This Temporary Life

WE HAVE MOVED!

2009-11-15T00:47:00.000-08:00

Be it every few days, or every other month, when I come to update this blog, I feel as though I have outgrown my surroundings. Due to this, I have decided that the best idea would be to leave my shell of Blogger and stake ground at a new, hip, smooth WordPress blog. All of the old posts have been posted there, so for those of you who have me bookmarked, favorited, linked, et cetera, you can now find me at the following URL: http://temporarylifeblog.wordpress.com/ You can also click on the title of this blog post to jump to the new page, which, by the time you read this, should contain a new post.

For those reading this, if you're new to the page, or have been reading, thank you all for listening.

Film Review: Where the Wild Things Are

2009-11-14T01:47:00.000-08:00

Standing in line for popcorn, I look up and see Alvin, Simon, and Theodore, the rodents who permeated my childhood, staring at me from 20 feet up, larger than life. Seeing this, I speak some of the truest words I've spoken in my life:
"I realize, my cynicism and displeasure in the entertainment community at large has become something of a burden, and is becoming a problem."
It's true. I have always found that, even since I was young, the MST3K Mantra did not apply to my overall outlook on music, movies, and television. Rather than being content with the latest blockbuster, from an early age, I thirsted for something more than what I was given. A fondness for overwrought foreign films about Abortion and people like Dave Longstreth and Jeff Mangum clouded my judgment, and made it so that I nearly wept upon seeing The Golden Compass, and have yet to even read reviews of The Spiderwick Chronicles, despite how long it has been out.

Upon realizing exactly where I stood on the crags of criticism, I approached the greatest challenge I possibly could: the sparkling, muddy Spike Jonze adaptation of Where The Wild Things Are. Possibly the most important book of my childhood, it was hard to ignore my instincts to judge the film as anything more than what it was: a love letter.

For those unfamiliar with the premise, somehow, a summary: Max, a young boy with a big imagination, finds himself in approximately my position of displeasure with the world around him, and thus, he decides to leave his world of rules and oppression and start anew across the sea. He comes across an island full of great furry beasties, and, as they say, the wild rumpus begins. He is crowned king, but time wears on and he realizes that being like an animal isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Spike Jonze, of course, is the director of Being John Malkovich and Adaptation. Being Spike Jonze means a certain degree of responsibility when it comes to bringing certain things to the table, including surreal humor and overdone character study. And this is exactly what the adaptation is: a character study. The wild things, serving merely as a metaphor for animal instinct in the original Maurice Sendak story, each of them bears their own distinct personality. The main wild thing, Carol, takes Max under his wing after his crowning, and helms his project to build a fort for all of the group to be safe in. Everything is injected with love, love, love, and as an end result, we are shown not the advancement of any given plot line, but the personal growth of every major player. Being that the original text is 10 sentences long, it gives a lot of room for expansion on everything therein, using the images as the jumping point.

Ultimately the thing most people are put off by is the lack of plot development and the fact that nothing really happens over the course of the film. To those people I ask, why does there need to be a stream of events? Why can't the characters merely live their day, and let us view it from the outside? Have we become so jaded that we shut out the validity of films that show the kinds of things that we have done 50 times during this particular work week? The wild things are people you know, and you know that full well, even if they have horns and manes and one guy gets his arm ripped off and replaces it with a stick. Jonze goes as far as to prove that you know these people by having two unintelligible owls tell a character the Loud Interrupting Cow knock-knock joke by hooting. What could be more slice of life than that?

By the end of the film, I felt nothing more than warm and fuzzy. If I were pressed to give a critical opinion, I would say that the film needed more structure and served as nothing more than a way for Jonze to exercise his childish genes. But for Where The Wild Things Are, I am able to forget what we as critics are taught to say and believe, and just believe in something great.

Live Review: The Dirty Projectors (Aladdin Theater, 11/03/09)

2009-11-04T08:42:00.000-08:00

For me, writing a live review has always been as much about the band performing as the people seeing them. Crowds vary a lot, from oddly still and reverent (Menomena, Explosions in the Sky) to "I'm overcompensating for something by moving around so goddamn much!" (I'm looking straight at you, Girl Talk crowd). Sometimes the crowd looks like they have never heard the band that's performing, and simply ended up in the crowd of the show by freak accident (Los Campesinos!). Every crowd is truly unique.

To talk about the crowd at Dirty Projectors would be unfair: there was a bit of a divide. In the Aladdin Theater's infinite wisdom, they made the set all ages, but cattled everyone who was not over 21 to the balcony of the venue, which is usually reserved, at least in normal concert halls, for the hipsters drinking their beer. So, we have a sea of people grooving to the music below, and a whole bunch of surly 19 year olds up top, wishing they could be downstairs truly enjoying the performance. Thus, in an attempt to not seem like I am ranting so much, I will try and stray away from talking about the people watching the show, and focus on the performance.

Dirty Projectors, for what its worth, are the best avant-pop stylists this side of Animal Collective, and have never failed to make music that the common man can agree is definitely challenging (see: weird). In releasing Bitte Orca, the band's astounding Pop explosion, they may have released the most coherent work in their catalogue, and easily the best. However, to say that the band would be the most prolific band of the noughties if they could capture their live intensity for record would be an understatement. Having listened to Bitte Orca more times than I can count, I can comfortably say that, as much as I enjoyed the album at home, it pales in comparison to the live article, a statement I can rarely make.

The two Orca tracks that truly demonstrate the live fury of Dave Longstreth's crew are Mariah Carey-jocking lead single "Stillness Is The Move" and makeshift title track "Useful Chamber." On the latter, Amber Coffman's vocal work that shone so brightly on the physical article are magnified by 100x due to her charisma and body energy, as she bobs around the stage like the sexy older sister of Shara Worden a la Hazards of Love. Hearing "Stillness" live may have ruined the (for lack of a better word) purity of the album version, due to the fire that Coffman brings into the live performance. Meanwhile the overall tightness of the track shows through as drummer Brian Mcomber proves himself as the world's most proficient hip-hop drummer, and Longstreth tears our the main groove, bobbing around the stage happily.

However, on "Useful Chamber" the band as a whole truly explodes. Stripping away the seasick synth sounds of the album, "Chamber" turns into a writhing beast of a song, stretching it out nearly two minutes longer than God intended, with Longstreth proving that he's truly one of the best guitarists of the decade, while the power trio of Amber Coffman, Angel Deradoorian, and forgotten Dirty Projector Hayle Dekle howl like banchees over the cacophony. "I'm caught up in a storm/That I don't need no shelter from!" sings Longstreth over the tumult that he's created, a line most fitting amidst the storm wailing around him.

The rest of the songs played live may not stand out quite as much as these two, but they are nonetheless mind-blowing. The simplicity of Deradoorian's solo shot "Two Doves," accompanied with a small string section in record, is stripped down to Longstreth accompanying on acoustic guitar, and though both Amber and Angel have been in the main spotlight since "Stillness is the Move" debuted, Angel still seems nothing less than nervous to get her shot in the spotlight, despite the extensive touring the band has done behind the record.

Elsewhere, the joyful noise of "Temecula Sunrise" explodes into brightness, and the resplendent tone of opener "Cannibal Resource" opens up yet further, completely obliterating the possibility of listening to the album itself the same way again. Once the encore starts, and the organ sounds of closer "Fluorescent Half Dome" (cunningly saved for last) flare into life, I realize that, maybe that's the point of the live article. Perhaps not to utterly destroy it, as the set may have done for me, but to complement it, and bring both sides of each story to life. In reality, something tells me that even if I had been in the crowd for the performance, rather than sitting on the sidelines, I doubt my review would be much different, because here, nobody but Dave Longstreth and his immaculate players matter.

The Best of the Decade - #2: Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

2009-08-11T12:47:00.000-07:00

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot - Wilco

The placement on the End of the Decade list for Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. For all intents and purposes, I've been heralding it as the greatest album of the decade for about as long as its songs have been bouncing back and forth throughout my head. Though there are probably a lot of naysayers, I personally believe that, if any record is deserving of the top spot, it may as well be this one. Sure, it lacks the recreation that Radiohead underwent in the process of creating Kid A, but Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is, by all means, just as much a record born of the downfall of the music industry as we knew it, at the time.

The album also built itself it's own personal mythos: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was originally scheduled to be released September 11th, 2001. However, after the album had been completed, fully and wholly, Reprise Records' president was fired in the AOL and Time Warner merger. Howie Klein, the president, was a massive supporter of the band, and after he left, record execs began doing what they seem to be famous for and started making demands, complaining that the album lacked any songs worthy of a single or wide radio play. After the band failed to deliver, Reprise dropped Wilco, and after a small legal battle, gave the rights to the completed record over to the band. The album was then sold to Nonesuch Records, which just so happen to be a smaller subsidiary of AOL Time Warner, Reprise's parent company. In essence, as Jeff Tweedy points out in the film I Am Trying to Break Your Heart: A Film About Wilco, AOL Time Warner paid for the album twice.

Still, Yankee Hotel is worth every penny of the money poured into it by the two record labels, and then some. Beginning with a piano and an acoustic guitar, frontman Jeff Tweedy sings the album opener, "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," as though every last inch of him is soaked in as much liquor as he could legally get his hands on. "I am an American aquarium drinker/I assassin down the avenue." He doesn't merely walk, or saunter, he assassins. Playing as a breakup song in reverse, Tweedy croons his cryptic love song, telling a former lover "What was I thinking when I let go of you?"

Two songs later in the moody strum of "Radio Cure," Tweedy reprises his gin-soaked whine with lines as simple as "Oh, distance has no way of making love understandable," but as sweepingly confusing as "Picking apples for the kings and queens of things I've never seen." "Radio Cure" is, to me, the finest demonstration on the record of how to adequately create murk; the minutiae of the looming drum beat and the thick piano and guitar, boiling into a stew, with no better word in sight. Static crackles around Tweedy's Southern drawl, as he sings of "electronic surgical words" and how "there is something wrong with me." The song ends just as it began, with him pleading, "Cheer up honey, I hope you can."

Jeff Tweedy builds a kind of drunken philosophy in the repetitions found in the record, the best example of which being the fantastically juxtaposed next song, "War on War." The chorus twangs with perfect nonsense: "You have to learn to die/if you want to want to be alive." On "Ashes of American Flags," the chorus bleeds with the same blue blood: "All my lies are always wishes/I know I would die if I could come back new." The brilliance that oozes from every pore of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is that which bled from an album in the same way as Death Cab for Cutie's unspoken masterpiece We Have The Facts and We're Voting Yes did: the entirety of the album is lyrics that you wish you had thought of first, and probably did, but forgot to write down. While on the latter, Ben Gibbard sang "We spread out and occupied the cracks in the urban streets," Tweedy sings "If I could, you know I would hold your hand and you'd understand, I'm the man that loves you" on "I'm the Man That Loves You," or, with the first verse of album closer "Reservations," "How can I convince you it's me I don't like/And not be so indifferent to the look in your eyes/When I've always been distant/And I've always told lies for love." The words are put together in a way that, when you think to yourself, "I want to write like that," you just come up with lyrics that he's already written.

In the slow-building gem "Poor Places," Tweedy reveals that he is certainly aware of everything I've said: that he's a bit of a lush, and his words have been pulled from the everything: "There's bourbon on the breath/Of the singer you love so much/He takes all his words from the books/That you don't read anyway." As the song builds, and even the siren roar of the guitars can't drown out that cryptic and ethereal voice ("Poor Places" includes a sample of a song from The Conet Project, a collection of transmissions from shortwave numbers stations, of a woman repeating the phonetic code Yankee Hotel Foxtrot), you understand that Jeff Tweedy isn't a liar, or a fake, or a drunk, or any of the things you think he is, or even that he thinks he is. Tweedy is merely a man who has made a lot of poor decisions with himself, has loved and lost, has gone crazy and regained his sanity, all in a fraction of a fraction of a second. "Poor Places" and "Reservations" are the end to a fever dream, one that began to grow in "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" and just never ceased until the woman stopped repeating those three words.

Or maybe I'm a liar. "I'm not gonna get caught calling a pot kettle black," he says in "Pot Kettle Black," the song just before "Poor Places." He might be a liar and a drunk, after all. However, he may be such a good liar, he's convinced you that he's a bad liar, so you think he's just a good man. Who knows. The real truth lies in lyrics like those in the dramatically underrated "Jesus, Etc.": "You were right about the stars, each one is a setting sun." Jeff Tweedy may very well be the world's best songwriter, and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot proves that. However, you just can't really be sure if he just made the whole thing up.

For those interested in Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and the backstory of the album, you can download the album here, the film here, and the entirety of The Conet Project here. You can learn more about The Conet Project here (wiki) and here (website), and are encouraged to wrap yourself up in the eerie mystery of it.

The Best of the Decade - #1: Radiohead - Kid A

2009-08-02T02:06:00.000-07:00

Kid A - Radiohead

To begin talking about Kid A, one has to go back to 1997, the year Radiohead really stepped away from the behemoth they created with “Creep,” and took on a new form as a band that was able to spin lyrics about post-apocalyptic society into rock anthems with OK Computer. In the wake of said album, the band began to feel the strain of super-stardom, a topic merely skimmed in the film Meeting People is Easy, which showed the beginnings of Thom Yorke’s reclusive nature, and his will to escape their angsty pop hit. To make matters worse, in an attempt to escape the limelight of a song as anthemic as “Loser” by Beck, he had unwittingly made what is constantly referred to as the best of (or in the midst of the best) the 90s. What do you do when you accidentally make yourself a darling of the music community at large, whilst trying to get people to leave you the fuck alone?

The answer, Yorke thought, was to simply start over from the ground up. Being the leader of the band, he held the most sway, and managed to re-build the entire makeup and sound of the band, and, utilizing the new business structure that the media had created (releasing small blips in between shows on stations like MTV), released Kid A, an album so far removed from the sound of the band’s first three albums, that the only thing tying them all together was Thom Yorke’s instantly recognizable falsetto.

If OK Computer was the world of tomorrow, Kid A was the world in the day after tomorrow. The album starts with the mellow synth of “Everything in its Right Place,” with its quiet repeating lyrics that are seemingly about nothing (“Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon,” “There are to colors in my head/what was that you tried to say?”), and segueing gently into the one-part lullaby of the title track and its distorted-into-nothing vocals. “I slipped on a little white lie,” you make over the tinker of the keyboard and the slight hum of the drums. It slowly builds, as the voice sings “We’ve got heads on sticks/and you’ve got ventriloquists,” and you feel as though something may very well be in the process of being born here.

You abandon this quickly as the next song, “The National Anthem,” begins, with grungy and distorted bass and a squealing horn section: Yorke’s de facto anthem for his fictional nation. “Everyone has got the fear/it’s holding on/turn it off!” he pleads as everything groans around him, as the trumpets get louder, the ice caps melt, and everything boils around him. The horns finally give way after that which was in utero in “Kid A” is born, and Radiohead marks themselves as the new parents of this new noise, blending the words of old with the sounds of new, blending into this child of quiet, claustrophobic wrath.

The child has it’s first epiphany when everything gives way into “How To Disappear Completely,” and all there is is a quiet guitar. “I’m not here, this isn’t happening,” he croons, sounding to be on the verge of tears. “How To Disappear Completely” proves to be the most telling and affecting song on the album, stepping away from the whole of everything up to this point to say, “That there, that’s not me.”

On a purely lyrical basis, the album is somehow nothing to write home about, at least not at first. However, after awhile, songs like “Optimistic” seem to seep into your psyche, with the song’s refrain of “You can try the best you can, the best you can is good enough” becoming a positive affirmation, whereas the apocalyptic disco of “Idioteque” and it groans and cracks, the whole while Yorke’s chanting grows louder, singing, “We’re not scare mongering, this is really happening” and “Who’s in the bunker?/Women and children first.” Yorke seemed to, in the three years between OK Computer and Kid A, discover how to perfectly convey every screaming emotion in the most simple ways he can, proven in likely the most sorrowful break-up song in existence, “Motion Picture Soundtrack.”

The drum machines and synths that have been bursting and blooming over the course of the albums, growing in “Treefingers,” the album’s instrumental interlude, come back to earth during the horrors of everyday life brought to the forefront in “Morning Bell.” More a tone poem than a song, Yorke outlines a normal suburban life falling to pieces, split down the middle (“Cut the kids in half” “Where’d you park the car?/Clothes are on the lawn with the furniture”), it demonstrates a new world much like that discussed with “ice age coming” in “Idioteque,” it shows the birth of this cold dead place: the death of the family.

The album closes with the haunting organs of “Motion Picture Soundtrack.” In many ways, the song is one of the most sorrowful on the album, if not one of the most sorrowful by the band to date. Yorke barely sings on the song; he croons in the same way he did in “How To Disappear Completely.” When he sings “Red wine and sleeping pills, help me get back to your arms/Cheap sex and sad films, help me get back where I belong,” you wonder if the whole of Kid A up to this point has been the world created in the mind of the man singing this song, a world that has fallen into complete destruction, all because of the “you” in the first line of the song. In the second verse, joined by the sounds of bells, he lets go the most gripping and tearful line on the record: “Stop sending letters. Letters always get burned. It’s not like the movies that fed us on little white lies,” bringing us back to the little white lie he slipped on in “Kid A.” The album closes with one final, sorrowful blow: “I will see you in the next life.”

What makes Kid A such a beautiful album is not the fact that it was a masterwork for a band that had exploded because of their mastery of your guitar and the apocalypse to come, it’s how beautifully they portray that the end of the world doesn’t have to be brought upon by nuclear war or global warming, it could be because of the loss of someone (or something) important. In the verse left out of the final version of “Motion Picture Soundtrack, after the second verse, he delivers the payload that is the key to the album: “Beautiful angel, torn apart at birth/Limbless and helpless, I can barely recognize you.” This creature that was born of noise was the product of extreme sorrow, and because part of its soul had been destroyed, which (and I can’t state this enough) is a fate worse than the looming destruction of the world. It’s the destruction of a life as that life knows it.

For all the dystopian imagery that Thom Yorke puts into his lyrics, be it “2+2=5” from Hail to the Thief or the computerized speech of OK Computer’s “Fitter Happier,” he managed to spin all of that into a deeply moving love letter to love lost with Kid A, in a way that would never truly make you think it was anything but a vision of chemical warfare. It could be said that, in the time after OK Computer, while Yorke was being heckled into tears by screaming fans demanding to hear “Creep,” he became something more than a man with a guitar. He became a shell, and Kid A was a time-lapse piece of that shell being recreated in the image of something else, something entirely indistinguishable from the thing before it. It’s tragic that it happened, but it ended up being one of the most haunting things the new millennium had to offer, and it was proof that it was, truly, going to be alright, and that everything was in its right place.

Further listening: Kid A can be downloaded here, while the film discussed in this article, Meeting People is Easy, can be found here. For those seeking something different, Kid 17, a curious sync-up in which each song re-starts and overlaps with the song 17 seconds in, can be found here.

The Best of the Decade - An Introduction

2009-08-02T02:02:00.001-07:00

There are lists that every record reviewer loves to write: “Top five songs for a rainy day.” “The best songs to get over a break-up.” “Twenty songs to start a Monday.” But there is one kind of list that nobody relishes doing: the best of the _____. The best of the year can be enjoyable, provided your December involves re-listening to everything and not, as the case is whenever the last week rolls around for me, a mad dash to take in everything you were too stubborn to put down because you just simply didn’t want to stop listening to that Parenthetical Girls album. But, there is one point that I can’t imagine anyone who writes about music, for fun or for profit, enjoys: the end of the decade.

And so here we are, in the 8th month of 2009, meaning that the time has (technically) come, to discuss what was really, really good in the last ten years. Gee, wasn’t Yankee Hotel Foxtrot magnificent, or what about Agaetis Byrjun? And what about Kid A? How exactly does one simply put an album like White Blood Cells over Chutes Too Narrow, or, if you aren’t on the Pitchfork writing staff, De-Loused in the Comatorium? In the end, you’ll just spend too much time pulling out your hair, trying to figure out if Picaresque really does belong in a spot higher than Bitte Orca, and you’ll look at the clock, it'll be 2011, and you'll go, “Now what was I doing again?”

I am someone who will inevitably try and establish some sort of record hierarchy for the decade, but, and this is going to sound very silly, it just isn’t fair. The albums that people refer to as “the best of (insert large time span here)” are the ones that stay with you in 20 years time, the kind of records that you get in bar fights over and you sacrifice the car to keep in a nasty divorce. It’s unfair to say that you liked Boys & Girls in America more, even though “Citrus” and “First Night” didn’t make you cry as much as every single time you heard “Love Love Love” or “Of Angels & Angles.”

So, it is with complete fairness that I have decided that the end of the decade should call for celebration of every album that made the decade great. It calls for a celebration of songs like “Wake Up” and “Chicago,” everything from the pop genius of “Stillness is the Move” to the fucked up disco of “Idioteque,” and everywhere in between. It is my intent to discuss these albums, and why they remain so powerful and, in the end, flawless.

Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion

2009-07-11T02:39:00.000-07:00

Animal Collective are weird. That's all there is to it. It only takes one listen to songs like "Peacebone" or "Infant Dressing Table" or, most importantly, "Who Could Win A Rabbit?" to know that they are a little bit out there. To most, in fact, they are far from what you would call "accessible" and quite possibly outside of the realm of "tolerable music." Nevertheless, Animal Collective is a band that has wedged itself into the canon of independent music over the course of the last decade because they are weird.

However, in 2007, the band did two things to distance themselves from the likes of songs like "Who Could Win A Rabbit?" in two ways: 1) they released Strawberry Jam, which is just as avant garde as the rest of their catalogue, but with added coherence and pop sensibitlities, and 2) frontman Panda Bear released Person Pitch, an album that has been described, by many a person, as an album that Brian Wilson should have released. Pitchfork's review of the album talked about how, over the course of the year, it felt as though it changed with the season, from feeling bright and excited in the summer, to mellow and reminiscent in the fall. In short, it was an album that adapted to everything around it.

Merriweather Post Pavilion does the same thing, but on a smaller scale. On the opening track, "In The Flowers," slow and quiet guitar and distant vocals swirl as Avey Tare sings, "Feeling envy for the kid who danced in spite of anything/And we’re out in the flowers and feel better," and when he sings "If I could just leave my body for the night," the track explodes into a shower of technicolor, with Avey singing at the top of his lungs.

"In The Flowers" segues into "My Girls," and from there on, the album can only be described as "resplendent." Topics range from squeaking air conditioners ("Summertime Clothes") to the sidewalks of Chinatown ("Lion in a Coma"), and never, even in the quieter tracks, does the album fall away from encapsulating a season in the same way the Beach Boys managed the same with Pet Sounds. Only on Person Pitch has the band managed to take a still of the emotion behind simply living life. Merriweather serves as a photograph of a group of friends at the beach in June, as empty Corona bottles near a bonfire in July, as a lover tangled in the sheets of a rented beach house in the middle of August.

It's all here: the slowly building joy that the season has come ("My Girls"), the emotional devastations of the loss of a summer love ("No more runnin says my mind/All this movement has just/Proved your kisses are too fine" - "No More Runnin'"), and a final, wonderous celebration of the sun, yelling, pleading, "stay young, god damn you" (Until fully grown/You got a real good shot/Won't help to hold inside/Keep it real keep it real shout out" - "Brother Sport").

When the final, resplendent shouts of "Brother Sport" have died out, just like the nervous light of September creeping through the blinds, there's a deep hunger pang, because you know that you need more. This is the remarkable beauty of Merriweather Post Pavilion: it's flawed, and it's humid, but just like the summer, you know that soon, very soon, you can enjoy it again. Animal Collective may, in fact, be a very weird band, but sometimes it takes the weirdos to make you yearn for the sun to come back.

Yes, Stereogum, Dirty Projectors' Bitte Orca is The Best Album of the Year

2009-07-09T02:51:00.000-07:00

Two months ago, give or take, I started my now-very-infrequent segment The Nightly Three. One of the first albums I reviewed was Bitte Orca, the new Dirty Projectors album. I gave it a 4.5. I personally believe that, after two months, I need to correct this wrong. In short, my belief is that, just 6 months into the year, Dirty Projectors have stopped the race for Best of the Year dead in its tracks, with what is certainly one of the most flawless albums of the decade at large.

Since listening to it initially, I have listened to it more times than I can even count. In short, it's the finest work that Dirty Projectors have put out, so much more accessible than The Getty Address, despite the grandiose nature of that work. Each track packs a lyrical quality that breaks the barriers confining conventional songwriting, in favor of emotional exploration, from the light-hearted ("And what hits the spot, yeah, like Gatorade? You and me baby, hittin' the spot all night") to the sweeping, moving, stunning, and beautiful ("Geranium kisser/Skin like silk and face like glass/Don't confront me with my failures/Kiss me with your mouth open/For your love, better than wine"). Somehow, Dave Longstreth manages to reinvent the wheel of pop music with Bitte Orca, as is completely obvious on the oft' cited Mariah Carey-inspired "Stillness is the Move" and the tremendously fun "Remade Horizon."

Dave Longstreth

Longstreth also woofs and warps the way conventional song structure works, with more cuts than a goth girl's forearm (as is evident by the movement breaks in de facto title track "Useful Chamber"), and completely skewing the line between what is sung elegantly ("Two Doves"), what is charming ("Stillness is the Move") and what is almost outlandish ("Cannibal Resource"), but somehow, with the help of his cover stars Angel Deradoorian and Amber Coffman, rips to shreds the way musicians should play, write, and even sing. The contained and focused fuzz and pop of Bitte Orca, dare I say it, has almost singlehandedly re-written what pop means.

With a bombastic and crackly voice, in the chorus of the opener, "Cannibal Resource," Longstreth sings a line that seems almost fitting, considering all of my talk of how groundbreaking I believe this album is: "I think you're more than a terrified witness behind the arbitrary line." I believe that, in just 9 songs, and just over 40 minutes, he and his band have proven that the line really is arbitrary, and should be crossed and erased so stunningly more often.

Green Day - 21st Century Breakdown

2009-05-11T16:06:00.001-07:00

“I’m not fucking around.”
You probably shouldn't go into this expecting Dookie or Nimrod. It's certainly not either. However, it's not American Idiot, either.

The problem a lot of people had with American Idiot, almost five years ago, was that it was nothing like Green Day’s previous works, and that it wanted to be meaningful, and that there was too much balladeering (see “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” “Are We The Waiting,” “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” and “Whatsername”). It had seemed, to most people, that the punk hero for the 90s had lost his mind, and soul, in favor of pseudo-political lyricism.

On my first listen of the first Green Day album in five years (truly an eternity for most punk bands, especially Green Day, who released four albums in that span of time), that’s not going anywhere. Armstrong seems to have developed a taste for ballads and politics, which in the hands of more competent hands can be disastrous. That said, since American Idiot, he has clearly refined his ability to write those kinds of songs, and has learned to veil them, at least a little bit.

As for the ballads, they’re here, and in spades. Armstrong seems to have gotten a bit carried away with writing the kinds of songs that start as a quiet ballad and grow to be too loud (see “!Viva La Gloria!” and “Before The Lobotomy,” for starters). In fact, around half of the album is done like that. It’s a nice touch, especially on the former example, but at times, it gets just a little old.

This isn’t, of course, to say that the album is without its raucous tracks. “East Jesus Nowhere,” for example, is a reminder of why anybody and everybody liked Green Day in the 90s, and a reminder of why anybody liked American Idiot. It’s bass heavy, littered with cymbal crashes, and to be fair, damn near perfection. “Christian’s Inferno” accomplishes the same effect, while keeping in time with, from the sound of it, whatever plot this concept album was going for (note: I don’t care what the album is supposed to be about; I’ll leave the modern rock operas up to The Decemberists). The best example, however, is the slowly building “Restless Heart Syndrome,” which utilizes the quiet-to-loud dynamic perfectly, complete with a downright ridiculous guitar solo.

As for lyrics, they’re about as good as Green Day’s ever going to get, but to be fair, nobody had ever listened to Green Day for their lyrics. In the minute-long, radio static opener, “Song For The Century,” Armstrong sings, serenely, “Sing us a song of the century/Louder than bombs and eternity/The heir of static and contraband/Leading us into the promised land,” which gives us a pretty darn good idea of the kind of album we’re going to be listening to. The following track, “21st Century Breakdown,” explodes with the same kind of fire that U2 had in their heyday, with Armstrong coyly stating “I never made it as a working class hero,” and offers a breakdown worthy of American Idiot’s shining multi-part stars, “Jesus of Suburbia” and “Homecoming.”

The album is not without its duds, though. “Last of the American Girls” comes off like the sequel to “Extraordinary Girl,” arguably one of the weakest Idiot tracks. The following track, “Murder City,” sounds like something your kid sister might have written to be edgy in her 7th grade English class. That said, even the worst lyrics on the album (“I am a nation, a worker, a pawn/My debt to the status quo/The scars on my hands are a means to an end”) are still better than the worst of American Idiot (“I walk a lonely road/The only one that I have ever known/Don't know where it goes/But it's home to me and I walk alone”)

In the end, 21st Century Breakdown is not the fabled “return to sound” that most people imagined it was going to be. In fact, it sounds almost nothing like the albums that made Green Day the godfathers of pop-punk. It is, however, a worthy continuation of exactly what American Idiot was likely supposed to be: a total blast.

The Evening Three - 5-8-09

2009-05-08T03:01:00.000-07:00

Good evening! Due to the fact that I'm feeling terribly sick this evening, I have decided to simply review two albums, with both putting me at just over an hour.

1) The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Considering all of the noise that I listen to, and all the noise that gets released every week of every year, sometimes, it's nice to listen to soft Shoegazing bliss. Delivering a soft bullet of dreamy, Velvet Underground-esque bedroom music, much like M83's truly stunning debut, Saturdays = Youth, of last year. If you get a chance to hear this album, take it. Go and download it, and spend 30 minutes just listening to it. In fact, just click here.
Key tracks: "Contender," "This Love is Fucking Right," "Stay Alive," "Everything With You"
Rating: 4.5

2) Jeremy Enigk - OK Bear: First off, it's nice to hear Enigk's voice again. I'll spare you the long-winded "ohmygod Sunny Day Real Estate!" and skip to the point of this. Since SDRE, it seems Enigk has decided to try on something a little more singer/songwriter, with an album bearing the same lyrical passion as Diary or The Rising Tide, but with a fresh sound. Granted, it's not as focused as either of the two albums mentioned, but it shows that Enigk still has the spark and the heart that made SDRE what they were.
Key tracks: "Late of Camera," "Sandwich Time," "In A Look," "Same Side Imaginary"
Rating: 3

Don't Look Back: Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?

2009-05-07T03:17:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I love writing about music, and that I fancy myself a journalist of sorts. However, I've come to realize that most of music journalism is writing about the current: it's all about the newest of the new, until the end of the year rolls around, and you talk about the best of the gently used, and promptly forget it all until a band puts out a new album to be scrutinized and told "I liked the last one better!" It seems to me that critics don't have the time to reflect on the music that really stuck, nevermind how good it was.

Thus, I have decided to go back and listen to the albums I once held extremely dear, the albums that went on repeat for days (or weeks) on end, the albums that I'll force my kids listen to on long car rides. And there are few better albums to begin a (likely long) series of introspective musings with than of Montreal's Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?

Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?
Originally released: January '07

I first listened to Hissing Fauna when it was first released back in ’07, and was immediately blown away. I found myself rabid for it, unable to listen to another album for two weeks straight: there was no escaping it. And now, two years later, it’s not hard to understand why I liked it so much.

The first song on the album, “Suffer for Fashion,” begins with a short, but telling, lyric: “We just want to emote until we're dead.” You can call Barnes a whiner if you so please, because albums such as this may very well make him one, but one thing you can’t say is that he isn’t dignified about it.

Listening to Hissing Fauna for the first time in about a year, it doesn’t feel like I ever left. Kevin Barnes’ dark introspection set to disco never grows tiresome, even in during the album’s centerpiece, “The Past is a Grotesque Animal,” clocking in at 12 minutes long. Barnes rarely truly strays from his half-sing on the track, where he almost completely strips down the pop façade and bares everything he has, with lyrics such as “It’s embarrassing to need someone like I do you,” and But it's like we weren't made for this world/Though I wouldn't really want to meet someone who was.” Of Montreal is a party band, there is no doubt about that, but when Barnes decides to spread his wings, as he does on “Grotesque Animal,” it’s hard to imagine him doing anything but songs of the same caliber.

However, the charm of the album is not only how personal it is, but the juxtaposition of the lyrics and the music. What better to set a stanza like “I guess it would be nice to give my heart to a god/But which one, which one do I choose?/All the churches fill with losers, psycho or confused/I just want to hold the divine in mind” to than a funky bass line? What better to lay over a quiet groove than “Are you far too depressed now even to answer the phone? I guess you just want to shave your head, have a drink, and be left alone. (Is that too much to ask?)”

The album is not without its fun, though. Tracks like “She’s a Rejector” still have me singing (or rather screaming, at points) along, and I have yet to get over “With a crisp endorsement from the C! (C!) A! (A!) Booty Patrol!” Of Montreal, to me, is proof that disco is not only still alive, but well enough to give anybody a swift kick in the genitals, and this is the album that helped me realize that it’s not the worst thing in the world to piss and moan on record, especially if you dress it up in neon and spandex.

The Evening Three (or Four) - 5-7-09

2009-05-07T00:40:00.000-07:00

For this edition, I have reviewed four albums, for reasons to be explained momentarily.

1) mewithoutYou - It's All Crazy! It's All False! It's All A Dream! It's Alright.: I will give this album a one word review, based on the one-and-a-half songs I listened to: no. That is final.
Rating: 0

2) Patrick Wolf - The Bachelor: I don't know why I put off listening to Patrick Wolf for so long! Patrick Wolf's new album brings to mind words like "tortured" and "SLAYERRR!" Somehow, he's managed to put out an indie-pop-metal album of sorts, blending insanely catchy melodies and balladeering with the finest in heavy indie this side of Mastodon. I'm not really sure what Wolf's other albums sound like, but I do know that it's safe to say, after songs like "The Bachelor" and "Vulture," that I may fast become a huge fan of this guy.
Rating: 3.7

3) Röyksopp - Junior: I first listened to Royksopp years ago when the song "Poor Leno" was put on the soundtrack for the video game SSX Tricky. Since then I've been a massive fan, and Junior is the album to remind me of exactly why I'm a fan of these guys. It's hard to find respectable electronica that makes listening to dance music fun anymore (Daft Punk fun, I mean), being that it's one of the more intense genres around. However, the Norwegian duo are a reminder that dance music is not, in fact, serious business, and can be listened to by people who don't even know how to dance, and really don't understand Ricardo Villalobos.
Rating: 4

4) Gallows - Grey Britain: Punk never smelt so fresh. Gallows' sophomore album packs the same wollop as Black Flag's Damaged, combined with the same urgent, and yet still accessible, hooks that sparkled across more recent albums in a similar vein as Against Me!'s Searching For A Former Clarity, a hard thing to come across these days. This is a band to straighten out the youth of today who look not to the Henry Rollins' or Jello Biafra's of the world for their punk fix, but to the of Billy Joe Armstrong's or Mark Hoppus'. To those who say that punk is dead, I say this: listen to Gallows, and you'll realize that punk may have been dead, but it's back again, and quite frankly, it's fucking pissed.
Rating: 3.5

The Evening Three: 5-6-09

2009-05-06T03:37:00.000-07:00

1) Asher Roth - Asleep in the Bread Aisle: Newcomer to the hip-hop game Asher Roth clearly has a good thing going for him, with his wannabe Eminem style (which he himself discusses on the strangely poignant track "As I Em") and his lyrical celebration of gettin' blazed and fuckin' girls, but never does the album feel too terribly vulgar or over-the-top. No, it's not the nextLiquid Swords or Fishscale, or even The Marshall Mathers LP, but for what it's worth, it's as promising and tongue-in-cheek fun (displayed by the entirety of the song "Bad Day") as his maestro and mentor's debut.
Rating: 3

2) The Decemberists The Hazards Of Love: Why exactly did I not listen to this album when it came out? While it's not as instantly accessible as previous albums Picaresque and The Crane Wife, it displays the bands versatility and hyper-literary and dramatic prowess. The Floyd-ian grooves of The Crane Wife's "The Island 1: Come & See" or "The Perfect Crime #2" are still ever-so-present in songs like "Won't Want For Love (Margaret In the Taiga)" and "The Rake's Song," the latter showing that Colin Meloy has certainly not lost his talent for wordplay ("I was wedded and it whetted my thirst/Until her womb start spilling out babies/Only then did I reckon my curse").

But the rock spectacale doesn't stop at The Decemberists as they are; it wraps in Lavender Diamond's Becky Stark and My Brightest Diamond's Shara Worden, who steals the show by becoming an absolute fireball, so very far removed from her role in My Brightest Diamond that it's mindblowing to think about the fact that it's the same person. Lord knows where The Decemberists are going next, but with an album like this, I can't think of a better band to blindly follow.
Rating: 4.8

3) Dan Deacon - Bromst: Dan Deacon is fucking weird. This is evident in songs like "Ohio" ("We're talking paper forks now!/We're talking bacon cuts now!/We're talking turkey talk, and talking turkey walk and every small town!") from Twacky Cats, or the meth trip on legs of Spiderman Of The Rings single "The Crystal Cat" ("I'm gonna get my bathing suit on/gonna get my base face on/gonna get my hat out of loan"). However, in the two years between Spiderman Of The Rings and Bromst, Dan Deacon has found solace in silence in a studio buried deep in the serenity of Montana, and in that space he recorded what may turn out to be his magnum opus. Bromst is a slow building, almost heartbreaking-ly beautiful masterwork of sonic bliss, the companion piece to a portrait not only to the dance of life, but to the all-night dance party that is life itself.

Deacon has demonstrated that he's more than just a balding, tubby guy who makes strange music to scream along to with this record. He's proven that he's capable of something much, much more special than the world's best sing-along ("Wham City"): he's capable of capturing the spirit of celebration, and all in one hour.
Rating: 5

The Evening Three - 5-5-09

2009-05-06T03:21:00.000-07:00

I'm an insomniac. This is not news to anyone, I should hope. Thus, I need something to do with my time while staying up, and the last few nights, I've taken to listening to albums I had never gotten around to, or had just downloaded, or have just been released, etc. So, I have decided to allot myself three albums a night, discuss them briefly, and give each a rating out of 5.

1) The Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca: All I can really say is holy shit. I've had a fondness for Dirty Projectors since The Getty Address first came out, but this is something truly special, even for them. Don't be surprised to hear me talking about this album, in excess, and see it make my year end's top 10, if not top 5.
Rating: 4.5

2) Jarvis Cocker - Further Complications: It's really not necessary to discuss anything Jarvis does; it's always excellent, and this new album is absolutely nothing different. Further Complications, plain and simple, rocks, and you'd do well to give it a thorough listen!
Rating: 3

3) Sonic Youth - The Eternal: I love Sonic Youth, there's no point in hiding that, but the new album, due out in June, is a return to punk form, a la Sonic Nurse, but also a continuation of what the band was likely going for when they released Rather Ripped. It's more than a raucous noise album, it's a fully coherent, sonically perfect, and, strangely, extremely fun trip. Highlights include "Anti-Orgasm" and its dueling chorus, "Leaky Lifeboat (For Gregory Corso)" for its pop melodies, and "Thunderclap (For Bobby Pyn)" simply for being superbly catchy, and for possibly being the best song on the entire album.
Rating: 4

Knee Deep At MFNW: A Poor Girl's Guide to Portland's Music Festival

2008-09-10T17:56:00.001-07:00

Portland’s Music Fest Northwest (or MFNW for short) is worth the price of admission. This year’s festival featured everyone from Mogwai to TV on the Radio to Vampire Weekend, among some 200 other bands, and all for $50, who could pass it up? I had to, unfortunately, because being a broke and unemployed youth means you don’t get to do things like this very often.

However, while looking over the schedule for MFNW, I noticed something: the Wonder Ballroom, one of the more budget friendly venues in the area, was offering three free shows, sponsored by Nike. Not only were they free, but they were actually good: No Age and Battles, then Britt Daniel of Spoon performing solo and opening for Built to Spill, and finally Ratatat and Les Savy Fav. How could I possibly turn down such an offer? The only catch: to get into said shows, one had to attain a pass on the day of each show from Portland’s fabulous Jackpot Records, which meant, as always, come early.

And so, come early I did. After a night spent awake, I arrived at Jackpot Records on the first day early enough that I was one of the first in line. The doors open, and I’m in and out faster than you can blink. This will be a breeze, if every day is like this. I make my way home to rest before the show.

Thursday evening arrived drowsy but nonetheless exciting. I was exhausted, but I knew that, when No Age took the stage, I would be just fine. Unfortunately I had forgotten that one of the most enjoyable aspects of the band is their ability to go from quietly beautiful to jarringly loud, which I realized as I began to drift off in the middle of the set, only to be awakened by finding myself in the middle of a mosh pit. I was now awake.

That is, until Battles began, who have the same sort of effect: I peacefully closed my eyes and enjoyed the fact that they can lull you to sleep with one song, only to throw you into chaos in the next moment. Now that I was truly awake, I could appreciate the fact that, even live, Battles is one of the tightest bands working today, and earn their classification of “math rock;” everything is exactly where it needs to be, and this is proven by the fact that I didn’t see a single set list on the stage, for any member of the band. That’s downright impressive in my book.

I arrive at the Wonder Ballroom, better late than never, on Friday night. I’ll admit I wasn’t sure what I was in for as far as a solo Britt Daniel set was concerned, but he proved that he was just as competent solo (and, for an added surprise, with former Sleater Kinney drummer Janet Weiss) as he is with Spoon, and shows that he’s talented enough as a guitarist to not sound as if the songs are lacking something when he performs.

After this comes Built to Spill, the quietly influential Boise, ID indie band, performing their exceptionally brilliant 1997 album Perfect From Now On. This is an album that has meant a lot to me recently, so this was the most exciting performance of this weekend, as well as the set I would be scrutinizing the most. However, I wasn’t let down in the least: the performance was much more than I had expected, and I left with a grin on my face, knowing it would be hard to top such a performance.

Spending so little time sleeping can really catch up with you. I was nearly late to see the second show because I made the mistake of taking a nap in between getting my pass and going to the show, but after that, I made the immense mistake of trusting myself to get up in the morning after such an exhausting two days. I woke up at 9:30am on Saturday, 30 minutes after I would normally be getting to Jackpot. A tragic mistake, but I did get into the show that night, but only due to my own ingenuity, and I’m thankful that I did.

I had heard a lot of people talk about Ratatat before I saw them, but I had no idea what I was getting into by seeing them. Their set was a trip into the bizarre and the brilliant; three men standing solemnly on-stage while a strobe light flashed lazily behind them, and a projector played almost acidic footage of altered kung-fu films, all of this complete with a smog machine. Though I had never heard them before that show, I became a fan watching them work their magic almost effortlessly.

As for art-punk band Les Savy Fav, I find it immensely difficult to talk about their performance without focusing on the antics of frontman Tim Harrington. I have heard Les Savy Fav billed as one of the best live shows around, and I can tell you that this is by no means inaccurate. Harrington’s ability to rile up a crowd is unmatched, doing things like handing over the microphone to a member of the crowd to run to the balcony to dance with the sitting crowd, to crowd-surfing on a ladder (you can’t make this up.) Performances such as this one are the kind to make you beg for the end, while simultaneously hoping you could make them play all night. I couldn’t possibly tell you how enjoyable this band is live, but I can tell you that their performance was the best I saw this weekend.

After I had stumbled out of the venue, and watched Tim Harrington chase down an ice cream truck that had provided ice cream to the people in line during these three shows, I felt exhausted, but I felt proud that I hadn’t let exhaustion or alarm clocks stand in the way of what was one of the most enjoyable concert-going weekends of my life so far. Near the end it all felt like a terrible hangover, but one that was almost worth it because the night before was just so fantastic. In the digital age, the days of waiting in line for tickets to a show are almost completely dead, and I wouldn’t have traded the early mornings and afternoon naps for anything. This said, I’m buying a wristband next year.

"Did you see the drummer's hair?" - The effect of music videos on music quality

2008-08-10T03:53:00.000-07:00

On a day not unlike the day I start writing this, I showed two of my friends a video by the band Liars, for their song “House Clouds.” I showed them because, knowing my friends, the two would enjoy the fact that, throughout most of the video, the three members of the band are playing with animals, the most prominent being the frontman playing with an almost spine-crushingly cute kitten. During this video, one of my friends stated, jokingly, “Maybe they’re using the animals to take attention away from how unattractive they are.”

The video in question: Liars - "Houseclouds"

Even though she was joking, it seems that this is a major factor in music listening in teenagers, for little-to-no reason. Spending time in the company of teenagers means you listen to a lot of popular music, and thus, you listen to those teenagers talk about those bands. And, unfortunately, the discussion usually centers on the relative attractiveness of the members thereof. “I love blank, he is so hot,” or “He has such a hot voice, I would totally bang him” are the most commonly shared comments on whatever band happens to be on. This is, of course, not a new concept, but it shows a lot about what television channels such as MTV and Fuse have done to the collective discussion on the topic of music.

I myself was not around when MTV reared its big ugly head in the first place, so I’m certainly not a reliable source for how things have changed since it became a force in the listening community. However, it goes without stating that, if not for channels like MTV, the relative “hotness” of these bands would be almost irrelevant, unless you were a showgoer. It seems that, since musicians began focusing more and more on being pleasing to the eyes rather than the ears, the quality of the product being produced has taken a marked nosedive. Musicians (or at least well-known musicians) have ceased to be musicians, but more people with good-looking faces and bodies that happen to put out records.

Would this be to say that, without the invention of MTV, people would still be almost oblivious to the looks of their favorite bands? Certainly not. There would still be magazines and posters to be bought, and even if MTV hadn’t come along, someone else would inevitably have the idea to make it possible to see music. However, it has never been so very easy to see the face behind the voice you’ve been enjoying. Even if you don’t watch MTV or Fuse or VH1, you can simply go online and look for pictures of the bands you know and love, which was certainly not possible (or as possible) when MTV arrived. Though it doesn’t necessarily play a lot of music, when kids watch the videos they do air, they are much more concerned with if they would like to go to bed with the musician, and nevermind if that musician is talented.

I don’t place the blame squarely on the shoulders of the listening community. It doesn’t help that pop musicians have become little more than grinning, handsome spokespeople who are trying to sell you their band. This seems to be the purpose of having your face plastered all over the internet, in videos, magazines, so on: to sell the product. You may think I only think this because 90% of the music I listen to comes from faceless (and usually unattractive) people who play music and little else. But really, that’s what they were hired to do. Music is something you listen to, after all, and it doesn’t matter how cute the bassist is with his hair like that. And it shouldn’t matter to the person making the music how their hair looks: as said: we didn’t hire you to look cute and fun loving. We hired you to play us a few songs and go home.

It seems that music has almost gone the way of the profession of acting: who cares if Heath Ledger was on his way to becoming one of the best and most well rounded actors in the modern era? His position in the world was shown by the overwhelming response I got from my peers: “Why did Heath have to die? He was so hot!” It was not an actor who died, it was a hot guy. And so it goes for music. If the members of a certain band were half as good looking, would it be unreasonable to believe that they would sell less records? Would kids still turn out to their shows like they do now? I don’t believe it would be a stretch to believe that, if musicians were still musicians, rather than faces selling a product, music would still be as good as it was when the only time you saw the person playing was if you went out of your way to do so, by going to a concert, or buying a magazine with said band in it.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it somewhat backwards that the faces of musicians sell more records than the quality of the product? Shouldn’t it be more relevant that people in the band can actually use their instruments properly? It is true, people were just as up in arms about the relative attractiveness of, say, Elvis Presley or The Beatles, but it was never more important than the fact that they played pretty good music (even though Elvis didn’t exactly make what is commonly called “good music”). Is it so wrong that I wish musicians would just shut up and play their instruments, like they used to, and stopped fixing their goddamn hair?

Day Three: The Hold Steady

2008-07-27T21:00:00.000-07:00

My friends and I arrived an hour early to the Crystal Ballroom. We stood by the door, and pondered going to the record store across the street, but I convinced them to wait. Why exactly? Consider the following (in retrospect terrible, absolutely terrible) photograph:

Schmuck on left: yours truly (looking AWFUL). Schmuck on right: Craig Finn (frontman; The Hold Steady

I’ve never been so interactive with the bands involved in a show before, excluding local bands at coffee shops. The first band on stage was a fun little punk band called The Loved Ones, who I had not heard before the show, but liked immensely by the end of the set. The highlight here was frontman Dave Hause deciding it was a superb idea to start the show by crouching above me onstage and messing up my hair! For added fun, Tad Kubler and Franz Nicolay (and his badass harmonica skills) of The Hold Steady joined them for one last song, which was a great treat. They only played 30 minutes, but they made the most of every minute, embodying the kind of music that your mother warned you about. They show a special sort of passion for their music, the kind you aren’t going to understand unless you see them play live. A fine choice for a band to play with a band like The Hold Steady: passionate and happy just to be there.

(This man mussed my hair!)

Fellow on right: Tad Kubler (guitarist; The Hold Steady)

Then… The Hold Steady. What can I say that I haven’t already said about this band? They are my inspiration for writing and playing music, and it’s an honor to have seen them live at all, let alone twice. Seeing this band play, if you like them at all, is almost like going to church: with everyone screaming and smiling and cheering, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve seen something really special in having been present for what they do.

Reverend Finn

While frontman (and personal idol) Craig Finn jumps around riles up the crowd, singing his gospels, guitarist Tad Kubler unfurls his intense and often absurd guitar work, the likes of which aren’t often seen by the bar band scene of the US. This is all backed by the wonderful bass work of Galen Polivka (who also started their show by messing up my hair [twice!] for some reason), the keyboard skill of Franz Nicolay (who looks like someone who should have been in Gogol Bordello), and the equally excellent drum skill of Bobby Drake (easily one of the most normal looking of the bunch). All of the tiny moving parts make up the rousing, almost otherworldly whole, and it’s hard not to be awe inspired by their shows.

Galen Polivka, who also mussed my hair

It’s hard not to babble incessantly about what a show with The Hold Steady is like. A year ago, when I saw them the first time, I realized that you could love or hate them, but looking at Craig Finn, there are a lot of things he should be doing, but there’s only one thing he wants to be doing. Finn is by no means the type to hide the fact that he’s pleased as punch to be doing what he’s doing, and he’s humbled by the fact that there are four people who are willing to play with him, and the fact that there are so many kids who know every last word he’s committed to record. For a man like Finn, there is no greater gift than having his lyrics screamed back at him while he wails on his guitar, and it’s clear when he dances around stage, smiling more than any human being should be able to. Say what you will about their music, but you can’t hate them, if only for the fact that they are the embodiment of American rock: it’s done from the heart and soul, and to hell with how anyone feels about how you sound.

Franz Nicolay, who I've watched uncork a bottle of wine by mouth

I left the Crystal Ballroom with a noise in my ears. After three nights of ear-splitting racket, it was a wonder that I was able to hear properly. I also left with a smile on my face, because even though I’ve seen it before, I got to see something truly special: a band that is really, truly happy to be doing what they’re doing, and who couldn’t be more happy with what they’ve created: real live American rock n’ roll. I doubt I will ever tire of The Hold Steady’s brand of sing along song, because the message transcends Craig Finn’s half-singing: “Music is still alive, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it die on my watch.”

MORE PHOTOS:

Another terrible picture (fellow on right: Franz Nicolay; keyboardist, wine enthusiast)

The Loved Ones

The Hold Steady

Day Two: Girl Talk

2008-07-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

“Lindsey, I’m probably going to die tonight at this show. I’m giving you my DVDs.”
“Oh, c’mon. It’s only Girl Talk!”
It's only Girl Talk, she tells me. What she doesn't know is, Girl Talk is aware of the fact that you don’t have 26 orifices to be raped in. Do you really think it’s going to let a thing like that stop it?

Lindsey telling me that it was “only Girl Talk” was the harbinger of doom for the both of us, an hour or so before we arrived at the sold out Girl Talk show. I should have known when she told me not to worry because it was “only Girl Talk” that I would end up much, much more messed up than I could possibly imagine.

The first band up was called Money Trick. They are… get this: a Jesus Lizard cover band. Now, if you are familiar with Girl Talk, you know that the only band weirder for this show is maybe Iron & Wine. The frontman clearly diluted the heroin he shot up before the show with Pabst Blue Ribbon, and then drank a 12 pack in five minutes for good measure. He seemed acutely aware of the fact that 99.9% of the crowd was literally telling him to get off the stage, and he didn’t care, going as far as to get into the crowd, mic and all, start a mosh pit, and get back on stage, corralling people with the mic cord. “I can really feel the love here tonight!” the frontman quipped during the set.

Next up was Panther. Playing like an edgier, more lo-fi version of YACHT, their frontman danced around the stage singing loudly while his drummer played on. A couple songs in, he picked up his Fender Telecaster, which, I noticed, had a broken e-string, and was dreadfully out of tune. That’s the point, mind you. They seemed to be a bridge between the Pissed Jeans-esque howl of Money Trick, and the beat of Girl Talk.

Then… Girl Talk. The brainchild of Gregg Gillis, the titan of mash-up artists, who famously caused a stage to collapse when his fans got too rowdy when they were partying with him ON STAGE. I knew this story beforehand, but I didn’t remember it until after I was on stage with him, and I wondered: could it happen again? After we were sent off stage, I was poured back into the crowd, where I was smashed around, thrown around, molested, and attacked by a young woman who was clearly on drugs (picture below, story upon request).

There is no accurate way to describe just what Girl Talk does to you, so I will impart what Lindsey said, when I shared with a friend that the only thing worse would be maybe Slayer: “I’ve seen Slayer. This was way worse.” After spending an hour-and-some-change being ruined by the crowd and the music, I have to say the following: I went to Ozzfest. Compared to this, Ozzfest is for children. Tread lightly when contemplating a Girl Talk show, friends. This is not a show for the faint of heart. This is a show for those who want something more from their shows, at any cost. But hey, if you want to ignore my warning, that’s okay. After all, it’s only Girl Talk.

A few decent photos (there weren't many):

Money Trick

Panther

Girl Talk

The Whore Wound:

Day One: Melvins

2008-07-25T21:00:00.000-07:00

I’ll start by outlining my original plan for the weekend, Friday to Sunday: Friday, I was to see Dark Knight with bandmates Kai and Jordan, and then we were going to a birthday dinner. Following that, we would go to his house and crash, then I would leave Saturday to meet up with other friend Lindsey to see Girl Talk. Sunday, I would sleep at my own leisure, and go to The Hold Steady with Kai and Cara. Two shows in a row? I must be crazy.

But, it gets much, much more crazy. I mentioned the fact that grunge rock elder gods The Melvins were coming to town. She asked why I wasn’t going.
“Logically, I could, because I do have the money for it…” I stated.
“Then go with logic!” she told me.

And go with logic I did. The next day I made my way over to the nearest Ticketmaster location, paid a goodly salesperson $22 for my ticket, and was on my merry way, safe in the knowledge that I am going to die this weekend.

And thus marks a personal music festival of sorts: three shows in three days, and three acts that I have wanted to see for a good, long while. It is to be a celebration of life, happiness, and damn good music. And, to go with these shows, I have decided to review each show, and create a real-time account of what three shows in three days does to a person. But, enough banter. What about them Melvins?

I arrived at Portland’s own Wonder Ballroom 15 minutes before the show was scheduled to begin. Just in time! I took my place at the front, played with my camera, and waited anxiously for this group called Big Business to start shit off.

But, Big Business was, of course, not the first act up, as is usual. Instead, a man with a guitar came to a soundboard, and started playing it. Then came a drummer, who started playing as well. Finally, a man with a strange soundboard (manipulated by laser pointer more than knobs themselves) knelt on the floor near the drum kit. And for 25 minutes, give or take, these three men played an endless experiment in shoegaze-esque noise music, involving a great deal of sludge, and a lot of distortion.

At the end of their set, I turned to three boys behind me (who I talked to before this set) and said, predictably, “What the fuck was that?!” “I don’t know, but I liked it,” said one of the boys. After marveling over their sign for a few moments, another turned to me and said the words to shut me up. “It’s just noise. That’s what it is.” And so it was. (Note: the band in question, I discovered, is called Porn.)

Next up was Big Business, who wailed through another 30 minutes of set time, complete with a Tim Harrington-esque bassist/frontman Jarred Warren. I had not heard this band before seeing them live, so I had no idea what to expect. Two songs into the set, the mosh pit built itself, and I, naturally, got the heck into it. It was, to say the least, fairly brutal.

And then… Melvins. There’s not a lot that can be said about a Melvins show that hasn’t been said by the people who have been lucky enough to experience them in the last 20 years. Frontman Buzz Osborne is 44 now, and even if he isn’t the oldest dog in the game, he’s old enough that he should logically be past his prime. Don’t tell that to King Buzzo, though. Dressed in a toga and with his hair as insanely frizzy as it is gray, the band took the stage and let flow a torrent of noise of the highest order. Admittedly I am not quite “with it” when it comes to Melvins, but I couldn’t help but be awestruck by the bile-filled noise that came from the dual screaming of Osborne and bassist Jarred Warren (back, and dressed in a toga as well), and twin drums of Coady Willis and Dale Crover, who lock together and pound everything out in double time. When everything fuses together, the spew that swells from the band is the kind of noise that will make you beg for the end, even though it becomes a plea for more. I can’t say that I was able to fully experience the performance of the band, as I found it impossible to escape the ever-growing mosh pit (and really what grunge show is complete without a mosh pit?), which pulled me deeper and deeper, no matter how many times I tried to escape.

I was forced to leave the venue early, but I was compelled to halt my retreat when I heard the band stop the caterwaul to unleash one of the more bizarre things of the evening: the national anthem. I couldn’t help but feel inspired by Osborne and Warren’s grunge cover of the nation’s anthem, and it just goes to show that, even if you’ve been in a game that encourages nihilism and dissent, it’s still possible to show some love for your country. I really couldn’t tell you if they did it for laughs or because they truly love America, but either way, it was a nice way to close out an evening, as I left the club, smiling, as the harbingers of doom on stage flung themselves into another song.

REVIEW: Nine Inch Nails - The Slip

2008-05-06T21:48:00.000-07:00

“Hey, we have a new album out now… want it? Give us your email address and we’ll totally send it to you, if you want…”

Basically, since the end of September when Radiohead decided to put out their new album, free of charge (temporarily), a lot of bands have decided to follow in their footsteps and be the mixtape guy we all know who’ll totally burn you Band A’s new album if you want. Being that girl, I can relate to the psychology behind it easily enough: “I like this, and I think you would, too, so I’ll give it to you, if you want it.”

I got home from a long day today and checked one of my favorite places ever, The Leakage Channel, the website responsible for my copy of the Silver Jews album that isn’t out until July, the last Iron & Wine album three months early, and one of the best albums of the year so far, Narrow Stairs, the newest Death Cab for Cutie record. I log on to see something about Nine Inch Nails, so I click it, expecting a new song or something from Ghosts I-IV, the 1 hour 50 minute instrumental album that Nine Inch Nails put out earlier this year. But what do I find? Oh look it’s a new album!

When Radiohead decided to take the route of allowing fans to freely download their album, it’s all any review could talk about. Indeed, I expect, in the coming week, every review of The Slip (so this album is called) will mention the (originally) unconventional means of release, and probably mention Radiohead somehow. But what of the album, you may ask?

Nine Inch Nails has always been a band that’s near and dear to my heart, and thus it excited me to have a new album to drool over in my hot little hands (or, hot little laptop, as the case may be), and I currently sit listening to it my first time through, and I enjoy what I’m hearing a lot. Since their last (actual) album, Year Zero, I’ve felt that as Reznor has gotten on in years, he’s shaken the “fuck everyone!” mentality that has made him who he is.

Though Year Zero may have had this tone to it (being a concept album about a dystopian future, which NIN has always seemed to be the soundtrack to), he has become more focused with his rage. On this, The Slip, he seems to have shaken most of this as well, in favor of something more wonderful. Though it is undoubtedly a Nine Inch Nails record, Reznor has taken to being more organic: though still chaotic and tweaky, underneath this is a lot of beauty in how it feels as though the record is unfolding in front of you, slowly evolving and taking its very own path, which may or may not be the same the next time around.

The best example of this, on my first go through, is what feels to be the album’s centerpiece, an instrumental track called “Corona Radiata.” Starting off ambient, the song feels as though it’s growing: a guided tour of a drug trip, it’s hard to write about, because when listening to it, all I want to do is lay back in my chair, close my eyes, and feel it grow around me. Much of the last of The Slip feels like this. As said, it is undeniably a Nine Inch Nails album, but at times, it’s easy to forget exactly who Nine Inch Nails are, and why they are Nine Inch Nails.

Listening to this, it’s easy to forget that this is part of a genre called Industrial, for this very reason. When you listen, it doesn’t feel industrial at all, but it feels like a living, breathing entity, something much more splendorous than the sterility that may or may not come with the genre. Reznor has certainly not lost all of the heaviness that has become a staple of his music, but he now incorporates a very human element in, by seemingly allowing things to take their own path and not planning it out. It’s entirely fitting that, in the closing track, “Demon Seed,” Reznor sings, “I can feel it growing, and I can feel it breathe.” It feels as though he decided to simply let the production of the record stay fluid, and see how it would sound if he, instead of going from Point A to Point B, simply took a stroll and went where his feet (or his sound board) took him.

The Slip, during this first glance of the album, is undeniably very, very good. It’s hard to say how this album will be received by the community at large, but for me, I would be pleased if Reznor continued on this artistic path, and make music that feels as though it made itself, rather than doing everything himself. Since the release of Pretty Hate Machine, it’s been clear that Nine Inch Nails is not merely a band, but an artistic force that should not, under any circumstances, be stopped, and I don’t know about anybody else, but this (and his most recent efforts, namely Ghosts I-IV) is the proof I needed.

LIVE REVIEW: Death Cab For Cutie's Narrow Stairs

2008-05-03T12:30:00.000-07:00

I currently don’t have internet, so usually daily, I head to the end of my block and set up shop in the library of Portland Community College, to write a few emails, and catch up on things. Make plans, so on. Today, I hopped on, and got on a favorite site of mine, The Leakage Channel, which is a wonderful little corner of the world to come across leaks of albums that should not be heard by common ears, just yet.

I opened the site to find Narrow Stairs, the long-awaited follow up to Death Cab For Cutie’s 2005 album Plans, staring me in the face. Now, I’m a big fan of Death Cab For Cutie. A week ago, I found the album cover staring me in the face, and I’m not lying when I say that this made my hair wet, I was so excited. I clicked on the link… only to find myself Rick Roll’d. Needless to say, I was annoyed.

However, today, it felt like the war was over, and I happily downloaded the new album, and came home to put it on. I decided that a record like this deserves a live, track-by-track review, and so, without further ado…

Death Cab For Cutie’s Narrow Stairs: Live

1. “Bixby Canyon Bridge”
I first heard this song recently in the bootleg of the 4/19 performance in Eugene, OR. The song blew me away completely, even in bootleg format. As I write this, I have tears in my eyes from how perfect and beautiful this song is. If this is any, and I mean ANY, indication of how perfect this album will be, I think Death Cab have really struck on something as perfect as what they touched on with Transatlanticism and Plans. The song packs a noisy breakdown, and after that breakdown, Gibbard’s voice comes back in, singing, “And then it started getting dark/I trudged back to where the car was parked/No closer to any kind of truth/as I must as assume was the case with you.” And, at this point, I’m glad I hadn’t put on mascara this morning.

2. “I Will Possess Your Heart”
The track we’ve all already heard by now, of course, somehow better than it was without “Bixby Canyon Bridge” before it. With a 4:35minute wordless intro, it seems weird when the instruments quiet down so that you can focus on Ben Gibbard’s voice. With a wonderful bass-line, a simple drum beat, and Ben’s piano at work, though this song may be a little much for some listeners (the song clocks in at 8:35), for me, everything is just elegantly perfect here.

3. “No Sunlight”
More grooviness. Demonstrating Chris Walla’s wonderful guitar work, and Gibbard’s sweet lyrics, I can see this becoming a personal favorite from the record. I don’t have much else to say about the song at this moment, but give it sometime, love, and I promise I’ll have more to say.

4. “Cath…”
To be honest I had gotten used to the acoustic version that was released some time ago. However, it does nothing to detract from the quality of the song itself. “As the flashbulbs burst,” Gibbard sings, “she holds a smile like someone would hold a cry child.” It seems, as these songs progress, that Gibbard has gotten good at writing about loneliness and sorrow, and it suits him perfectly.

5. “Talking Bird”
Lo-fi, much? A slow song with extremely simple instrumentals, and quiet vocals, it goes to prove what I said about Gibbard’s sorrow. I’m not truly sure who hurt Gibbard or why, or what happened between Narrow Stairs and its predecessor Plans, but it may very well have been the stroke of genius that he needed to pull off what I’m hearing.

6. “You Can Do Better Than Me”
An upbeat sounding song… “I’m starting to feel like we stay together out of fear of dying alone.” Almost feeling like the companion to Plans’ “Brothers on a Hotel Bed,” all I can think of is how well the upbeat instrumentals go with lyrics like “You can do better than me, but I can’t do better than you.”

7. “Grapevine Fires”
Almost feeling like a cut from The Photo Album, I think this is one of my favorite songs from this album, even though it’s barely into it. Singing about wildfire like the end of the world, and interacting well with the push-pull of the drum beat, the song demonstrates Gibbard’s simple song writing, and guitarist Chris Walla’s ability to create memorable, but never overpowering, guitar lines. Definitely a song to let wash over you.

8. “Your New Twin Size Bed”
“You look so defeated lying there in your new twin size bed/with a single pillow underneath your single head/I guess you decided that old queen was more space then you would need/Now it’s in the alley behind your apartment with a sign that says it’s free” – Again, more lonely pain from Gibbard, singing about a woman finally giving up on finding someone to share a big bed with. “It’s like we’re in some kind of hurry to say goodbye.” Here, the pain of Gibbard’s voice really seeps in, as if he’s written the song about himself, and not about another.

9. “Long Division”
Now the album picks up a little bit, reminding me greatly of “We Laugh Indoors,” right down to the repeat of a phrase. This is another song that feels like it would have been perfect on The Photo Album, and holy shit listen to that solo that Walla hammers out!

10. “Pity & Fear”
Holy shit. That’s really all I can say about this song. With another noisy breakdown (like that of “Bixby Canyon Bridge”), this song feels like Gibbard came to the band and said, “ALRIGHT! Let’s tear shit up!” and what came of it was this. “I have such envy for the stranger lying next to me/Who wakes in the night/who wakes in the night/who slips out into the pre-dawn light/no words, a clean escape/no promises or messes made/who chalks it all up to mistake, mistake, mistake. And there are no tears, just pity and fear. The vast reveal right in between.” The lyrics here are pained and you feel sorry for the person Gibbard sings on behalf of here.

11. “The Ice Is Getting Thinner”
Softly, now. “We’re not the same, dear, as we used to be,” sings Gibbard softly, and ever so fittingly. “The seasons have changed, and so have we.” Gibbard has always been the master of soft closers for his albums. Again, tears come to my eyes as Gibbard sings his weather-beaten and defeated song. “And the ice kept getting thinner, every word that we’d speak.” The song reminds me greatly of the slowly growing, hopeful yet pained air of Plans’ “Stable Song,” and Transatlanticism’s “A Lack Of Color,” another song demonstrating Gibbard’s loneliness and grief.

I now sit in complete silence, in awe of the record that I have just heard. I am probably very biased, due to the fact that Death Cab For Cutie is one of the few bands that I idolize, but I will tell you that, for once, MTV has it right. This is, without a doubt, the best thing that these boys have made, and I hope that this does even more for them than their last two albums, because if this album is any sign of what’s to come from Ben Gibbard and his merry men, they are going to be remembered for a very, very long time.

A Live Track-By-Track Review Of: Panic At The Disco's Pretty. Odd.

2008-03-18T02:33:00.000-07:00

I like to be a nice friend, and as such, I downloaded the new Panic At The Disco album. I promise you, my friends can confirm that I’m not just saying this to cover up my closet love of Panic At The Disco. I'm definitely not that kind of girl. However, after hearing the lead single from the album, “Nine In The Afternoon”, I decided to listen and see how much the band hijacks The Beatles and My Chemical Romance’s The Black Parade album.

I decided, whilst listening, that I was going to do a track-by-track, from an outsider’s perspective of the music. I’ll give it an unbiased listen, save for the fact that the quality of this rip (it’s an MTV rip) makes me want to eat a goat out of anger. I’m sorry, I’m not an extreme audio dork, but this is ridiculous.

Remember, I’m writing this as I listen to the songs, so I will change what I say a lot. I feel that this is a more honest way to write about a pop record, so here it is. Without further ado…

Holly Dixon’s Track-By-Track LIVE Review of Panic At The Disco’s Pretty. Odd.

“We’re So Starving”
These guys have really decided it was about time to jock the style of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, right down to the cheering. The arrangement is mighty fine to, and the lyrics are strangely okay. Just okay.
“Nine In The Afternoon”
Again, jocking the style of Sgt. Pepper’s, and if you don’t believe me, listen to this song, then listen to McCartney’s section of “A Day In The Life”. The piano is straight off that. The song is catchy enough, but it’s very generic. Paint-by-numbers Panic At The Disco, if you ask me. However, to Panic fans, I have to ask you, what does “nine in the afternoon” even mean?
“She’s a Handsome Woman”
From the start, this song is much better than the band has ever been. Brendan Urie somehow sounds different here, and the melody is much more pleasing than a fair few pop songs that I’ve heard in recent times. Top marks for the lyric, “I wasn’t born to be a skeleton.”
“Do You Know What I’m Seeing?”
Creepy arrangement, and more Sgt. Pepper’s, though this time I can’t place my finger on exactly which song, though I have to say it feels like a morose version of “Fixin’ A Hole”. Status report the album thus far, which I’m noticing right now: Why does Urie’s voice waver like that?
“That Green Gentleman”
Panic At The Disco’s arrangement has always been rather pleasing to me, to the point where I wish I had a Urie-mute button on my remote for Panic songs. This song is an example of Panic’s arrangement working well, in this case feeling fairly big, but at the same time very, very modest, in a “shoo-bee-doo-wah” way, if you know what I mean. The lyrics still aren’t the best, but to be fair, who really listens to Panic At The Disco for insightful lyrics?
“I Have Friends In Holy Spaces”
Two-minute-long track. Urie plays with what sounds like a ukulele, and the quality has been changed to sound like it’s a song playing through an old gramophone. I’ve never been that fond of this effect, but oh well. It feels like “Blood” from The Black Parade, or “When You’re In Prison” from The Offspring’s Spinter. Love those horns!
“Northern Downpour”
As of now, it’s just Urie and an acoustic guitar and a piano, with a line about how “diamonds just looked like broken glass to me.” This is the first Panic track that I’ could honestly say I really like, due to Urie’s very un-Urue-esque voice, the fun guitar, and the somber tone. If these boys made more music like this, I would probably actually like them a lot. “Hey moon, please forget to fall down,” what a well-delivered and cosy little line! Also, if that’s Ryan Ross singing with him, I think Ross should simply replace Urie, and this band would be so much more tolerable. I’m also enjoying the chanting in the background.
“When The Day Met The Night”
Am I the only one who thinks that’s the most Mellon Collie song title since the song titles from Mellon Collie? Anyway, this is kind of okay so far, as well. “When the sun met the moon, he was drinking tea in the garden under the green umbrella trees in the summer” is a lyric that caught my ear. This is another track that shows a lot of the wasted potential that Panic At The Disco should be utilizing for their music. If they publicly apologized for their last album, I think I’d actually consider endorsing the band, especially if they were cranking songs out like this. And as of right now, I can’t help but imagine Urie sitting with a notepad, a cup of coffee, and some Cat Stevens records. Tea For The Popman!
“Pas De Cheval”
Catchy, pop-country sounding. I like songs with quick lyrical progression, because they make my brain work faster than slow-churning songs. These boys have definitely been listening to some honkey tonk, or my name is Cynthia. It’s not a bad sound, but it’s a little lackluster for the pop band. Still, I could like this, possibly.
“The Piano Knows Something I Don’t Know”
First off, what a clunky title. This almost feels like a rejected song from one of Tim Burton’s musical films (especially The Nightmare Before Christmas), and this is why I condemned the band for so very long, and still do. They do overdramatic well enough, but there’s a fine line between… now see, here’s the benefit of a live review of the album, things change. The song gets decent when it actually kicks in, and you actually feel like bobbing your head a bit, which isn’t much of a problem for me.
“Behind The Sea”
HAND CLAPS! OH BOY! Okay, so I know Ryan Ross is supposed to sing on this song, so I guess it wasn’t him on “Northern Downpour”, but whoever is singing this song, I have to say it’s still much better than Urie’s waver. “We’re all too small to talk to God” is a strangely interesting lyric, though not “deep,” so don’t go blowing your load over it just yet. Another good little pop song, this is, and I could grow to enjoy it a bit. Thus far, this and “Northern Downpour” are my favourite tracks on the album.
“Folkin’ Around”
Another two-minute song, and the sort of song I would probably put on a pop mixtape. These guys, as I said, have been listening to some country, and it shows in the fact that, if you gave Urie a Southern accent, this song would definitely be on a country station. It’s got the twangy guitar and the harmonicas for it, for Christ’s sakes! It feels a lot like a movie soundtrack when someone’s driving fast down a long winding two-lane road in the desert, where the character is contemplating his life. Take that however you will.
“She Had The World”
A nice little circus tune so far. It’s light and bouncy, and you just know Urie was singing this whilst bouncing on the balls of his feet, a little too manic for his own good. Love it or hate it, you just know this guy loves being him, because it’s obvious in songs like this that he has a lot of fun being Brendan Urie of Panic At The Disco. A slightly lackluster track, truly; it could use a little more bounce to it. It’s okay just the same, however. Oh, and there’s whistling. Who doesn’t love whistling?
“From a Mountain in the Middle of the Cabins”
Another fairly paint-by-numbers sounding song. Also a bit lackluster, and it just doesn’t have the same spark that the other tracks seem to have. It feels dusty and dilapidated, even with Ryan Ross’ vocals kicking in again. I imagine, if the rest of the record weren’t as bouncy, this would be a better track. I’ll make a note to listen to the song as a standalone, rather than in the full upbeat context of the record. The arrangement is good, however.
“Mad As Rabbits”
“And now he drags down miles in America, briefcase in hand,” another lyric that catches my ear. Sounding a little better than the Panic At The Disco formula, though the track isn’t over just yet, it feels like a decent enough way to finish of an album. I don’t have a terrible lot to say on the track, besides the fact that it’s decent enough.

So, I’ve listened to the album, and I’ve concluded that it’s a marvelous follow-up to a completely lackluster album such as A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out. Brendan Urie and his motley band of miscreants have done something interesting here, by taking their bitter pop-rock lyrics and formula and essentially shitting on it, flushing it down the toilet, and saying, “Jesus, that’s a relief, now let’s get down to business!

I imagine I might get a lot of shit for giving a decent enough review to this album, but I’ve never been the kind of person to condemn a decent album just because of its maker, which you should have gotten by now, with how I named My Chemical Romance’s The Black Parade the 6^th best album of 2006.

I’m going on record as saying that this is really actually… good. I don’t know what kind of shelf life the album has, or how many times I will listen to it, but I feel that it has deserved at least one more listen, and definitely a couple when the album comes out, and I can banish the terrible sound quality.

Review: Los Campesinos! - Hold On Now, Youngster...

2008-03-15T14:16:00.000-07:00

Los Campesinos!
Hold On Now, Youngster…

Wichita Recordings [2008]

As anyone who ever listens to me yell about music knows, they just don’t make good pop music like they used to. The 90s were effectively the last good decade for upbeat music, and though we have bands now like Vampire Weekend, The Apples in Stereo, and The Ditty Bops, music just doesn’t give me a shit-eating grin like it used to. You know the grin: when you wake up on Christmas morning and it’s snowing, and you swear that anyone looking at you right then could tell you if you needed to brush your back teeth better.

What a surprise it was, to me, when Now Hold On, Youngster… leaked in January. I had heard buzz about Los Campesinos! from the review site Drowned in Sound, but I had never looked for them. So, when I came across the leak of their debut record, I entered it into rotation. From the starting chords of the first track, “Death To Los Campesinos!”, I was grinning and moving around, which hadn’t happened in far, far too long.

As the album progresses on, you find more than just things to grin about, though there are plenty of things like that. The songs are rarely sung by a single person, and when they aren’t, there’s still chanting from the background (in the case of “Knee Deep At ATP” and “You! Me! Dancing!”). Frontman Gareth Campesinos! has an absurd singing voice, and doesn’t seem to care much because, to me, he sounds like he’s having the time of his life singing the songs that he’s singing.

The better part of the album comes from the tongue-in-cheek lyrics. From lines about K Records shirts at ATP (“Though underexposed, I could see from the quality his K Records tee-shirt and you holding his hand” – “Knee Deep At ATP”) to lyrics like “I’ll swap the bleeding for a bumping sensation/I’ll be ctrl-alt-deleting your face with no reservations” (“Death To Los Campesinos!”), it’s hard not to get caught on the catchy lyricism of these songs. Indeed, the best lyric comes from “We Are All Accelerated Readers”, where Gareth and Aleksandra Campesinos! converse on a conversation on which Breakfast Club character they’d be. “I’d be the one that dies,” sings Gareth, garnering the response, “No one dies,” from Aleksandra. “Well then, what’s the point?” quips Gareth in response.

The arrangement here is slightly lo-fi, but at the same time fairly grand. The aforementioned “Knee Deep At ATP” starts with a wonderfully catchy guitar section, but soon breaks, and is replaced with light guitar, drum, and the very best bit: a string section. This continues on, but is eventually swallowed up by the sea when the final part of the song hits: “They said "it's not what you like, it's what you're like as a person", Well, I need new hobbies, that's one thing for certain.”

Hopefully, when this record is released stateside, it will gain a lot more praise, and people will actually talk about it, with its witty lyricism (which I can barely speak enough about) and amazingly catchy instrumental arrangement, it would be wonderful for people to talk about really, truly high-quality pop music again.

Do The Math(s) = Three Bands + Their Predecessors

2008-03-10T02:07:00.001-07:00

Hello friends. Whilst listening to music today (Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain and Vampire Weekend's self-titled), I realize that the three bands I've been most in love with, as of late, are permutations of the bands that I've always loved a great deal. I'm not THE biggest fan of saying, "Oh, they sound like Band A meets Band B," but really, these three bands work rather well for the process.

The bands:

Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks

And no, I'm not writing this because I just saw them live. Stephen Malkmus (Ex-Pavement frontman, and the same bored looking fellow on the far left in the first photo) and his merry band (including ex-Sleater-Kinney drummer Janet Weiss) The Jicks, to me, have just released their best album, next to Face The Truth. The Jicks have been around for a few years, and are a well-established band, and have been making Pink Floyd-esque nerd rock since their creation.

Pavement are essentially the best band of the 90s, and the fact that Malkmus continues to make music is a testament to the willpower of a great bandleader who isn't ready to shut the fuck up. And, to be honest, I don't think it's his time to shut up, with an album like their latest, Real Emotional Trash. With its breezy fretwork and its strange pop sensibilities, Real Emotional Trash is sure to be well-remembered in the future, and for good reason.

Video: Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks - "Dragonfly Pie" (Live at Amoeba Music)

Vampire Weekend

Let's go over the basics of the band: this merry band of sweater-vest wearing pop dorks met whilst attending Columbia University, and derive their sound from listening to way too much African pop music and a heavy dose of Western classical music. They've been named the best new band of the year by Spin magazine, and are the first band to be photographed for its cover before even putting out a record. Proof that the internet is sometimes a wonderful thing, Vampire Weekend has gained a nice amount of popularity due to the wildfire that is blogging.

The band is essentially what would happen if The Ramones decided it was high time they did a collaborative record with Please Please Me-era Beatles: poppy to the max, but strangely, somehow, a bit punk. I don't ever like trying to predict what band will become absolutely massive, but if I were to pick one and one alone, it would be this one, based on the steady following that the band has gained and, of course, a recent performance on Saturday Night Live, which is certainly enough to propel you at least a small amount. Mark my words, folks: these boys, given time, are going to be just as big as any of the bands that we (and most likely they) worship.

Video: Vampire Weekend - "A-Punk"

Los Campesinos!

Another example of how blogging can propel a band to superstardom, Welsh band Los Campesinos! (and yes, the exclamation is part of the name) started by posting demos on MySpace, and helping to propel things by posting about the demos on British review site (and essentially the British answer to Pitchfork). By the time their debut was released on February 25^th, people were more than aware of the band's presence.

Mixing clever lyrics with twee (as fuck) pop sensibilities, Los Campesinos! album Hold On Now, Youngster… is a perfect example of "a grower": though it may be a little bit rough and overly-poppy (and, quite frankly, absurd) at points, given time, the album becomes something that you feel almost compelled to listen to. It's as if someone told Stuart Murdoch (Belle & Sebastian) to man up already, and what he came up with was Hold On Now, Youngster… By all means, give this band a chance, and you certainly won't be disappointed.

Video: Los Campesinos! - "Death To Los Campesinos!"

THE TOP 20 ALBUMS OF 2007

2007-12-26T13:10:00.001-08:00

2007 has been an amazing year for music, there's no doubt about that. This list could be different if I had written it a week ago, or if I waited until after the start of the new year to write it. It's a wine year: different depending on when it's opened, or in this case, completed.

At the start of the year, I decided to devote more of my energy to music, and stay current in the music scene. I started keeping a list in April of albums up for consideration for this list, and I updated it frequently.

Unfortunately, my social life took a massive change, and that list stopped getting updated. I looked at the list a week ago and laughed at it.

About two weeks ago, I took note of the time, and realised it was time to do what I set out to prevent from doing again, after lat year's Year End fiasco: I have listened to, at very least, 30 albums from 2007, all of which I had never heard before. These two weeks have been hellish to say the very least, and they have shown me how obnoxious it is to neglect music. I'll discuss this over the list.

Without further ado, I present you with...

THE TOP 20 ALBUMS OF 2007

20) The Dear Hunter – Act II: The Meaning Of, And All Things Regarding Ms. Leading

Again, I am a fan of theatrics. No album in recent memory is more theatric than that of ex-Receiving End Of Sirens frontman Casey Crescenzo, and he's made sure of it. The Dear Hunter are bizarrely wonderful, and it's in defiance of the genre of indiecore itself: though it comes packing with a heavy helping of pleasant sounding distortion, it also brings with it violins and a song that slants and enchants "A Day In The Life' by The Beatles. For no good reason, this album was panned by critics, and that fact is criminal: this is an amazing album, and it shows that not all indiecore is as terrible as it logically should be.

Video: The Dear Hunter - "Red Hands" (Live)

19) The Shins – Wincing The Night Away

Though Wincing The Night Away is certainly not The Shins' strongest release (that would be Chutes Too Narrow), Wincing The Night Away is a wonderful album, showcasing the band's newfound love of strange noises, and their ever-present love of modest production and humbly brilliant lyrics, at the hands of frontman James Mercer. Though it isn't their best, it serves as a perfect stepping-off point for the group's next album, which is certain to be an instant classic.

Video: The Shins - "Sleeping Lessons"

18) The Besnard Lakes – Are The Dark Horse

Though the label debut of The Besnard Lakes was well-received upon its release, it has since been completely forgotten by every year-end list I have come across, strangely including Paste's 100 Best Of 2007 list. A Floydian record if there ever was one, I regret forgetting to listen to The Besnard Lakes until recently, due to how fantastic and well-done this album is. I like albums with "holy shit" moments, and this is an album packed with them. Albums like this deserve more respect and praise for as good as they are, and I think it's criminal that this has been left out of the maelstrom of the year's end.

Video: The Besnard Lakes - "For Agent 13"

17) Ryan Adams – Easy, Tiger

Ryan Adams is another consistently brilliant musician, and this confirms that Adams is an ignored genius of our generation. I spent a great deal of time listening to Easy, Tiger over the summer whilst tearing through the final Harry Potter book, and I had to set the book down a number of times to simply listen to the album. It's that good. Ryan Adams is simply too good to be ignored, simple as that. Enough said.

Video: Ryan Adams - "Oh My God, Whatever, Etc." (Live)

16) Blitzen Trapper – Wild Mountain Nation

Chances are, unless you follow the Indie press carefully, you haven't heard of Blitzen Trapper. I had the immense pleasure of hearing them open for The Hold Steady (the first place I heard them), and I also saw them again a month later when they performed in-store at Music Millennium (a Portland record store), and discovered that not only are they fantastic musicians, but amazingly humble guys as well. Wild Mountain Nation is Wilco if they were a garage band from the Northwest, and that works out for the best. Hailing from Portland, OR, this six-piece have put out one of the more enjoyable albums to come out this year, and even stranger, they've done so with almost no production value. If you want a great sounding record, look elsewhere. If not, give this album a thorough listen, and you won't be disappointed. Don't miss "Wild Mountain Nation", "Sci-Fi Kid", and "Country Caravan".

Video: Blitzen Trapper - :Wild Mountain Nation"

15) The White Stripes – Icky Thump

The White Stripes are another band that really doesn't put out bad albums, for what it's worth. Ex-husband and wife Jack and Meg White have been proving that all a band needs is a guitar and a drum kit for nearly 10 years, and they have never been what one would call "polished". There are no bones about the fact that White Stripes are a ROCK band, and Icky Thump, a volume-at-11 album if there ever was one, is certainly no exception. With everything from a song written for Michel Gondry ("I'm Slowly Turning Into You") to a Patti Page cover ("Conquest"), these two have proven once again that The White Stripes will never be anything but The White Stripes, and quite frankly, that's not a bad thing.

Video: The White Stripes - "Conquest"

14) Amy Winehouse – Back To Black

Yes, I listen to Amy Winehouse. Yes, this album was first released in 2006, but in Britain. Yes, she is a boozer and a druggie. However, yes, she I one of the most soulful singers in the last 20 years, conjuring visions of Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra alike. Don't let her public antics get to you, Winehouse is worth her salt for certain, and mark my words: even without the arrests and the dedications by Lily Allen, Winehouse is going to be remembered in 20 years for her music, because this is a record so behind its time, it makes you want to hug her for being so un-modern. Soulful music is back, and Winehouse is to thank.

Video: Amy Winehouse - "Rehab"

13) Bloc Party – A Weekend In The City

Bloc Party are part of the handful of somewhat similar rock bands to come out in late-2004/early-2005, who were all okay but sounded something alike. This list included The Bravery, Kasabian, and Kaiser Chiefs, all of which have released sophomore records this year, though none have shown as much growth and promise as that of Kele Okereke's band of rockers, Bloc Party. Sounding a great deal like Morrissey in voice and lyrics, Okereke shows here that Bloc Party is better than their name suggests. Make no mistake: this is an album worth hearing, an album without a truly terrible song, and with lyrics tinged with weariness and boredom with society ("I've got nothing to add or contest/Can still kick a ball a hundred yards/And cling to bottles, and memories of the past/So give me moments/Not hours or days/Just give me moments" ["Waiting For The 7:18"]), these boys are to be ignored at your own risk.

Video: Bloc Party - "Hunting For Witches"

12) Spoon – Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Spoon is a band that has never put out a bad album. Don't take my word for it; go listen to their full discography for yourself. With Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, however, Spoon have decided to step out of their more polished box and put out something to the effect of a jam record, basically doing something for fun. The result is the band's finest work to date, a wonderful Indie-pop record the likes of which the community shouldn't be seeing from a group that's on their 6^th album to date. Highlights include "The Underdog", "Don't You Evah", and "I Got Yr. Cherry Bomb". For added fun, give the b-side disc, Get Nice!, a listen. It's just as good as the album.

Video: Spoon - "The Underdog"

11) TIE: Les Savy Fav – Let's Stay Friends / Liars – Liars

It's almost tradition for me to have 11 be a tie for me. Thus, here's another tie, between two angular noise rock greats, Les Savy Fav and Liars. I wrote on Les Savy Fav a couple months ago, when Let's Stay Friends, arguably the band's finest work to date, and I immediately fell in love with the group. Because I had then found a strange perchance for catchy noise, I decided to look into Liars, who were getting a considerable amount of buzz for their self-titled album. Both of these albums are raw and wonderful, and don't let the descriptor of "noise" turn you off: this music will hook you like nothing else. It's loud, but it's catchy and fantastic, and you won't be disappointed.

Video: Les Savy Fav - "Patty Lee"

Video: Liars - "Plaster Casts Of Everything"

10) Modest Mouse – We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Modest Mouse has always held, and always will hold, a place in my heart. Being from a town 5 miles from where I grew up, Isaac Brock's merry band of miscreants have always been making their fat fleshy fingers to moving and bending all their silly strings, even if they did it in a commercially-friendly way with their 2004 release, Good News For People Who Love Bad News. And even then, in an album so strangely optimistic and thus out-of-character for frontman Brock, he still found room for yelping and itchy guitars (see: "Bury Me With It" and "Bukowski"). But, before that, the Issaquah four-piece was making wailing Indie for the flannel-wearing and rock-magazine-reading masses.

With their fifth release, We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank, Brock's boys (which now included a man by the name of Johnny Marr, from this little band called THE SMITHS) have taken their sound and fame that made Good News popular, poured beer on it, and kicked it in the stomach, and let's face it: it was asking for it for being such a little bitch. From the start of this album, Modest Mouse shows that, even if they may have aged and possibly softened, they still know what the heck they're (evident in the opener, "March To The Sea"), but they know how to make a truly fun Indie-pop song, too ("Dashboard" ahoy!). The album slowly changes and evolves, with songs about sailors being buried alive ("Fly Trapped In A Jar") to robotic messiahs ("Steam Engenius"), and with everything from heartfelt ("Little Motel") to flat out epic ("Spitting Venom"), these boys have proven, once again, why they are the now and future kings of angular Indie rock, and why if it's too weird, you're too old.

Video - Modest Mouse - "Dashboard"

9) Of Montreal – Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?

Are you kidding me? Of Montreal has always been a crazy sounding band, producing strange pop record after strange pop record, with Kevin Barnes' bizarre lyrics tying everything together with a strange pop bow. The fact of the matter is, these guys really don't put out bad records.

But with Hissing Fauna, he's doing the same, but in a different way. Instead of a real true pop record, this is a danceable lament, contemplating how to deal with one's flaws ("I spent the winter with my nose buried in a book/While trying to restructure my character/Because it had become vile to its creator" ["A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger"]), and all centered around a bizarre, angst-ridden epic entitled "The Past Is A Grotesque Animal", a nearly completely spoken track clocking in at barely under 12 minutes. After this part, though the album feels more like an acidic disco record, Barnes' lyrics get stranger and more creative ("My, my, you busted me like a Robocop/Strike me with your riding crop/I'm forever going celibate tomorrow/But tonight, like success, knows no shame" ["She's a Rejecter"]), and yet the album is not only incredible upon its first listen, but actually gets much better over time. You find yourself on your 20^th listen, thinking, "A crisp endorsement from the C.C.A.A. Booty Patrol? Are they out of their minds?" The truth of the matter is: yes, these boys are out of their minds, and it couldn't have worked better.

Video: of Montreal - "Gronlandic Edit"

8) Stars – In Our Bedroom After The War

Ever since I first heard "Your Ex Lover Is Dead" from Stars' 2004 album Set Yourself On Fire, I was love. For a long while, I had neglected the album, until I re-listened to it in early June after the death of Dearly Devoted Dexter, my iPod. After that, when I found out about the impending release of their newest album, In Our Bedroom After The War, I was more excited than one could imagine.

My excitement was not wasted, most thankfully. After The War confirms what we already knew about Stars: they were meant for the stage. The ballet duet vocals of Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan have never sounded as much like monologues as they have here, and it's not exactly a bad thing. Opening with a goosebump-inducing opener entitled "The Night Starts Here", Campbell and Millan bounce back and forth with their artistic and brilliant lyrics. Their stagecraft is demonstrated best in three songs: "Personal", a minimalist piece which is almost barely sung, about two people conversing through Personals ads; "Barricade", a track about love and rebellion performed with nothing but Campbell and a piano; and the slow-boiling finale, "In Our Bedroom After The War", which verifies how brilliant this band is ("Wake up!/Say good morning to that sleepy person lying next to you/And if there's no one there, then there's no one there/But at least the war is over"), and how wonderful build-up can be in music. All-in-all, if you haven't given Stars a listen yet, you've been slighting yourself for quite some time, and you had better remedy this quickly, before you've missed out on one of the most promising bands of the current scene.

Video: Stars - "The Night Starts Here"

7) Arcade Fire – Neon Bible

Arcade Fire is a big band, and they know how to use their sound. Arguably one of the few "epic" Indie acts around, Arcade Fire have been Indie darlings since they first hit the scene in 2004 with their Pitchfork-fellated album Funeral. The question after that was, could they top the album with something better?

The answer is yes, though they haven't done it with Neon Bible. It is on the same level as Funeral, but in a different way: while Funeral was on the grief process and dealing with death, Neon Bible is about losing your way in the world ("Oh, Lord, won't you send me a sign/'Cause I just gotta know if I'm wasting my time" ["(Antichrist Television Blues)"]) and dealing with an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness ("Not much chance for survival/If the Neon Bible is right" ["Neon Bible"]). The sound of the album isn't as epic as its predecessor, though it shouldn't be for the album. The themes dealt with here are much less epic than they were on Funeral (the subject being apt for the title: death and mourning); on Neon Bible, the name of the game is seeing life around you start to break down, and trying to cope with it.

Video: Arcade Fire - "My Body Is A Cage" (Fan made, using footage from Sergio Leone's Once Upon A Time In The West)

Video: Arcade Fire - "Neon Bible" (Live, in a sodding elevator)

6) Iron & Wine – The Shepherd's Dog

June 10^th was a glorious day. I spent the entire day with a wonderful girl who I've been dating since then, I had just finished a Psychology final that brought up my grade two letters, and when I came home and logged on, my friend Brian had let me know that The Shepherd's Dog, the Iron & Wine album which he knew full well that I'd been looking forward to for months, had leaked three months early. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

Even better, the album was absolutely stellar. Sam Beam (AKA Iron & Wine), who is known for his wondrous lyrics and lo-fi production, did something different with The Shepherd's Dog: he added a bit more sound to it. The Shepherd's Dog finds Iron & Wine in full form, and with a full band it seemed. A lot of purists would condemn Beam for so heinously rejecting his lo-fi roots, but it seems to work to his advantage on such an amazing sounding album. After the sound of his Woman King EP, this is his final progression (or is it?) to what, one thinks, Iron & Wine will be remembered for.

Video: Iron & Wine - "House By The Sea" (Live at the Orpheum in Boston

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Video: Iron & Wine - "No Surprises" (Radiohead cover. live at Pitchfork Festival)

5) M.I.A. – Kala

Kala was the first stop on my tour of albums that I missed this year. It was released in August to rave reviews which I promptly and totally ignored. When the praise kept rolling in, I kept ignoring it, until it started making lists. This, coupled with hearing "Paper Planes" on the radio, inspired me to finally take interest in the album.

No album released this year, not even Strawberry Jam, has been as colourful and danceable than Kala, the second opus of world hip-hop artist M.I.A. Now, when most people hear "hip-hop", they immediately think they know what they'll hear, so I'll state now that M.I.A. is hip-hop in name only. With everything from aboriginal hip-hop to Jamaica dance hall grooves, Kala is an album that you simply have to get up and dance to, no matter what. If you don't, you must not understand the album completely, which is ever so tragic. Simply put, this is one of the best "hip-hop" records release in a good while, and it's an album that you can listen to without getting sick of it. Top marks as well for rejecting Timbaland as a producer for the album, in favour of traveling the world to record the album.

Video: M.I.A. - "Paper Planes"

Video: M.I.A. - "Boyz"

4) Menomena – Friend And Foe

Friend And Foe is a strange bloody album, if one ever did exist. Hailing from Portland, OR, Menomena has made a lot of noise for a three person band. For those who have heard the album and don't know, yes, this is a three member band. I had the immense pleasure of catching Menomena in November, and for the record, they are a band that has to be seen live to truly and completely appreciate, instrumentally.

I let the reader know this because of how expansive this album is. With enough instrumentals to make Sufjan Stevens smile, Menomena does a lot for three guys. Each member plays several instruments, and all three contribute vocally, creating one of the most unique sounds around. The effect is something like that of Strawberry Jam: simply great pop music, but amped up a great deal. From the first drumbeat of "Muscle n' Flo" to the ever-so-catchy whistle of "Boyscout'n", to the hazy saxophone that winds throughout the album, Menomena are most certainly an Indie band with a lot going for them. In fact, if you give them five years, one could imagine seeing them as the new Apples In Stereo, though not as happy, but just as fantastic.

Video: Menomena - "Rotten Hell"

Video - "Wet And Rusting" (Live in an alley in Paris)

3) The National – Boxer

I first started listening to Boxer at 2 in the morning after walking a sorrowful and troubled friend home. When "Fake Empire" began, I immediately felt like I was listening to a personal soundtrack. "Stay out super late tonight/picking apples, making pies/put a little something in our lemonade and take it with us/we're half-awake in a fake empire" I was swept away. I kept listening, but regrettably changed it for loud music to sing along to walking home. I put it on again one night a few weeks ago, and never looked back.

I can't say that I've been listening to The National for long enough to fairly judge this record. As I have not heard their previous records, I can't attest to the more grown up sound that critics are talking about, or how this is a breakthrough. I will tell you, however, that Boxer is most certainly a musical breakthrough, and an amazingly heartfelt album altogether. If asked where I stood on this album, I would tell you honestly that front man Matt Berninger has something special here with Boxer, which is most definitely an album that will stay in heavy rotation in my record collection for quite some time, and is an album that I'll be saying "Oh my god, have you heard…" for a good while.

Video: The National - "Mistaken For Strangers"

Video: The National - "Fake Empire" (Live on Letterman)

2) Radiohead – In Rainbows

Most people would be apt to call a foul on me for putting this album at 2 on my year end list. "Favouritism is what that is!" people will shout, because I'm a massive Radiohead fan. For the record, I'm going to say right now that I hate that this is so high up, because people expect it. However, I simply can't help that this makes my list, and so high up.

Radiohead started making music back in 1993, and since then, they have never truly kept their sound the same. From the garage rock of Pablo Honey to their adult sound on The Bends, to their defining record OK Computer, and then to sprawling electronic weirdness on Kid A, Radiohead is a band that sounds like themselves and nobody else. For In Rainbows, their sound is most like OK Computer lyrics meets Amnesiac sound: Diverse and yet minimalist, but still very much lush. From the strange R&B sound of "15 Step", to the Beatles callback of "Faust Arp", to the sparse piano closer "Videotape", In Rainbows is an album that changes as it progresses, and somehow changes with each listen. You can be on your 25^th listen and then realize, "Hey, there are kids screaming 'yeah!' on this track!" or notice that "Faust Arp" sounds a lot like "Julia", but more tragic.

And yet, one of the best parts about In Rainbows is how much it sounds like what people expect of Radiohead. It's cryptic and strange, but still completely accessible, which is something that Radiohead have spent their post-Bends career trying to blend. If you want my honest opinion, this is a career-defining record, and I would be honoured to put it on my shelf a few paces from OK Computer, on the best albums of the last 20 years, from one of the most dynamic rock bands in the modern era.

Video: Radiohead - "Videotape"

Video: Radiohead - "Down Is The New Up"

1) TIE: The Animal Collective – Strawberry Jam / Panda Bear – Person Pitch

I regret ignoring no album more than I regret Person Pitch. When it was released much earlier this year, it received so many stunning reviews that I couldn't fathom it, and yet I completely ignored it. A few months later I broke down and downloaded it, but never listened. I finally got around to it in my final sweep of albums I'd ignored over the course of the year, and… I have sinned

PANDA BEAR - PERSON PITCH

Noah Lennox (AKA Panda Bear) has had a good year, one must think. First, he released a new solo album, Person Pitch, which immediately received rave reviews and was hailed as one of the best albums of the year, topping Pitchfork's year end list. Then, in September, he released Strawberry Jam, with his main band, Animal Collective, which received equally outstanding marks.

My friend and colleague, Brian Earls, described the album as "Smile if Brian Wilson would've made it while he was crazy", and this comparison is entirely apt. Person Pitch is a far cry from the insanity of Animal Collective. While Animal Collective is glitchy and loud, Person Pitch is a mellow but spacey album, full of amazing sonic moments, such as the entire album. Lennox could not have made a more pleasing album with Person Pitch if he wanted to, and I personally believe that this album is truly a classic.

Video: Panda Bear - "Comfy In Nautica"

Video: Panda Bear - "Comfy In Nautica" (Fan made, using footage from George Lucas' Indiana Jones And The Raiders Of The Lost Ark)

ANIMAL COLLECTIVE - STRAWBERRY JAM

Then, there's Strawberry Jam. Here we have an album that is just as genius, but in the way that Dr. Frankenstein was – completely and totally insane, yet stunningly brilliant. The sound of a rainbow being gutted by a Mexican street gang, Strawberry Trip is what would happen if you recorded Syd Barrett's brain while he was on acid or really at any point in time. A psychedelic mess if one ever did exist, this is an album that feels strangely good, for as weird as it is. If you listen to these songs, you realize that what you're listening to is, on its basest level, simply pop music, but stranger than usual. Even if you dislike this album, it's most definitely worth the listen so that you have it in your frame of musical reference.

Video: Animal Collective - Peacebone
WARNING: DO NOT WATCH WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ANY SUBSTANCE

Video: Animal Collective - "Fireworks"

Other Albums
Not every album I wanted to be on here was on here. The following are worth your consideration, without a doubt:
-Bright Eyes - Cassadaga
-Band Of Horses - Cease To Begin
-Andrew Bird - Armchair Apocrypha (Originally made 6, but was removed due to lack of words)
-The Maccabees - Colour It In
-The Sea And Cake - Everybody
-Efterklang - Parades
-Art Brut - It's A Bit Complicated
-Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams
-Dustin Kensrue - Please Come Home
-LCD Soundsystem - Sound Of Silver
-Justice - Cross
-Battles - Mirrored
-El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead
-Aesop Rock - None Shall Pass
-Lily Allen - Alright, Still
-Field Music - Tones Of Town
-Mason Proper - There Is A Moth In Your Chest

-THE MOST ENTERTAINING ALBUMS OF 2007-

Across the year, I've come across a lot of amazing music, and a lot of terrible music. Somewhere in the ether between the two, you'll find albums that aren't amazing, groundbreaking albums, but are absolutely fantastic and, most importantly, FUN. I've decided to piece together a list: The Five Most Entertaining Albums Of 2007. These are albums that aren't up to snuff for the big list, but are great just the same. Enjoy.

1) Gogol Bordello - Super Taranta!
Gogol Bordello is a band that refer to themselves as "gypsy punk". With crazy accordians, and a vocalist who has been described as "somewhere between Borat and Triumph The Insult Comic Dog", Gogol Bordello's Super Taranta! is an album that, if you sit down whilst listening to it, you have no soul. This is stuff that you almost feel compelled to get up and dance to.

This Album, In A Nutshell:

2) Dan Deacon - Spiderman Of The Rings
Dan Deacon is someone I reported on earlier this year, when I first gave in and listened to this album. This is not a serious record. Described as "The Postal Service, on speed", Dan Deacon comes forth with some of the craziest music you will ever hear, full of lyrics about "big sharks/Sharp swords/Beast bees/Bead lords/Sweet cakes/Maste lakes", this is an album that you cannot feel mature listening to. It just isn't happening. If you want to have fun, give this a listen. You need it.

This Album, In A Nutshell:

3) Deerhoof - Friend Opportunity
Deerhoof honestly deserves to be in the Top 20, but a lot of people are apt to disagree with me. Simply put, I don't understand how people take Deerhoof seriously, but they're still worth their salt, for the fun, colourful music they've put out over the years. As a friend of mine said, "This sounds like the inside of my head". That's basically it. And with Friend Opportunity, this is completely true.

This Album, In A Nutshell:

4) Big A Little A (Aa) - gAame
Big A Little A.... what's there to say? They're tribal. They're visceral. They're LOUD.
All I can say is.... Geez, watch the video.

This Album, In A Nutshell:

5) M.I.A. - Kala
This is an album that IS making my big list, and is most likely making the Top Ten. This IS an innovative album, it IS an amazing album, but most of all, it's just a fun album. Kala, like Super Taranta!, is an album that you just HAVE to move to. It feels worldly, and it feels, quite simply, good. It would be unfair for it to top this list, and be included in the big list, so I put it here at #5 to clarify: this is a fun album.

This Album, In A Nutshell:

Acknowledgements:
I'd like to thank:

-Sadie Michelle Dixon, for everything. Just... everything. That's all I can say. I thanked you last year, but this year, I can't put my words into words. You know it all, anyway.
Though, in addition to that, thank you for giving me someone to show The Beatles to. It's something I've always wanted to do, but for obvious reasons could not.
-Kayla Frates, for essentially being one of the best friends a girl could hope to have.
-Cara Hohmann, for listening to me complain so frequently.
-Kira Taylor, for not bitch-slapping me every time we come in contact with each other, and having some of the best music taste around.
-Brian Earls, for having essentially the same taste in music as me, for saying that going to The Hold Steady would be a good idea, and for dealing with my indie rock bullshit for at least three years.
-Shane McBroom, for putting up with my bullshit in general, and making me laugh so fucking much.
-My parents, for the love and support, and oh yeah, the laptop I used to finally get this fucker done.
-Insomnia Coffee Co., for the Wi-Fi, the coffee, the great music, and a place to get this done at 7 in the morning.
-Everyone who reccomended music to me over the past year
-And, finally, though she won't read it, thanks to Marissa, for mentioning M.I.A., which made me remember that I'd not listened to so many albums. Thanks a lot, bitch. You punctured my brain.

Musicians:
-Ben Gibbard, who didn't do anything new this year, but made me cry so many times I can't explain it.
-James Murphy, for releasing the best song of the year, and maybe of the decade, with "All Your Friends". It hurts that such beauty exists.
-Menomena, for existing.
-The same goes to Radiohead.
-And every other band mentioned here.
-The Sound Of Animals Fighting, for putting out music for me to have seizures to and entertain my friends, and for "The Heretic".
-Neutral Milk Hotel, for In An Aeroplane Over The Sea.
-The Shins, for putting out the only song I really know how to play on guitar.
-The Decemberists, for the same reason.
-The National, for the fond memories of lying in bed cuddling with Sadie to Boxer, and debating the lyrics of "Racing Like A Pro".
-My band. My band.

Post #5: The Current State Of Music

2007-10-30T00:56:00.000-07:00

Author's Note: This article was drafted in March of '07. It may have continuity issues, as I have only now chosen to finish it. Let me know of any problems. Enjoie.

I'm going to come out and admit it: I do, on occasion, read Spin Magazine. I don't have a problem, I can stop at any time, but it does happen.

Ages ago, I picked up a copy of Spin magazine, because of it's nice little review of Arcade Fire's newest gem, Neon Bible, and an interview with Iggy Pop, whom, I've realized, is fantastic to read about (See Paste, March 2007). Whilst thumbing through it's pages, and sneering at Pete Wentz (and feeling saddened by our mutual respect for Refused's The Shape Of Punk To Come), I came across a reader's poll, of the best and worst of 2006. My Chemical Romance's surprise masterwork The Black Parade ranked as the best and worst of the year, while the band also scored best and worst of the year. But then, opposite that page, I find myself at staring at a rock hero if there ever was one: Thom Yorke. The Radiohead lead singer had been named, by the pop-rock rag of the millenia, the solo artist of 2006.

Well, BULLY for you, Mr. Yorke!

But one thing still confuses me: When did Spin readers wise up? The cover of the issue that I picked up today is one of several I've come across in recent days with Fall Out Boy as the cover band, and last month's was My Chemical Romance. When the hell did they start digging Yorke's strange lyrics and, most importantly, the overall catchy beats on his solo album, The Eraser?

My friends, we live in a strange world. Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust, and we now fellate bands that all sound the same (Paging Mr. Wentz and Mr. Urie...), but we neglect artists who put their blood, sweat, tears, and talent (oh, the talent!) into decent records. Rolling Stone was once a respectable source of music news, but they took the last train for the coast and have devoted a great lot of black-and-white to faux-punk rockers Green Day and Fall Out Boy (who also made cover this month). Sure, decent reviewers still give a nice bit of time to great artists (TV On The Radio's brilliant 2006 release Return To Cookie Mountain was one of the few albums I've never heard a bad word about, and likewise for the afore mentioned Neon Bible, which was the main review for the Spin issue that prompted this post). But why in hell's name are bands like Panic! At The Disco so well-liked?

I know, I'm rambling a bit. What I say about these bands is spiteful, hurtful to some, and probably sounds downright bitter to most. Most people would ask if I dislike these bands because I don't like their music, or because they're popular? Paying attention to my music history, the latter seems more likely, because I stopped liking Fall Out Boy after they got popular. But, the question is: is it popularity that makes people stop (or start, in most cases) liking the music, or is the popularity making artists produce music for the fans, rather than for themselves?

Am I crazy for starting to dislike bands once they become popular? Could it be that people ruin these bands for me? Could it be that fandom clouds the judgment of the artists, and leads them to do things to keep a fan-base?

Post #4: Six Life-Changing Albums

2007-10-30T00:35:00.000-07:00

Thinking back on the gobs of music I've listened to, I realize that there are several albums that have, essentially, stopped being records to me; they've become small vignettes that make up the film of my musical history.

What follows is an account of the ten records that have changed my life, in some way. Without these, I doubt I'd be the same person. Without them, I expect I'd still be listening to Linkin Park and talking about how deep they are. Enjoy.

1) The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Capital Records - 1967

I remember exactly where I was when I picked this album up for the first time. My mum and I had driven out to Sweet, Oregon to see a couple people she was selling insurance to, as this was what she did at the time. On the way back, we stopped at - and I hesitate to mention this - a 24-Hour Wal-Mart, because, why the hell not? We picked up About A Boy on DVD, a pair of Pink Floyd pjs, and this record, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I wish I could tell a different story about getting this particular album, but no, I picked it up at Wal-Mart at around 1 in the morning, after a very long drive to sell insurance to some couple.

Sgt. Pepper changed everything, really. It's the album that changed music itself, and changed a lot of people. People get into pub fights over which Beatles album is the best, and I'd gladly take a pool-cue to the temple in defence of this record. I remember listening to this record for the first time and thinking, wow, I use to hate on these fellows? What the hell was wrong with me? This is perfection in song form. And thus, my ways changed. I stopped being such a pretentious little pratt, and I started listening to everything, in search of what was really good in the music world. Thus far, nothing has truly matched up to this record. I'm still looking, though, but I doubt I'll find it.

2) Radiohead - OK Computer
Capital Records - 1997

I picked up OK Computer at a little record store in Hillsboro, called CD/Game Exchange. The record store isn't there before, and I only went there three times. However, all three times, I left with something.

The last visit, I sold a number of video games, and got $80 in credit. I got Violent Femmes' Violent Femmes, The Mars Volta's Scabdates, System Of A Down's Mezmerize and Hypnotize, Björk's Telegram, and OK Computer. I had never listened to it, and I'd heard loads of great stuff about it, so I thought, what the hell? I've got money to burn, I might as well!

I didn't listen to it for a number of months. I first listened to it on a small motorbike trip with my father, his girlfriend, and a couple of family friends. I reckon, I listened to it 8 times over the course of the day. I think I tried to listen to something else as well, but I couldn't. I came right back to the intro of "Airbag".

I came home and downloaded Kid A. And The Bends. And everything else they had put out, EPs and everything. And I listened to it all, repeatedly, until I knew the songs in and out. Radiohead became my all-time favourite band after that, and I have never been able to shake this album. It is superb from the guitar intro of "Airbag" to the chime that signals the end of "The Tourist", and it is damn near impossible to hate this record.

It's really quite hard to explain its influence in my life, but it's worth noting that, after this, I really had no choice but to get rid of my Fall Out Boy records. It would be like Athiesm after having tea with god herself. Bad analogy, but really, this particular record short circuits my brain.

3) Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
Matador Records - 1994

I first heard Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain after looking for lo-fi bands to get into. I listened to it once, and thought to myself, this is okay, but not what I'm looking for, and filed it away.

When my computer crashed a month or two ago, I grabbed my burnt copy of Crooked Rain, and put in my stereo. It pretty much stayed there for awhile. It blew my mind! It blew my mind with its simple brilliance, and the fact that I had ignored it for so fucking long! I really don't go very long without listening to this record, and every time I do, I bask in its glory. I feel blessed to have heard it.

4) The Mountain Goats - The Sunset Tree
4AD - 2004

Like the aforementioned Pavement, I first heard about The Mountain Goats when I was looking into Lo-Fi. I got their Ghana album (a b-side compilation), because it had over 20 tracks, and it would've been wonderful to get a firm hold on the sound of the band. It was pretty much...some of the worst stuff I'd ever heard. I didn't find out until later that it was a rejects disc, so I didn't know that John Darnielle was better than that album.

So, I read a review of The Sunset Tree, and decided to give them another shot. I had it in my "to be changed" folder for a couple months before I processed and listened to it. It kept a firm grip on my soul, and my ears, for the next two weeks, give or take. Such was the case with Radiohead's OK Computer, when I would make a bid for freedom by turning on another record, but finding myself listening to Darnielle singing about St. Joseph's Baby Aspirin, Bartles & Jaymes, and you, or your memory. I finally managed to break away from it for a time, to listen to other things.

A couple of weeks later, I turned it on again. I got to the song "Love Love Love", the second-to-last track on the album, and discovered, to my astonishment, that that there were tears in my eyes. Oh dear lord, Darnielle, you managed to break me. He did this again with the title track from their next album, Get Lonely, of course, but since then, I've held a grudge against Darnielle for cutting into my heart with his skillsaw of brilliance. I've never quite managed to figure out why the record made me weep, but I don't think I want to know. That's something The Sunset Tree hasn't told me about yet.

5) Barenaked Ladies - Stunt
Reprise - 1998

Yeah, I kind of like this album. I got it for Christmas the year it came out, because I liked the song "One Week" so goddamn much. Yeah, you remember that song, don't you? Stop lying, you know you do.

This is the very first album I ever became obsessed with. And by obsessed, I don't mean, like, how any other 8 year old would practically wet themselves over the mere mention of The Spice Girls or N'Sync. I'm talking the way I obsessed over OK Computer, The Sunset Tree, and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. We're talking about five times daily listening, belting out the lyrics of the songs that I knew far too well, which included the track "Alcohol". It's not a well known song, but I'd reckon my parents never heard me singing "Alcohol, my party-time necessity/Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself" or "I thought that drinking just to get drunk was a waste of precious booze."

I also reckon that this album set the gold standard for musical obsessions to come. I did it with the aforementioned records, and I did it with The White Stripes' Elephant. Any sort of musical obsession that came after this odd little record was just a slanted and enchanted version of the chokehold that this album kept on me 'lo those many years ago.

6) Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Nonesuch Records - 2002

Rock fans have heard this fucking record if they know what's good for them. This is the album. This album represents a struggle between a major label and a small rock band from Chicago. This album represents the 00s as a decade, as far as I'm concerned. Good albums have come and gone thus far this decade, but this? Now this is what I call a slice of fried gold.

I don't have any real backstory behind how I came around to listening to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, besides hearing how good it was, though I'm always shocked about how brilliant such a simple record is. Why it's so good is beyond me, to be perfectly honest. This record means a great lot to me, but I can't explain why. Maybe one day, I'll be able to tell anyone who asks, at great length, about how amazing this record is and why. Until then, I'll leave it up to everyone else to figure it out. Get right on that.

Post #3: The Current Film Scene

2007-05-11T19:33:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay: My name is Holly Dixon, and I'm a Spiderman fan. So, naturally, I went to see Spiderman 3 opening weekend, and I thought it was wonderful. However, it packed the single worst string of trailers I have ever seen in my life, bar none.

At bat, we had the following:
Rush Hour 3, Pirates Of The Carribean: At World's End (Pirates Part III, which I'll admit I'm stoked for), Fantastic Four: Rise Of The Silver Surfer (Fantastic Four Part II: Their First Assignment), Shrek The Third, Across The Universe (which I blame for my current Beatles obsession. I'll see this in a heartbeat), and Surf's Up (Happy Feet. Again.) For those keeping score, we have 4 sequels, a movie musical of sorts, and yet another penguin movie.

But that's not all: Coming out soon enough, we have Oceans 13 (hell yes!), Live Free Or Die Hard, Evan Almighty, and countless others I must have forgotten. Though I will admit that I will happily see three or four of this summer's sequels, I'm beginning to worry about Hollywood even more than I already do.

I can't recall a time in American cinematic history so jam-packed with sequels. The question of the day is, what are they being made for? Is it for the continuation of the story? Or, is it just because the producers are more interested in profit than in art value? Or, is it just because we've run out of ideas?

It seems so: Steven Spielberg, one of the most accomplished directors in cinematic history, is going back to the well with Indiana Jones 4 and Jurassic Park 4, whilst George Lucas talks about two made-for-television movies based on Star Wars. On top of these, the cast of the Spiderman trilogy is in talks for three more films. There's also talk of another X-Men film, along with a spin-off based on Wolverine.

Cinema is in its decline. Box Office results are sinking, fast. Is it because people would rather stay in and watch a DVD in the comfort of their own home, instead of sitting in a large auditorium watching something on the silver screen? I doubt it.

What I don't doubt is that people have gotten sick of American cinema. We've gotten bored with the constant stream of sequels and remakes and sequels to remakes and so on. I must ask the question: is it really this difficult to simply move on to a new idea, or have the men behind the curtains in Hollywood taken the last train for the coast?

It must seem as though I've babbled a bit in this post, but the thought of a summer like this one makes me, as a cinemaphile of sorts, cringe.

I'm beginning to see the first day of summer as the day the movies died. Am I the only one?

Post #2: The State Of The Nation

2007-04-29T17:53:00.000-07:00

I know that I may get a fair amount of guff from the people who think I'm crossing a line on this issue, but this is how I feel.
There's three subjects that have been prominent, as of late: Don Imus and his "nappy headed hos", Cho Seung-Hui, the Virginia Tech shooter, and the Iraq War, though that really isn't a current issue; it's been heavily debated since before the war came.

But, let's consider the following: since the start of the war, there have been 3617 casualties from the US, UK, and other coalition countries. So far, 24314 members of the US armed forces have been wounded. This is all since 2003.

On April 16, 2007, there were 33 casualties (including the gunman), at the hands of one man, Cho Seung-Hui. The number of wounded is withheld, however.

But something seems amiss. We're in the middle of a war, and there are innocent people dying in uncounted numbers in Iraq, simply because of where they live. However, I don't see a public outcry of mourning and headline news because of these people.

Can someone explain this to me? Why is it that several thousand people dying for an oil war is no big deal, but 32 people (I'm not counting the shooter) dying at a school in Virginia is the shock-and-horror story of the week?

I'm sorry, but it leads me to a question: do we think that the lives of those who died in Virginia are far more holy, their deaths more tragic? Don't get me wrong, I think what happened in Virginia is tragic...but the deaths of countless people in Iraq are far more tragic.

And now, the Don Imus scandal. Personally, I'm on Imus' side on this. Howard Stern is a madman who has crossed the line (after moving it!) on countless occasions. Don Imus, who is (or, rather, was) of the same profession as Howard Stern (shock jock). But Don Imus made a joke about a group of basketball players, and people are up in arms about him crossing the line, and we should burn him at the stake for being such an insensitive asswipe, blah blah blah blah blah.

And suddenly, people are going nuts about censorship, and the debates began. Should he have been fired? Should he be fined? Why is Imus being so mean?, and the like.

However, in the days after the incident at Virginia Tech, I heard almost nothing about gun control. The blame, thus far, has been given to Charles Steger, VA Tech's president, who did nothing to stop the classroom shootings. Thus far, the only gun control talk I've heard has been on the subject of someone who was deranged obtaining a gun.

From the looks of it, the American public has much more interest in radio personalities not saying mean things about sports players than it does in the mentally ill obtaining guns, and their ability to do so.

Does this strike anyone as slightly off? Doesn't anyone think it's a little odd that some guy that nobody has heard of saying something unkind is a bigger and more debate-worthy story than a shooting at a school? And, doesn't anyone think it's a little odd that the American public has spent more time mourning the deaths of a few people than it has spent mourning (or not mourning) the deaths of countless countrymen and innocents in a far away land?

I know, most people won't agree with me on this subject. I expect I may get a bit of hate mail from those who oppose. But, I just want to make it clear, the incident in Virginia is tragic, and Don Imus shouldn't have made a racist joke on the air. But, I also want to make it abundantly clear, I think the American public is really overreacting to these two things.

With hugs,
Love, me.

POST #1: "Tragic" Irony

2007-02-13T19:27:00.000-08:00

"Anna Nicole Smith died", a friend said to me on the day she died, which is always a wonderful first message when you log on to MSN. "That's preposterous. It's another Paul McCartney and Jon Heder death", I thought to myself. So I went to google. Newsday, IMDb.com, New York Times, all reporting her death. I let out a laugh.

Two thumbs up!

I suppose that means my "Anna Nicole Smith ate my little brother" patch is in bad taste now. Pity.

But, there's something odd about the death of the former Playboy model and Trimspa "spokesperson": over the course of her career, the press has enjoyed mocking her. And who could blame them? She was clearly mentally unstable, and she could probably give Courtney Love a run for her money. With all of the court hearings involving her oil billionaire husband J. Howard Marshall (b. 1905 d. 1995, making him 90 when he died) and his dirty money, and all of the Trimspa ads that made her look like she was actually clinically insane, even Mother Theresa would look at her and say "what the hell was that crazy bitch on?"

However, since her death, real news has taken a holiday. Stories about the crazy astronaut and her diapered road trip of doom were interrupted. Stories about fat cats, gone. All to mourn the death of the late Playboy model. The late Playboy model who they enjoyed mocking.

What the hell happened? One day, she's part of the pantheon of absurd people, and the next, she's a dead idol whose death was felt 'round the world? What happened to the days when, if some random celebrity kicked, people said, "they will be missed. Back to work!", and continued to mock them? Is this what's going to happen when Jon Heder actually dies? Are actual news stories going to be halted to mourn the loss of a talentless so-called "actor", just because he was famous?

Can someone explain what changed? She was no less absurd when she died, what changed between when she was alive and when she was dead? Isn't anyone out there as concerned with the backbone of Modern America? Why has it suddenly become distasteful to mock the loons of higher society?

Odd Addition: Right after hitting the publish button for this article, yesterday's episode of The Daily Show came on, and Jon Stewart began talking about how coverage of the crazy astronaut story was interrupted for a 90-minute commercial free broadcast on one of the 24-hour news channels. While this makes me feel a little better, and glad to see I'm not the only one whose noticed the irony of mourning someone we loved to hate, I still feel quite horrible about the fact that this topic exists for me to write. And to think, I could be writing about the death of American cinema at the hands of Norbit right now. Ah well, I'll get to that tomorrow.

Science Fiction/Double Feature

2007-02-13T09:06:00.000-08:00

Michael Rennie was ill the day the earth stood still
But he told us where we stand

Often, I lay in bed, in the wee small hours of the morning, thinking about Modern Life. This, unfortunately, makes my head hurt a great deal, so I usually stop soon after. But, often, when thinking about it, I come to the conclusion that all of those odd philisophers were right: Life is nothing but a higher being whose dreaming. And, if you think about it, this is not a dream; it's a nightmare.

This is, most unfortunately, an age of anti-intellectualism. The Modern American would much rather spend their money on Scary Movie ##, rather than see a film that would, dare I say it, make them think about their lives.

We live in an age where people would much rather tune their television sets to the latest episode of a formulaic New York police drama, when they could just as easily watch a program that would make you remember it, as you lay awake, looking for something to think about.

We live in an age where teenagers run, in droves, to the nearest record store to purchase the newest generic pop band's generic record, when, for less money, they could purchase a not-so-new record, one that could, indeed, stay with them long after the pop bands of today have spent all of their "hard-earned" money.

We live in an age where the Modern American, settling down to watch the 11 o'clock news, finds a story about a fat cat on it, only five minutes into the program, ahead of a story about a roadside bomb in Baghdad. It's the same age that halts regular news for all of the details about the death of some stupid and unsightly ex-porn star.

This Modern World is the story that devotes countless black-and-white space to the break-up or offspring of two "movie stars", while simultaneously pushing away important information on the actual world we live in. In This Modern World, black is really white, and a two and a two do make a five.

For a good while now, longer than I'd like, I have been a man without a country, too embarrassed by the state of Modern Life to acknowledge my part in it. I've become fed up with that. I know plenty of people who, too, have grown to dislike Modern Life, but prefer to stay silent about the atrocities of it. And, as sad as it may be, I also know plenty of people who are blind to the problems with Modern Life, and go on, day by day, sitting idly by, making no remark about how it has become a sort of war.

So, I write this message, in hopes that it will open the eyes of another, someone who would gladly stand tall and scream their lungs out about the downfall of Modern Life, rather than sitting still and silently, while society crumbles around them.

Unfortunately, for now, until I fade away into the airwaves, I'm stuck living in this Temporary Life, so I feel it's my duty to give my two cents on it. Oh, I'll be damned if I go to my grave without giving a few kind words about my place in it.

However, make no mistake. This isn't a blog created for the purpose of witty rhetoric to judge me by. I'm certainly not clever enough for that. But, I hope to update this blog as often as possible, and I'll be writing about various things, from the "tragic and untimely" death of someone who I enjoyed mocking, to a review of an album I've just heard, or a film I've just seen. I wish I could make my living doing nothing but standing around and complaining, but alas, even though it worked for, Noam Chomsky, I'm not that good.

the morning sun's about to break,
i'm looking in as you create someone,
you lift your head and brush your teeth,
and make your bed as if you won't sleep again,
you fix your hair and tie your shoes,
and tuck your shirt and now you feel new.

the glass is full, the glass is broke,
and every day dissolves and there's no hope
of ever leaving this temporary life.
of ever leaving this temporary life.

You may ask yourself "is there anyone so alone?"
but there's no beep before the dial-tone
when you pick it up to see who called
if there is it's probably your mom

But, oh, the rising sun brings little cheer
to this city with the stolen name
and you're wondering whose bright idea
it was to pack your things and leave your friends
and move down here.

-Death Cab For Cutie, This Temporary Life