tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57581431228520629752024-02-19T14:10:44.552-08:00Don't Fear The ReaperAlbum reviews.Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-25202288672553525032011-02-12T18:54:00.001-08:002011-02-12T19:40:54.039-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOI4f7Ik_yGH_rBnUR5FGSiruVFhSJBqjhEdz3OGxNPYZ41A9q9z6Vp7dpXzwS8eKjBfGUwJKX3RONWgH6KGMXZdcc5ilVV9mGYCNSUweXqE6d23m4adSfjPrEie1bUqSRgX_OQBxvdo/s1600/Sigur+Ros+%25C3%2581gaetis+Byrjun+art.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOI4f7Ik_yGH_rBnUR5FGSiruVFhSJBqjhEdz3OGxNPYZ41A9q9z6Vp7dpXzwS8eKjBfGUwJKX3RONWgH6KGMXZdcc5ilVV9mGYCNSUweXqE6d23m4adSfjPrEie1bUqSRgX_OQBxvdo/s200/Sigur+Ros+%25C3%2581gaetis+Byrjun+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573002814404253794" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sigur Rós</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ágaetis Byrjun</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ágaetis Byrjun</span> is born in reverse: Drummer Agust's stuttering snare swishes in space; Georg Holm's bass hums like a vintage pedal synth; Kjartan Sveinsson's piano tones bleed and blip; and Jónsi, the instantly memorable voice, swirls in the cosmos. Something roars in the distance, like far-off rocket engines billowing, and then, softly ... ping ... ping ... ping. A call across the void. There's a brief moment of fuzz, then everything snaps into place. Sveinsson's organ tones are slow and meditative, the ping keeping time like breath. Jónsi runs his rosin-coated cello bow across his guitar, and a whole world spills out, as if articulating a life's worth of radiance and suffering in one transcendent groan. The track ends with the snow of a radio transmission followed by a heart beating faster and faster, another touch of flesh-and-blood on an album that so often feels celestial in origin. Slipping the bonds of his native Icelandic, Jónsi also sings in glossolalia -- Hopelandic, as the band calls it -- proving that all you really need is sound. Sound bridges cultures even as it leaves words behind. Even when we can't decipher what he's saying, we understand the emotions and identify with them. Throughout <span style="font-style: italic;">Ágaetis Byrjun</span>, songs graze the sky and tumble to earth. They rise from incalculable trenches and crest into second sunrises. "Viõrar Vel Til Loftárasa" unfolds with elegant piano and strings, guitar shimmering like pedal steel, and ultimately cedes to the freedom of disharmony as the orchestra members play differing passages, all approaching some kind of rapture in the clash. By comparison, "Olsen Olsen" unites its brass section and piper with a full choir for a jubilant sing-along. When the murky keys of "Avalon" skulk in and we hear a clacking like the guts of a piano being plucked, it is then that we can see the other side of <span style="font-style: italic;">Ágaetis Byrjun</span>'s circle as it closes in and pulls us into the darkness.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-3074780919284232022011-02-06T17:15:00.000-08:002011-10-11T23:19:55.949-07:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqkwFI2Ci5wz8MQp5SA0NfOvCDbJ-c07_9PgPGlFgt0sVB2gQV3x1Y3aJslifZVTJLlM-ao8IreiA2_ilEiymN-VLqJiTT1xQ9ntcTzVlE5iLXa-xKBP_8ebDnA6pt4HW3wAT1HNHMg0/s1600/Death+Cab+for+Cutie+Transatlanticism.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqkwFI2Ci5wz8MQp5SA0NfOvCDbJ-c07_9PgPGlFgt0sVB2gQV3x1Y3aJslifZVTJLlM-ao8IreiA2_ilEiymN-VLqJiTT1xQ9ntcTzVlE5iLXa-xKBP_8ebDnA6pt4HW3wAT1HNHMg0/s200/Death+Cab+for+Cutie+Transatlanticism.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570750404247180402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Death Cab for Cutie</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Transatlanticism</span><br /><br />After <span style="font-style: italic;">Transatlanticism</span>, there was no way Death Cab for Cutie weren't going to break into the mainstream. Besides the stellar songwriting and instrumentation, it had all the subtle indicators of a classic album, from the pacing to the running order to the transitions and right down to the evocative cover art. A man who knows his way around the picket fence, Ben Gibbard essays suburban dramas --- where a broken vase means so much more than a spill to clean up --- and he doesn't spare himself when wielding the lens. "We Looked Like Giants" communicates its gnawing angst in the opening dull tone from Nick Harmer's bass, with piano cautiously moving in before --- crash! --- the band streak out in a burst. Jason McGerr's snare cracks and the fulminating guitars of Gibbard and Chris Walla yank us from the aerial view to arm's length. We can see the gray subcompact. We can smell the cold mountain air. We can feel the emotions churning in his stomach as he approaches real intimacy with the woman in the backseat. And yet ... there's always that distance. In the epic title track, he equates it to the Atlantic Ocean: "too far for me to row." McGerr gradually boosts the intensity of his playing, and the others follow suit, Walla repeating the central guitar riff and Gibbard calling across the sea, "I need you so much closer. I need you so much closer." They come back stronger every sequence and join in a chorus of "Come Onnnnnnnn! Come Onnnnnnnnn!" until the music is crashing down upon us, a monolithic force of passion and ambition. The distance doesn't matter. We know he'll get there.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-13004883739157659962011-02-06T16:55:00.000-08:002011-02-06T17:28:44.142-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrYaAFT9Mw2Xyks_d2pwm9PuWRgfT8pdIko12-9ak-XjsS-p0zvu0fwzlpsnufgRNxwu5oeRjWIqa8kpe2Y8EVT5pQNfYk76dXG1ycWGZfLh6HMn5A-lxy_dmHsSxcFdtMIXk8lYnPEA/s1600/cat+power+the+greatest.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrYaAFT9Mw2Xyks_d2pwm9PuWRgfT8pdIko12-9ak-XjsS-p0zvu0fwzlpsnufgRNxwu5oeRjWIqa8kpe2Y8EVT5pQNfYk76dXG1ycWGZfLh6HMn5A-lxy_dmHsSxcFdtMIXk8lYnPEA/s200/cat+power+the+greatest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570745224596813858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat Power</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Greatest</span><br /><br />This could have been Chan Marshall's final album. It nearly was. Ground in by her own heel, after years of personal turmoil, she was ready to disappear into the abyss. The album was cut and only two weeks from release. Something snapped, and she retreated to her apartment, where, as she later related in interviews, she turned off her phone, stopped eating and sleeping, and tried to drink it all away. A friend from New York who feared she was in trouble flew down to Miami and found Marshall crazed and unwashed. The friend took her to a treatment center. Marshall has since rebounded to become more comfortable with herself and with the stage. She's not necessarily at home --- she might never reach that state --- but she says she's doing better. If we examine <span style="font-style: italic;">The Greatest</span> in the frame of a would-be suicide note, there is the glaring, Cobain-esque plea "I hate myself and want to die" ("Hate") and the title track, in which she's preparing herself to be buried (metaphorically or otherwise). Yet the album ends on a charged note, with her connecting with a loved one. Although sorrow is the defining emotion in Cat Power's music, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Greatest</span> is the warmest and lushest of her catalog, the result of her backing band at the time, who included Al Green collaborators Leroy Hodges and Mabon "Teenie" Hodges. Together, they made an album that courses with life even as it brushes by death.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-15341402232801551952011-02-02T22:49:00.001-08:002011-02-02T23:33:28.924-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 4<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrm5aPfK9S1zPpoSK3HW_CpmaEKFdRTlJ_af6u977agz0HfclRpihhKLRU2Ca8zBg-tpaqP9LtwPWkWYoaAT90eZccefrDAAVFXnmMPqmBAhxNvXxOWpb5jVPn6olgJ5ZoBsLgN9Te-c/s1600/Deftones+White+Pony.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrm5aPfK9S1zPpoSK3HW_CpmaEKFdRTlJ_af6u977agz0HfclRpihhKLRU2Ca8zBg-tpaqP9LtwPWkWYoaAT90eZccefrDAAVFXnmMPqmBAhxNvXxOWpb5jVPn6olgJ5ZoBsLgN9Te-c/s200/Deftones+White+Pony.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569352001292131250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Deftones</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">White Pony</span><br /><br />If you want a shortcut to understanding Deftones, you can jump to 2:43 on "Pink Maggit," the moment when the slow, emotion-choked groans of Stephen Carpenter's ESP are about to reverberate out of earshot. That's when the band explode with a throbbing wound of guitar vehemence, and they burn it in over the next three minutes like they're blanching the earth.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">White Pony</span>, the band's third album, came riding in strong and bold, showing them refining their songcraft while branching out in new directions. "Teenager," a soft, pouty song, exercises the turntable talents of then-new member Frank Delgado, while "Elite" points a flamethrower of hardcore metal at the haughty people who exhibit the vanity of royalty without even possessing the fame.<br /><br />Chino Moreno unleashes an incredible vocal performance in "Digital Bath," maintaining the tunefulness of melody even while pushing his voice past the point where singing ends and screaming begins. In similar territory, the murky "Knife Prty" makes blood run cold with guest singer Rodleen's contributions, which begin as woozy intonations and advance to dog-whistle shrieks. The mixing and the layering are so skilled here that even her most piercing moments move in stride with the musical storm.<br /><br />When Maynard James Keenan of Tool shows up, he and Moreno trade lines on a slick, menacing California drive in that damp window between the moon and the dawn. Ever discerning, the singers tantalize us with clues as to the nature of the drive, and leave the rest to imagination and interpretation: "Roll the windows down / this cool night air is curious / let the whole world look in / who cares who sees anything." It's J. G. Ballard meets David Lynch, and scenic drives are as valuable as shortcuts.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-27185735346128296002011-02-02T22:24:00.000-08:002011-02-02T22:48:45.456-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD49nXEj7uQ2Y2gKRYv1JEVbScHZZrwHPRqb-TQ1M5rQOhBLcdBkRLSClOHijkmyQOi7xsdhRybOm78qlI4L4Ak9DHDCpQGu0_O6YCuLYagL63PLGJI4UDhcAVVli9Y92uBAV1XfY3f6s/s1600/The+Pipettes-+We+Are+the+Pipettes-+U.K.+ver..jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD49nXEj7uQ2Y2gKRYv1JEVbScHZZrwHPRqb-TQ1M5rQOhBLcdBkRLSClOHijkmyQOi7xsdhRybOm78qlI4L4Ak9DHDCpQGu0_O6YCuLYagL63PLGJI4UDhcAVVli9Y92uBAV1XfY3f6s/s200/The+Pipettes-+We+Are+the+Pipettes-+U.K.+ver..jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569345685720073154" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Pipettes</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We Are the Pipettes</span><br /></br>[U.K. edition]<br /><br />The Pipettes are in danger of sharing the fate of so many '60s bands -- the ones who put out a remarkable album or EP, broke up, and then were forgotten within 10 years. The U.K. edition of <span style="font-style: italic;">We Are the Pipettes</span> was never issued here, so if you want the physical CD, you'll have to look for the import, and it will likely be hard to find. Mystifyingly, the album released in the U.S. was remixed by a pop producer who kind of missed the point. As I wrote in my review of that album, "It's counterintuitive that a band birthed from '60s nostalgia would benefit from a modernistic recording instead of one in the tradition of Phil Spector, which is what the British version follows." Although cursory listeners probably wouldn't notice much of a difference, the original edition sets the standard. Joy is alive here: every chime sparkling, every chorus brimming with enthusiasm. It's not all just harmonies, either: Listen to the way Gwenno, Rosay and RiotBecki interplay on "One Night Stand," structuring their vocals to ping-pong off one another, perfectly timed. The union of these talents lasted for but one album, with Rosay and RiotBecki moving on to other pursuits in 2008. At least they left us this memento.<br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-4938267144583908652011-01-31T02:19:00.000-08:002011-01-31T02:27:11.943-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 6<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IZBgvnHplZpTrFdZfYy0byM27LfC1y9RcMGhARuhMgPdW7kVYVSZgcOONtr4RRUWiEk62CORpDWFONliBLgmoNFpTOChYHlrew6ZvUkBSVZAqWhDsH2WpBXubxxwDRxEQsUMGGb_VWQ/s1600/Madvillain+Madvillainy+image.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IZBgvnHplZpTrFdZfYy0byM27LfC1y9RcMGhARuhMgPdW7kVYVSZgcOONtr4RRUWiEk62CORpDWFONliBLgmoNFpTOChYHlrew6ZvUkBSVZAqWhDsH2WpBXubxxwDRxEQsUMGGb_VWQ/s200/Madvillain+Madvillainy+image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568293008528471426" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Madvillain</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Madvillainy</span><br /><br />MF Doom had a clutch of underground-rap classics under his belt when he teamed up with producer and Stones Throw cohort Madlib for the Madvillain project. The duo was indeed dynamic, spiraling out vignettes that crackled with comic book whimsy and intrigue. <span style="font-style: italic;">Madvillainy</span>'s beats, rhymes, skits and samples blend seamlessly, as if the racing thoughts of a mad genius.<br /><br />The supervillain theme plays right into Doom's hands, and he takes on the varying roles with gusto, whether shining in the glare of a club spotlight ("Rhinestone Cowboy") or presiding over the imaginary opulence of the "Madvillain Bistro Bed & Breakfast Bar & Grill Cafe-Lounge on the water" ("Bistro"). His gobs of pop culture references dovetail with the scraps of dialogue mined from old TV shows and radio broadcasts, begetting a vortex where the expression "egads" sidles up to "true that."<br /><br />Humor abounds, with the emcee taking on halitosis in "Operation Lifesaver Aka Mint Test" (choice line: "Fellas don't fess / some of 'em just need to eat the whole thing of Crest"). Madlib, playing his Quasimoto character, gets in on the vocal action, fostering some friendly competition on "America's Most Blunted."<br /><br />Given the overall zaniness, <span style="font-style: italic;">Madvillainy</span>'s crystallization of romantic betrayal on "Fancy Clown" is unexpected and stirring. Having first weathered the blow of being cheated on, the supervillian feels burning embarrassment when word makes it around on the street, and his reaction is a mixture of lashing out at his lover and, believe it or not, blaming himself. It's a moment that rounds the cartoonish characters, pulling back the mask to show a mortal man beneath.<br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-64325795020198820042011-01-31T02:12:00.000-08:002011-01-31T02:30:59.277-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 7<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWcxI7rK51KX5JEWeT835biaykXyGGvh86OEN1g8ZCf7mEutkghQd2GJQAZYtsFIQvrSAOp4z2P2EapNOzJedrl0bSYixKkJMhyOSO9WDpIcinC0ptqIcnI1M3338KWc5VaYayasQJIk/s1600/Radiohead+Amnesiac.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWcxI7rK51KX5JEWeT835biaykXyGGvh86OEN1g8ZCf7mEutkghQd2GJQAZYtsFIQvrSAOp4z2P2EapNOzJedrl0bSYixKkJMhyOSO9WDpIcinC0ptqIcnI1M3338KWc5VaYayasQJIk/s200/Radiohead+Amnesiac.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568291243825641714" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Radiohead</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Amnesiac</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Kid A</span> will always be cited as the more important album, for it was the first one bearing Radiohead's stylistic shift to chilly electronics. And there can be only one <span style="font-style: italic;">first</span>. But the overlooked jewel of Radiohead's '00s output was <span style="font-style: italic;">Amnesiac</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Kid A</span>'s snakier, arcane cousin, which dropped only months before 9/11, and whose cryptic messages we digested during those anxious times.<br /><br />"Pyramid Song" wafted out with Thom Yorke's eerie oooos, somehow eternal. Like sand. "Knives Out" belied its jazzy tempo, a sunken-faced rogue of a song beneath. The somber sighs of brass and chirruping clarinets of "Life in a Glasshouse" harked back to the 1930s, and its reference to lynching swung a pointer to Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit" as a possible ancestor.<br /><br />On the more technological side, "Like Spinning Plates" gasped, with Yorke's vocals threatening to splinter under strain. Going further, there was no voice at all in "Hunting Bears," two haunting passages of Jonny Greenwood's electric guitar. Played twice over a nodding synth and faded out. "I Might Be Wrong" lathed its synth drone while the blunted drum pops and rhythm guitar wriggled forward and snapped back, like limbs removed from a body but still psychically attached.<br /><br />And of course there was the limited-edition packaging (which can also be seen on the album's cover): a frayed red hardcover book suggesting secrets it could not reveal.<br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-14483181334866422162011-01-31T02:01:00.000-08:002011-01-31T02:12:13.803-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 8<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfZc6t4FjPQYuHh6pQRZzfLe825I-2r7FKQ25gfQ6qQ2xZsjg-W_xo2KeNlmWCD9qbm41nhhimal2ZAsJLku2Eo21tHm4pQQlTgesK7-p6ZHFFLp3zWkmbpDNGC4f9x7rH2qjeVS_awA/s1600/Coldplay+Yellow.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfZc6t4FjPQYuHh6pQRZzfLe825I-2r7FKQ25gfQ6qQ2xZsjg-W_xo2KeNlmWCD9qbm41nhhimal2ZAsJLku2Eo21tHm4pQQlTgesK7-p6ZHFFLp3zWkmbpDNGC4f9x7rH2qjeVS_awA/s200/Coldplay+Yellow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568288657810848914" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Coldplay</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Parachutes</span><br /><br />Before Apple. Before Gwyneth. Before all those Make Trade Fair gestures. Chris Martin was just a student playing with Will Champion, Jonny Buckland and Guy Berryman, unconsciously exploring his vulnerability as he sang a paean to a woman ("Yellow"), wished she would notice him ("Shiver"), and longed, in one respect or another, for connection. He was someone more like us.<br /><br />On this concise monument to young adulthood, Martin's appeal for love and togetherness is part quaver, part croon. The tender sway of "Sparks" could have served as the soundtrack to much dorm-room necking, but <parachutes" focused="" on="" intimacy="" was="" the="" if="" only="" it="" wasn="" t="" so="" hard="" to="" reach=""><span style="font-style: italic;">Parachutes</span> wasn't focused on the sex. Intimacy was the goal. If only it wasn't so hard to reach ...<br /><br />"Trouble" starts out with stately piano and a confident guitar riff, but then, like anxiety creeping up, they fade out, and in comes Martin's opening: "Oh, no / I see / a spider web is tangled up with me." This idea of being trapped also comes up on "High Speed" ("We been living life inside a bubble"), and the dour, largely acoustic "We Never Change" sees him stuck repeating his mistakes, unable to move forward and achieve what he wishes.<br /><br />"Don't panic," that hoary air of reassurance, seems like something Martin would have heard a few times amid his fretfulness, and "Don't Panic" bookends with "Everything's Not Lost," the album's last track. While "Everything's Not Lost" bursts with jubilance, having made it to the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, "Don't Panic" finds Martin with a chorus of "We live in a beautiful world." He sings it with something less than certainty: He sings it as if trying to convince himself it's true.<br /><br /><p></p></parachutes">Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-24446801562502489062011-01-30T23:29:00.000-08:002011-01-30T23:55:46.823-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 9<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPY0bM4U9F3lhk6ElOxSV57RhvvGQcgoI4V2Wl6HURX-lBuRj62GVU6rTJvhML18SvpvdFw1PlOFAgO1jPUPY34KiRzQa86cRExoX1R7BSjRgIZqrTBL1T9ZIikgDFeaE8wotCsNgdJQY/s1600/Beck+Sea+Change.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPY0bM4U9F3lhk6ElOxSV57RhvvGQcgoI4V2Wl6HURX-lBuRj62GVU6rTJvhML18SvpvdFw1PlOFAgO1jPUPY34KiRzQa86cRExoX1R7BSjRgIZqrTBL1T9ZIikgDFeaE8wotCsNgdJQY/s200/Beck+Sea+Change.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568249248790445490" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Beck</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sea Change</span><br /><br />There's a scene in the movie "Adventureland" where the main character, a highbrow college grad stuck doing summer work at a carnival, introduces his foxy co-worker to his "bummer tape." "These are my favorite bummer songs," he tells her. "They're truly miserable, pit-of-despair-type songs. I think you'll love it." Later on, when they're in her car, she plays it. As they drive, the cassette fills the space between them as he stares at her, needing her. They stop by a bridge in Pittsburgh, where he overtakes her with an intense kiss. But the relationship they embark on is not an easy one.<br /><br />In 2002, after nine years together, Beck Hansen and his longtime girlfriend split up. In his wreckage, the stylistic vagabond became a bard of the brokenhearted. He strums in a shell-shocked funk on <span style="font-style: italic;">Sea Change</span>, an apt description of his retreat from the whirling, fluorescent Jell-O shots atmosphere of 1999's <span style="font-style: italic;">Midnite Vultures</span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">Sea Change</span> is a part of Beck's chameleon cloak, and with <span style="font-style: italic;">Midnite Vultures</span> preceding it, the albums must've looked like a bipolar breakdown. Seen another way, <span style="font-style: italic;">Midnite Vultures</span> fits the giddy, carefree highs of stock market euphoria, and <span style="font-style: italic;">Sea Change</span> is the burst bubble, the goo running out.<br /><br />It's an album of resignation ("I'm tired of fighting / tired of fighting / fighting for a lost cause"), wounded confessions ("It's nothing that I haven't seen before / but it still kills me, like it did before") and crippled composure ("'Cause it feels like I'm watching something dyyyyyyin'"). There's even the emotional scavenging of "Round the Bend," in which he achieves an eerie Nick Drake-level of desolation, the strings curling and eddying like wind pushing fog over a moor.<br /><br />Naturally, he'd do a 180 again, but this was his moment alone, outside. Adrift. This was his bummer tape.<br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-7925301390203332722011-01-30T22:12:00.000-08:002011-01-30T23:43:02.266-08:00The top 10 albums of the '00s: No. 10<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-BzlwG7CqvXgayWc1aIGO2TjCcXw9KYIqFCM6kBeVNmuoCADImrlSShHeqtpEiUj2LKo2txkbkaFKHUrtjiBbP8G5Jgwib1fhkZIxplbfmCNvm1HSxNkYovCSBqHl-5Fh2ViTO3zES3I/s1600/Norah+Jones+Come+Away+With+Me.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-BzlwG7CqvXgayWc1aIGO2TjCcXw9KYIqFCM6kBeVNmuoCADImrlSShHeqtpEiUj2LKo2txkbkaFKHUrtjiBbP8G5Jgwib1fhkZIxplbfmCNvm1HSxNkYovCSBqHl-5Fh2ViTO3zES3I/s200/Norah+Jones+Come+Away+With+Me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568231324858735698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Norah Jones</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Come Away With Me</span><br /><br />Though its ubiquity after the 2003 Grammys spawned a backlash that exists to this day --- that of deriding Norah Jones' music as bland or corporate or insignificant --- <span style="font-style: italic;">Come Away With Me</span>, if anything, puts the lie to all those charges. It's undeniably significant in terms of sales and awards, and it likewise rocketed Jones from obscurity, changing her life and basically giving her a blank check as to her artistic career. But let's not get too technical. <span style="font-style: italic;">Come Away With Me</span> showcases Jones' tremendous appeal as a singer, and it introduces us to her fruitful collaboration with guitarist and songwriter Jesse Harris, which resulted in her best-known song, "Don't Know Why," along with almost half the album's originals. The covers, no less significant, show her to be adept at assimilating country ("Cold Cold Heart") and FDR-era pop ("The Nearness of You"). She's so cozy with the material that her take on J.D. Loudermilk's "Turn Me On" (which she may have heard by way of Nina Simone), from the '60s, and the Carmichael-Washington composition "The Nearness of You," from the '30s, don't feel like dusty relics. There's no stiffness or uncertainty in her delivery, only a deep love and understanding of the music, which she internalizes and passes on to us in her warm, maple syrup tones.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-46359342949891485692011-01-30T21:32:00.000-08:002011-01-30T23:43:51.184-08:00UpdateIt's with some chagrin that I return, slinking in with my best-of-the-decade picks when we're already a year into, well, whatever this post-aughts decade ends up being called. On the upside, I haven't felt any regrets about these best-of picks, so they have already stood the test of time.<br /><br />I'd like to say I'll be posting more reviews soon after this list, but my job situation changed last year and has been contributing to my shiftlessness. So, if you see a long gap in my publishing, check back, but don't check back as often.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-45090617610438398222010-03-06T01:13:00.000-08:002010-03-20T22:44:04.070-07:00For the curiousThese are the albums I heard in full last year, and here's how they rank, relative to one another:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Pains of Being Pure at Heart</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Pains of Being Pure at Heart</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nite Jewel</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Good Evening</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grizzly Bear</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Veckatimest</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Speck Mountain</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Some Sweet Relief</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Flaming Lips</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Embryonic</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Crocodiles</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Summer of Hate</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Raveonettes</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">In and Out of Control</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mulatu Astatke and the Heliocentrics</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Inspiration Information, Vol. 3</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mastodon</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Crack the Skye</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Bird and the Bee</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Depeche Mode</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Sounds of the Universe</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Through the Devil Softly</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yo La Tengo</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Popular Songs</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Prefuse 73</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Everything She Touched Turned Ampexian</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Built to Spill</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">There Is No Enemy</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M. Ward</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Hold Time</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wilco</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Wilco (the Album)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gun Outfit</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Dim Light</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Jay-Z</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Blueprint 3</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kid Cudi</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Man on the Moon: The End of Day</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Doves</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Kingdom of Rust</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Major Lazer</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Guns Don't Kill People ... Lazers Do</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mason Jennings</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Blood of Man</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Animal Collective</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Merriweather Post Pavilion</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N.A.S.A.</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Spirit of Apollo</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Au Revoir Simone</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Still Night, Still Light</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Norah Jones</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Fall</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Eels</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Hombre Lobo: 12 Songs of Desire</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Asobi Seksu</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Hush</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dirty Projectors</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Bitte Orca</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">VAST</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Me and You</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dan Deacon</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Bromst</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Flipper</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Love</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">La Roux</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">La Roux</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bat for Lashes</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Two Suns</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Dead Weather</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Horehound</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Camera Obscura</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">My Maudlin Career</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">St. Vincent</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Actor</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Neko Case</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Middle Cyclone</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Zero 7</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Yeah Ghost</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Doom</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Born Like This</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yeah Yeah Yeahs</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">It's Blitz!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Chris Cornell</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Scream</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Morrissey</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Years of Refusal</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Air</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Love 2</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">John Mayer</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Battle Studies</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Summer of Fear</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">K'Naan</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Troubadour</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Imogen Heap</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Ellipse</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Green Day</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">21st Century Breakdown</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Prodigy</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Invaders Must Die</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady Sovereign</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Jigsaw</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Amy Speace</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Killer in Me</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Outer South</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Passion Pit</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Manners</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">David Bazan</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Curse Your Branches</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Royksopp</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Junior </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sonic Youth</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Eternal</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Moby</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Wait for Me</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Erin McKeown</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Hundreds of Lions</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Basement Jaxx</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Scars</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girls</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Album</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Super Furry Animals</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Dark Days/Light Years</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mos Def</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ecstatic</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">BlakRoc</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">BlakRoc</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dinosaur Jr.</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Farm</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Mars Volta</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Octahedron</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Simian Mobile Disco</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Temporary Pleasure</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Amadou & Mariam</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Welcome to Mali</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Felix da Housecat</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">He Was King</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sufjan Stevens</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The BQE</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Maxwell</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">BLACKsummers'night</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Big Pink</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">A Brief History of Love</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Church</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Untitled 23</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kings of Convenience</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Declaration of Dependence</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cake</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Motorcade of Generosity</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">U2</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">No Line on the Horizon</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Crystal Stilts</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Alight of Night</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dolores O'Riordan</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">No Baggage</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Viva Voce</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Rose City</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Al B. Sure!</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Honey I'm Home</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mariah Carey</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Paramore</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Brand New Eyes</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Peter Bjorn and John</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Living Thing</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Jadakiss</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Last Kiss</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Metric</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Fantasies</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Weezer</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Raditude</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunn 0)))</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Monoliths & Dimensions</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rodrigo y Gabriela</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">11:11</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Porcupine Tree</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Incident</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wolfmother</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Cosmic Egg</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Shakira</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">She Wolf</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Echo & the Bunnymen</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Fountain</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Flight of the Conchords</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">I Told You I Was Freaky</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Maps</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Turning the Mind</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Franz Ferdinand</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Tonight</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cracker</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patterson Hood</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Murdering Oscar (And Other Love Songs)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Whitney Houston</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">I Look to You</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Silversun Pickups</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Swoon</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Crystal Method</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Divided by Night</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tinted Windows</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Tinted Windows</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Better Than Ezra</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Paper Empire</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Trans-Siberian Orchestra</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Night Castle</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wyclef Jean</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">From the Hut, to the Projects, to the Mansion</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Soundtrack of Our Lives</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Communion</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MSTRKRFT</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Fist of God</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Meat Puppets</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Sewn Together</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Scarlett Johansson and Pete Yorn</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Break Up</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lionel Richie</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Just Go</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Os Mutantes</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Haih...Ou Amortecedor...</span><br /><br /><br />2009 albums I heard in full after the cutoff date:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The xx</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">xx</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Health</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Get Color</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tegan and Sara</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Sainthood</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Clipse</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Til the Casket Drops</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Devendra Banhart</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">What Will We Be </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">R. Kelly</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Untitled</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lil Wayne</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Rebirth</span><br /><br /><br />2009 albums I heard most of but not quite all of:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Avett Brothers</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">I and Love and You</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bebel Gilberto</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">All in One</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pink Martini</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Splendor in the Grass</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Fine Frenzy</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Bomb in a Birdcage</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Phenomenal Handclap Band</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Phenomenal Handclap Band</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Our Lady Peace</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">Burn Burn</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mario</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;">D.N.A.</span><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-70312988223722201352010-03-06T00:55:00.000-08:002010-03-06T01:08:39.498-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57c0AYSBsfG6aBKxt_mzHEcp00p3sCw25fM6ovbAhofQeSCk6cSuB1t_RCwHZUJr3nlArawCkctRQBtrheBn7GbNuk_JPg11g76Q_wvOWmdJOMAZclfeJSsWpoh8QXRkV4hSVVTx5RYI/s1600-h/The+Pains+of+Being+Pure+at+Heart+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57c0AYSBsfG6aBKxt_mzHEcp00p3sCw25fM6ovbAhofQeSCk6cSuB1t_RCwHZUJr3nlArawCkctRQBtrheBn7GbNuk_JPg11g76Q_wvOWmdJOMAZclfeJSsWpoh8QXRkV4hSVVTx5RYI/s200/The+Pains+of+Being+Pure+at+Heart+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445442158595569426" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Pains of Being<br></br>Pure at Heart</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Pains of Being<br></br>Pure at Heart</span><br /><br />In what plays like a love note to mid- to late-'80s jangle pop and shoegazer distortion, the debut album by New York foursome The Pains of Being Pure at Heart skips and zips, chirps and chimes, altogether chipper and defiantly alive. With élan that verges on delusion, their bright-eyed melodies defend a heroin casualty and a brother-sister tryst, as well as relate more familiar youthful pursuits, like the raging impulse to lock lips and hips.<br /><br />Such urges fuel anticipation and impatience in "Come Saturday," sprinting drum rolls and a tumbling guitar rush playing the role of the firing-on-all-cylinders adrenal glands. The library, such a testament to the pent-up, the potential, is one place where desires erupt and give the microfiche something to stare at, in the cheekily titled "Young Adult Friction." The male-female vocal blending of guitarist Kip Berman and keyboardist Peggy Wang-East fosters the Romeo-and-Juliet overtones.<br /><br />True to Shakespeare, there is tragedy, though you probably wouldn't know it before you read the lyrics. A plucky snare-and-kick-drum beat and a guitar line evoking the piano hook of David Bowie's "Modern Love" open "A Teenager in Love," belying the fact that Alli, the teenager in question, has died, most likely as a direct consequence of her lust for life, which happened to involve heroin. When someone impugns Alli as being "dead all along," Berman scornfully tells the heavens (or quite possibly her gravestone), "He hadn't lived a day / the way you lived in your final days."<br /><br />Murkier --- or what would be murkier if Berman and Wang-East didn't sound so chaste --- are the apparent tale of incest in "This Love Is Fucking Right!" (blithely unrepentant) and the not-necessarily-consensual couplings in "The Tenure Itch" ("These late night sessions, he's master still / Just one more lesson leaves you twisting to his will.")<br /><br />But the album's brilliant melodies and endearing optimism bathe everything in a radiant, innocent light. It's all too easy to get lost in the sweet alliance of burbling bass, frisky drums, jangling guitar and singing keyboard. So pure at heart, so high on life.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-77350768329534741562010-02-18T22:11:00.000-08:002010-02-18T22:16:53.515-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ShNL87LDL-zIQVovSDqKslMgFQt4y4V2NDRN5evzLLPRVnjBQi0df-PlYoPi6qBWQ5aAcY1cYUNwwvqeL3dUykdZ2ib311z3lAjbj39EqoU95dOWGwhwW21SRSsYTs0pPkWG4Oe7EGQ/s1600-h/Nite+Jewel+Good+Evening+1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ShNL87LDL-zIQVovSDqKslMgFQt4y4V2NDRN5evzLLPRVnjBQi0df-PlYoPi6qBWQ5aAcY1cYUNwwvqeL3dUykdZ2ib311z3lAjbj39EqoU95dOWGwhwW21SRSsYTs0pPkWG4Oe7EGQ/s200/Nite+Jewel+Good+Evening+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439833897784299682" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nite Jewel</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Good Evening</span><br /><br /><i>When we're first introduced to Ramona Gonzalez's voice, on "Bottom Rung," it's buried; perhaps </i>it<i> is the rung.<br></br>And yet it's all around us, enfolding the sanctuary- or pagoda-suited keyboard, as if she's pulling a curtain of raindrop beads.</i><br /><br />Read my review of <span style="font-style: italic;">Good Evening</span> <a href="http://therecordreaper.blogspot.com/2009/09/precious-tones.html">here</a>.<br /><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-16320319697495123162010-02-14T00:54:00.000-08:002010-02-14T01:00:54.641-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQo0leTsbupe96BWIIynZuXKlW56kibUuvMg6CgOUR2cBv2iAtbiJ06E_1m-c6omHh5sFbF5UuUmOSS3ueH0PcRRxro-RR3Pq2AoAaG7hkfa92uu_lg1jzUuA1vNk3hVkRJyfgSgGgevY/s1600-h/Grizzly+Bear-+Veckatimest+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQo0leTsbupe96BWIIynZuXKlW56kibUuvMg6CgOUR2cBv2iAtbiJ06E_1m-c6omHh5sFbF5UuUmOSS3ueH0PcRRxro-RR3Pq2AoAaG7hkfa92uu_lg1jzUuA1vNk3hVkRJyfgSgGgevY/s200/Grizzly+Bear-+Veckatimest+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438020198184154482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grizzly Bear</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Veckatimest</span><br /><br />On Grizzly Bear's follow-up to the much-praised <span style="font-style: italic;">Yellow House</span>, they again draw inspiration from setting. This time the title is a little island off Massachusetts that isn't even recognized by the Census Bureau. But that's only the start of the mystique.<br /><br />Read my review of <span style="font-style: italic;">Veckatimest</span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span> <a href="http://therecordreaper.blogspot.com/2009/07/piece-it-together-then-pull-it-apart.html">here</a>.<br /><br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-50806920257245644762010-02-14T00:12:00.000-08:002010-02-14T00:15:08.902-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 4<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgW7KioRC9DEkqs6QmdZHZuxC4Jkb_xvtRaF5idgVg5cPC1Jtjtyup5aj5pyTKY5xZmHYKS581X2V1i-lh6JJPFYtLUn2HeQpZh6lmTYs8P28hgr9t8MA9aYYqitw0KXIp8It0JlmbYZM/s1600-h/Speck+Mountain+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgW7KioRC9DEkqs6QmdZHZuxC4Jkb_xvtRaF5idgVg5cPC1Jtjtyup5aj5pyTKY5xZmHYKS581X2V1i-lh6JJPFYtLUn2HeQpZh6lmTYs8P28hgr9t8MA9aYYqitw0KXIp8It0JlmbYZM/s200/Speck+Mountain+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438009459684654498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Speck Mountain</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Some Sweet Relief</span><br /><br />The sophomore album from Chicago's Speck Mountain is infused with a spiritual energy. Just don't expect mitres and pulpits.<br /><br /><br />Read my review of <span style="font-style: italic;">Some Sweet Relief</span> <a href="http://therecordreaper.blogspot.com/2009/06/go-tell-it.html">here</a>.<br /><br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-15217834826221529002010-02-09T02:04:00.000-08:002010-02-09T02:22:20.322-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuX-TidDdRvyNVrByeJd0F5BOFM7cy5q9KAHlfSh4NHJZxsix66rGFQ4WVPhUaxxmvdXaN5Kg94ew7FpakBMkeK6GF00KrDDtlQqlNOs8UQv6GePYojTrzKolKoLG9ASOOgAFFntC9l4/s1600-h/The+Flaming+Lips++Embryonic+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuX-TidDdRvyNVrByeJd0F5BOFM7cy5q9KAHlfSh4NHJZxsix66rGFQ4WVPhUaxxmvdXaN5Kg94ew7FpakBMkeK6GF00KrDDtlQqlNOs8UQv6GePYojTrzKolKoLG9ASOOgAFFntC9l4/s200/The+Flaming+Lips++Embryonic+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436182785889389106" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Flaming Lips</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Embryonic</span><br /><br />Listening to <span style="font-style: italic;">Embryonic</span>, I can't help but think it was meant to be experienced in a format other than CD. Vinyl, maybe: spread out over two or three records. Or perhaps on cassette, giving it an A side and a B side. Or maybe its songs were meant to be beamed directly into your brain and arranged to match your mood, care of some device to be invented decades from now.<br /><br />Of course, this is the same band that released <span style="font-style: italic;">Zaireeka</span>, a four-disc curiosity intended to be consumed simultaneously. (In other words, you'd need four different stereos.) Unlike <span style="font-style: italic;">The Soft Bulletin</span> (1999), which came two years after <span style="font-style: italic;">Zaireeka</span>, and unlike <span style="font-style: italic;">Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots</span> (2002) or <span style="font-style: italic;">At War With the Mystics</span> (2006), <span style="font-style: italic;">Embryonic</span> scales back the pop melodies and indulges in atmosphere. This atmosphere vacillates from frenetic and clattering ("Aquarius Sabotage," "Scorpio Sword") to peaceful and drifting ("The Impulse").<br /><br />"Gemini Syringes" is trance-inducing space rock: As German mathematician Thorsten Wörmann deliberates on an equation, the slow throb of Michael Ivins' bass sways us into a haze. And there's an intermittent clacking, too. It sounds reptilian (but is later revealed to be ... Karen O[!]).<br /><br />In quiet ballads "Evil" and "If," which could be parts I & II of the same song, Wayne Coyne and Steven Drozd examine the good-vs.-evil duality of human nature. They show considerable sensitivity in these, Coyne wanting in the former to spare someone pain, and in the latter Drozd weighing which human motivation is stronger. Bad news: They conclude it's evil, although they do preface that by implying we have more than a small choice in the matter. Drozd sings, "They can be gentle, too / if they decide." <br /><br />In that spirit, Coyne and Karen O collaborate, almost flirtatiously, on "I Can Be a Frog," with her providing imitations of whatever animal he mentions. There are moments when the two nearly break out in laughter, but Coyne's sincerity sells it. You can bet that even as he throws O a loop, like tossing in "helicopter" before "wolf," he has the underlying message in mind, which is that the woman in the song can be anything she wants to be. (Perhaps coincidentally, O did the soundtrack for the 2009 big-screen adaptation of "Where the Wild Things Are.") It's remarkable how tickled and carefree she is here, given how cold she can come across in her Yeah Yeah Yeahs material.<br /><br />With another cameo --- this one an uncredited David Bowie (or if not, an amazing likeness) --- Coyne picks up the thread of good and evil and loops it around the stargazing theme. After Bowie/pseudo-Bowie counts up to 10 (signifying blast-off?), he gives voice to the dark side ("Free to eat the fruit / from the evil tree"). Also, it seems that those sticky-palmed heathens grant their bodies and/or their souls to "the silver machine" in exchange.<br /><br />Planets and stars, whether astronomy or astrology in nature, fit the Lips' proclivities; after all, they did spend the better part of the past decade working on their eccentric sci-fi venture, the film "Christmas to Mars." Yet there's a Pink Floyd-esque vastness about <span style="font-style: italic;">Embryonic</span>. Wonder how it would sync up to "The Wizard of Oz." Or would "2001: A Space Odyssey" be more appropriate?<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-80026220007130732742010-01-30T06:19:00.000-08:002010-02-09T02:22:46.421-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 6<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA1afgKWLd_RaO-r-pR3NhCegpfK3vv0kGCj3wvEZj7Z_3rfONgtixgBW2upMdFynR9v3ySktKyNsMXGCpIOr4rM_hzHpdZK-WZaalsJzRtj5XhLtHi12fpjnchyphenhyphenrLF_z_xs4dWw6iCdA/s1600-h/Crocodiles-+Summer+of+Hate+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA1afgKWLd_RaO-r-pR3NhCegpfK3vv0kGCj3wvEZj7Z_3rfONgtixgBW2upMdFynR9v3ySktKyNsMXGCpIOr4rM_hzHpdZK-WZaalsJzRtj5XhLtHi12fpjnchyphenhyphenrLF_z_xs4dWw6iCdA/s200/Crocodiles-+Summer+of+Hate+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432537660284238498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Crocodiles</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Summer of Hate</span><br /><br />When I write poetry, I most commonly do it as a form of exorcism. I have feelings I need to vent, whether frightful or painful or thoughtful, and writing them down allows me to process them, or to make sense of them, or to move past them. This has the side benefit of allowing me to create something out of a raw experience. Sometimes I end up with something beautiful, even if all I started out with was something troubling.<br /><br />I suspect musicians do this, too. Certainly not all the time, but it's wonderful when their irrepressible impulse to share love or humor or angst or despair culminates in a great piece of music. Think of all the breakups and setbacks and breakthroughs they survived or overcame or championed. And it might never have been, had they chose to, say, go watch TV.<br /><br />Crocodiles, a band from San Diego, have funneled their throbbing temples and clenched teeth and aching hearts and wistful stares into a 34-minute nerve net of emotion. Merging tremeloed guitar with drum programming and '60s pop sensibility, Brandon Welchez and Charles Rowell capture the tender as well as the brutal.<br /><br />Some tracks spurt confrontational energy. "Refuse Angels" lashes out with rapid-fire rimshots. "Flash of Light," which begins with swing and swagger, disintegrates into a full minute of caustic, repellent shooshing effects, like an aural strobe gone haywire. In the latter song, Welchez sings, "Tonight I'm gonna set my house on fire. ... Gonna rewrite my life."<br /><br />The title track and "I Wanna Kill" would seem similarly inclined, although "I Wanna Kill" displays a gallows humor. Featuring a riff that could have been cribbed from The Crystals' "Then He Kissed Me," the song links a man's meager beginnings to his present frustration. It's the poppiest song on the album, with a back-and-forth chorus that includes "all the kids sing swan songs / all the kids sing along with me." This is somewhat more disturbing when you take into account that Welchez is a teacher by day.<br /><br />Often, the message might be one of struggle, but the mood is anything but oppressive. "Sleeping With the Lord" assembles majestic vibratoed synths, almost like a take on Vangelis' classic theme "Chariots of Fire."<br /><br />The CD, containing no liner notes, is scrawled "lovingly dedicated to Willy Graves." Graves was their bassist in a previous band, The Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower. He died in autumn 2008 at the age of 28. So it's reasonable to assume his passing informed or influenced the tone of at least some these songs. Death and the afterlife is a recurring theme, with religious imagery popping up in several songs.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Summer of Hate</span> has many highlights, but "Here Comes the Sky" is something extra special. Rowell's tremolo really shines here, shimmering amid a wavering synth that flows over it like an aura. There's something crushing about this track's tenderness, in the same way that some of Brian Wilson's songs go for that lump in your throat. Welchez tells us that his love has departed --- nothing special there --- but when he confesses, "In your absence, my heart's overflowed," it's such a powerful and unusual statement. He's not mad at her (or him, I suppose, although he equates her/him to a rose, which is a pretty strong feminine symbol); he actually has so much in his heart that it pours out. Continuing the metaphor, he says, together, they could grow to the sky, "where the weeds who are after us dry up and die."<br /><br />It's so fanciful, so preposterous: a garden in the sky! And yet he's so unfaltering in his delivery, there's no denying that this is a deep avowal. Core-deep. It's a hope that we know is a dream. An impossible dream.<br /><br />And Rowell's guitar gently weeps.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-20484607462420692282010-01-30T06:17:00.000-08:002010-01-30T06:19:21.355-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 7<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDnX7dCOjiFMXoJ6E-zBltbN51YMEKZE3mpuBNc8kBFl-9-tUwz2vMmevIgv9CBA0aEbmKlyg77QOvNF1XCjMT9A834FmN0WnJItJyd_MG1z37-eh4y-aC7jzDejjPyrALyiH9z0I42o/s1600-h/The+Raveonettes+in+and+out+of+control+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDnX7dCOjiFMXoJ6E-zBltbN51YMEKZE3mpuBNc8kBFl-9-tUwz2vMmevIgv9CBA0aEbmKlyg77QOvNF1XCjMT9A834FmN0WnJItJyd_MG1z37-eh4y-aC7jzDejjPyrALyiH9z0I42o/s200/The+Raveonettes+in+and+out+of+control+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432537112784134306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Raveonettes</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In and Out of Control</span><br /><br />Bang!<br /><br />Read my review of <span style="font-style: italic;">In and Out of Control</span> <a href="http://therecordreaper.blogspot.com/2009/11/candy-with-dark-center.html">here</a>.<br></br><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-69799703782902118892010-01-23T17:10:00.000-08:002010-01-23T17:27:04.763-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 8<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlfQN5U_wfS9Iyrd0aQ4nWEcjweWTbROzewl2FOC03CyKADfTTPAVlvC1ak12007KykN4GGhnaajyytgVEynNSmBVnvX_AJk8vIa5yjs35KDqCg5XLj5GxNVUP7piT4cokVT_J8dGYDg/s1600-h/Mulatu+Astatke+%26+the+Heliocentrics+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlfQN5U_wfS9Iyrd0aQ4nWEcjweWTbROzewl2FOC03CyKADfTTPAVlvC1ak12007KykN4GGhnaajyytgVEynNSmBVnvX_AJk8vIa5yjs35KDqCg5XLj5GxNVUP7piT4cokVT_J8dGYDg/s200/Mulatu+Astatke+%26+the+Heliocentrics+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430108029760403954" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mulatu Astatke <br></br>and the Heliocentrics</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Inspiration Information, Vol. 3</span><br /><br />Contrary to what you might expect from the title, this is the first album made by Mulatu Astatke and the Heliocentrics. Together, that is. He's an Ethiopian jazz master, and they're a young U.K. band with worldly tastes (which is to say that their talents encompass instruments beyond the standard, Anglo-centric array of guitar, bass, drums, piano and keyboard). Their pairing was facilitated by the Strut record label of London for its <span style="font-style: italic;">Inspiration Information</span> series, an influential-veteran-meets-hotshot-newcomer arrangement.<br /><br />The two have chemistry, for sure. Ghostly Moog whines in "Dewel" give way to a chorus of horns, the sax, trumpet and trombone pattering in common conversation. Waiting in the bass groove, Astatke emerges with twinkles of vibraphone. Then the horns chatter anew.<br /><br />The bulk of the songs were composed by Heliocentrics members, who number Malcolm Catto (drums), Jake Ferguson (bass), Oliver Parfitt (keys and synths), Adrian Owusu (guitar), Jack Yglesias (flute and percussion), Tom Hodges (theremin and saw), Dan Keane (cello), Kat Arney (harp), James Arben (clarinet and sax), Shabaka Hutchings (tenor sax) and James Allsop (bass clarinet). It's a full house.<br /><br />Mulatu Astatke (piano, percussion) seems more mentor than bandleader here, although the tracks are bent toward traditional Ethiopian arrangements rather than new age eclecticism. Some guest players bring in washint, krar, begena and masenqo, instruments little-heard in Western music. Dawit Gebreab plays washint on "An Epic Story," the flute tones offset against a synth wind. It would seem befit for a warrior, one surveying his future kingdom from atop a bluff, perhaps at the cusp of daybreak.<br /><br />The players save the best for last, though. "Anglo Ethio Suite" unfolds with suspense, a deliberately paced composition with a solemn and recurring cello theme. Malcolm Catto's kit skittering opens the piece, and Kat Arney dusts the scene with harp before Jake Ferguson's combo of bass and begena establishes the hypnotic groove. Astatke, at the piano, darts out, then retreats. Dan Keane's thin, high strings squeak out, and from there the track narrows in on cello and flute, as if the two are trapped in the face of impending tumult. The strings worry and scurry, then scrabble feverishly. A clarinet squeals. The end is near. Literally.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-42037040030140390112010-01-16T00:35:00.000-08:002010-01-16T00:42:57.752-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 9<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gYkLJTK3RrjgMMGOyNpA1DBdwKEU-NCmZ8d7rcq_zVkYniumx8a3n9GSsYDS77lwQJUl1GRAqhVwzVFMjZtNbfR2u0D99jn03ZiDvrXIffjLdCUIhyphenhyphenUNiT90gepgzMqYTTIuzRSLGqE/s1600-h/Mastodon+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gYkLJTK3RrjgMMGOyNpA1DBdwKEU-NCmZ8d7rcq_zVkYniumx8a3n9GSsYDS77lwQJUl1GRAqhVwzVFMjZtNbfR2u0D99jn03ZiDvrXIffjLdCUIhyphenhyphenUNiT90gepgzMqYTTIuzRSLGqE/s200/Mastodon+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427253914322929442" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mastodon</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Crack the Skye</span><br /><br />With <span style="font-style: italic;">Crack the Skye</span>, Mastodon have charged into the realm of accessibility. Sung vocals, avoided by some metalheads like a strain of the pox, are in steady supply here. Throughout, the Atlanta metal quartet's musicianship remains enviable: They tear through savage riffs and runs, pulling tempo change-ups on a dime, an equilibrium of ferocity and control. Sabbath would be proud.<p></p><br />Read my review of <span style="font-style: italic;">Crack the Skye</span> <a href="http://therecordreaper.blogspot.com/2009/05/are-we-not-beasts.html">here</a>.<br></br><br></br><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-34365302834316048872010-01-13T04:29:00.000-08:002010-01-13T04:58:03.471-08:00The top 10 albums of 2009: No. 10<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8cItO1EMCkrLv3xsqJANkAnvZ7tAOu8Kosm5ApoH2kosh0eYfqZPmlgBOxtZ3ooMv7IbWn51bSDywpkAPXc4DYEe1OAGXMFFm1Nc1tAWbL7Qxo41myyyA9Z_vSeYFVHEtzysd7hzspk/s1600-h/the+bird+and+the+bee+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8cItO1EMCkrLv3xsqJANkAnvZ7tAOu8Kosm5ApoH2kosh0eYfqZPmlgBOxtZ3ooMv7IbWn51bSDywpkAPXc4DYEe1OAGXMFFm1Nc1tAWbL7Qxo41myyyA9Z_vSeYFVHEtzysd7hzspk/s200/the+bird+and+the+bee+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426205862643869954" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Bird and the Bee</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ray Guns Are Not<br />Just the Future</span><br /><br />Just to be sure, this is not a children's album. And yet it's uncanny how <span style="font-style: italic;">Ray Guns</span> could fit the form, so gentle and good-natured and parental. Despite what Inara George (the Bird) twitters on "What's in the Middle" --- "If you say it all the time, a dirty word will get a cleaning" --- you won't find any cursing here. That's a bit of a change from The Bird and the Bee's debut full-length (<span style="font-style: italic;">The Bird and the Bee</span>, 2007), which included their buzzed-about track "F*cking Boyfriend," complete with a coy little asterisk. (The song was later picked up for the "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" soundtrack.) Of course, their profanity was never profuse or controversial by rock 'n' roll standards; "tame" would be more precise. These days, however, everything comes kissed with congeniality. For instance, when George chides a scoundrely beau, she says, "You're a cad" --- even though the tongues of most would be more likely to say, "You're an asshole."<br /><br />Greg Kurstin (the Bee) outfits the tale with an accordion for the rogue --- or <span style="font-style: italic;">rapscallion</span>, by the Gallic air of the wheeze --- along with a flouncy beat and banana peel sound effect. The latter in particular aims to conjure comical high jinks. The combination strays close to cheesy, but it's endearing in the context of the album.<br /><br />Plus, who could predict the poignant performance that follows? "Witch" is a Bond-theme doppelgänger about a femme fatale realizing her powers have fizzled. George's vocal performance is remarkable for the vulnerability it communicates. Here a temptress falls in love and essentially has the spell turned on her. "How could I haunt you," she sings, "keep you close / when you can see the seams, the fraying of my dress? / I am defenseless."<br /><br />Just as effective, but back on the carefree side of things, is "Diamond Dave," a re-examination of her schoolgirl crush on the flashy, hedonistic lead singer of Van Halen, David Lee Roth. She concludes, "No one can hold a candle," and she dovetails that with a revelation of her continued attraction: "I still carry such a flame." The song's bleeps and bloops create a carnival atmosphere, joining prancing drums and nicely timed chimes. Strings flit like nylon cords zipping from an invisible pulley.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future</span> makes a case for Kurstin being the Willy Wonka of effects. He's quick to include a whimsical keyboard flourish, whether it's the "ooo" pulse on "Ray Gun" or the hammered dulcimer on "My Love" or the accordion on "You're a Cad."<br /><br />At least some of it is motivated by humor. "Phil" is a wink: The song, just 10 seconds long, is simply a drum fill, which serves as an intro to "Polite Dance Song," itself a lark. "Polite Dance Song" pokes fun at automatic rock-show requests --- "Put your hands in the air," "Give it up," "Clap your hands" and so on --- and it does this by phrasing them to be excessively gracious, becoming sillier as the requests get randier. Of course, the album as a whole is exceedingly polite, so "Polite Dance Song" is also a self-parody, in a way.<br /><br />Humor and whimsy tend to be more common in children's music, not because children don't suffer, too, but because ... well, there could be a lot of reasons. The rugrats aren't out there cutting records and commiserating with their peers over spilled milk and gas pains. And parents are the ones buying the music, so it's natural that they'd want their kids to laugh rather than cry. (If your kids enjoy Mudhoney's "Touch Me I'm Sick," maybe they'll grow up to be mentally disturbed. Then again, maybe they just dig rock music.)<br /><br />In the end, perhaps the Bird and the Bee's tender turn was prophetic. After all, Inara George is pregnant now.<br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-65685273124249023322009-12-30T22:34:00.000-08:002009-12-30T22:52:42.071-08:00So long, 2009What a dismal ending to the decade: mass unemployment, lost benefits, winnowed savings, dying publications, resurgent terrorist threats. When I step outside, the bite of the cold wind seems too cinematic to be real. But, of course, December always brings that bite, in good years and bad ones. And it's nearly time to look back on the year -- and on the decade -- and remember the best of it. Feel free to share your bests, too. We're all in this together.<br /><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-4690657708540624732009-11-24T18:51:00.000-08:002009-11-24T19:08:58.826-08:00Candy with a dark center<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOedbaeCJnnmiaO4ofRuEEsMXHXZzV9FEz_PoakM4qKO9TVU7xJ-AO_9YOfdZ0sEbWJsTurvdyZGuKQJNm3Y1ZOKtPw-apZTfkRKjoliFpDelJBuAHwmBPQDbPHQifGr8roccoNXhZiOk/s1600/The+Raveonettes+in+and+out+of+control+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOedbaeCJnnmiaO4ofRuEEsMXHXZzV9FEz_PoakM4qKO9TVU7xJ-AO_9YOfdZ0sEbWJsTurvdyZGuKQJNm3Y1ZOKtPw-apZTfkRKjoliFpDelJBuAHwmBPQDbPHQifGr8roccoNXhZiOk/s200/The+Raveonettes+in+and+out+of+control+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407868655183959282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Raveonettes</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In and Out of Control</span><br />Score: 8<br /><br />With a surfeit of pop hooks and a greater emphasis on the chorus, Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo have wrought a compulsively listenable album. On the surface, <span style="font-style: italic;">In and Out of Control</span> breezes along, all lightness and brevity and fuh-fuh-fun. But the candy coating encases some heavy subjects. Gang rape, suicide and domestic violence feature, along with The Raveonettes' staple, drugs. <span style="font-style: italic;">How</span> they sing about these things makes all the difference.<br /><br />In the most striking juxtaposition, "Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed)," Wagner and Foo and overlay their vocals and stagger them, somewhere between an echo and a call-and-response pattern. They start the song with the chorus (the entirety of which appears in the song title), then go verse 1, chorus, abbreviated verse 1, chorus, instrumental bridge, and they repeat the chorus while fading in an a cappella version of it whose stuttering is more bubblegum than doo wop. The song's lyrics are bleak, with a girl forever haunted by rape, but by putting it in the mold of a catchy, happier song, The Raveonettes are accomplishing a few things: They're making sure the song's message gets heard and they're increasing the likelihood of it sinking in through repeated plays. And the multiple vocal tracks of Sharin Foo could be seen as representing feminine solidarity, almost like a support group.<br /><br />That sympathetic tone appears again on "Suicide," which follows a "little runaway girl" whose life at work and at home has left her desperate to escape. The verse goes from one receding strum of surf guitar to a full-blast chorus of pounding snare, multiple electric guitars, bass and layered vocals, personifying the girl bolting out the door.<br /><br />But the sympathy ends in "Break Up Girls!" Marrying squalling guitar carnage to an orgasm of distortion, the album's penultimate track introduces itself with two minutes of breakneck terror, before easing into the lyrics. Targeting "bunny girls" and the men who abuse them, Foo and Wagner implore the ladies to LEAVE. "Break up, girls," they urge, "You might like it."<br /><br />Still, is there a wrinkle of hypocrisy on <span style="font-style: italic;">In and Out of Control</span>? Or perhaps songwriters with slightly different stands on rough trade? Wagner, who wrote "Break Up Girls!," claims, "Sadistic girls, I don't get you" (even though he obviously means masochistic), yet in opening track "Bang!," co-written with producer Thomas Troelsen, he says, "Bang! When you whip me, baby / Bang! When I scream now, baby / Bang! You know I love it all the time."<br /><br />Of course, the album would function just as well if lyrics were changed. "D.R.U.G.S.," which Foo and Wagner spell out in the eighth track, gets its wings from the incursions of reverbed uh-oooh-wha-uhts and ooo-wooing.<br /><br />This food for thought doubles as dessert.<br></br><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758143122852062975.post-43034457346015862162009-11-24T17:27:00.000-08:002009-11-24T17:50:48.409-08:00Now Scything: Doom, Al B. Sure!, Trans-Siberian Orchestra<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSK5CWZ2qe8xvzAqoqf6vYrfjigDr9_dfdeOaU3Y1FVth7RMn-zL2kq37908iG1zQnDV-CzYVq1B-GgP23qalXW7HBZ6ZiZBVxYO7eLN1D9d2kpVqMRDQnpvQixDBk2su_HlYNzUJiq0/s1600/Doom+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSK5CWZ2qe8xvzAqoqf6vYrfjigDr9_dfdeOaU3Y1FVth7RMn-zL2kq37908iG1zQnDV-CzYVq1B-GgP23qalXW7HBZ6ZiZBVxYO7eLN1D9d2kpVqMRDQnpvQixDBk2su_HlYNzUJiq0/s200/Doom+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407848185078032674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Doom</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Born Like This</span><br />Score: 6<br /><br />The man behind the iron mask (or whatever metal it's made of), has always been a jester, turning lyrical somersaults through subject matter that had little potential for menace. Food, cartoons and comic books, all underrepresented topics in hip-hop, served as frequent inspirations. So it's disappointing to hear him strike such a hard tone on <span style="font-style: italic;">Born Like This</span>, injecting cynicism from a Charles Bukowski reading and otherwise letting the fun whoosh out like air from an untied balloon. "Yessir!," one of two songs with a Wu-Tang Clan guest (in this case, Raekwon), throws in some gunshots, symbolic of his passage from busting a gut to busting a cap. His collaboration with Ghostface Killah, "Angelz," which luxuriates in spy movie horns and strings, clutters the escapade with unnecessary beats, and both emcees gave a superior delivery of the song on the 2006 Nature Sounds comp "Natural Selection." On one level, "Batty Boys" is gay-bashing out of left field; on the other, it could be seen as a dis track (and a meta one, at that): Doom the "supervillian" rapper (patterned after Marvel Comics' Doctor Doom character) stepping into the world of the superhero Batman, a flagship star of the rival DC Comics brand. Hope it's just a bad joke.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqjtYdKhAQdrjVPjJiA2bnnG-HwGgRERZJg8hKeQ_NS3YKx15C-tDfNzZ70P4rIUAvXzrgWmw3-jkVoodlLnYGTVztWqtfWS1olcAjUtRvIG7ACgZS_FmHmhyb9rSINphpgBR3LZ827c/s1600/Al+B.+Sure%21+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqjtYdKhAQdrjVPjJiA2bnnG-HwGgRERZJg8hKeQ_NS3YKx15C-tDfNzZ70P4rIUAvXzrgWmw3-jkVoodlLnYGTVztWqtfWS1olcAjUtRvIG7ACgZS_FmHmhyb9rSINphpgBR3LZ827c/s200/Al+B.+Sure%21+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407848055495097538" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Al B. Sure!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Honey I'm Home</span><br />Score: 5<br /><br />Now here's a guy who might have some idea how Portishead felt. Al B. Sure! stepped away for 17 years, focusing on business and recovering from a car accident. He's a different man now, natch, but it's a shame that he no longer carries the virile spark of yesteryear. His voice is pleasantly creamy, aged delicately, but there's a bit of a Rip Van Winkle-ism here, as he covers both Michael Jackson's "Lady in My Life" (1982) and Sting's "Fragile" (1987) -- and remains faithful to the original versions of each -- almost as if they were little-known and contemporary compositions. Both songs are near-standards by now, so a faithful approach was an unpropitious road for him to take. The result is better than karaoke, but his renditions don't improve the album. In fact, the tightness and inherent hooks of those songs help to point out where <span style="font-style: italic;">Honey I'm Home</span>'s originals are lacking.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXCns3-f7xDbqm7Jyer5rL22fdwvTy5ZhaWQ2N3GzgemAzBOOvDtzsdEPHQPDgTEhqFoXWz_sIYLPQGy8g_Jsj-uV_oKlC8NnLA7tDny_vlFcTiCtjD5eMgY4VuEgGjOanBAoJNdITro/s1600/Trans-Siberian+Orchestra+art.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXCns3-f7xDbqm7Jyer5rL22fdwvTy5ZhaWQ2N3GzgemAzBOOvDtzsdEPHQPDgTEhqFoXWz_sIYLPQGy8g_Jsj-uV_oKlC8NnLA7tDny_vlFcTiCtjD5eMgY4VuEgGjOanBAoJNdITro/s200/Trans-Siberian+Orchestra+art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407848700381427826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Trans-Siberian Orchestra</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Night Castle</span><br />Score: 4<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Night Castle</span> is PG-rated symphonic metal that seems all Europe, yet it came from New York. Also, it's 120 minutes long!! Save yourself! (Kidding. Kind of.) This double album has riffs, Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor, a bugler's requiem, "Nut Rocker," "O Fortuna," a children's choir, pseudo mook rock and Broadway theatrics. It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet thrown into a 50-foot blender.<br></br><br /><p></p>Jeremy Edwardshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244250454701529193noreply@blogger.com0