Odds/Sods

A Recap of the Time a Music Publication Mocked Me With My Own Writing

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Insecurity can spur people to commit reckless deeds, including going above and beyond to lash out at perceived threats.  I can understand the desire to protect one’s reputation and integrity, but I will never comprehend the extent to which it motivates some to create mountains out of molehills.  As you may expect, the stupidity began where you would expect it most these days: Twitter.

Two weeks ago, a few folks I know in Twitter ended up getting into an argument with an online music publication, and upon witnessing their treatment by this supposedly professional organization I inevitably waded into the muck to defend their honor.  Their unforgivable sin was to share a link of a particularly bad review and to comment on its alleged quality; the publication saw their interaction, and proceeded to insult them for their opinions.  What made this a particularly bizarre interaction was that neither party had included the publication’s Twitter handle in their discussion, yet the company decided to interject anyway and express their displeasure.

It is one thing to defend your honor, but it is another to go out of your way to impugn someone else for providing their opinion.  The publication then doubled down on their rude behavior by browsing through the profiles and timelines of these folks to use as fodder for insults.  I was appalled at this trollish behavior, and specifically called out the company for engaging in such petty tactics.  I want to stress that it was not the author of the review that was officially engaging in this behavior at this point, but the person who ran the Twitter account for the entire publication, a person who felt that it was a good idea to drag the name of the entire company through the mood to harass others.  At a certain point, this person then directed some insults in my direction, and condescendingly attempted to explain how internet searches and Twitter works, as they apparently took offense to my acknowledgment of their shady behavior.  Their final reaction was the coup de grâce, as they proceeded to look up this site (which is linked in my personal Twitter bio, for the record), and then spit back to me the first line of the review that was at the top of the page.

Let us review: Company engages in shady behavior, gets called out on it, proceeds to mock person for calling out said behavior, then engages in the very same behavior in order to taunt the critic.  Excellent work all around.

So, what sparked this entire nonsense that took up several people’s afternoons?  A terrible album review.  Rest assured, it was an absolutely awful piece of writing, and as a service, we will provide some constructive criticism.

* * * * *

– Roughly half of the review centers around “cum” and its use in the very first line of the album, and the term is mentioned in all four paragraphs of the review, as if its presence is emblematic of the whole.  Despite the paragraphs dissecting its particular usage, the case is never made why the reader should care that Father John Misty mentions it or how its use represents the album.  In other words, the author assumes the argument has been made merely by bringing it up, but does not make any relevant connections himself.

– Xiu Xiu should never be used as a positive example.  If you are unfamiliar with Xiu Xiu, they are the embodiment of every negative connotation that one has when he/she hears the term “performance art”; creating worthwhile music is definitely not their goal.  Back when I worked in radio, I played one of their songs for our new music show, which deviates from the usual playlists and allows us to temporarily indulge in numerous offbeat tastes, and it was the one time I had a listener call in and say terrible things about what we were playing.  And that guy was totally right.

– If we are to indulge in the comparison of the use of “cum” by each act and look at the reviewer’s argument on its face, it is unclear what kind of distinction is being made.  In both cases it is an attempt to juxtapose the sacred and the profane, and in both songs it is used literally to convey a particular image.  It seems to be merely the author’s opinion that Xiu Xiu did a better job of this, which is fine, but there is no objective distinction in the two cases.

– The reviewer attempts to mock Father John Misty by claiming that the use of the term “Rorschach” was a pretentious attempt to display intellectual superiority says more about his impression of basic psychological concepts than FJM’s.  The reviewer gets this completely backwards, since it is much more likely that “Rorschach” was used not to impress the listener, but as a descriptor that is universally known.  Who is unfamiliar with Rorschach ink blots?

– It is hilarious that the reviewer attempts to call out FJM for his “PSYC101” analysis, when the fact that so much of this review is devoted to “cum” indicates that the author has some sort of obsessive fixation.  Or do they not cover Freud in PSYC101?

– The use of “Bro?” as a complete thought says way more about the review and the reviewer than anything else he has written.

– Hidden in the third paragraph is a legit criticism about irony and the nature of the “Father John Misty” character.  Many can find the different levels exhausting, as it can seem to be an attempt by the artist to always be able to escape criticism.  Tillman walks a fine line, and the fact that some say he crosses it is fine.  Personally, I think he comes close several times, but I am ultimately swayed by the record’s charms.

– The reviewer spends half of the final paragraph completely botching the analysis of a particular song because he spent no time doing any actual research on the record and neglected to include a key lyric in his assessment.  I Love You, Honeybear is a concept album of sorts loosely based on Tillman’s recent marriage, so the fact that he is undercutting himself in the lyrics to “The Ideal Husband” carries more weight than for which the reviewer gives credit.  The author does acknowledge the fact that Tillman is purposefully undercutting himself, but he is clumsy in his criticism by calling out “a dumb lyric about ‘putting a baby in the oven'”, since in the song itself Tillman sings, “said something dumb like ‘I’m tired of running.  Let’s put a baby in the oven.'”  I can see the point the author is trying to make, but when you call out a lyric for being dumb when the singer himself says it is dumb, it makes you look like an idiot.

– As you may expect, seeing “a hodgepodge of Suburbs (2010)-era Arcade Fire strumming” makes me want to scream.  FOR FUCK’S SAKE, ARCADE FIRE DID NOT INVENT GUITAR STRUMMING!  IF THEY HAD A DISTINCTIVE SOUND, THE WAY THAT THEY STRUM THEIR FUCKING GUITARS WOULD NOT BE A PART OF IT!

– “Did you know Joe Strummer got his name when he heard an Arcade Fire song?  He actually came to the future, heard one of their songs, asked ‘what is this?’ and when told it was ‘strumming’, he went back in his time machine and recorded The Clash’s debut album.”  I imagine this is the exact belief of this idiot.

– To sum up, the entire review consists of an analysis of a single line whose significance is never established, and the one reference to the actual music involves a band to which there is no actual resemblance and involves a comparison that sheds no light whatsoever.  It is not as if it is impossible to compare Father John Misty’s music to anyone, but it may involve looking back further than 2010.

* * * * *

I hope that the professional music publication which created this entire mess is now satisfied that it now has constructive criticism as to why its review was completely awful.  I also hope that someone somewhere within that company learned that it is probably unwise to act like a complete dick on Twitter.  But I am also a rational person, and I doubt that either of those hopes will come to pass.

I Saw Them Live! Memories From a Godspeed You! Black Emperor Show

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With the release next week of Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s new album Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress (which is now available to stream), this is the perfect opportunity to reflect on one of the most remarkable concerts I have ever experienced.  Seeing Godspeed live was such a mind-blowing event that I spent weeks after the show contemplating the fundamental nature of music.  When a band forces you to engage in philosophical debates with yourself, it means that it was a pretty special performance.

For years, I was only a moderate fan of Godspeed You! Black Emperor; I was intrigued by the unusual name (including the shift in the exclamation point over the years) and the odd facts I had read about the group, from the fact that they were some sort of amorphous collective that conducted “post-rock” songs to the claim that the band trafficked in extreme politics despite the fact that their songs were strictly instrumental.  I picked up a few of their records in college and was often content to leave them playing as ambient drone music during study periods, rarely fully engaging myself with the individual songs.  It was pleasant background music, but I often struggled to maintain any focus on the individual songs during my attempts to listen with greater intent.

The band had fallen off my radar when they went through their lengthy post-Yanqui U.X.O. hiatus, but when they announced they were reuniting to go on tour in 2011, I immediately decided to snatch up a ticket.  I had heard excellent reports about their live show, and the fact they were playing an unusual venue (a Masonic Temple in Brooklyn, I believe) indicated that it would be a memorable experience.  However, my excitement was short-lived, as circumstances changed and I ended up missing the concert–I attended South by Southwest instead, the thought being that the thirty shows that I would end up seeing would make up for the one that I had missed.

Soon after the initial success of the reunion tour, the band released the fantastic comeback album ‘Allelujah! Don’t Bend! Ascend!  Unlike previous albums, I had a much more instantaneous appreciation of ‘Allelujah, and it made me reconsider my assessment of the band.  The band announced a tour in support of the album, and I finally had the chance to atone for my previous absence.  GY!BE swung their way through Portland’s own version of SXSW, performing at the Roseland Theater for two nights during MusicFestNW.  Back in 2013, the “festival” was still a week-long affair of loosely-affiliated shows at venues all across the city, and because of the necessity of tickets for each show and the vast distances between them, it was a significant decision to choose a specific show like this because of the additional opportunity cost.  The stakes were high.

Initially, it seemed that I had made an unwise gamble with my time and money.  The band took its time getting to the stage, arriving one at a time, and once they were there spent several minutes seemingly attempting to get in tune, creating a cacophonous drone that gradually enveloped the theater.  For a good ten minutes I was having serious doubts about whether or not it was a good idea to see a band for whom I had previously only mild feelings, knowing full well that the live experience could very well end up being a compilation of the most boring aspects of the band.  Then, there was a sudden shift, and the music coalesced into something that can only be described as pure beauty.

“Mladic” may be the closest that Godspeed has ever come to writing a “hook”, with a melody that evokes Slavic motifs that bring to mind my own Mediterranean roots.  With this melody stuck in my head, I now had a toehold within the morass from which I could explore wherever the band ventured.   In other words, there was now a purpose in the noise.  Once I had this realization, I began to analyze the sounds circling around venue, and began questioning my assumptions as to what constituted “rock” and what defined “music” itself.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor has often been described as a “post-rock” band, a term with little meaning to most people, but it was at that moment that it seemed that the band had embodied the meaning of the signifier; it seemed as if the band was commenting on the nature of the form, a hallmark of “postmodernist” movements.  Godspeed eschews the verse-chorus formulation, but simulates their effect by playing with dynamics, utilizing huge crescendos that build over several minutes and sudden diminuendos.  The band also explores dissonant tones and plays around with pure cacophony, with several members playing extremely disparate parts that seemingly have no relation, but will gradually blend into recognizable melodies.  The result is music that creates the effect of a rock show, without including many of the more recognizable elements that one would expect from “rock”.

By the end of the show, as the band exited in a similar manner as they had entered, screen flickering all the while, I had a completely different opinion of the band.  Now I can’t wait to see them again.

An Appreciation of the 360° Music Video

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I have long been a fan of music videos, and I believe that one of the unfortunate consequences of the decline of MTV and other cable music networks is that we are unable to see the progress of a legitimate art form.  With this in mind, know that Rust Is Just Right will often try to highlight our favorite videos and techniques.  Today we will look at a specific form which saw a mini-renaissance of sorts, the 360° music video.

This specific technique is a variation of an old stand-by, the one-shot video.  It takes a remarkable amount of skill and planning to pull off a memorable one-shot video, because it has to balance between being simple enough to accomplish with one take while also portraying some event that will make the video memorable to some degree.  The 360° video is a particularly ingenious variation of the one-shot video, because its very nature creates the illusion of movement and allows the director to mess with the predictions of the viewer.  There is a sense of progress, even if the action does not necessarily move forward, and because the viewer is constantly anticipating what is happening off-screen, the director has time to prepare and come up with a surprise as to what happens next.

Last year saw two different takes on the 360° concept from wildly different artists.  The first was the video for “Inside Out” from clipping., which followed a CGI representation of the MC navigating around a street corner, with each line represented by a specific image that takes the place of his head.  It is quite entertaining, and also helps the viewer connect with the specific lyrics of the song.

The other video from last year which utilized this concept was Philip Selway’s “Around Again”.  The song title provides an obvious clue as to why the director went with this conceit, but rest assured the result rises above being a mere gimmick.  Here, the director plays with repetition of certain movements and actions as well as incorporating slow-motion, colors, and freeze-frames, which provide a stark contrast to the illusory movement around the track.

Now contrast these recent videos with two alternative rock videos from back in the day when rock videos actually got played on TV.  First, there’s Everclear’s bouncy and irreverent “Everything to Everyone”.

Now compare that to Saves the Day’s “At Your Funeral”.

The most interesting comparison between the two pairs is how the recent videos focus on a protagonist traveling around in a set track, while the camera in the Everclear video rotates without any clear target and instead allowing specific scenes to take the spotlight with each rotation.  The “At Your Funeral” video splits the difference by focusing both on a static shot of singer Chris Conley, keeping him squarely in the center of the frame as the camera rotates, as well as covering the major moments of a family’s life (in super-fast motion) with the camera’s unyielding revolutions.

Though all four videos use a similar approach, each is able to stand out in distinct ways with each yielding a memorable result.  The mere usage of this clever technique is not enough to guarantee a notable result, but it can help, and the director in each video utilized the concept to their advantage.  If anyone else can think of any other examples of this type of music video, we’d love to hear it, and if possible compare them to these instances above.

A Lesson In Lyrical Put-Downs, By Japandroids

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Before Japandroids caught people’s attention with their thrilling debut Post-Nothing and broke through with the triumphant Celebration Rock, they were just a hard-working couple of guys who grinded away for years on the road.  The wonderfully-titled No Singles compiles the band’s early recordings, and though the songs are a bit rough around the edges, there are some gems to be discovered.  The opener, the Springsteen-referencing “Darkness on the Edge of Gastown”, is probably the highlight of the collection, mainly due to its anthemic chorus, a quality which would become a future trademark of the band.

Musically speaking, Japandroids reverse the listener’s expectations in the initial section of the song by using the guitar part to set up more melodic elements in the drums; Brian King thrashes on a single (but expansive) chord, but tinkers with intricate rhythms by emphasizing different beats, as David Prowse experiments with diverse rolls and fills.  It’s a thrilling combination, and it helps the band ratchet up a certain tension, as the listener continuously anticipates the moment when the band breaks the pattern to dive into the next part of the song.  When the band finally launches into the chorus, the listener feels some relief with the transition; by drawing out this release, the band helps underline the contrast between the hooks of the chorus and the harshness of the verses, making the chorus that much more effective in sticking in people’s heads.

While the majority of listeners would point to the catchy chorus melody as the most memorable aspect of the song, the part that captures my attention every time I listen is a particular line at the end of the first verse.  Amid all the noise and thrash, the song’s protagonist is lashing out (through a third party) at an unnamed woman, launching insult after insult about her wardrobe and physical appearance (“Tell her she wears too much neon, tell her it’s hanging off her bones”).  The third taunt is the most cutting, as the protagonist proclaims, “That’s all she is: just new ways to wear old clothes.”  The juxtaposition of the old and new make the line especially poetic, but it’s the distinct image that the words portray of the person as merely a mannequin built for the express purpose of modelling vintage fashions that makes it an especially devastating and disrespectful rejection; the narrator has completely dismissed all the elements that make his target an actual person.  It is difficult to recall a lyrical put-down dripping with such sneering contempt, and the fact that it takes the listener a second for the insult to register makes the comparison that much more brilliant.  The subtlety of the barb makes its sting even more powerful.

I am sure that there are those that find praise for such a contemptuous sentiment offensive, but consider the line in context with the rest of the song.  The next verse paints a bleak picture of the narrator and of the relationship between the characters, so the narrator is not exactly reveling in the absence of the partner.  The song ends with the chorus, which documents the repeated pleas of the utterly defeated narrator.  The chorus is set up in a way that de-escalates the stakes of the situation, as the narrator begs the third party to tell her 1) “I’m still alive”, 2) “I’m still in love”, and 3) “to come pick me up”.  With this status report, the narrator alerts the listener to his/her most basic condition, then his/her general emotional state, and finally his/her specific physical situation, narrowing down the listener’s potential concern from “he might be dead” to “oh, he needs a ride.”  The fact that the narrator is in such a state that he’s left pleading for a ride from the object of his scorn should indicate who ended up with the upper hand in the disintegration of this relationship, and provide comfort to those who object to the prior insults.  She’s the one with the last laugh.

But you have to admit, Japandroids delivered a pretty sick burn (to use a colloquial expression).

This Is Not The Anniversary of the Release of Pearl Jam’s “Vs.”

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For some reason, the Internet celebrated the FCC net neutrality classification decision with hours of chatter about a pack of escaped llamas.  With all this talk about llamas, my mind turned to Vs., my favorite Pearl Jam album, because of its memorable album cover.   Then there was a huge uproar on social media about the color of some random ugly dress, and my head began to hurt because of the light and my eyes and all the terrible arguments that confuse perception and reality and so on and so forth.  After all this hubbub, I then conducted some additional research and found out that the animal on the cover of Vs. is not a llama at all, like I had assumed after all these years, but is in fact a sheep.

My mind has been broken.  Llamas are sheep and gold is black.  It is nearly impossible to function.

So we’re going to take things easy today, because it’s just too difficult to write a response to this terrible article about how “live music kinda sucks” (and please don’t click on the link for now, but just know it exists) when the mind is broken.  We will instead delay our rebuttal for another time, in part because we will also the piece as a pivot to include a discussion concerning recent commentary on the purposes of live albums.  But that’s for the future.

Dammit, I just remembered time doesn’t exist.  Oh well.

I Saw Them Live! Memories From a Show with The Hives

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Portland music fans come in all shapes and sizes, but the one thing that unites them is their enthusiasm.  They may not know how to dance, and they may not know all the words to a song, but dammit they’ll clap and yell like hell to show their appreciation.   Usually when a band like The Flaming Lips tells a Portland audience at this crowd is “the loudest they’ve ever heard,” the assumption is that they’re being polite; however, considering the sheer number of bands who as they pass through the Pacific Northwest take the time remark about the intensity of the crowds, the evidence indicates that this is a genuine fact.* But sometimes the Portland crowd’s passion gets the best of them.

Though The Hives have faded a bit from the mainstream, they still remain one of the best live shows that you can go see.  Singer Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist always is a delight with his theatrics and stage mannerisms, and drummer Chris Dangerous is worth the price of admission alone as he flies through each song at warp speed while at the same time keeping perfect time.  A couple of years back, due to a scheduling snafu, we had tickets for two concerts at the same time, and as a result we had to race across town and were able to catch only the last ten minutes of The Hives’s set.  But even though we only heard the last three songs, we still came out feeling pumped and eager to share the fun that we had, including the fact that Pelle had the audience on the floor at one point.

My favorite memory of The Hives is from a show they performed back in 2008 at the Roseland Theater, in support of The Black and White Album.  Even though there was an extra-long delay between the opener and the main act, the band was quickly able to win over the crowd with their infectious energy and an absolutely blistering performance, as they tore into all their hits from Tyrannosaurus Hives and Veni Vedi Vicious.  At one point in the show, Pelle climbed up a giant stack of amplifiers and into the Roseland’s balcony to sing one of their songs, a feat that I haven’t seen replicated since.  Each member got their time to shine, and the crowd ate it up.

As expected, the band left their mega-hit “Hate To Say I Told You So” for the encore, and when Nikolaus Arson launched into that memorable riff, the crowd lost their minds.  Everything was fine until the band hit the breakdown, when Dr. Matt Destruction received his moment in the spotlight as he played the riff on his bass.  There he was, motoring along, and the crowd was clapping right there with him, except…the audience was seriously dragging behind the beat and everything sounded like ass.  Dr. Matt Destruction, being the professional that he is, didn’t miss a beat and kept chugging along.  Meanwhile, Pelle heard the carnage that was taking place, and his face clearly indicated that he felt shocked and appalled at what he was witnessing.  He looked to the crowd, and asked the immortal question in his best Swedish-accented English:

“Port Land…Where’s your rhythm?!!??!”**

Pelle then proceeded to clap, and set the beat for us, and eventually order was restored.  I will never forget that moment, though I get constant reminders whenever I go to a show and I see Portland’s “rhythm” in action.  And thus, I can say that this Treme clip is just about the most accurate comment about Portland ever seen on television.

*Makes those “records” that you see for loudest crowd at Autzen Stadium in Eugene and CenturyLink Field in Seattle seem a bit more accurate, and not just the result of fancy acoustics.  Also, having seen shows on both coasts, I can speak to the volume of Portland crowds personally, for what it’s worth.

**Note: the emphasis on each syllable of ‘Portland’ is something that Pelle did throughout the night, and is an accurate transcription.

Submissions Roundup!

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We here at Rust Is Just Right occasionally receive emails from various artists and bands asking us to check out their new album.  Now, we don’t have an official submissions policy for the site, so we end up overlooking these requests for months on end and letting them accumulate.  However, we sincerely appreciate the effort that these people made in finding our site, tracking down our contact info, and personally sending us these requests.  And to show our appreciation, we actually spent this weekend listening to each and every album that was sent to us.

Now, we wish that we could go ahead and write up a recommendation for these artists and provide them a full review, but unfortunately nothing really caught our attention.  But as a token of our gratitude, we decided to provide the public links to each album so that our tiny audience can decide for themselves whether or not we made the right call.  We hope you appreciate it.

Oh, and give whoever found our site a raise–that must have been quite the task.

Clark – Clark

This one surprised us, since a couple of weeks after we received an email we saw that Pitchfork gave it a Best New Music, so we’re dealing with some big time people here.  It takes a lot for electronic music to sway us, so it’s rare that we end up recommending anything in the genre, but that’s our problem and not Clark’s.  Clearly he’s got some skills, and I’m sure now that he’s armed with a bevy of enthusiastic reviews, what little bounce he would’ve gotten from us was surely accounted for already.

Believers – Remedies

A Bandcamp stream from these psychedelic popsters for you to enjoy.

The Ropes – Sadness is the Rich Man’s Drug [EP]

Soundcloud stream from the icy indie rockers.

Battlehooch – Wink [EP]

They provided a Soundcloud stream of their EP, though it was marked private.  However, here’s their official lyric video for one of the songs from Wink, which has a nice Washed Out/Tame Impala vibe.

Blisses B – Sea Level Astronomy

Soundcloud stream.

Nanaki – The Dying Light

Bandcamp stream from the post-rock artist.  Plus, a video!

Traedonya

And finally, proving that we’re truly on top of things, a cover of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” with an island feel.

We hope you enjoyed this roundup, and just because we didn’t give effusive praise this time around, don’t let that stop you from heading over to our contacts page (under the “About” tab) and sending us an email.  Though you should probably be discouraged by the long turnaround time.

Judging the Oscar Nominees for Best Song

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With today’s announcement of the nominees for this year’s Academy Awards, now is the perfect time to debate who should win the most prestigious prize of the entire show: “Best Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures, Original Song.”  Now it used to be that the song that would win this award would be immortalized and become a part of our shared cultural canon.  Who could forget such classics as “Theme from ‘Shaft'”, “Born Free”, or…”Under the Sea”?*  However, in recent years Oscar has selected some real duds that even the songwriters’ parents would be hard-pressed to remember that they had won the Academy’s top prize.

So is there a song in this year’s crop that has a chance of achieving a place alongside such classics as “It’s Hard Out There For A Pimp”?  In order to answer this question, we’re going to analyze each of the nominees and judge their relative merits, just as you would expect.  But since we’re listening to these songs for the first time, we’ll be presenting our snap judgments and relying solely on our first impressions for this analysis, keeping an informal running diary as we listen to each song.  And that is probably more listens than what most of the Academy will do when they fill out their ballots.

John Legend ft. Common – “Glory” (Selma).  John Legend is providing quite the uplifting framework….Common’s entrance was a bit abrupt, and featured what you would expect from a Common verse in 2015…Oh, so this song is going to incorporate the present day…Legend comes back…The “Glory” hook is good, but when it deviates from this it meanders…Common’s rapping would be perfect for a high school history class project…This song has a nice build to it, but it better pay off…I don’t think it will…Nice variation with this outro, but doesn’t quite finish.

Analysis: It seems to fit well with the movie and helps evoke some uplifting feelings, but there is no memorable hook and no climactic payoff.

Kiera Knightley – “Lost Stars” (Begin Again).  I was definitely not going to select the Adam Levine version, so we’ll go with the one presumably from the movie…Knightley has a better than expected voice, with the right amount of fragility and delicate touch…nice dash of strings…subtle shift into the chorus…ooh, appreciate the tinkling piano…the pre-chorus is really quite good, though the lyrics I’m picking out are a bit ridiculous…nice bridge…evocative overall build…good job with the slight pullback in the chorus, oh and great walking bassline counterpoint….pleasant.

Analysis: A good fit for the traditional folk/indie slot; it would probably be a solid addition to a mixtape (or probably a “playlist” these days), but it’s hard to imagine it will be particularly noteworthy.

Rita Ora – “Grateful” (Beyond the Lights).  Oh, Diane Warren wrote this, I’m sure it’ll be lovely…what the hell are these strings…Rita Ora does not have the voice I expected…those are some dramatic drum hits…oh, hey, some restraint…this does sound like a Pop/R&B torch song that you would hear on the radio in real life, so it has that going for it…Oh OK, now I know why the song is called “Grateful”…more of the same, but it makes sense…I don’t think I ever want to hear whatever program that created these instruments again in my life…I kind of wish Toni Braxton was singing this song instead…oh this bridge is ridiculous…is this song almost over, I think it made its point…I think she might be grateful.

Analysis: I’ve heard good things about Beyond the Lights and claims that it is underrated, but I hope it’s not on the basis of this song.

Tegan & Sara ft. The Lonely Island – “Everything Is Awesome” (The Lego® Movie).  OH HEY, I REMEMBER THIS SONG.  I ACTUALLY WATCHED THIS MOVIE.  AND THIS SONG REALLY IS AWESOME.  THIS SONG IS SO MUCH FUN THAT I FORGET ABOUT HOW MUCH I DISLIKE TEGAN & SARA.  EVERYTHING REALLY IS AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!

Analysis: Oh fuck yes.  Though I think that Batman’s song (“Untitled Self Portrait”) may be even better, though it worked so well mainly because it stood in contrast to the superfun “Everything Is Awesome.”

Glen Campbell – “I’m Not Gonna Miss You” (Glen Campbell: I’ll Be Me).  Oh man, knowing that this song comes from the documentary about Glen Campbell’s struggle with Alzheimer’s and how he goes on a final farewell tour already has me choked up…that is a a great chord progression from the piano…lovely backing vocals…oh those are some devastating lines, Glen…the sudden influx provided by the rest of the orchestra is reminiscent of Beck during his Sea Change era…that’s a fantastic reply, responding with “I’m not gonna miss you”….this is absolutely gorgeous…here is proof once again that modern country is a total abomination, when it’s a genre that can create wonderful songs like this.

Analysis: That is one beautiful song.

FINAL DECISION: It’s a two-horse race, between “Everything Is Awesome” and “I’m Not Gonna Miss You”.  Both are excellent songs, though completely diametrically opposed.  The final winner will be determined by the mood of the voter as they cast their vote, and that’s hard to predict–sometimes they go for the carefree, happy tune while other times they prefer to honor the somber, respectful songs.  We have the feeling that the Academy is going to give Glen one last honor, if only because they seem to think it’s beneath them to honor a movie about a children’s toy.

Possibly The Worst Three Paragraphs Of Music Criticism From Last Year

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I refrained from discussing this Vox piece for weeks, mainly because it was the holidays and there is no need to try to make them a miserable affair.  There is also the fact that the general mission of this site is to focus on promoting music instead of finding ways to be negative all the time, so writing a critical piece on someone else’s opinion is something we would prefer to do only on rare occasions.  But the calendar is no longer a concern, and since Vox has decided not to bother making any corrections (more on that later), we figure the time is ripe to tear this article apart.

The title was an immediate red flag: “5 Songs I’m too embarrassed to name Song of the Year.”  It’s a fancy way of saying “I find these songs to be guilty pleasures,” when the entire concept of a guilty pleasure is a completely ridiculous notion, especially for a music critic.  As a critic, you have an opinion, and we expect you to defend it; if you like a song, it’s your job to explain why you like the song.  Usually we as an audience don’t have exacting standards, and will accept simple explanations along the lines as “it’s catchy” or “it has an infectious melody”; reasonable minds may disagree, but clearly this is merely a subjective assessment, and it’s hard to argue against it.  The “guilty pleasure” also operates under the assumption that there is an objective standard as to what is good, when that is certainly not the case.  Sure, critics like to discuss things in absolutes and will proclaim something to be good based on certain common criteria, but in the end this is a creative field that is subject to personal interpretation.  If these songs are your picks for “Song of the Year,” then say so–we can’t say that your opinion is wrong.

However, one can give the author the benefit of the doubt and assume that perhaps the idea was that the article would provide a list of songs that, while not considered “Serious Art”, are at least fun or worth taking a listen.  Looking over the list, I see mostly songs with which I have only a passing familiarity (beyond the expected inclusion of Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy” (because that’s a song and artist that now requires THINKPIECES in order to appreciate/bash)), but notice one artist that sticks out like a sore thumb from the list: Spoon.  Now here is an artist that would never be considered for a “guilty pleasure,” so there has to be some unique rationale behind this selection.  After reading the explanation, I can say that “unique” roughly translates to “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

The primary sin that Kelsey McKinney commits is contradicting herself between the first two paragraphs.  She first states that “[t]he groovy, guitar-heavy tracks are easy to listen to, but sadly just as easy to forget” (which I would say is debatable, but hey, that’s how music criticism works), but is followed later with “[b]y far the standout off They Want My Soul is ‘Inside Out,’ a mellow, dreamy rock song…instead of the catchy, lyric-heavy, piano-backed songs Spoon is famous for.”  Logically, the songs can’t all be easy to forget if there is one standout track, so that argument should probably have been woodshedded a bit longer.  Then there’s the fact that somehow Spoon is both “guitar-heavy” AND known for “lyric-heavy, piano-backed” songs (we’re going to slide over falling back on the “-heavy” trope for a second, but don’t mistake that for us forgiving that sin).  It’s hard for Spoon to be both of these things without sounding like a total cacophony, and even more so considering that they’re known for their “minimalism.”

What is even worse than these clumsily-constructed arguments is McKinney’s thesis that too many critics love Spoon and therefore give them a free pass: “They Want My Soul is an album with songs that are mostly passable not because they are great songs, or even good songs, but because they were released on an album that said SPOON at the top of it.”  From an outside perspective, that may seem reasonable–how else to explain that Spoon has gotten consistent praise throughout their career?  The idea that Spoon is actually a good band is too easy an explanation and should be dismissed, because this is clearly either a case of groupthink or an example of a massive conspiracy among music critics!  No, the problem with McKinney’s theory is that this is precisely the opposite problem that Spoon has–they’ve been consistently good for too long so that critics take them for granted and as a result they try even harder to find faults.  The piece’s central argument fails to hold up even under the barest scrutiny; the final point that “[p]icking a Spoon song for its production in a year where we had incredible productions from rappers like FKA Twigs and new pop stars like Rita Ora” just adds fuel to the fire, indicating zero understanding of what “production” is, especially when discussing a rock band.

Now, I could easily have let this pass and ignore this article, except that Vox kept promoting it for weeks and weeks after it was originally published.  So I was reminded every couple of days of this horrible article’s existence, and I was forced to wonder once again “if you don’t care for Spoon at all, why are you saying that you’re ’embarrassed’ to name one of their songs the best of the year, when you can just leave them off the list?”  Of course, that would have been too easy.

And to think, after all those promotions, they never bothered to go back and correct the spelling of the name of Spoon’s frontman.

*Also, we’re sorry for not even being able to go a day without mentioning Spoon.

“Whiplash” and the Fine Line Between Genius and Madness

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We’re going to make this an impromptu Theme Week (we can call it Rust Is Just Right Goes to the Movies if absolutely necessary, but we’d rather not formalize this detour) and continue looking at films from last year, pivoting from our praise for the score for Birdman to analyzing the themes of Whiplash.  In our piece yesterday, we claimed that 2014 had few great films but a lot of solid ones, and though I would end up slotting Whiplash into the latter category, there are several scenes that nearly elevate the film into the “great” category.  Even with that caveat in mind, I would still recommend that anyone who enjoys the creative process or just watching fantastic musicians perform amazing technical feats should check it out.

The film delves into the twisted professor/student relationship that develops between dictatorial jazz instructor Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons) and ambitious drummer Andrew Neyman (Miles Teller), who is determined to do whatever it takes to be remembered as a jazz legend.  Simmons is rightfully receiving Oscar buzz for his portrayal, even if it is in some ways a variation of his usual schtick, and Teller keeps pace with the veteran and delivers a remarkable performance of his own.  It’s a story whose beats should be familiar to most, playing off an extreme version of the mentor/protégé relationship, but the actors elevate the material by digging deep and finding real nuances in their roles, often subverting expectations and reversing course at the drop of a hat (especially Simmons, who can alternate between sympathetic and terrifying in an instant but remain believable throughout).

For the musicians in the audience, there’s a real joy to be had in watching the actors go through the nuts-and-bolts of performing jazz at an extremely high level, and see the sacrifices that each player makes for what ends up being for little recognition.  It was an amusing game on its own to see how much of Teller’s playing lined up with the soundtrack, and it was a marvel to realize how much preparation an actor went through to convincingly play drums at such a high level.  Though the movie should probably have been titled “Caravan” because of the importance of the double-time swing section in that standard to the plot, it was also great to see other classics get some recognition as well.

As much fun as it is to just watch the pure musicianship on display, the film’s greatest strength is its ambivalent approach to the central conflict.  While it’s clear from several moments in the film that Fletcher’s methods to coax “genius” from his students go far beyond what is acceptable behavior, it’s the fact that the movie doesn’t paint him as merely an antagonist to Andrew that is truly thought-provoking.  As the film progresses, one begins to wonder if Andrew is complicit in his own downward spiral, that his belief in an anecdote about a cymbal being chucked at the head of Charlie Parker was really what created the legend of “Bird” instead of practice and talent is as much to blame as Fletcher’s antics.  The movie doesn’t necessarily paint this as an internal struggle, but is instead one that the audience must confront.  The climax of the film is a show-stopping drum solo, and while it in some ways validates Fletcher’s brutal tactics, they still have irrevocably damaged Andrew at a fundamental level.

Or, if you don’t want to get too philosophical about the movie, just enjoy it for all the pyrotechnic drum solos (even if realistically they are a bit too showy).  Then go home and watch some old Buddy Rich videos on YouTube.