Robert Pollard
Robert Pollard Is Off to Business
[Guided By Voices, Inc.; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.9.
I was never a huge huge megafan like a lot of people, so I might be wrong about this, but wasn't the deal with Guided By Voices that they were pop songcrafters par excellence who nonetheless buried their songs in lo-fi noise, goofed off with insane meaningless Captain Beefheart lyrics ("Kicker of Elves"?), and truncated their songs so short that none of the potential hooks actually got repeated? And the effect was of gleeful subversion, like "we're so good we don't actually have to be good to be great"? Is that accurate criticspeak for what we're dealing with here? Oh, and also isn't Robert Pollard the drinkinest son of a bitch on the face of the planet even though he's in like his 50's by now?
Well, I've heard some bad things about his post-Guided By Voices solo stuff so I was reluctant to check any of it out. Well, ok. It turns out he's following the basic same artistic trajectory as Paul Westerberg. Casual unserious genius followed by a gradual "take me seriously now" jettisoning of the old shitfaced and snotty ironic distancing techniques (or maybe, rather, augmenting/hardening them into serious pre-conceived "this is my art" techniques). The process threatens to plunge the whole enterprise into a blissful adult contemporary mediocrity, but what is he supposed to do, not age? At least he's got enough cred in the bank for it, and Bob Pollard's version of mediocrity is still better than most to the tune of this being a pretty great record, and anyway mediocre doesn't mean bad. It means better than bad.
Also, if the tales of his alcohol intake are anywhere near accurate on a habitual basis, we should all hope this serious songwriter direction at least gets him enough cash to buy a new liver. Organ failure is no way to die. He deserves more comfort than that. Maybe that's what he's shooting for, I mean there's a man-sized clue right there in the title. So ok, he had a long, productive noise rock career and now in his emeritus years he gets to settle into more plush venues, maybe weeklong solo acoustic engagements at the Knitting Factory Los Angeles for beaucoup dollars, that kind of thing. I can think of plenty of people on that road who deserve it less.
Supergrass
Diamond Hoo Ha
[Astralwerks; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.2.
Remember that one minute like six months ago when Jennifer Love Hewitt said something about "vagazzling?" Total publicity stunt to get the entire internet talking about her cooch: it worked and then it didn't of course, because how long are we supposed to be captivated by Hewitt's cooch, anyway? It's just a cooch. You've seen one, you get the basic idea. Plus: it was a pretty transparent stab at viral me-marketing cooked up by some publicist somewhere.
I remember at the time I looked up vagazzling, safesearch: off, and could not find one internet picture of a vagazzled cooch. And I have a rule about viral publicity campaigns that says if there's some supposed phenomenon that involves cooches, and you can't even find an internet picture of a cooch that's participated in this phenomenon, that means that the cooch phenomenon under discussion is bullshit.
But it's mildly real now, the pictures are up, though nothing as salacious as I had hoped. It's basically rhinestones where your bush should be, for people who's hip-huggers, thong, and tramp stamp-based aesthetic reasoning permits them to think that such a thing is "cute" instead of "a fingerpoke in the eye of God." I hesitate to use the word "slut" here, because I think of these women as being sexually empowered but just dumb and tasteless. "Trashy" works best.
This album reminded me to re-look at the vagazzling phenomenon. I couldn't wrap my brain around it before seeing the pictures. For some reason I was imagining jewel-like decorations adorning the outermost labia, framing the vulva, so that if your were to penetrate a vagazzled cooch it would be visually similar to fucking a disco ball. The possible appeal of which didn't make any sense to me. But I understand now. It was the name that threw me. It's really pubazzling. And it's just as dumb but more inane than what I was previously thinking about. I'm kind of disappointed.
Also: is there a sadder human being than Kathy Whatsherfaceunfunnyredhead?
Supergrass are enjoyable as a one or two singles per album mainstream rock band, and the rest sounds like vaguely European rock for a soccer video game. That is my opinion about Supergrass.
Shy Child
Noise Won't Stop
[Kill Rock Stars / Wall of Sound; 2007/2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.0.
Watch/listen to this and then look me in the eye and tell me you find it anything but annoying. If you don't have the energy or time to click and investigate, I'll summarize: this is the keytar and drums duo dancepunk band, and no, they're not "ha ha ha awesome lol."
Thomas Brinkmann
When Horses Die
[Max Ernst; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.4.
There are very few ways to get me to enjoy techno. One of them is "be so pretentious and intense and German that I can't help but laugh, and then I'll be willing to listen to what you have to say for a little while before I get bored and stop." Other ways include: I am 14 and I think I might see a boob while I'm here so I'm in it to win it; giving me free drugs plus sounding dubby as fuck and not expecting me to dance; and being a fake-tanned guido blasting horrible disco diva techno out of your customized-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life Mitsubishi and making a tough guy face like you're the awesomest dude on the planet.
None of these methods actually work for longer than a minute, although both the free drugs method and the being 14 method will generally make me sedentary, so I'll at least have to sit through whatever it is you're doing. This guy is using the German method. I sat through a whole song, even.
Ex Reverie
The Door Into Summer
[Language of Stone; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.6.
Pitchfork basically calls this constipated nerd music, and I agree.
Pitchfork didn't say that exactly, but I did.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Pitchfork Reviews 6/9/08
My Morning Jacket
Evil Urges
[ATO; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 4.7.
I don't know, I think this is a pretty bold move. It's like they stood up for themselves and said, "Hey, wait a minute, guys. You're getting carried away calling us an 'important band.' We're not an 'important band.' In fact, we suck." In a way, it's the best song they've ever done. Because they're right. They do suck. They always sucked. We just didn't know because everything else also sucked.
The Orb
The Dream
[Six Degrees / Traffic Inc.; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 3.6.
I stared at this review for a while with an uneasy feeling that I should know what this is. I didn't read it. It was more of a "transfixed by the cover art and artist name" thing. I had the feeling that it recognized me and I was supposed to return the favor. The sensation was probably a bit like what having Alzheimer's is like. I didn't enjoy it.
So I found some snippets online and listened, and it came rushing back: this is one of those shitty interchangeable 90's UK techno supergroups, like The Crystal Method or U.N.K.L.E. or The Chemical Brothers or Fatboy Slim or Prodigy or etc. etc. The Orb. The Orb. Which one were they? Was that the "shamma dah dow boy, kneecaps boy" song from the Trainspotting Soundtrack? Nope. That's "Born Slippy" by Underworld. Well then. The Orb is just one of the other ones, then. They probably had a hit beat that I would recognize. If I heard it, I would probably describe it as something like "the one that goes bowbow bow bow BOOOOM tikkatik tik tikka tik." But I'm not gonna waste my time tracking down the big Orb hit from 1996.
I looked them up on Wikipedia. They are old now. It must be sad to be an old man in 2008 with all of your worldly possessions hitched up to the "big techno" wagon. Hopefully they're drug addled enough not to know what year it is. There are certain situations under which memory loss can be a blessing.
Christopher Bissonnette
In Between Words
[Kranky; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.7.
This is a total snoozefest. As in it's the vanguard of the ambient electro-composition scene, and this guy is going to headline Snoozefest this year, with support from other notable acts such as "a vacuum cleaner in the next room" and "hissing baby monitor." Get your tickets now.
Walter Meego
Voyager
[Sony / Almost Gold; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.5.
Sometimes I wonder if I hate fun. That would depend on whether or not fun is this. If it is, I hate it. If fun is subjective, then I love fun but hate this.
(FYI it's American Apparel music for ironic fucking.)
James Pants
Welcome
[Stones Throw; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 5.0.
Oh man. This is strange. I feel like I'm being busted right now, because from a musical standpoint this is exactly like Walter Meego, but for some reason I like it and I think it's great and I want to be friends with James Pants and have fun dancing at a house party while he's playing. For some reason I feel like delineating the subtle differences so as to not come off as a hypocrite.
There's two kinds of kidding: real kidding and fake kidding. Walter Meego are either really really amazingly great like next level shit at kidding, or else, more likely, they're fake kidding. I don't know how else you'd explain something like this. It's ineffective kidding in bad taste. Or else, basically the same thing, it's wishful thinking fake kidding in bad taste by some dudes on a major label. The bad taste I can live with. The bad at kidding I can't. If it's a joke, I should be laughing. There are only like two actual jokes that happen in that video, and they're not good or funny. You get the feeling that the Walter Meego guys themselves are not actually funny. They seem like the kind of guys who'll call your sister fat and then say "just kidding" as if that saves it.
James Pants on the other hand, is really kidding. Which I appreciate. If you're going to be a joke, I figure, be serious about it. Joke all the way. Don't make a synth-overload song called "Girls" and then accompany it with an expensive-looking video about how you've got the power to airblast any female just by walking by them and then in the course of its narrative never smirk even once or have a punchline. It's confusing. I think you're probably a joke, but if the joke you're trying to make (and either you're playing your cards too close to your chest or else you're a shitty joker) is that you're not a joke, then either I'm not in on that joke, or else you're actually a total fucking JOKE. And regardless of what's happening, I'm too busy trying to figure this out to be able to enjoy myself, so it's not fun or funny. So if you don't mind, I'm going to go hang out with my buddy James Pants, who would never call my sister fat but would, and often does, gleefully fuck a fat chick.
But of course the distinction is all hypothetical. I'm not gonna go out and buy or routinely listen to either of these albums. I just would be psyched to be at a James Pants party, and if I was at a Walter Meego party, I'd feel a "this sucks" compulsion to get drunk on the official vodka sponsor, pull the plug on the band, get kicked out by the black suit black t-shirt bouncer with the secret service ear thingie, and then piss on the banana tree in the lobby of The W on my way out. That would be the only way I could enjoy myself. In other words, it's asshole music, where James Pants is buddyfun music.
Evil Urges
[ATO; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 4.7.
I don't know, I think this is a pretty bold move. It's like they stood up for themselves and said, "Hey, wait a minute, guys. You're getting carried away calling us an 'important band.' We're not an 'important band.' In fact, we suck." In a way, it's the best song they've ever done. Because they're right. They do suck. They always sucked. We just didn't know because everything else also sucked.
The Orb
The Dream
[Six Degrees / Traffic Inc.; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 3.6.
I stared at this review for a while with an uneasy feeling that I should know what this is. I didn't read it. It was more of a "transfixed by the cover art and artist name" thing. I had the feeling that it recognized me and I was supposed to return the favor. The sensation was probably a bit like what having Alzheimer's is like. I didn't enjoy it.
So I found some snippets online and listened, and it came rushing back: this is one of those shitty interchangeable 90's UK techno supergroups, like The Crystal Method or U.N.K.L.E. or The Chemical Brothers or Fatboy Slim or Prodigy or etc. etc. The Orb. The Orb. Which one were they? Was that the "shamma dah dow boy, kneecaps boy" song from the Trainspotting Soundtrack? Nope. That's "Born Slippy" by Underworld. Well then. The Orb is just one of the other ones, then. They probably had a hit beat that I would recognize. If I heard it, I would probably describe it as something like "the one that goes bowbow bow bow BOOOOM tikkatik tik tikka tik." But I'm not gonna waste my time tracking down the big Orb hit from 1996.
I looked them up on Wikipedia. They are old now. It must be sad to be an old man in 2008 with all of your worldly possessions hitched up to the "big techno" wagon. Hopefully they're drug addled enough not to know what year it is. There are certain situations under which memory loss can be a blessing.
Christopher Bissonnette
In Between Words
[Kranky; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.7.
This is a total snoozefest. As in it's the vanguard of the ambient electro-composition scene, and this guy is going to headline Snoozefest this year, with support from other notable acts such as "a vacuum cleaner in the next room" and "hissing baby monitor." Get your tickets now.
Walter Meego
Voyager
[Sony / Almost Gold; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.5.
Sometimes I wonder if I hate fun. That would depend on whether or not fun is this. If it is, I hate it. If fun is subjective, then I love fun but hate this.
(FYI it's American Apparel music for ironic fucking.)
James Pants
Welcome
[Stones Throw; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 5.0.
Oh man. This is strange. I feel like I'm being busted right now, because from a musical standpoint this is exactly like Walter Meego, but for some reason I like it and I think it's great and I want to be friends with James Pants and have fun dancing at a house party while he's playing. For some reason I feel like delineating the subtle differences so as to not come off as a hypocrite.
There's two kinds of kidding: real kidding and fake kidding. Walter Meego are either really really amazingly great like next level shit at kidding, or else, more likely, they're fake kidding. I don't know how else you'd explain something like this. It's ineffective kidding in bad taste. Or else, basically the same thing, it's wishful thinking fake kidding in bad taste by some dudes on a major label. The bad taste I can live with. The bad at kidding I can't. If it's a joke, I should be laughing. There are only like two actual jokes that happen in that video, and they're not good or funny. You get the feeling that the Walter Meego guys themselves are not actually funny. They seem like the kind of guys who'll call your sister fat and then say "just kidding" as if that saves it.
James Pants on the other hand, is really kidding. Which I appreciate. If you're going to be a joke, I figure, be serious about it. Joke all the way. Don't make a synth-overload song called "Girls" and then accompany it with an expensive-looking video about how you've got the power to airblast any female just by walking by them and then in the course of its narrative never smirk even once or have a punchline. It's confusing. I think you're probably a joke, but if the joke you're trying to make (and either you're playing your cards too close to your chest or else you're a shitty joker) is that you're not a joke, then either I'm not in on that joke, or else you're actually a total fucking JOKE. And regardless of what's happening, I'm too busy trying to figure this out to be able to enjoy myself, so it's not fun or funny. So if you don't mind, I'm going to go hang out with my buddy James Pants, who would never call my sister fat but would, and often does, gleefully fuck a fat chick.
But of course the distinction is all hypothetical. I'm not gonna go out and buy or routinely listen to either of these albums. I just would be psyched to be at a James Pants party, and if I was at a Walter Meego party, I'd feel a "this sucks" compulsion to get drunk on the official vodka sponsor, pull the plug on the band, get kicked out by the black suit black t-shirt bouncer with the secret service ear thingie, and then piss on the banana tree in the lobby of The W on my way out. That would be the only way I could enjoy myself. In other words, it's asshole music, where James Pants is buddyfun music.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Pitchfork Reviews 6/6/08
Fleet Foxes
Fleet Foxes
[Sub Pop; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 9.0 and listed it as the best album of 2008.
Hype is funny. It's only natural, really, and it's not even that bad of a thing. It comes from a very understandable human desire to want things to be good. If we like something, we want it to be considered good. Great, even, if we like it a lot. Sometimes we get carried away, but that's ok. It's ok to be wrong sometimes. Or to indulge in a little hyperbole for the sake of feeling good about ourselves. And it keeps us connected to each other, we can say "hey that thing, isn't it great?!" And then respond "yes, it is, I think so too and I'm also excited about it!" And that's a little boost to the days of those two people who agree on something being good.
Of course hype is destructive too. Because people are just trying to do a thing most of the time, and when it's not as good as everybody says it is, there's backlash. And backlash is natural too. "This is the best thing EVER, is it? Well fuck you pal, you're an idiot. This is not the best thing ever. In fact, it sucks. Ha ha." Nobody likes being told what they should and shouldn't like, and it's fun in a mean way to shit on somebody's parade. Makes you feel better about yourself, like you're not a sucker, like you're different than anybody else. Misanthropy is a fairly natural human phenomenon, because after all, we are all alone, stuck inside of our own brains and bodies.
But also: backlash bands misanthropes together through the bond of bad vibes "this sucks, right?" "You got it buddy, you wanna go get a burger?" "Naw man, burgers suck." "Totally." So that's maybe good in a way too, because even if it's through negativity, misanthropes need to bond with other people. Just for practice.
There's also the kind of anti-backlash backlash and anti-hype hype where you're like "calm down, it's not actually important that we figure out how to properly rate Wavves." That's only natural too, because telling other people to calm down convinces you that you're the calm one, when really you're anything but.
All forces combine over time to the point where any given band generally rates out in the world of opinion-havers as pretty much what they are. Some get perennially rated too high because of some ancient historical context based hype carry-over (see: Sgt. Pepper, Pet Sounds, et al), and some will have weird, ultra-high-rating cult audiences that nobody else can understand for the life of them (Rush, Tool, et al), but in general, graded for whatever community you're loosely a part of as an opinion-haver, everybody over time pretty much gets everything right. Thanks to the competing forces of hype, backlash, and "calm the fuck down."
I'm a bit of a misanthrope/"calm down" guy, and I consider myself to be a part of the "Velvet Underground-based taste in rock" community. So I set the bar pretty low for Fleet Foxes because I figured it'd just be another dispatch from the Bob Dylan/Neil Young community of thinglikers. I tried my damndest to avoid getting carried away or being dismissive, but I figured dismissive would probably be the right call and anyway I didn't feel a lot of urgency to have an opinion on this. So I can honestly say I've never listened to the entire Fleet Foxes album until right now. Well, they scraped their way over my low-set bar of expecting disappointment, like an 8 year old wiener dog who somehow manages to jump onto the couch. Sure, they're only on the couch, but they weren't supposed to be.
What can I say? They're right up there with the other luminaries of 2000's era "indie" soft rock, like The Shins or Arcade Fire or Kingsbury Manx or whoever else. Which sounds dismissive and might be kind of, but how excited do you expect me to get about soft rock? That's what it is. Soft rock. Good times, good tunes. Easy on the ears. Ok, then. I will like this and those other bands only so far as I like their best singles, and the rest is the right now equivalent of Seals & Crofts album cuts. But that doesn't mean that both "White Winter Hymnal" and "Summer Breeze" aren't gold-plated classics of smile-inducement.
I think this is a kingsize compliment for Fleet Foxes, by the way. But that doesn't matter now, because they've had two years of hype to live up to/live down, and they're now spit through the machine onto a different level where their next thing they do will have different expectations than the last thing. Oh well. They're just people doing a thing and hence they don't really deserve to be a battleground for musicnerd opinionfights, but them's the breaks and anyway they're probably making pretty good money per appearance now as compensation for all the "trouble" they've been caused by the hype wars. I guess that's how it goes.
Anyway, Fleet Foxes are now properly rated somewhere between "entrancing, beautifully executed pop/rock vocal arrangements the likes of which we haven't heard since The Mamas and the Papas" and "derivative limpdick hype machine cash grab" to become what they essentially are, a "solid outfit." I've got no real complaints. Wiener dog, on the couch. Well alright. Next.
Erykah Badu
New Amerykah Part One: 4th World War
[Motown; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.8 and listed it as the 13th best album of 2008.
Erykah Badu has more soul in her pinkie toenail than I'll ever have in my entire lifetime. And to her credit she's pretty much always used this as an excuse to do whatever the fuck she wants musically and say whatever the fuck she feels like saying lyrically without worrying about creating some ghastly overproduced vocal workout knockout album like Whitney Houston.
Maybe that first album was a little too pop-oriented, but I don't know. It's been a long time, and I'm not gonna go back to check. I do know that she came out around the same time as India Arie, because I associate the two mentally. India Arie turned out to be a triviajoke punchline compared to Erykah Badu.
Here she's getting as political and as personal as she feels like, and using her soothing, grounded voice to reign in some genuinely-on-the-weird-end stoner Madlib raggas. The whole thing sound like it was fun to work on, and nobody confused getting it right with getting it perfect. Which is all great.
P-fork rightly made reference to the fact that it might be condescending for people to praise this album with a "thank God for a black person finally making 'message music'" angle. But it really deserves whatever praise it can get for the "thank God for any person, black or not, making music that sounds like they just decided 'fuck it' before doing whatever they felt like, messages or no" angle.
Still, I'm an unfunky white boy, and more of a drunk than a stoner to boot, and this isn't for me. I'm just happy for it, is all. I'm glad that Erykah Badu is out there not giving a flying flock of shitgeese about what I think.
The Death Set
Worldwide
[Ninja Tune / Counter; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.8.
The Death Set has just pulled off the improbable feat of making me think about Atari Teenage Riot. They're just as "confrontational" and annoying and "dance punk"y, but they're from now instead of fifteen years ago and they sound like a mix between Wavves and The Go! Team instead of a mix between a headache and a headache (just kidding, it's the same thing).
Lemuria
Get Better
[Asian Man; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.4.
Ian Cohen is cute in the above-linked review. And he makes me feel old. Basically he's having a hard time understanding that the 90's were ONLY BANDS THAT SOUNDED LIKE THIS. Like for 10 solid years, there were at least 50 bands that sounded just exactly like this. And he wasn't really in the middle of it (neither was I, really, but still), so he hears a mediocre 90's-sounding pop/rock band and doesn't immediately start to have flashbacks of embarrassing overwrought self-righteousness.
This isn't just cutely 90's-sounding. This is the EXACT SOUNDTRACK to the single most can't-get-laidest period of American cultural history. That's why it sounds like a combination of "cutesy girl I wanna hold you hand" lyrics and "I'm so tense and full of jizz I want to smash my head through a wall but I can't because that would be impolite, so instead I guess I'll just learn to talk about my feelings, oh yeah, I love holding hands too, sure" guitar. That whole grunge thing they did to their power chords, I don't know what it is technically, but it sounds awfully frustrated, like a mute on a trumpet. There's a reason why people were moshing to Green Day in 1994, and it sure as shit wasn't because Green Day is a kick ass band.
Anyhow, this is a nightmare. And I don't mean that it's just bad, I mean that it's bad and also it's like the theme music to that nightmare where you're back in high school for some reason even though in real life you're 30.
Okay
Huggable Dust
[Absolutely Kosher; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.5.
And then of course there's this, which is what people from now who can't get laid sound like.
Fleet Foxes
[Sub Pop; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 9.0 and listed it as the best album of 2008.
Hype is funny. It's only natural, really, and it's not even that bad of a thing. It comes from a very understandable human desire to want things to be good. If we like something, we want it to be considered good. Great, even, if we like it a lot. Sometimes we get carried away, but that's ok. It's ok to be wrong sometimes. Or to indulge in a little hyperbole for the sake of feeling good about ourselves. And it keeps us connected to each other, we can say "hey that thing, isn't it great?!" And then respond "yes, it is, I think so too and I'm also excited about it!" And that's a little boost to the days of those two people who agree on something being good.
Of course hype is destructive too. Because people are just trying to do a thing most of the time, and when it's not as good as everybody says it is, there's backlash. And backlash is natural too. "This is the best thing EVER, is it? Well fuck you pal, you're an idiot. This is not the best thing ever. In fact, it sucks. Ha ha." Nobody likes being told what they should and shouldn't like, and it's fun in a mean way to shit on somebody's parade. Makes you feel better about yourself, like you're not a sucker, like you're different than anybody else. Misanthropy is a fairly natural human phenomenon, because after all, we are all alone, stuck inside of our own brains and bodies.
But also: backlash bands misanthropes together through the bond of bad vibes "this sucks, right?" "You got it buddy, you wanna go get a burger?" "Naw man, burgers suck." "Totally." So that's maybe good in a way too, because even if it's through negativity, misanthropes need to bond with other people. Just for practice.
There's also the kind of anti-backlash backlash and anti-hype hype where you're like "calm down, it's not actually important that we figure out how to properly rate Wavves." That's only natural too, because telling other people to calm down convinces you that you're the calm one, when really you're anything but.
All forces combine over time to the point where any given band generally rates out in the world of opinion-havers as pretty much what they are. Some get perennially rated too high because of some ancient historical context based hype carry-over (see: Sgt. Pepper, Pet Sounds, et al), and some will have weird, ultra-high-rating cult audiences that nobody else can understand for the life of them (Rush, Tool, et al), but in general, graded for whatever community you're loosely a part of as an opinion-haver, everybody over time pretty much gets everything right. Thanks to the competing forces of hype, backlash, and "calm the fuck down."
I'm a bit of a misanthrope/"calm down" guy, and I consider myself to be a part of the "Velvet Underground-based taste in rock" community. So I set the bar pretty low for Fleet Foxes because I figured it'd just be another dispatch from the Bob Dylan/Neil Young community of thinglikers. I tried my damndest to avoid getting carried away or being dismissive, but I figured dismissive would probably be the right call and anyway I didn't feel a lot of urgency to have an opinion on this. So I can honestly say I've never listened to the entire Fleet Foxes album until right now. Well, they scraped their way over my low-set bar of expecting disappointment, like an 8 year old wiener dog who somehow manages to jump onto the couch. Sure, they're only on the couch, but they weren't supposed to be.
What can I say? They're right up there with the other luminaries of 2000's era "indie" soft rock, like The Shins or Arcade Fire or Kingsbury Manx or whoever else. Which sounds dismissive and might be kind of, but how excited do you expect me to get about soft rock? That's what it is. Soft rock. Good times, good tunes. Easy on the ears. Ok, then. I will like this and those other bands only so far as I like their best singles, and the rest is the right now equivalent of Seals & Crofts album cuts. But that doesn't mean that both "White Winter Hymnal" and "Summer Breeze" aren't gold-plated classics of smile-inducement.
I think this is a kingsize compliment for Fleet Foxes, by the way. But that doesn't matter now, because they've had two years of hype to live up to/live down, and they're now spit through the machine onto a different level where their next thing they do will have different expectations than the last thing. Oh well. They're just people doing a thing and hence they don't really deserve to be a battleground for musicnerd opinionfights, but them's the breaks and anyway they're probably making pretty good money per appearance now as compensation for all the "trouble" they've been caused by the hype wars. I guess that's how it goes.
Anyway, Fleet Foxes are now properly rated somewhere between "entrancing, beautifully executed pop/rock vocal arrangements the likes of which we haven't heard since The Mamas and the Papas" and "derivative limpdick hype machine cash grab" to become what they essentially are, a "solid outfit." I've got no real complaints. Wiener dog, on the couch. Well alright. Next.
Erykah Badu
New Amerykah Part One: 4th World War
[Motown; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.8 and listed it as the 13th best album of 2008.
Erykah Badu has more soul in her pinkie toenail than I'll ever have in my entire lifetime. And to her credit she's pretty much always used this as an excuse to do whatever the fuck she wants musically and say whatever the fuck she feels like saying lyrically without worrying about creating some ghastly overproduced vocal workout knockout album like Whitney Houston.
Maybe that first album was a little too pop-oriented, but I don't know. It's been a long time, and I'm not gonna go back to check. I do know that she came out around the same time as India Arie, because I associate the two mentally. India Arie turned out to be a triviajoke punchline compared to Erykah Badu.
Here she's getting as political and as personal as she feels like, and using her soothing, grounded voice to reign in some genuinely-on-the-weird-end stoner Madlib raggas. The whole thing sound like it was fun to work on, and nobody confused getting it right with getting it perfect. Which is all great.
P-fork rightly made reference to the fact that it might be condescending for people to praise this album with a "thank God for a black person finally making 'message music'" angle. But it really deserves whatever praise it can get for the "thank God for any person, black or not, making music that sounds like they just decided 'fuck it' before doing whatever they felt like, messages or no" angle.
Still, I'm an unfunky white boy, and more of a drunk than a stoner to boot, and this isn't for me. I'm just happy for it, is all. I'm glad that Erykah Badu is out there not giving a flying flock of shitgeese about what I think.
The Death Set
Worldwide
[Ninja Tune / Counter; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.8.
The Death Set has just pulled off the improbable feat of making me think about Atari Teenage Riot. They're just as "confrontational" and annoying and "dance punk"y, but they're from now instead of fifteen years ago and they sound like a mix between Wavves and The Go! Team instead of a mix between a headache and a headache (just kidding, it's the same thing).
Lemuria
Get Better
[Asian Man; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.4.
Ian Cohen is cute in the above-linked review. And he makes me feel old. Basically he's having a hard time understanding that the 90's were ONLY BANDS THAT SOUNDED LIKE THIS. Like for 10 solid years, there were at least 50 bands that sounded just exactly like this. And he wasn't really in the middle of it (neither was I, really, but still), so he hears a mediocre 90's-sounding pop/rock band and doesn't immediately start to have flashbacks of embarrassing overwrought self-righteousness.
This isn't just cutely 90's-sounding. This is the EXACT SOUNDTRACK to the single most can't-get-laidest period of American cultural history. That's why it sounds like a combination of "cutesy girl I wanna hold you hand" lyrics and "I'm so tense and full of jizz I want to smash my head through a wall but I can't because that would be impolite, so instead I guess I'll just learn to talk about my feelings, oh yeah, I love holding hands too, sure" guitar. That whole grunge thing they did to their power chords, I don't know what it is technically, but it sounds awfully frustrated, like a mute on a trumpet. There's a reason why people were moshing to Green Day in 1994, and it sure as shit wasn't because Green Day is a kick ass band.
Anyhow, this is a nightmare. And I don't mean that it's just bad, I mean that it's bad and also it's like the theme music to that nightmare where you're back in high school for some reason even though in real life you're 30.
Okay
Huggable Dust
[Absolutely Kosher; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.5.
And then of course there's this, which is what people from now who can't get laid sound like.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Pitchfork Reviews 6/5/08
Radiohead
The Best Of / The Best Of [Special Edition]
[Capitol; 2008]
Pitchfork gave them a 4.0/2.0.
Yes, I am familiar with the band Radiohead. What? Oh, no thank you. No thanks. Look buddy, I said NO. Hey, you want me to call the cops? I don't want to but I will. Ok. Yeah, have a good night, good luck. Hang in there.
Gas
Nah Und Fern
[Kompakt; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 9.2.
One of the things in life that I can't tell about is "experimental electronic music." Like I can't tell if it needs to exist. I think it might not. Like these guys are doing all their experimental stuff so that some day their musical "discoveries" will be understood and accepted by the world at large in the form of, probably, some kind of techno that does some esoteric nerdy musical thing that other techno has previously not done. So it's a little like being at the very most abstract forefront of parking lot design or wisdom tooth removal procedures or something else that sucks.
Also: the "experimental" nature usually means "guess what method I used to arrive at roughly the same boring pretentious wailing mess of sound that's existed in 'experimental' electronic music ever since there was such a thing? THIS TIME IT'S A SOFTWARE I DESIGNED WITH ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TO LEARN HOW TO PLAY A SYNTHESIZED TRUMPET" rather than "I'm producing a sound that has never been heard before and my results are new and strange and crazy."
But I probably just don't get it. And I think I'm in the middle of a breakup with drugs.
Vetiver
Thing of the Past
[Gnomonsong; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.5.
This is a covers album of mellow old folk/rock/country tunes that I'm not familiar with in the first place, done in the style of a mellow folk/rock/country tunesman from now. It's nice if you like that kind of thing, and I can't imagine why you wouldn't like that kind of thing on at least a level of "ok, this is on, and it's reminding me to calm down." You don't have to love it or be passionate about it. It's good times music, like, I dunno, JJ Cale or something. The kind of thing that comes on and nobody says "turn that fucking noise off," but maybe somebody does just change it after a few songs if it's not right, because sometimes when you're upset the last thing you want is somebody telling you to relax because it's like "the whole reason why I'm upset in the first place is people telling me what to do all the time."
I know about this first hand. Had a rough night's sleep because I got all the way up my own ass upset last night. I was alone and there were sirens in my neighborhood and then a thunderstorm. I live in a city and I feel perfectly safe most of the time, but it's a pretty thin line. If some police-fleeing weirdo came stumbling through my alleyway looking for shelter from a thunderstorm and decided arbitrarily "that's the house I'm going to kill everybody in," then not a whole lot would stop him. I'm protected by locked doors and windows. That's it. They're thin. I'm vulnerable.
And on the inside is me, and I'm not going to kick anybody's ass. I might slow them down a little, struggle, make it hard to get away with murdering me, but as far as successful defense goes, I'm not confident at all. People are delicate. We have just a layer of skin and then a bunch of stuff underneath and it's all pretty easy to ruin, and then once you die, that's it. You're done living. We're all so vulnerable.
I got pretty freaked out thinking about all of this. I have a 3 wood. I put it under the bed after holding it high on the walk from my pantry, where it lives, to my bedroom. I think I was subconsciously making sure to show it off to any potential murderous burglars who may have been stalking me at the moment. It was a neurotic and paranoid episode, but what are you going to do? Live in the suburbs? Stop smoking pot and watching post-apocalypse movies alone late at night? Maybe some day for the suburbs and I could also probably stand to cut down on that second thing if it's gonna turn me to a quivering mental patient every time. Or at least feel the tension and switch to something more uplifting, like say "Twins" or "H.O.T.S."
It was "Waterworld," by the way. Human race spoiler alert: we're all doomed.
I get the feeling that if I had put this on instead of "Waterworld" last night I would have had a better time of things. But then I might also have gotten mad at it if I had put it on after having watched "Waterworld" for being such a thin expression of the sheer joy of being allowed to experience what it's like to be alive. I might have got annoyed and yelled "don't pull that 'calm down' shit on me, I've got problems!" Willie Nelson would have been better. That's a guy who can handle his weed. He's not telling anybody to relax, either. He just leads by example.
Still, if you're relaxed already, this is good theme music for that. The end.
Young Knives
Superabundance
[Rykodisc; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.6.
I'm an American boy. I tune out when a musically straighforward pop/rock band spends a lot of time skewering British society. But these guys are so GOOD AT IT. Take that, BRITISH SOCIETY. This will teach you to... you know... suck... at... YEAH. "GUNS OF BRIXTON!"
Marc Ribot
Party Intellectuals
[Pi; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.1.
This starts off with a pretty intense feedback psyche cover of The Doors' "Break on Through." It's the kind of thing you'd put on a mix for yourself to listen to in the car, feel pretty clever about it, and then wind up skipping it after the third listen. Eventually you'll realize that this is not one of your better mixes, like the fact that you put "Break On Through" on there and thought it was a kickass idea kind of opened the floodgate for a lot of other recent "let's see if I like this" level stuff, or else the other mixtape phenomenon of "man, that's two songs where one would have sufficed" where two things are essentially the same but one is better.
That's because there are a lot of cops on this even though it's all over the place. One track is "look: I'm doing Berlin-era Bowie," then "look: I'm doing Spectrum/Spacemen 3," or "I'm Robert Fripp," or "look: I'm approximating a Cuban version of Serge Gainsbourg." It'd be a letdown if I had expectations, but I don't, and anyway it's called "Mark Ribot's Ceramic Dog" so clearly it's a tossoff goof because that's not what you call something you're totally serious about. So it's not really worth analyzing, but I'm not sure why this needs to exist.
The above-linked review by Joe Tangari gives a clue of why. This guy is apparently an "avant garde" musician who's more notable for his collaborations than for his all-over-the-place solo stuff. So basically he's a session guy with street cred. And what I'm listening to now is his business card. Oh, ok. Well in that case, Mark Ribot, I'm just going to put all that stuff you're copping from on my mixtapes, and I wish you a long and lucrative career of making other people's music more "interesting." Your secret's safe with me, buddy. Wink.
The Best Of / The Best Of [Special Edition]
[Capitol; 2008]
Pitchfork gave them a 4.0/2.0.
Yes, I am familiar with the band Radiohead. What? Oh, no thank you. No thanks. Look buddy, I said NO. Hey, you want me to call the cops? I don't want to but I will. Ok. Yeah, have a good night, good luck. Hang in there.
Gas
Nah Und Fern
[Kompakt; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 9.2.
One of the things in life that I can't tell about is "experimental electronic music." Like I can't tell if it needs to exist. I think it might not. Like these guys are doing all their experimental stuff so that some day their musical "discoveries" will be understood and accepted by the world at large in the form of, probably, some kind of techno that does some esoteric nerdy musical thing that other techno has previously not done. So it's a little like being at the very most abstract forefront of parking lot design or wisdom tooth removal procedures or something else that sucks.
Also: the "experimental" nature usually means "guess what method I used to arrive at roughly the same boring pretentious wailing mess of sound that's existed in 'experimental' electronic music ever since there was such a thing? THIS TIME IT'S A SOFTWARE I DESIGNED WITH ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE TO LEARN HOW TO PLAY A SYNTHESIZED TRUMPET" rather than "I'm producing a sound that has never been heard before and my results are new and strange and crazy."
But I probably just don't get it. And I think I'm in the middle of a breakup with drugs.
Vetiver
Thing of the Past
[Gnomonsong; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.5.
This is a covers album of mellow old folk/rock/country tunes that I'm not familiar with in the first place, done in the style of a mellow folk/rock/country tunesman from now. It's nice if you like that kind of thing, and I can't imagine why you wouldn't like that kind of thing on at least a level of "ok, this is on, and it's reminding me to calm down." You don't have to love it or be passionate about it. It's good times music, like, I dunno, JJ Cale or something. The kind of thing that comes on and nobody says "turn that fucking noise off," but maybe somebody does just change it after a few songs if it's not right, because sometimes when you're upset the last thing you want is somebody telling you to relax because it's like "the whole reason why I'm upset in the first place is people telling me what to do all the time."
I know about this first hand. Had a rough night's sleep because I got all the way up my own ass upset last night. I was alone and there were sirens in my neighborhood and then a thunderstorm. I live in a city and I feel perfectly safe most of the time, but it's a pretty thin line. If some police-fleeing weirdo came stumbling through my alleyway looking for shelter from a thunderstorm and decided arbitrarily "that's the house I'm going to kill everybody in," then not a whole lot would stop him. I'm protected by locked doors and windows. That's it. They're thin. I'm vulnerable.
And on the inside is me, and I'm not going to kick anybody's ass. I might slow them down a little, struggle, make it hard to get away with murdering me, but as far as successful defense goes, I'm not confident at all. People are delicate. We have just a layer of skin and then a bunch of stuff underneath and it's all pretty easy to ruin, and then once you die, that's it. You're done living. We're all so vulnerable.
I got pretty freaked out thinking about all of this. I have a 3 wood. I put it under the bed after holding it high on the walk from my pantry, where it lives, to my bedroom. I think I was subconsciously making sure to show it off to any potential murderous burglars who may have been stalking me at the moment. It was a neurotic and paranoid episode, but what are you going to do? Live in the suburbs? Stop smoking pot and watching post-apocalypse movies alone late at night? Maybe some day for the suburbs and I could also probably stand to cut down on that second thing if it's gonna turn me to a quivering mental patient every time. Or at least feel the tension and switch to something more uplifting, like say "Twins" or "H.O.T.S."
It was "Waterworld," by the way. Human race spoiler alert: we're all doomed.
I get the feeling that if I had put this on instead of "Waterworld" last night I would have had a better time of things. But then I might also have gotten mad at it if I had put it on after having watched "Waterworld" for being such a thin expression of the sheer joy of being allowed to experience what it's like to be alive. I might have got annoyed and yelled "don't pull that 'calm down' shit on me, I've got problems!" Willie Nelson would have been better. That's a guy who can handle his weed. He's not telling anybody to relax, either. He just leads by example.
Still, if you're relaxed already, this is good theme music for that. The end.
Young Knives
Superabundance
[Rykodisc; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.6.
I'm an American boy. I tune out when a musically straighforward pop/rock band spends a lot of time skewering British society. But these guys are so GOOD AT IT. Take that, BRITISH SOCIETY. This will teach you to... you know... suck... at... YEAH. "GUNS OF BRIXTON!"
Marc Ribot
Party Intellectuals
[Pi; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.1.
This starts off with a pretty intense feedback psyche cover of The Doors' "Break on Through." It's the kind of thing you'd put on a mix for yourself to listen to in the car, feel pretty clever about it, and then wind up skipping it after the third listen. Eventually you'll realize that this is not one of your better mixes, like the fact that you put "Break On Through" on there and thought it was a kickass idea kind of opened the floodgate for a lot of other recent "let's see if I like this" level stuff, or else the other mixtape phenomenon of "man, that's two songs where one would have sufficed" where two things are essentially the same but one is better.
That's because there are a lot of cops on this even though it's all over the place. One track is "look: I'm doing Berlin-era Bowie," then "look: I'm doing Spectrum/Spacemen 3," or "I'm Robert Fripp," or "look: I'm approximating a Cuban version of Serge Gainsbourg." It'd be a letdown if I had expectations, but I don't, and anyway it's called "Mark Ribot's Ceramic Dog" so clearly it's a tossoff goof because that's not what you call something you're totally serious about. So it's not really worth analyzing, but I'm not sure why this needs to exist.
The above-linked review by Joe Tangari gives a clue of why. This guy is apparently an "avant garde" musician who's more notable for his collaborations than for his all-over-the-place solo stuff. So basically he's a session guy with street cred. And what I'm listening to now is his business card. Oh, ok. Well in that case, Mark Ribot, I'm just going to put all that stuff you're copping from on my mixtapes, and I wish you a long and lucrative career of making other people's music more "interesting." Your secret's safe with me, buddy. Wink.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Pitchfork Reviews 6/4/08
Shearwater
Rook
[Matador; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.0 and listed it as the 43rd best album of 2008.
If something sounds like this, it's going to have to absolutely break my fucking heart in order for me to think it's any good at all. I'm sorry. Once bitten, twice shy. And I've been bitten by enough of these "I'm so sensitive" orchestral indie things for a lifetime of shyness. Sorry, hope that's not unfair. If you need to, call it my loss, inability to express vulnerability and intimacy, whatever. I call it I'm in my 30's now and I know what I like and it's not this.
Opeth
Watershed
[Roadrunner; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.5.
The first 20 seconds of this is "Hotel California" juggled around to sound minor key and even more maudlin. Then it changes to acoustic guitar Tool. Then... oh fuck this.
Ok, one more song...
It's also metal? Hmmm. Ok, quiet piano interlude. Back to metal. Whoa, death metal growling! Ok, noodly metal guitar solo shredding, ok. I'm getting bored again.
But props to these Swedish guys for, I think, being the first thing I've ever listened to that routinely kicked its own ass. It's a strange accomplishment. It's like they know how much they suck but can't do anything about it. It's like listening to a fight between sucking and being mad about how much they suck (while still sucking).
Festival
Come, Arrow, Come!
[Language of Stone; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.7.
Here's a review of my preconceived notions.
I was totally right about the saw. It's not an indiekids orchestral jug band, though. It's an indiekids folk/Appalachia/Gillian Welch revival band, but kind of vaguely British sounding. Slightly different. Mandolins playing what sounds like the original score to The Neverending Story, with a lot of spooky "oooohs." That kind of thing.
Dead wrong about the voices. These are two ladies with serious voices, of the reedy variety, but still. They enunciate. A lot. And they're unselfconscious. They'd have to be to sound as direct as they do. There's nothing cute about them. The lyrics, well, yeah. Pretentious. Maybe not flowery. It's all minstrel tradition stuff. Not the blackface guys, the dancing guys with flutes.
Pretty spot on.
Local H
12 Angry Months
[Shout! Factory; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.3.
It's strange how people latch onto regional shitty bands. In Chicago we have Local H and the ghost of Poi Dog Pondering. I run into older people and sometimes they talk about their wild youth where they used to hang out with all the Poi Dog Pondering guys. I've met some of the Poi Dog Pondering guys. Nice guys. Fun to party with. Terrible, terrible band. Not the kind of band you want to brag to people about hanging out with. If it was that impressive to hang out with those guys, how come I've done it? They're just guys that happened to be a band that sounded like Happy Mondays and the New Bohemians.
I went to school in Boston. Guster. I grew up in Maryland. Jimmy's Chicken Shack.
Every place has their shitty "next big thing"/one hit wonder pop rock band that they just can't let go of. So I'd say that I'm tired of seeing "Local H" on a marquee, but there's nothing I can do about it. If I moved somewhere else, there would just be the same thing. Except maybe New York. Does New York have shitty bands that make a big regional splash, score a blip on the national conscience with a lost-in-the-shuffle single, and then spin their wheels driving enormous tour vans full of sponsorship-donated gear to medium-sized venues for 20 years, fucking some forty-something "I never go out anymore, this is fun" groupies in between phone calls to their teenaged children all along the way? No? Why, because it's New York? That might be the best reason I've ever heard to move to New York.
Not that that's what Local H are doing, per se, but it sure as shit isn't what they're NOT doing.
Hammock
Maybe They Will Sing for Us Tomorrow
[Darla; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.2.
I kept waiting for this to be something, but it never was anything. I would rather listen to silence than this. There wouldn't be a difference, really, I just wouldn't feel like I'm in some kind of day spa for guitarists.
Rook
[Matador; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.0 and listed it as the 43rd best album of 2008.
If something sounds like this, it's going to have to absolutely break my fucking heart in order for me to think it's any good at all. I'm sorry. Once bitten, twice shy. And I've been bitten by enough of these "I'm so sensitive" orchestral indie things for a lifetime of shyness. Sorry, hope that's not unfair. If you need to, call it my loss, inability to express vulnerability and intimacy, whatever. I call it I'm in my 30's now and I know what I like and it's not this.
Opeth
Watershed
[Roadrunner; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.5.
The first 20 seconds of this is "Hotel California" juggled around to sound minor key and even more maudlin. Then it changes to acoustic guitar Tool. Then... oh fuck this.
Ok, one more song...
It's also metal? Hmmm. Ok, quiet piano interlude. Back to metal. Whoa, death metal growling! Ok, noodly metal guitar solo shredding, ok. I'm getting bored again.
But props to these Swedish guys for, I think, being the first thing I've ever listened to that routinely kicked its own ass. It's a strange accomplishment. It's like they know how much they suck but can't do anything about it. It's like listening to a fight between sucking and being mad about how much they suck (while still sucking).
Festival
Come, Arrow, Come!
[Language of Stone; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.7.
Here's a review of my preconceived notions.
"There is absolutely going to be a violin on here. And maybe even a saw. It'll be hanging out at the indiekids corner of 'orchestral' and 'jug band.' Outside chance at a tuba."
I was totally right about the saw. It's not an indiekids orchestral jug band, though. It's an indiekids folk/Appalachia/Gillian Welch revival band, but kind of vaguely British sounding. Slightly different. Mandolins playing what sounds like the original score to The Neverending Story, with a lot of spooky "oooohs." That kind of thing.
"The lyrics are going to be pretentious and flowery, the singers untrained but cute-sounding with enough self consciousness and deliberation that they might as well have taken extensive voice lessons."
Dead wrong about the voices. These are two ladies with serious voices, of the reedy variety, but still. They enunciate. A lot. And they're unselfconscious. They'd have to be to sound as direct as they do. There's nothing cute about them. The lyrics, well, yeah. Pretentious. Maybe not flowery. It's all minstrel tradition stuff. Not the blackface guys, the dancing guys with flutes.
"I won't like it."
Pretty spot on.
Local H
12 Angry Months
[Shout! Factory; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.3.
It's strange how people latch onto regional shitty bands. In Chicago we have Local H and the ghost of Poi Dog Pondering. I run into older people and sometimes they talk about their wild youth where they used to hang out with all the Poi Dog Pondering guys. I've met some of the Poi Dog Pondering guys. Nice guys. Fun to party with. Terrible, terrible band. Not the kind of band you want to brag to people about hanging out with. If it was that impressive to hang out with those guys, how come I've done it? They're just guys that happened to be a band that sounded like Happy Mondays and the New Bohemians.
I went to school in Boston. Guster. I grew up in Maryland. Jimmy's Chicken Shack.
Every place has their shitty "next big thing"/one hit wonder pop rock band that they just can't let go of. So I'd say that I'm tired of seeing "Local H" on a marquee, but there's nothing I can do about it. If I moved somewhere else, there would just be the same thing. Except maybe New York. Does New York have shitty bands that make a big regional splash, score a blip on the national conscience with a lost-in-the-shuffle single, and then spin their wheels driving enormous tour vans full of sponsorship-donated gear to medium-sized venues for 20 years, fucking some forty-something "I never go out anymore, this is fun" groupies in between phone calls to their teenaged children all along the way? No? Why, because it's New York? That might be the best reason I've ever heard to move to New York.
Not that that's what Local H are doing, per se, but it sure as shit isn't what they're NOT doing.
Hammock
Maybe They Will Sing for Us Tomorrow
[Darla; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.2.
I kept waiting for this to be something, but it never was anything. I would rather listen to silence than this. There wouldn't be a difference, really, I just wouldn't feel like I'm in some kind of day spa for guitarists.
Pitchfork Reviews 6/3/08
Spiritualized
Songs in A&E
[Universal / Fontana / Spaceman; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.4 and did not list it as one of 2008's 50 best albums.
I was trying to figure out what I don't like about this, and it boils down to backup singers. I have a rule about backup singers. And it says that: "if you're a nasal white guy who writes his own songs and you get to a point where you feel you need to hire backup singers who are WAY better singers than you are (read: three black women) because otherwise there'd just be no way to convey the soulful power of your meaning, then you're officially full of shit." The corollary is that duets with a single woman who's better than you equals you're on notice.
But it's tricky here. Not all of these songs have backup singers. I get the feeling that all of the songs NEED backup singers, though. This album sounds like a boring concert at a medium-big venue (balcony, "perfect" sound clarity) with an over-rehearsed band and backup singers and maybe a bongo player, and lots of musicians getting introduced, and lots of applause for the string section or the horn players, and a big applause break for the drummer who steps out in front of his kit, makes sure to find his light, and plays the accordion for the duration of the "heartbreaking ballad" portion of the program.
It's the Bruce Springsteen mold. I've never seen the boss live, but I'd reckon that my back would start hurting like a son of a bitch around minute 90 as "Out In The Street" medleys into "Thunder Road" and I look at my watch and realize I've got at least another hour to go. And I'd feel irritated that I'd be expected to endure this and even feel obligated to because look at the boss: he's sweating like a pig, grinning from ear to ear, and he's 30 years older than me. Add the crowds of middle aged guys screaming "woo" and braggin about how many times they've seen him play, and the whole thing gets a pass. But that's conjecture.
Anyhow, this has backup singer's disease. Which is a real shame considering this guy is one of the Spacemen 3 guys.
Lykke Li
Youth Novels
[LL; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.8 and listed it as the 45th best album of 2008.
I was at a bar last night and heard "Give It Away" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Twice. And guess what? I liked it. I used to love that song when I was 12. Turns out I wasn't wrong, necessarily, I was just embarrassed to be a 12 year old who likes "funk punk." I won't get on my own back about it, though. Those are probably the two most embarrassing things for a person to be.
Maybe it's the weather change. Lately I've been super tolerant of pop songs. I found myself at a bar while the MGMT "all along the western front" song came on, and I got the sneaking suspicion that it's the best dancepop single we've had since Prince's heyday. It helps that that's exactly what they were going for, but still. I'm impressed by it.
Anyhow, this is right there in the heart of the Swedish motherlode of electropop fun goodness. I'm in the mood for it. Because it's spring and there are boobs out and I'm 12 again.
The Black Angels
Directions to See a Ghost
[Light in the Attic; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.1.
Nate Patrin says this is useless to anybody who's not on drugs, and I disagree. I think it's useless to anybody who's on drugs too. If doing drugs and listening to music is any kind of a priority to you, then you've already got at least 10 things like this that are better than this, and if you put this on while you're on drugs, you will be bummed out, not know why, and then once you realize it's because this is on, you'd muster the motivation necessary to switch this to something else. And "something else" might be a collection of pre-WWII cartoons or something like that, because this could put you off from music for a while. And those cartoons are amazing. And then you'll get distracted and make yourself a sandwich or something. And then the cartoons will seem like a bad idea, so you'll just turn on the TV and end up watching the last 45 minutes of "Another 48 Hours." Or something. But yeah, this album isn't going to put you over the top into some other land. It's just going to leave you frustrated and restless. It's a waste of drugs.
The Pinker Tones
Wild Animals
[Nacional; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 5.7.
This is all over the place. It's fucking terrible too. I was gonna write out a joke for every track, but then that would involve listening to the whole thing, so I scrapped that idea pretty fast. Here's the best joke I came up with. It doesn't apply to every track, but applying this to anything, even partially, should be enough:
I thought Beck already was a mashup of Beck and Kids Incorporated, but I guess I was wrong. This is.
Helvetia
The Acrobats
[Static Cult; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.7.
I'm not gonna lie, there are some days for which it's a huge chore to listen to all of this stuff from 2008. Like later today I'm gonna go to the record shop. I've got some money burning a hole in my pocket. I want to listen to the stuff I might want to buy and go in with a plan instead of just waving a $20 in the air and drooling like the fresh-off-the-beet-truck rock music bumpkin I am.
No offense to Helvetica, or whatever, but they're not on my list right now. Sorry guys. You're not awful, just indistinct. And you're just not on my list right now.
Sorry for the phone-in job. This post sucks.
Songs in A&E
[Universal / Fontana / Spaceman; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.4 and did not list it as one of 2008's 50 best albums.
I was trying to figure out what I don't like about this, and it boils down to backup singers. I have a rule about backup singers. And it says that: "if you're a nasal white guy who writes his own songs and you get to a point where you feel you need to hire backup singers who are WAY better singers than you are (read: three black women) because otherwise there'd just be no way to convey the soulful power of your meaning, then you're officially full of shit." The corollary is that duets with a single woman who's better than you equals you're on notice.
But it's tricky here. Not all of these songs have backup singers. I get the feeling that all of the songs NEED backup singers, though. This album sounds like a boring concert at a medium-big venue (balcony, "perfect" sound clarity) with an over-rehearsed band and backup singers and maybe a bongo player, and lots of musicians getting introduced, and lots of applause for the string section or the horn players, and a big applause break for the drummer who steps out in front of his kit, makes sure to find his light, and plays the accordion for the duration of the "heartbreaking ballad" portion of the program.
It's the Bruce Springsteen mold. I've never seen the boss live, but I'd reckon that my back would start hurting like a son of a bitch around minute 90 as "Out In The Street" medleys into "Thunder Road" and I look at my watch and realize I've got at least another hour to go. And I'd feel irritated that I'd be expected to endure this and even feel obligated to because look at the boss: he's sweating like a pig, grinning from ear to ear, and he's 30 years older than me. Add the crowds of middle aged guys screaming "woo" and braggin about how many times they've seen him play, and the whole thing gets a pass. But that's conjecture.
Anyhow, this has backup singer's disease. Which is a real shame considering this guy is one of the Spacemen 3 guys.
Lykke Li
Youth Novels
[LL; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.8 and listed it as the 45th best album of 2008.
I was at a bar last night and heard "Give It Away" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Twice. And guess what? I liked it. I used to love that song when I was 12. Turns out I wasn't wrong, necessarily, I was just embarrassed to be a 12 year old who likes "funk punk." I won't get on my own back about it, though. Those are probably the two most embarrassing things for a person to be.
Maybe it's the weather change. Lately I've been super tolerant of pop songs. I found myself at a bar while the MGMT "all along the western front" song came on, and I got the sneaking suspicion that it's the best dancepop single we've had since Prince's heyday. It helps that that's exactly what they were going for, but still. I'm impressed by it.
Anyhow, this is right there in the heart of the Swedish motherlode of electropop fun goodness. I'm in the mood for it. Because it's spring and there are boobs out and I'm 12 again.
The Black Angels
Directions to See a Ghost
[Light in the Attic; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.1.
Nate Patrin says this is useless to anybody who's not on drugs, and I disagree. I think it's useless to anybody who's on drugs too. If doing drugs and listening to music is any kind of a priority to you, then you've already got at least 10 things like this that are better than this, and if you put this on while you're on drugs, you will be bummed out, not know why, and then once you realize it's because this is on, you'd muster the motivation necessary to switch this to something else. And "something else" might be a collection of pre-WWII cartoons or something like that, because this could put you off from music for a while. And those cartoons are amazing. And then you'll get distracted and make yourself a sandwich or something. And then the cartoons will seem like a bad idea, so you'll just turn on the TV and end up watching the last 45 minutes of "Another 48 Hours." Or something. But yeah, this album isn't going to put you over the top into some other land. It's just going to leave you frustrated and restless. It's a waste of drugs.
The Pinker Tones
Wild Animals
[Nacional; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 5.7.
This is all over the place. It's fucking terrible too. I was gonna write out a joke for every track, but then that would involve listening to the whole thing, so I scrapped that idea pretty fast. Here's the best joke I came up with. It doesn't apply to every track, but applying this to anything, even partially, should be enough:
I thought Beck already was a mashup of Beck and Kids Incorporated, but I guess I was wrong. This is.
Helvetia
The Acrobats
[Static Cult; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 6.7.
I'm not gonna lie, there are some days for which it's a huge chore to listen to all of this stuff from 2008. Like later today I'm gonna go to the record shop. I've got some money burning a hole in my pocket. I want to listen to the stuff I might want to buy and go in with a plan instead of just waving a $20 in the air and drooling like the fresh-off-the-beet-truck rock music bumpkin I am.
No offense to Helvetica, or whatever, but they're not on my list right now. Sorry guys. You're not awful, just indistinct. And you're just not on my list right now.
Sorry for the phone-in job. This post sucks.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Pitchfork Reviews 6/2/08
Leviathan
Massive Conspiracy Against All Life
Lurker of Chalice
Lurker of Chalice
[Moribund; 2008 / Total Holocaust; 2005/2008]
Pitchfork gave them an 8.0/7.5.
It's funny, I was just thinking about my aesthetic. I think it boils down to this: I like rock music by people I could fight to a draw. If they could kick my ass and come on real strong bragging about it in the music, I get intimidated, and if it sounds like I could kick their asses, I get frustrated. I don't want to be threatened, just engaged. I also don't want to be serenaded to by some sniveling wimp.
Super aggro stuff like Pantera and Gorgoroth I like ironically, because they scare the shit out of me, and instead of just admitting that I can't hang, I prefer to think that THEY can't hang with ME. Ha ha, you guys are super metal. Ha ha. (Please don't hit me, I'm fragile.)
But Mastodon doesn't intimidate me. Those guys could each probably kick my ass, but they're all super funny dudes. They'd probably rather riff on goofs with me at a barbecue than kick my ass. Mastodon fans, maybe a different story. They can't all be ultra-positive, help you up after slamming you down in the pit types. So just to be safe, I'll stick to quietly listening to Mastodon records without making too big of a deal about it.
I could hang with the Lightning Bolt guys in a fight. That fight would be awesome and stupid and fun, and probably involve whipping super balls at each other while somebody named Brian tries to bite your arm.
That guy from the Decembrists? I could kick his ass. I'd even kind of want to. Or at least stomp on his glasses.
What about easygoing non-rockish music that I like? Sam Prekop would fight to a draw. That guy knows superpeace Tai Chi martial arts shit, probably. Like I'd try to rush him, and he'd hum some little ditty and push me aside, and keep doing it until I gave up.
So it's close. Relative asskicking is close to being a true cure-all reason why I either like or don't like something.
Anyway, this stuff doesn't qualify. I would not fight this guy. I would just mock him for wearing makeup and being super pissed off at his parents, and then run like a chicken if he tried something, and make him laugh by pretending to fall in a super funny way, and then we'd be buddies.
I don't like this stuff, though. I get it buddy, you hate everything. You love death metal and bad vibes. Boo hoo hoo. Here's an idea: try a melody. Maybe that'll cheer you up. Or maybe you could try a bike horn or a clown nose to go with that makeup.
Ah! GERK! OW, NO FAIRSIES, I FELL! HEY TIME OUT! I CALL NO FAIRSIES! OH MY BALLS!
Weezer
Weezer (Red Album)
[DGC / Interscope; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 4.7.
Was Weezer always a joke band, or did I miss the transition point?
Ladytron
Velocifero
[Nettwerk; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.2.
Shittiest female-fronted band of the 90's. Go.
I say it's a fight to the death between The Cranberries and Garbage.
Shittiest female-fronted band of the 00's is less clear cut, so Ladytron has a pretty clear shot. It just wasn't a big decade for shitty female-fronted bands. It was more of a solo artist kind of timespan for female vocalists. I blame American Idol. So: until further investigation, this album serves as Ladytron's flag on the summit of Mount Shitty. Unless Gossip wants to fight them to the death.
Also, I would pay to see a fight to the death between The Cranberries and Garbage.
Wildbirds & Peacedrums
Heartcore
[Leaf; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.0.
Nope.
Nik Freitas
Sun Down
[Team Love; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 5.8.
This is not the kind of thing I would usually go for, but after a day that feels like Pitchfork is retroactively mad at me from two years ago, I'll take a little pleasant straightforward adult contemporary hum-singing. Sometimes after a long day's slog, the number one thing you want is to just be bored. I know that goes against a lot of stuff I said, but not really. This is boring. It's just some medium-good guy doing his best to make some songs. Thank God.
Shit. I'm really enjoying this after Weezer and Ladytron and Death Metal Guy and yelpy Swedish people who got an 8 from Pitchfork. And that's not possible. It's on Conor Oberst's label, for cryin' out loud. I can't like this.
Shit. This is how people become Eagles fans. Everything sucks and then they give up and become Goodtime Johnny beer-swilling nihilists hellbent on having Peaceful Easy Feelings.
Fuck that. That'll never be me. Now I'm pissed again.
Massive Conspiracy Against All Life
Lurker of Chalice
Lurker of Chalice
[Moribund; 2008 / Total Holocaust; 2005/2008]
Pitchfork gave them an 8.0/7.5.
It's funny, I was just thinking about my aesthetic. I think it boils down to this: I like rock music by people I could fight to a draw. If they could kick my ass and come on real strong bragging about it in the music, I get intimidated, and if it sounds like I could kick their asses, I get frustrated. I don't want to be threatened, just engaged. I also don't want to be serenaded to by some sniveling wimp.
Super aggro stuff like Pantera and Gorgoroth I like ironically, because they scare the shit out of me, and instead of just admitting that I can't hang, I prefer to think that THEY can't hang with ME. Ha ha, you guys are super metal. Ha ha. (Please don't hit me, I'm fragile.)
But Mastodon doesn't intimidate me. Those guys could each probably kick my ass, but they're all super funny dudes. They'd probably rather riff on goofs with me at a barbecue than kick my ass. Mastodon fans, maybe a different story. They can't all be ultra-positive, help you up after slamming you down in the pit types. So just to be safe, I'll stick to quietly listening to Mastodon records without making too big of a deal about it.
I could hang with the Lightning Bolt guys in a fight. That fight would be awesome and stupid and fun, and probably involve whipping super balls at each other while somebody named Brian tries to bite your arm.
That guy from the Decembrists? I could kick his ass. I'd even kind of want to. Or at least stomp on his glasses.
What about easygoing non-rockish music that I like? Sam Prekop would fight to a draw. That guy knows superpeace Tai Chi martial arts shit, probably. Like I'd try to rush him, and he'd hum some little ditty and push me aside, and keep doing it until I gave up.
So it's close. Relative asskicking is close to being a true cure-all reason why I either like or don't like something.
Anyway, this stuff doesn't qualify. I would not fight this guy. I would just mock him for wearing makeup and being super pissed off at his parents, and then run like a chicken if he tried something, and make him laugh by pretending to fall in a super funny way, and then we'd be buddies.
I don't like this stuff, though. I get it buddy, you hate everything. You love death metal and bad vibes. Boo hoo hoo. Here's an idea: try a melody. Maybe that'll cheer you up. Or maybe you could try a bike horn or a clown nose to go with that makeup.
Ah! GERK! OW, NO FAIRSIES, I FELL! HEY TIME OUT! I CALL NO FAIRSIES! OH MY BALLS!
Weezer
Weezer (Red Album)
[DGC / Interscope; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 4.7.
Was Weezer always a joke band, or did I miss the transition point?
Ladytron
Velocifero
[Nettwerk; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 7.2.
Shittiest female-fronted band of the 90's. Go.
I say it's a fight to the death between The Cranberries and Garbage.
Shittiest female-fronted band of the 00's is less clear cut, so Ladytron has a pretty clear shot. It just wasn't a big decade for shitty female-fronted bands. It was more of a solo artist kind of timespan for female vocalists. I blame American Idol. So: until further investigation, this album serves as Ladytron's flag on the summit of Mount Shitty. Unless Gossip wants to fight them to the death.
Also, I would pay to see a fight to the death between The Cranberries and Garbage.
Wildbirds & Peacedrums
Heartcore
[Leaf; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it an 8.0.
Nope.
Nik Freitas
Sun Down
[Team Love; 2008]
Pitchfork gave it a 5.8.
This is not the kind of thing I would usually go for, but after a day that feels like Pitchfork is retroactively mad at me from two years ago, I'll take a little pleasant straightforward adult contemporary hum-singing. Sometimes after a long day's slog, the number one thing you want is to just be bored. I know that goes against a lot of stuff I said, but not really. This is boring. It's just some medium-good guy doing his best to make some songs. Thank God.
Shit. I'm really enjoying this after Weezer and Ladytron and Death Metal Guy and yelpy Swedish people who got an 8 from Pitchfork. And that's not possible. It's on Conor Oberst's label, for cryin' out loud. I can't like this.
Shit. This is how people become Eagles fans. Everything sucks and then they give up and become Goodtime Johnny beer-swilling nihilists hellbent on having Peaceful Easy Feelings.
Fuck that. That'll never be me. Now I'm pissed again.
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