Pitchfork Reviews 5/29/08

Nôze
Songs on the Rocks
[Get Physical; 2008]

Pitchfork gave it a 6.7.

I'm going to listen to this whole thing because I have a feeling it's going to be the best thing I'll get to listen to all day.

Things it has going for it:

1. Silly.
2. French.

Strikes against it:

1. Techno.
2. French.

Just kidding, I'm not going to listen to this whole thing. I don't hate myself that much.


The Futureheads
This Is Not the World
[Nul; 2008]

Pitchfork gave it a 6.2.

There's some exact point in music, hovering around 1979, when the basis for "new wave" music switched irrevocably from punk to power pop. The power pop was there lurking since the beginning, but at some unrecognizable point majority sneers turned to majority smirks and it all just became a big funny joke.

And then stuff like this happened.

The rest is history: 80's popular music became a fun dayglo wash of bad ideas, and all the most intense stuff went underground, never to return until Nirvana came to the surface and blew everybody's mind like a thirty foot long giant squid cut from the gut of a beached sperm whale.

Now reminds me a little of then. How could it not? Pitchfork said that Cut Copy's In Ghost Colors is the 4th best album of 2008, and those guys have worn a tongue-shaped depression into their cheeks. It feels a lot like new wave all over again. Nu rave instead, maybe, but still. It's hot garbage.

But what can you do? Irony is a cat that won't be bagged again, and saying that music should be serious all the time is a ridiculous and indefensible position. Cut Copy (and The Mi-Sex, et al) have their own kind of fun. Fun is a good idea.

Not sure why the Futureheads are making me think of all this. They seem (from this) to just be a pretty straightforward mainstream cross between something British (middle/late period Gang of Four?) and the Foo Fighters. It's really just power pop. It's got nothing to do with punk or new wave or anything else really. Except it's not the lightest, funnest power pop I've ever heard. There's no apparent devotion to crafting hooks. It's kind of grave, with a hint of anger and defiance ("we are DOING THIS" variety). Maybe there's a sneer in there. Sometimes. Mostly it's just very middle of the road power pop. Which is an area so well-trod it no longer has any definable features or landmarks. It's just a wasteland.

I don't know what that means, even. This is not great, instead it is merely good (sometimes). And of course none of this matters enough for anybody to care. Maybe my point is if I had to choose between Futureheads and Cut Copy, I'd go with Futureheads all the live long day. Because they are just regular power pop. Wave, if you will. Rock even. Not great, maybe not even good, but it is simply one thing. If it's not a step in the right direction, it's at least not a big goofy pratfall in the worst direction (look at us, we're not even trying, ha ha ha, check out these hilarious synth noises and wacky sunglasses, wouldn't it be a hoot if you blew us? Please? We're nerds, this is all we could think of).

Thanks for maintaining your equilibrium, guys.


Al Green
Lay It Down
[EMI; 2008]

Pitchfork gave it a 6.8.

"What if Al Green never had scalding hot grits hurled at him?" is one of the great non what-if's in rock history. Basically nothing would be different, except for the slim chance that he would have given us one entertainingly awful cocaine disco album. I doubt it. He probably wasn't going to go in that direction, grits or no. Too much soul, not enough hubris. His is the kind of a career you can expect from a gigantic talent who somehow never stopped believing in a power greater than himself, even though he probably could have.

I'm not disappointed by it, by the way. Everything worked out just fine. I'd put him in the soul version of that Nighthawks drawing you see in diners with Bogart, James Dean, Elvis, and Marilyn in it. He's right there at the counter with Marvin, Sam Cooke, and Otis Redding. I'll give it to him. It's not his fault those grits didn't kill him. Actually, that's the real what-if at play here. He would have been totally untouchable had those grits come with a .22 caliber chaser. Imagine.

Not that I'm rooting for anybody to be dead. It's just, you know, that's how legends are made. Nobody would ever talk about Jim Morrison if he had straightened up and started teaching English Lit classes at Vassar (you can laugh, but a liberal arts degree is just about that big of a joke), which is essentially what Al Green did (Al Green version) after those grits.

This is a secular music album Al Green did in 2008. It's great, just great. Here's what Douglas Wolk says about it:

But there's something unsettlingly nostalgic and hollow about Lay It Down that comes to the surface when you listen closely to it.

I'd add that there's also something "unsettlingly nostalgic and hollow" about classic-era Al Green "that comes to the surface when you listen closely to it." Namely: sure, it's perfection, but how many times am I gonna sit down on purpose and focus my full attention on "Let's Stay Together?" Can't I just wait until I hear it come on over the speakers in some toll road restroom somewhere, and get my little dose of perfection that way? Or else hear it on the radio when I'm desperate for a change of pace from my oh so clever noise rock mixtapes.

Classic Al Green has its time and place forever, but that time and place is in forever. As in he's a pull-it-out-of-the-ether level saturation point. Just like his buddies Marvin, Sam, and Otis. It's just about the highest plateau you can get to. Except those guys are dead and not making records anymore. And now we have this, which is reminding us of the classic Al Green, which we don't really need to be reminded of anyway because we already have it all the time inside of us at this point. It's a weird phenomenon and I don't like it.

God bless you, Al Green. You're in our hearts. Now leave us alone, please.


Etran Finatawa
Desert Crossroads
[Riverboat; 2008]

Pitchfork gave it an 8.0.

Confession time: I didn't listen to this exact album per se.

Confession time: I don't think it makes a huge difference.

Confession time: I like this anyway.

Confession time: I will probably never buy anything that sounds like this, not because of anything wrong with the music, more because I am afraid that if I bought a bunch of Tuareg Rock, I'd get sucked into some kind of authenticity spiral and follow the slippery slope until eventually wearing sandals and doing a ton of yoga and using that crystal stuff that doesn't work instead of deodorant.

Confession time: I can be shallow and stupid sometimes.

Confession time: I don't think it makes a huge difference.


The Cinematic Orchestra
Live at the Royal Albert Hall
[Ninja Tune; 2008]

Pitchfork gave it a 5.6.

You can tell somebody takes themselves too seriously when their band is called "The Cinematic Orchestra" and the album is "Live at the Royal Albert Hall" and the first song is not "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"