArthur awards committee both get a mention) manages to do everything it can to show that the reviewer missed the point entirely (“burying the hard gem of songcraft under layers of bizarreness”; “most of the music is scant and drab, with flat-footed rhythms and chord changes strictly out of the beginner’s folk songbook”), all capped with a generic three-star rating).
The chord changes that the Rolling Stone reviewer derides are actually one of the quiet strengths of the album. Most of the songs only rely on three or four basic chords, all of which should be familiar to the average listener’s ear. The effect is that it grounds the songs into something that is immediately identifiable to the listener, and allows one to appreciate the more peculiar touches without allowing one’s attention to completely drift away. The title track is a perfect example of this: it’s built on a common progression, G – E minor – C – D, or as I like to call it the “Last Kiss” progression (the I, vi (relative minor), IV, V chords for those inclined), over which Mangum sings a sweet and pleasant melody, and gradually more and more instruments are layered to provide distinctive accents, like the various horns and especially the eerie singing saw. Mangum never changes the chords but in the bridge he makes a slight adjustment in their order, beginning each phrase with the E minor chord instead, which changes the tone of the entire section to something darker. These little touches help bring out certain lines in the lyrics; a perfect example is how the singing saw helps embellish the line “how the notes all bend and reach above the trees”, providing an aural representation of the image depicted in the lyrics.
The brilliant “Holland, 1945” is another excellent example. It’s even simpler than “Aeroplane” in that it uses only three chords: C, G, and D, the most basic chords in all contemporary music. In fact, most of the time it switches only between C and G, with the D thrown in occasionally to provide the bridge between those two endpoints. The simple structure also allows the song to retain the same amount of power when it’s just Mangum and his guitar. That said, there are few things that equal the magnificence of this song when it’s the full band playing–the fuzz bass that gives the low end that buzzed edge, those horn lines which provide glimpses of triumph, and that excellent driving percussion that is always on the threat of falling apart but blisters through nonetheless. Just listen to those crisp snare rolls and how they push the song into the next line, or those kick drum hits that accent the walking bassline in the coda.
It’s almost amazing that I’ve spent this many words analyzing the album with only passing references to the lyrics, because the story behind the words is often what is most familiar to those with even a passing knowledge of the band (“Oh, they’re the guys with the ‘Anne Frank’ album, right?”). The discussion of the mythology of Aeroplane is certainly a factor that draws in many fans, and Mangum’s lyrics definitely invite further scrutiny. Much of the album was indeed inspired by Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl, and she is referenced in many songs throughout the album (the bulk of her appearances is in the middle of the album, with “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea”, “Holland, 1945”, “Oh, Comely” and “Ghost” as significant examples). However, it needs to be seen through the eyes of Mangum’s intense reaction to her ordeal and not just a recounting of her story. Mangum uses several other characters on the album, as he weaves scenes of an impoverished modern family with fantastical characters and the ghost of Anne Frank, all as attempts to process all the terrible things that happen and how we are often powerless to stop them. Individual lines alternate between sweet, childish simplicity and bizarre horror, all processed through a particular straightforward innocence.
It is an extremely affecting and compelling work underscored by Mangum’s raw and impassioned vocal performance. What initially comes off as harsh at worst and amateurish at best becomes warm and comforting after repeated listens. You can feel each and every sentiment that Mangum goes through as he journeys through the emotional roller coaster of an album; the album veers from the affectionate “The Earth looks better from a star that’s right above from where you are” to the stark “I know they buried her body with others, her sister and mother and 500 families…I wish I could save her in some sort of time machine” to the redemptive “And when her spirit left her body, how it split the sun; I know that she will live forever, all goes on and on and on.” It’s the reason why one of the most powerful experiences in my life was when I listened to this album and then visited the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam.
However, it’s not just the brilliance of the album itself that has inspired such fanatical devotion, but the mystery surrounding it. While it’s easy to pick up on the general story behind the songs, the often cryptic lyrics filled with fantastic and grotesque imagery have inspired wild theories and intense discussion. And fans were left to argue their meaning among themselves, because Jeff Mangum rarely spoke about the album and conducted very few interviews once it was released. Actually, I may be understating Mangum’s reluctance a little bit, as his silence led to stories of him becoming a recluse in the face of the overwhelming reaction to the album, so much so that Slate published an article in 2008 that dubbed Mangum “The Salinger of Indie Rock”. The continued silence of Mangum over the years fed a cycle that increased the hysteria behind the album, and as nature abhors a vacuum, people rushed in to fill the gaps and speculate on the meaning of what seemed to be the last musical release of an eccentric genius. With nothing to compare it to, the stature of the album was destined to grow, a pattern we’ve seen before (My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless is an excellent example of this phenomenon).
*******
Which was why it was such a surprise when Jeff Mangum eventually began his return to the spotlight a couple of years ago with a scattering of solo appearances, and why segments of the internet exploded in euphoria. Finally, we would be able to hear from the man himself!
A triumphant return.
In the years leading up to his return, fans had to make do with scattered bootlegs and a tantalizing glimpse of the early form of Aeroplane-era songs with Live at Jittery Joe’s, a recording of Jeff performing solo before friends and an otherwise indifferent audience in a tiny club in Athens, Georgia between On Avery Island and Aeroplane. It was remarkable to hear Mangum interact with the audience and give brief explanations and insights into his songs, and the casual nature of the set helped undercut some of the self-serious reverence that some fans had developed over the years. This was music made by an actual human, not some ethereal muse or other mystical creature.
Jittery Joe’s also provided a clue as to how some of those early return shows would sound like, as Mangum seemed weary of returning the band as a whole. Instead, he gradually introduced other band members in various performances and only for certain songs, generally performing by himself just with a couple of acoustic guitars. I had the great fortune of seeing Mangum on these early tours twice, and it was a concert experience that few could possibly match. It was amazing to watch a crowd that over years and years had connected on a deep emotional level with an artist that they had no idea they would ever have the chance to see, finally confronted with the opportunity to witness the source of their passion in person. It was a mixture of joy and adoration, and took on the tone of an almost-religious revival. I can say with some authority that the only person that could get a bunch of young Portland hipsters to yell “I love you, Jesus Christ” would be Jeff Mangum.
But still, there was something missing from these performances. Jeff and his guitar may have been the backbone of each of these songs, but we had come to adore all the extra flourishes over the years–the thrashing drums, the buzzed bass, the kitchen-sink orchestra, et al. So we were welcome to the new experience of seeing “Neutral Milk Hotel” as a whole perform these songs that we had come to know by heart.
Fellow Elephant 6 comrades The Minders and Elf Power were the opening bands, and they did a good job of keeping the energy of the crowd up. We got an unexpected highlight when Elf Power covered the Olivia Tremor Control’s “Jumping Fences” in memory of Bill Doss, who had tragically died two years ago. It was a reverent take of a brilliant song whose greatness was somewhat unappreciated by most of the crowd, who apparently had not delved into the oeuvre of the other band in the collective that often matched the brilliance of Neutral Milk Hotel. One of the greatest concert experiences I ever had was seeing the Olivia Tremor Control perform a raucous set in a tiny Portland bar during Music Fest Northwest with a bunch of their friends from Elephant 6, and I wished that the other people in the crowd had been there so they could have been as excited as I was for this cover.
After Elf Power, the audience grew impatient as the moment that many had spent at least a decade to see was growing closer, but soon their fears were allayed as a lone bearded figure climbed up onto the stage. Jeff opened the show with a stirring solo version of “Two-Headed Boy”, buoyed by a raucous crowd singing along. And in a manner that perfectly matched the performance on the album, the rest of the band gradually made their way in a procession to the stage as they played the instrumental segue “The Fool”, and we could finally say that we had lived to see the return of Neutral Milk Hotel. When the band launched into “Holland, 1945”, I could barely contain myself, and I shouted the lyrics along with the band as they played my favorite song of all-time. It was an unbelievable moment, made better by the fact that you could see the joy of the band as well.
In those earlier Jeff solo shows, there was always a delicate tension between performer and audience, as the crowd was careful not to disturb a potentially emotionally fragile performer. There was a strange dichotomy at work, as there was a connection between Jeff and the crowd because of the music, but also a distance between the two, as the crowd didn’t want to cross any imaginary line. With this in the back of my head, I was therefore interested to see how Mangum would react with the rest of his band during the show. Instead of being withdrawn and remote, Jeff seemed most joyous when he was playing along with his band. He was still somewhat on an island off to the far right of the stage, and the nature of the songs meant that often it was him by himself facing the crowd, but the sense was not of “Jeff Mangum & Some Guys” but more of a cohesive unit called “Neutral Milk Hotel”.
The band had a varied set, shifting between songs from throughout their career. There were of course several songs from Aeroplane, but they also hit highlights from their debut like “Gardenhead-Leave Me Alone” and “Song Against Sex”, as well as tossing in rarities like the early single “Everything Is” as well as “Ferris Wheel on Fire”. The band saved the best for last, as they ended the show with an encore of the ending trio of songs from Aeroplane. There’s “Ghost”, which manages to create this unbelievable tension as instruments pile on top of each other while the upbeat is hammered incessantly, while at the same time there is some relief because we have the potential relief of Anna’s ghost being free to escape. Then there is the instrumental segue “Untitled”, which has the aura of a carnival celebration and where the band let loose, led by unusual instruments like the zanzithophone, which handles the main melody. One of the indelible memories I will have of the show will be of Jeff jumping around with his acoustic guitar as this joyous circus performed along with him. “Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2” then closes out this set, as we revisit characters from throughout the story as gradually everything fades away, and we’re left with Jeff alone with his guitar. However, he doesn’t leave as he does at the end of the album; instead, Jeff has one more sing-along for the audience, and the crowd joins in on the fan-favorite “Engine” to close out the show. It was the perfect ending to a memorable show, and we exited into the night to the sounds of “Pink Moon” filtering through the Crystal Ballroom sound system. That’s about as good as a Sunday night gets.
I remember a recent conversation where an acquaintance asked a question along the lines of “How did Neutral Milk Hotel become so popular?” For the vast majority of the American public, this would seem to be a preposterous question, especially for a group that has yet to sell even a gold record; furthermore, I’d imagine that most of these people would be clueless as to how those three words could possibly fit together.* However, depending on the community, this bewilderment is understandable. Within the right group of people, Neutral Milk Hotel, and especially their masterpiece In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, have taken on an almost hagiographic glow, and both now exist as shorthand for raw, cathartic genius and simple, pure brilliance.** Not bad for a few guys from a small town in Louisiana.
One of the signs that you know you’re in my office.
I’m going to twist the original question a little bit, and rephrase it as “How did Neutral Milk Hotel reach this level of acclaim (with the corollary ‘Is it deserved?’ answered with a quick and resounding ‘Yes.’)?” Looking back to their origins, there would be few clues as to how these guys would become the most influential voices in the independent music scene of the last two decades. As the story has been recounted before, it dates back to the early days of childhood friendship in Ruston, Louisiana, the home of Louisiana Tech. It began with the sons of a couple of professors bonding over their love of strange and exotic music, and together they navigated following their cultural ambitions with the realities of small town life. Sharing records eventually led to experimentation and making recordings themselves, and it was from those humble beginnings that the Elephant 6 collective was born.
Those childhood friends were Robert Schneider, Bill Doss, William Cullen Hart, and Jeff Mangum, and their bands and their subsequent offshoots would create some of the greatest music of the 90’s. The Apples in Stereo, The Olivia Tremor Control, and Neutral Milk Hotel all trace their origins to those days in Ruston, and they in turn would inspire and work with several other bands like Beulah, Elf Power, and of Montreal that would shape the sound of independent music from the mid-90’s to today. But while I feel this history lesson is beginning to drag us away from the question at hand, it does provide the proper context to understand Neutral Milk Hotel. It was within that setting that a culture of sharing and experimentation developed, where bands and genres blended as necessary, all in the name of making beautiful and heartfelt music. It was from these humble beginnings where you can also hear the origins of the Elephant 6 aesthetic. The sincere belief that merely lacking the trappings of an expensive studio is not a good enough excuse to prevent musicians from emulating the psychedelic sounds of the Beach Boys and the Beatles, when all you need is a bedroom, a tape recorder, and a bunch of friends to help you.
The story of Elephant 6 is significant, but the particular importance of Neutral Milk Hotel still needs to be explored. One can find momentary glimpses of future genius in their debut album, On Avery Island: songs like “Gardenhead”, “Song Against Sex”, and “Naomi” are great examples of the warped take on folk music that would be the hallmark of the band’s sound. In a way it captured the old-time spirit of folk music, which wasn’t the sixties stereotype of the singer/guitarist in a cafe, but friends gathered together playing whatever instruments were handy. This atmosphere was enhanced by the lo-fi recording techniques and production, which emphasized the do-it-yourself spirit of the group. And on top of all this were Jeff Mangum’s cryptic and often bizarre lyrics, which draw your attention and invite endless speculation. However, there was little that would prepare fans to the great leap forward that would come next from the band.
Next door to the Anne Frank House.
I still remember my first introduction to the band, back during my freshman year of college. I was looking at the away messages that my friends would post on AOL Instant Messenger, and one of them had posted a few lyrics from the song “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” and had listed the name “Neutral Milk Hotel” underneath. I found the words particularly moving, which led to further research to learn more about these guys. After reading a few reviews filled with lavish praise, I immediately used the intra-college network to download the album, since we had long passed the halcyon days of Napster (quick aside that attempts to justify my actions: this was before the days of YouTube and other streaming possibilities; the nearest record store was two towns over and I lacked a car; and I have a strong habit of purchasing what I like after the test preview download as soon as I can).
Those unmistakable first acoustic guitar strums of “The King of Carrot Flowers, Pt. 1” soon were filtering out through my computer speakers, and I was subtly intrigued. It was a catchy little progression, with a playfulness that was reminiscent of old nursery rhymes. And then that distinctive and idiosyncratic voice came in, and I was momentarily taken aback. At this point, I had limited experience with such an unconventional vocal style, where emotion and passion took priority over a pleasing tone or technical accuracy. So I was put back on my heels a little bit at this point, and I was still listening to the first song at this point. There’s a slow transition into “The King of Carrot Flowers, Pts. 2 & 3” as a sustained organ chord bridges the two songs, followed by a staccato banjo arpeggio, and then…
“I-I-I LOVE YOU JEEE-SUS CHRIIIIIIIIIST! JEEESUS CHRIST I LOOOOO-O-VE YOOOOOOOOU!”
At that moment, my first thought is “what the hell have I just gotten myself into?” And when I played the album for the first time for each of my friends, that was the exact point where they would produce an identical reaction. I have expressed a similar philosophy as Hank Hill when it comes to Christian Rock, and so this moment was quite jarring: the combination of the raw emotion and the nakedness of the proclamation itself were a bit much to take on first listen. But then that triumphant trumpet kicks in, the drums begin to ramp up, and then the song morphs into the most punk rock folk song I had ever heard in my life. My initial concerns were slowly fading away.
It was then that the title track came on, and my conversion was soon complete. It’s a gorgeous ballad, filled with gorgeous unique touches, like the eerily beautiful singing saw that wavers in and out throughout the song. Yet it was the lyrics that had slowly captured my attention, language filled with gorgeous imagery and a sentiment of sweetly innocent longing, an emotion that Mangum’s voice wonderfully captured. And by the time I heard the last verse, I had reached an epiphany.
“What a beautiful face, I have found in this place that is circling all around the sun; and when we meet on a cloud, I’ll be laughing out loud, I’ll be laughing with everyone I see. Can’t believe how strange it is to be anything at all.”
That last line continues to stick with me to this day; I have never heard a more perfect summation of the absurdity and majesty of existence, and the mere acknowledgement of this fact proves the sentiment in and of itself. It’s in moments like that instant connection with that particular lyric that reveal how a band can inspire such intense devotion.
*******
To be continued in Pts. 2 & 3
* The best explanation that I remember reading of the band name was that “milk hotels” were a specific lodging that I believe sprang up during the time of the Gold Rush, and they were not stocked with alcohol. “Neutral” didn’t describe the non-leanings of the hotel, but rather was the name of a town. My search skills are failing at the moment, but I will edit this when I find more information.
** It can also exist as shorthand for people trying to make a quick joke about hipsters or as a comment on seemingly pretentious and inscrutable music, but fuck those guys.
Note: The book from the 33 1/3 series on In the Aeroplane Over the Sea written by Kim Cooper was an invaluable resource in helping to flesh out some of the backstory of the Elephant 6 Collective, and I highly recommend picking up a copy if you want more information.
It’s been a real fun ride watching the continued evolution of Cloud Nothings over the past few years. I started keeping my eye on the band back when it was still a weekend project of Dylan Baldi, having fortuitously downloaded the initial bedroom recordings of Turning Onon a whim. Baldi’s strengths had been his great melodic sensibilities and a knack for strong hooks, so few would have expected the direction that he took with the Steve Albini-produced Attack on Memory, which added a healthy dose of grit and bitterness to the mix. Attack on Memory was an often great album that was a significant step forward for the band, even after taking some of its unevenness into consideration. The question was then what direction the band would take next.
Here and Nowhere Else sees Cloud Nothings increasing the aggression and upping the angst even more, and the result is a voracious blast of pure intensity that doesn’t let up over the course of its half-hour runtime. However, some of the ambition found on Attack on Memory, which can partially be explained by Baldi pulling double duty and handling both rhythm and lead guitar parts. The songs don’t have the same obvious surface complexity as those on Attack on Memory, though that’s not necessarily true from a structural songwriting standpoint, as several tracks venture into unexpected directions. The real strength of the album is that it’s clear that the band has become an even more cohesive unit during the intervening years of touring. There are several nice melodic basslines that snake their way throughout the album and Jayson Gercyz’s drumming is a real standout from front to back, as he is able to change tempos at the drop of a hat as well as match the mood with subtle dynamic touches. Listen in “Psychic Trauma” to how seamlessly Gercyz switches from a steady groove to a raucous attack, culminating in an absolutely ferocious final climax.
There is no equivalent to the Wipers’-influenced “Wasted Days” on Here and Nowhere Else, but “Pattern Walks” comes close. It’s a nice touch that the chorus benefits from the purposefully lo-fi mix that can have the listener mistaking the title for “padded walls”, giving an extra edge to the song. It devolves into a glorious mess, with swirls of keyboards, but it lacks the intricate guitar lines, the groovy solo section, and the perfect shout-along of “I thought I would be more than this” from “Wasted Days”. The album does end on a high note with the excellent “I’m Not Part of Me”, which proves the perfect bridge of the early bedroom days of the band and the new aggro-punk leanings of the current incarnation.
This is a Monday that should be especially easy to handle, because there are a ton of new videos to watch and aid in your quest to find the best ways to procrastinate.
It wasn’t a bad weekend to stay at home, because Nine Inch Nails made a rare television appearance in performing for the legendary Austin City Limits. SPIN has the video of the almost hour-long performance, but I’m not sure how long it will be up, so better watch this one as soon as you can.
Lots of news for fans of Jack White (which includes us, of course), as he announced the upcoming release of his solo follow-up to Blunderbuss, with Lazarettoscheduled to hit stores on June 10. In addition, he’s announced a string of tour dates and released the “liquidy” video of the instrumental track “High Ball Stepper” (embedded above), a great please of ragged blues-rock.
Speaking of Jack White, Weezer stopped by the headquarters of Jack’s Third Man Records to record an acoustic version of fan-favorite “Susanne”. Hey, remember when Weezer not only wasn’t awful, but actually pretty great? That song is from that era, and along with “Jamie” is the reason why I bought the expensive Deluxe Edition reissue of the Blue Album.
J Mascis always seems to be having something going on, from his work in his main band Dinosaur Jr. to his solo work to even his acting (he’s been a guest on Portlandia and will be in the upcoming film The Double—here’s a clip of Richard Ayoade talking about casting J). J also has a side project with Sweet Apple, and you can find the debut video “Wish You Could Stay” (with guest vocals from the great Mark Lanegan (Screaming Trees, Queens of the Stone Age, and more)), as well as a stream of the entire album, The Golden Age of Glitter, on Stereogum. The single is a pleasant, shimmery piece of guitar pop, so please click if that description intrigues you.
Coldplay has released a music video for their latest single, “Magic”, and it’s rather good. It’s made in the style of a silent film (with Coldplay being the backing music, of course), and involves a storyline with Zhang Ziyi and, well, magicians. It’s nice to have some visual flair to a song that’s going to be pretty omnipresent on radio for a few months.
And because we publish this pretty late in the day, this allows us to catch some news just as its breaking–like the fact that The Roots are releasing a new album next month. …And Then They Shoot Your Cousin will be out May 13, and Pitchfork has the first single “The People Cheer”.
We’ve had some #longreads pile up over the week, so it’s a good thing the weekend is here.
Tomorrow is unfortunately a morbid twentieth anniversary, so there were plenty of Nirvana stories that were printed this week, with more certainly to follow. Diffuser talked to a few musicians about how Nirvana personally influenced them and SPIN reprinted several memorials from legendary musicians in a slideshow. Stereogum has a top ten list that inspires moderate eye-rolls (a real fake bold move by not including “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, and a real dumb move for not including “Sappy”, though a high ranking for “Serve the Servants” deserves a mild tip of the hat). You can compare that list with Billboard’s ranking of their ten biggest hits on the alternative charts, which includes a couple of surprises. And the list of presenters for the upcoming Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony was announced, which includes Michael Stipe being chosen to introduce Nirvana.
Speaking of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Rolling Stone interviewed the Hall of Fame CEO and got an inside look at some of the proceedings. One tidbit I gathered from the piece is that there will be a Nirvana performance of some sort, though how it will actually shape out has not been revealed.
And continuing with the Nirvana theme, the AV Club gave another album a write-up in their “Permanent Records” feature, making the case that Dookie made Green Day the spiritual successor to Nirvana and I guess that grunge gave way to pop-punk? We mentioned before that there’s going to be a lot of pieces this year about Dookie because of its 20th anniversary, but the most I can say about this piece is…it’s an article that exists.
A far better piece about the anniversary of a seminal album is Stereogum’s reflection on the ten year anniversary of Modest Mouse’s Good News For People Who Love Bad News. We’ll do our own pieces in the future around the time Modest Mouse begins touring again at the beginning of May, but here’s a quick comment: the album is better than what old MM fans remember.
The Canadian Edition of the Huffington Post has an interview with Tokyo Police Club about the making of their new albumForcefield. We’re debating whether or not to recommend the album and then run a review of it, but their earlier work is definitely worth checking out. The band reveals what went on during the years since the release of Champ, and thank God they decided to go against someone’s advice to throw in some banjo.
Finally, we haven’t had the chance to show how much we love the finest heavy metal rockers from our neck of the woods, but let it be known that we are big fans of Red Fang here at RIJR. Aaron Beam, the bassist and one of the vocalists of the band, did an interview with Songfacts that goes deep into the songwriting process of the band. It’s amazing how so many of their songs are Frankenstein-like creations, stitched together from bits and pieces over the years, but you wouldn’t realize it just from listening because the sections fit so well. And with the news that we discussed on our Tumblr about the retirement of David Letterman, this is the perfect time to share the video of their performance on the Late Show, with Paul Shaffer loving the song so much that he joins in on the keys.
Recently, a piece by Ted Gioia in The Daily Best made the social media rounds where the critic lamented the depths to which music criticism as he perceives it has fallen. Gioia made some good points, though a lot of it reads as a screed that those who fancy themselves as members of the intelligentsia could latch onto and feel superior to seemingly low culture. I say this as someone who tweeted out the article with similar intentions.
Gioia’s thesis is that music criticism has devolved into emphasizing spectacle over substance–that publications are more concerned with fashion and controversy and less interested in substance and musicality. This is certainly true to some extent. Depending on the source, it could easily appear that the only thing that matters is what’s controversial or scandalous, and the fact that music is involved is only window dressing. Of course, you may notice the caveat I included at the beginning of that concession–it depends where you look.
Fake Banksy probably has a point.
With that in mind, Gioia still managed to make a few good arguments. One that I thought was particularly persuasive was the comparison to football announcing and their expectations of the audience’s knowledge (though I assume that Gioia was not thinking of Troy Aikman when he thought of the analogy). Announcers drop technical terms all the time in their game commentary, and often take for granted that the audience knows the specific jargon concerning plays and formations. Music writers, by contrast, often seem to bend over backwards to avoid mentioning specific musical vocabulary and concepts, and instead resort to broad language and vague analysis.
So it pained me when I read this quick jab in an unrelated Deadspin post on schlubby frontmen (for the record, the fact that James Murphy is not the inaugural nominee makes the Baseball Hall of Fame not making Greg Maddux a unanimous inductee look positively sane). In referring to the Gioia piece, Rob Harvilla writes “[t]he hot new thing in rock criticism is to talk trash about people who don’t know what a pentatonic scale is[.]” Presumably, Mr. Harvilla should know something about music considering his many jobs in the field, but he’s content to play the part of the semi-ignorant rube at least for these purposes.
The reason I found this quote more distressing than most was the fact that Deadspin takes the opposite approach when it comes to sports. This is a site that has a whole section devoted to analytics and using proper statistics to cut through the bullshit. The general ethos of the site has long been to mock the empty platitudes and generic analysis by the pundit class, and determine what really works in sports. In other words, the same goals and ideals that Gioia was attempting to convey. The attempted slam about the pentatonic scale is particularly noteworthy, because in the original piece Gioia cites an instance where Harry Connick, Jr. made a reference to it in an American Idol episode and was mocked for doing so. It’s the celebration of ignorance and mocking of knowledge that Gioia lamented–the very same things that Deadspin has spent its years decrying. It’s not as if a basic scale that is the foundation for most popular music should be worthy of knowledge, right?
That’s not to say Gioia is fully right. As I mentioned above, part of the problem is that Gioia is probably not looking at the right sources. There are numerous places where you will find that intellectualism and music criticism are not mutually exclusive (like, for instance, this site). This was the great point that Jody Rosen made in his Vulture piece. Why is Gioia looking to Billboard magazine for a discussion of music theory? The magazine’s primary focus is the business itself, but I’ve linked to multiple Billboard articles that are pretty incisive critical explorations or great interviews with musicians.
You just have to know where to search. And we’ll continue to do our part to help.
Coveredis a feature where we examine the merits of various cover songs, debating whether or not they capture the spirit and intent of the original, if the cover adds anything new, and whether or not it perhaps surpasses the original. If we fail on those counts, at the very least we may expose you to different versions of great songs you hadn’t heard before.
I go out with friends a couple of times a week for trivia nights at different bars, which is really a great way to at least give the impression that you’re sociable. At the very least, it allows me to skip a night of cooking, and with drinks on special, I’d be stupid not to go. One of the establishments we frequent has a good trivia game itself, but has one annoying problem: they use the same iTunes playlist each week. It’s not as if the songs bear any relation to the various categories; it’s just a random mix of the same old hits each week. And every week I curse the fact that I have to break my pledge to never listen to another Sublime song, because I’ve already met my lifetime quota.
One of the songs feature in this playlist is the Jackson Browne classic “Somebody’s Baby”, his hit song from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Here’s a refresher for those that desire it:
There’s a reason you know and love this song, and it’s not just because you have fond memories of Phoebe Cates. The music itself is instantly familiar because it consists of a classic chord progression, a variation of the I-V-vi-IV. For those interested in pseudo-music theory nerdspeak, this is the root (I) chord with its most common partners, the dominant (V) and subdominant (IV), with the relative minor (vi) thrown in for good measure. It’s the backbone of a lot of pop songs and especially common in punk rock, as it allows for subtle rhythmic tricks and multiple combinations while still sounding “correct” (something that this song does particularly well). It also has a memorable, hooky melody with great leads from the guitar and keys that complement both the chords and the melody. The lyrics also hold their own, with a unique spin on the “shy guy yearns for an unrequited love” trope, with an excellent display of rationalization for not going for it (because, really, do you believe that the narrator is actually going to follow through and “talk to her tonight” at the end of the song?).
While listening to the Jackson Browne for the nth week in a row, I brought up how much I loved the Phantom Planet version of the song. If you’re unfamiliar with the cover and the link above is your first exposure, note that it was one of several 80’s covers done by bands from the mid-00’s featured on the Not Another Teen Movie soundtrack*. I’d spend some time illustrating why the movie that is a better satire of terrible teen films than you would expect, but you’re not here for my film criticism, so we’ll stick with the original plan and analyze the cover.
There are several tweaks that Phantom Planet made that make the cover an improvement on the classic original. First, the increased tempo fits the youthful vibe of the song perfectly, so much so that when the original is heard back-to-back, it seems to drag in comparison. It’s not a drastic change, like a goofy late-90’s pop-punk cover, but it’s enough that it makes a significant difference. Also, by replacing the backing keyboard with another guitar makes the rhythm and lead parts mesh even better, and actually makes it sound even more like a pop song. Not only that, but I have a personal preference for the tone of the guitars, but that may be merely a reflection of my predilection towards 90’s production touches versus those that recall the 80’s. I’d doubt that the subtle change to the chord progression in the first phrase of each verse, switching from the V-I of the original to the I-V-I of the cover, had much of an influence, though the fact that the cover is played and sung a half-step above the original probably did. This tweak gives the cover version an even sunnier appeal, which in my mind emphasizes the narrative of the lyrics.
It’s this combination that leads me to continually hit “repeat” when listening to the Phantom Planet version, while I only pleasantly nod my head when the Jackson Brown original makes its weekly appearance at trivia. Though if they want to meet me halfway and play the Yo La Tengo version next week, I’ll gladly accept.
*It’s a pretty forgettable soundtrack, but I do admit to liking System of a Down’s version of “The Metro” and Goldfinger’s version of “99 Red Balloons”.
Regular readers of this site know how much we love the latest album from The War On Drugs, the absolutely superb Lost In The Dream. It’s one thing for an album to sound great on record, but it is of course no guarantee that the songs will translate live very well. Considering how much effort the band expended in constructing each song in the studio, there is always the risk that it may be impossible to replicate in a live setting. The band was very conscious of this possibility (as the linked article shows), and spent weeks figuring out ways to ease the transition. I can report that it’s clear from Sunday night’s show that the band has nailed the challenge.
Hazy photo matches hazy music
The band gave the audience a clue from the get-go about how committed they were to being faithful to the album by reproducing the mechanical clicking whirr that marks the start of “Under the Pressure”. After that quick intro, the band launched into the hard-charging opener, and the live energy made a great song even better. I had predicted that “Baby Missiles” would be a likely show closer, so it threw me when they played it so early in the set, right after the opener. It took a couple of verses before the sound engineer got the buoyant keyboard part at the right level in the mix, but the crowd didn’t mind this minor problem as they bounced around to the beat.
Songs from Slave Ambient blended in seamlessly with the new material, which was heavily featured throughout the set (the entirety of Lost In The Dream but the instrumental “The Haunting Idle” was played). Frontman Adam Granduciel also was a fun and engaging presence throughout, and kept it light with the audience even when minor difficulties like a busted string after a particularly raucous solo from “An Ocean In Between The Waves” dulled some of the momentum. He endeared himself to the crowd by giving a shout-out to The Doug Fir and by informing us that he wishes that everyday was Saturday, except when he was younger the wish was for Thursday, because that was when Seinfeld was on (he then explained he now prefers Saturday again because Seinfeld is on every day (AS IT SHOULD BE)).
The band was in top form, improving on even some of their best songs. “Eyes To The Wind”, a fantastic mid-tempo folk-rocker, had an added coda that had the entire group locked in a groove as Adam piled on some gorgeous solos above the mix. “Burning” really rips on the record, but with the added energy of the crowd they’re able to kick it up another notch.
Jim James joins the band on stage
As we posted in our roundup yesterday, the band had a special guest for their encore, as Jim James joined the band on a cover of John Lennon’s “Mind Games”. There had been a couple of hints that we would witness something special, but I’ll admit that when I first saw a roadie that looked like the frontman of The Decemberists setting up an extra microphone, my first thought was “Did Colin Meloy gain some weight and grow a beard?” I think pseudo-Colin would have been a decent choice, but Jim James was definitely an upgrade. After the raucous cover, the band finished their encore with some of the more downbeat numbers, a perfect end as Sunday night gradually turned into another Monday morning.
It looks like a pretty good Monday–a lot of new music, videos, and other fun stuff to kick off your week.
We mentioned this on Friday, and today our suspicions were confirmed: The Antlers are about to release a new album! Familiars will be released state-side on June 17, so mark your calendars now (or just save the hassle and pre-order). Meanwhile, watch the music video the band released for the lead single, “Palace”–it’s as delicately gorgeous as you would expect, and the band has already done the courtesy of providing the lyrics for you on their Tumblr.
Stereogum has the premiere of the single from former member of The Walkmen Peter Matthew Bauer, the festive “Latin American Ficciones”. It definitely evokes the spirit of his former band, especially in the insistent trebly guitar, with a nice spare percussion backing track. This follows on the heels of the recent new music we’ve heard from other former members Walter Martin and Hamilton Leithauser. It’s unlikely that any of the projects will reach the heights of the best work of The Walkmen, but all of the songs that have been released are rather promising, so fingers crossed.
Everyone should be familiar with Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” right now, but you may not know the “science” behind the hit. Owen Pallett takes a look at the underlying music theory that makes the song work so well. He takes a couple of liberties to make it easier to understand for beginners, but it’s a solid look at the underpinnings of the tune.
This actually appeared on my Facebook feed on Friday, but I’m linking to it now because we need more ways to kill time at the beginning of the week. NPR has a quick quiz of “Name That Drum Fill”, and I think most people should do pretty well.
And finally, last night I had the great pleasure to see album-of-the-year frontrunners The War On Drugs in person at the Wonder Ballroom in Portland. It was a blistering set, and the new songs really kick live. We may run a quick review of the show in the next couple of days, but I’m going to pass along a video from one of the highlights of the show: it was when Jim James of My Morning Jacket showed up for the encore to sing a cover of John Lennon’s “Mind Games” with the band.
Rust Is Just Right 