Jim
[Warp; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.9.
I have never heard of this guy until right now. Is that weird? Sounds like if Jackie Wilson was from now. Isn't Jackie Wilson. Is from now. Weird.
Joy Division
The Best of Joy Division
[Rhino; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.0.
Joy Division has to be the world's most reissued band at this point, right? Just look at the compilations-to-albums ratio. And each of their two albums has been released AT LEAST nine times. NINE TIMES.
Throw in the fact that this fucking guy killed himself and these songs are depressing and overdramatic to the point where it's ok to not even really like Joy Division, combine it with the fact that it's currently impossible to get a vinyl copy of Gang of Four Entertainment for less than $30, and this has got to be the most reissued-per-necessary-listens band of all time.
Guess what: this is another Joy Division compilation/reissue. If you're into that kind of a thing, which you conceivably might be. As far as I'm concerned, though, A. those New Order guys have enough money, and B. Ian Curtis's kid (who undeniably got a very rough break) is 30 now and can get a job.
Jucifer
L'autrichienne
[Relapse; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.0.
This sounds like Alice in Chains fronted by That Dog. Which is not totally awful, it's just that the old "rough grunge/sludge rock to pretty vocals" trick just sounds kind of dated. Like from the Marilyn Manson era. And the album cover is this:
So why do I kind of like it? Oh yeah, because the second track, "Thermidor," is the single most intense thing I've ever heard a female vocalist do. The rest of this is more Totally 90's than Ross's Caesar haircut on Friends, but I listened to the whole thing just in case another "Thermidor" kicked in. Oop, here we go: "Fall of the Bastille." Man, it's a shame she's so hung up on having a pretty voice and not just going apeshit all the time. There's a killer punk 7" buried under all of this other tiresome crap.
Singer
Unhistories
[Drag City; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.2.
The internet isn't gonna totally kill indie record stores, because somebody somewhere is always going to love vinyl. But the internet will absolutely kill indie video stores. Like one hundred percent extinct forever dead. As it is, the only indie video stores who are going to hold on for a while are the ones who are staying one step ahead of the digitalization curve by having a ton of cult and/or banned and/or super rare weird imported Iranian animation stuff that's perfect for when like fifteen people on the planet who'd be into that kind of a thing are also somehow on the exact right weed plateau. It's hard to pay the rent when that's your specialty.
Combine Netflix with YouTube, and it is going to just be impossible to sustain indie video stores without an analogue medium that people want to collect. It's not like there's a groundswell of film buffs who want to get "The Godfather" on mint or near mint original 35mm spools for their honest-to-God home theaters. They probably exist, but there's not a groundswell. And VHS and DVD and Blu-Ray aren't gonna cut it. It's all just gonna be internet downloads soon enough.
So indie video stores are not long for this world. It's sad. Indie video store have a community vibe that's hard to beat. Everybody there is at least thinking about relaxing later. But on the other hand, it's maybe also not too much of a loss. As much as I can tolerate music nerds in any weather, film nerds have always been tough to manage. Maybe it's because I essentially went to film school. I don't know. I do know that it's tough to stomach when a film nerd is a film nerd who will tell you everything you never wanted to know about Andrei Tarkovsky without your ever having asked (his films are long, pretty, glacially paced, generally more boring than interesting: I just saved you 12 minutes) AND that same film nerd also knows your porn preferences. I mean there's community, and then there's a little too close to home.
Anyway: one of the dudes from this band used to work at my local indie video store until it closed. Now I won't see him as much anymore, nor will I be tempted to see his band play live, even though I've heard plenty of worse things. It's kind of win-win in a cynical way, because instead of going out I can use that time to stay at home and download something I want to watch. I wonder how the original "Solaris" is baked. Oh yeah: awful.
Cub
Box of Hair
[Lookout! / Mint; 1996/2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.6.
In reference to Cub's pre-Box of Hair past as a "cute" "indie-pop" "girl band," Marc Hogan's Pitchfork review contains the curious line "Cub toughen up their guitar tones and their vocal chords for Box of Hair, but, thankfully, they don't lose too much of themselves trying to appeal to the punker-than-thou types who used to heap scorn on anything cute or girly (plenty of people still do)." Emphasis is mine.
As much as I feel an urge to attack this line as being condescending and misogynist, A. I'm probably wrong, and B. there is nothing in the world funnier/worse/more ironic than two dudes arguing about who's being sexist, like "step aside ladies, we've got to settle this argument about gender bias like two men." It does seem to me like the band has a right to decide who "themselves" is, though. Whatever, it's nitpicking and a cheap shot.
The aspect of the above quote that I'm more interested in is the opportunity it presents me for self-indulgent navel gazing.
Am I somehow a "punker-than-thou type?" I don't think so. I unabashedly enjoy Billy Joel's holy triumvirate of The Stranger-52nd Street-Glass Houses. Even (especially) album cuts like "Zanzibar" and "Rosalinda's Eyes." I'd even go so far as to call those three albums a "holy triumvirate" because I very much enjoy pop music (even when it's as corny as Billy Emeffing Joel) when it's done well. So I don't qualify for punker-than-anybody.
Do I heap scorn on anything cute or girly? Maybe. Maybe I do. I know I'm not likely to play myself much of anything by a female artist. It's a dirty little secret between me and myself. Ask me for my all-time favorite rock album by a female or females, and I will throw Horses at you without really meaning it and try to run away, feebly tossing Maureen Tucker in my path to try to trip you up in case you chase me. It's lame. I feel lame about it. I love Patsy Cline. I love a lot of women. I like women. I'm not big on girly. Bratty boy stuff is probably more ok with me than girly stuff, but the important thing in either case is being in-your-face about it, which I will like. I'm a simple man. I like what I like. I'm no villain. Phew.
But it raises an interesting question: do I (or does anybody) have to like anything that's cute or girly? Why? Guilt? Tossing aside my suspicion of Marc Hogan's motives for telling me I should care and take seriously anything that's cute or girly, does he have a point? Sure. Sure he does. I shouldn't dismiss anything simply because it's cute or girly. But I also don't have to actively like it or pretend I like it when I really don't simply because it's cute or girly.
Notice how all of this crawling up my own ass I'm doing about this has nothing to do with this 2-year-old reissue of a cute, girly indie pop band's third album from 1996? Looks like I've been hoisted by my own "step aside, ladies" petard. Oh well. Anyway: this album is cute and fun and girly if you're into that kind of thing, which I am generally not, and specifically in the case of this album: also not. Glad it exists. Can understand its merits. Doesn't do it for me. It's not a repudiation of an entire gender nor of any other past, present, or future product of that gender, it's just my opinion about a thing that some people did one time in 1996. Whew. That was easier than I thought.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go bleed my ears out with some loud, abrasive, punker-than-thou COCKROCK.
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