The traditional way of telling the Belle and Sebastian story goes like this: after three classic albums of bittersweet folk-pop, they released an unmitigated flop after a failed attempt at "democracy," then returned with a sort of "comeback" that reasserted them as Stuart Murdoch's band, and gave them a new direction.
Now let's back up a second, because I have some problems with that. First of all, what was so bad about Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant? If you ask me, it was a fine collection of songs, inferior to If You're Feeling Sinister (the undisputed masterpiece) only in its lack of focus. Second, what was so great about Dear Catastrophe Waitress (that would be the "comeback," for those unfamiliar with the band). It was a new direction to be sure, but not an overly satisfying one. It seemed to indicate to me only that Belle and Sebastian do, in fact, have a decent budget to spend on recording, and that Stuart Murdoch in particular has a very large record collection. There were no moments of clear inspiration on Dear Catastrophe Waitress, and every song seemed to have been written from a standpoint that started with somebody saying, "Let's try to write a song that sounds like _____." If it had been the first Belle and Sebastian album, I'd probably have pegged them as sub-Wondermints classic pop imitators (not that there's anything wrong with the Wondermints).
Their new album, the follow-up to Dear Catastrophe Waitress, called The Life Pursuit, is much in the same vein, so naturally, it doesn't seem all that great to me either. As with its predecessor, it's a textbook "Name the Influence!" record. "Funny Little Frog?" How about "Death On Two Legs" by Queen (at least for the beginning of that chord progression)? "Song for Sunshine?" Sly Stone during the verses is obvious, but extra points if you came up with Todd Rundgren for the (admittedly gorgeous) chorus. "Dress Up in You?" Earlier Belle and Sebastian!
The Life Pursuit is not by any means a bad album, but is there any chance of if getting any heavy rotation after the next few months are past? Let's put it this way: the last time I put on Dear Catastrophe Waitress (which I was excited enough to run out and buy in a store the day it was released) was probably around when I was trying to convince people to consider Dennis Kucinich in the 2004 Democratic primary elections. The Life Pursuit is probably a step above their last outing, and it's nothing if not at least thoroughly pleasant, with many fine pop moments to be found, but let's be serious. Am I really supposed to care about this after listening to If You're Feeling Sinister? Maybe that's unfair, but there's too much good music in the world to settle for less.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Super Bowl halftime complaints, pt. II (actual game complaints coming next year when I might care about who wins)
While we're on the subject of the Super Bowl halftime show, why not allow Detroit to take center stage? This is a complaint I've seen reiterated elsewhere, so I know I'm not alone here, but Detroit has a rich musical history that many other Super Bowl host cities don't (that's right, I'm talking to you, San Diego, Houston, Miami, Jacksonville, etc.). And by the time the NFL awards Detroit another Super Bowl, there may not be anybody left living there.
Wouldn't it have been fun if they'd gotten together a nice tribute to Motown? Stevie Wonder (who was given a pre-game performance in a worthless face-saving gesture), Smokey Robinson, whoever is left of the Temptations, Diana Ross, and, I don't know, the ghost of Marvin Gaye? I know most of The Funk Brothers are still around, and they played on all of those Motown hits anyway. Hell, it doesn't even have to be all Motown. Throw in The White Stripes and Kid Rock. How about MC5, are any of those guys still alive? Alice Cooper, Iggy Pop, Alice Coltrane, Ted Nugent, put 'em all up there, see what happens!
See how much of a ridiculous spectacle this could have been?
But nooooo, we had to go with some old guys who aren't even from America, and therefore probably have no idea what the Super Bowl even is, other than the only American sporting event which makes the front page of BBC News. I'm not trying to be xenophobic here (in fact, you'll find fewer people more liberal than me), but really, we missed a good opportunity here.
And one we won't have again soon either; upcoming Super Bowl hosts include Miami, Glendale, AZ, Tampa, and (yet again) Miami. Jacksonville hosted last year, so for those keeping track the Super Bowl will have been held in Florida four out of six years.
Maybe next year we can celebrate Miami with KC and the Sunshine Band and Vanilla Ice.
Sidebar:
Philadelphia will never host a Super Bowl because it's actually cold here in the winter and we don't have a dome, but if we ever did, I'd like to think that our halftime show would have more of Todd Rundgren and The Roots and less Will Smith and Patti LaBelle, but I'm not going to delude myself. It would probably be U2 anyway.
Wouldn't it have been fun if they'd gotten together a nice tribute to Motown? Stevie Wonder (who was given a pre-game performance in a worthless face-saving gesture), Smokey Robinson, whoever is left of the Temptations, Diana Ross, and, I don't know, the ghost of Marvin Gaye? I know most of The Funk Brothers are still around, and they played on all of those Motown hits anyway. Hell, it doesn't even have to be all Motown. Throw in The White Stripes and Kid Rock. How about MC5, are any of those guys still alive? Alice Cooper, Iggy Pop, Alice Coltrane, Ted Nugent, put 'em all up there, see what happens!
See how much of a ridiculous spectacle this could have been?
But nooooo, we had to go with some old guys who aren't even from America, and therefore probably have no idea what the Super Bowl even is, other than the only American sporting event which makes the front page of BBC News. I'm not trying to be xenophobic here (in fact, you'll find fewer people more liberal than me), but really, we missed a good opportunity here.
And one we won't have again soon either; upcoming Super Bowl hosts include Miami, Glendale, AZ, Tampa, and (yet again) Miami. Jacksonville hosted last year, so for those keeping track the Super Bowl will have been held in Florida four out of six years.
Maybe next year we can celebrate Miami with KC and the Sunshine Band and Vanilla Ice.
Sidebar:
Philadelphia will never host a Super Bowl because it's actually cold here in the winter and we don't have a dome, but if we ever did, I'd like to think that our halftime show would have more of Todd Rundgren and The Roots and less Will Smith and Patti LaBelle, but I'm not going to delude myself. It would probably be U2 anyway.
Monday, February 06, 2006
"If you start me up I'll never stop..."
There was recently a TV show in which old, long-defunct bands like A Flock of Seagulls and a bunch of other people whose identities escape me reunited and performed one of their old hits (or in most cases, their only hit) and a contemporary song. At the time, this show gave me a newfound respect for the Rolling Stones, and made me realize that it's not a given that four or five old(ish) people will be able to get together and make competent music and give entertaining performances.
Then along came the Super Bowl.
Was it me, or was that an overwhelmingly mediocre halftime set? The sound was muddy, the performances were sloppy, and they managed to fit in a total of three songs. I know I shouldn't complain too much, because they're old men who are lucky to be alive at this point, and I know I'm probably spoiled from having Paul McCartney play last year (who'd have thought that all these years later, the Stones would still be desperately following in the Beatles' footsteps? Or at least a Beatle's...). But come on, this is one of the biggest audiences these guys will ever have, they gotta bring it!
And the song selection? Obviously "Start Me Up" and "Satisfaction" were unavoidable, but even as I was hoping they would try something less predictable, I couldn't help but be disappointed that it was a new song. With rare exceptions (like... well, Paul McCartney, and of course my buddy Brian Wilson, although Smile is sort of a rulebreaker in a number of ways), new music from icons a generation removed from their peak is almost never worth hearing, and never is there a worse juxtaposition than when it's played between two of the most recognizable songs in the entire pop music canon. Worst of all, they could have played another two songs if they'd cut down the pointlessly long and rambling endings to their two supersmashes. It's not as if Ron Wood or Keith Richards are spectacular soloists (another problem with their performance). Even if they'd just stuck to their big hits, wouldn't you much rather hear, say, "Gimme Shelter" or "Brown Sugar" than another four minutes of Wood and Richards trading sloppy blues riffs while Mick Jagger prances around yelling unitelligible gibberish that may or may not be related to the song?
I know I would.
One caveat: I stopped paying close attention during large stretches of the aforementioned long and rambling sections and started listening to the clarion call of the beer in the fridge, so if they played more songs that I missed somehow, I'll obviously have to change this entry somewhat.
Then along came the Super Bowl.
Was it me, or was that an overwhelmingly mediocre halftime set? The sound was muddy, the performances were sloppy, and they managed to fit in a total of three songs. I know I shouldn't complain too much, because they're old men who are lucky to be alive at this point, and I know I'm probably spoiled from having Paul McCartney play last year (who'd have thought that all these years later, the Stones would still be desperately following in the Beatles' footsteps? Or at least a Beatle's...). But come on, this is one of the biggest audiences these guys will ever have, they gotta bring it!
And the song selection? Obviously "Start Me Up" and "Satisfaction" were unavoidable, but even as I was hoping they would try something less predictable, I couldn't help but be disappointed that it was a new song. With rare exceptions (like... well, Paul McCartney, and of course my buddy Brian Wilson, although Smile is sort of a rulebreaker in a number of ways), new music from icons a generation removed from their peak is almost never worth hearing, and never is there a worse juxtaposition than when it's played between two of the most recognizable songs in the entire pop music canon. Worst of all, they could have played another two songs if they'd cut down the pointlessly long and rambling endings to their two supersmashes. It's not as if Ron Wood or Keith Richards are spectacular soloists (another problem with their performance). Even if they'd just stuck to their big hits, wouldn't you much rather hear, say, "Gimme Shelter" or "Brown Sugar" than another four minutes of Wood and Richards trading sloppy blues riffs while Mick Jagger prances around yelling unitelligible gibberish that may or may not be related to the song?
I know I would.
One caveat: I stopped paying close attention during large stretches of the aforementioned long and rambling sections and started listening to the clarion call of the beer in the fridge, so if they played more songs that I missed somehow, I'll obviously have to change this entry somewhat.
Monday, January 23, 2006
*insert obligatory bad Liars joke here, "the truth about Liars!" or something*
Now that I'm finally done writing about 2005 music stuff, time to move onward! First up: Liars! Liars (they would create far fewer grammatical oddities if they would simply use "the" in front of their name) impressed me greatly with their 2004 album They Were Wrong, So We Drowned, which was a concept album about witches in medieval Germany or something. It's possibly the only concept album about witches to ever be good, although I'm not saying it's the only concept album about witches ever made, because there's probably a Helloween or Mercyful Fate record I don't know about. Anyway, I liked it because it was challenging, creative, and uniquely unsettling. How anybody could create a recognizable riff out of murky and atonal electronic buzzing sounds or make a vocal hook out of three people chanting "WE ARE THE ARMY YOU SEE THROUGH THE RED HAZE OF BLOOD!" is beyond me, but they did it somehow. That album was the 2004 counterpart of the latest Fiery Furnaces album, another drastic style shift that alienated a lot of fans but that I loved.
Anyhoo, they're coming out on February 20 (according to their website) or March 21 (according to allmusic.com) with a new album, Drum's Not Dead, which was originally supposed to be released last October. Seeing as how there was such a dramatic shift in style between their first and second albums, I can't wait to hear what they've done for their third. If the advance single "It Fit When I Was a Kid" is any indication, they've kept the thumping tribal rhythms of They Were Wrong, So We Drowned and added actual, recognizable melodies (the closest previous reference is probably "We Fenced Other Houses With the Bones of Our Own" from They Were Wrong, still one of my favorite song titles ever). Not that it's a pop song by any stretch of the imagination. It's still as impossibly creepy as anything on They Were Wrong, except here the eeriness comes from the droning organ that comes in halfway through the song and the deadpan vocal melody that creeps slowly along, like a children's song corrupted by a vaguely disturbing nightmare where you just know something is lurking in the shadows. If you're inspired to download the song, stick it out until about the halfway point, which is where the song starts to get really interesting.
Music aside, they've also chosen a cover for the new single that's rather, um... interesting. And originally they wanted to release it on edible paper. Just to give you an idea of how weird these guys can be.
Drum's Not Dead has already been leaked on the internet, but I've chosen to wait... for now. A look at the track listing reveals that this is probably another concept album, though: almost all of the tracks either use "Drum" as a name (apparently of a character who isn't dead) or reference a "Mt. Heart Attack" in some way. I have no idea what on Earth any of that could mean, but I can't wait to find out.
Anyhoo, they're coming out on February 20 (according to their website) or March 21 (according to allmusic.com) with a new album, Drum's Not Dead, which was originally supposed to be released last October. Seeing as how there was such a dramatic shift in style between their first and second albums, I can't wait to hear what they've done for their third. If the advance single "It Fit When I Was a Kid" is any indication, they've kept the thumping tribal rhythms of They Were Wrong, So We Drowned and added actual, recognizable melodies (the closest previous reference is probably "We Fenced Other Houses With the Bones of Our Own" from They Were Wrong, still one of my favorite song titles ever). Not that it's a pop song by any stretch of the imagination. It's still as impossibly creepy as anything on They Were Wrong, except here the eeriness comes from the droning organ that comes in halfway through the song and the deadpan vocal melody that creeps slowly along, like a children's song corrupted by a vaguely disturbing nightmare where you just know something is lurking in the shadows. If you're inspired to download the song, stick it out until about the halfway point, which is where the song starts to get really interesting.
Music aside, they've also chosen a cover for the new single that's rather, um... interesting. And originally they wanted to release it on edible paper. Just to give you an idea of how weird these guys can be.
Drum's Not Dead has already been leaked on the internet, but I've chosen to wait... for now. A look at the track listing reveals that this is probably another concept album, though: almost all of the tracks either use "Drum" as a name (apparently of a character who isn't dead) or reference a "Mt. Heart Attack" in some way. I have no idea what on Earth any of that could mean, but I can't wait to find out.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Tom's Best of 2005: #1
All right, my apologies for this being so ridiculously late. At least three people have been waiting for this for a little while, and possibly more. Next year, if I do this, I'll need to be more disciplined, or more realistic with my self-imposed time restraints. Anyway, without further adieu:
Boards of Canada - The Campfire Headphase - I can't really explain why I love this record any more than I can explain why a sunset is beautiful, or why we fall in love. It just is, and I just love it. I've already discussed once the intangible greatness of Boards of Canada, so I don't really feel the need to do so again. I'll simply let it be known that every time these guys put out a record, and it sounds at least a little like their previous work, it will be more or less a shoe-in for #1 on any of these lists I make. Their music exists on a different plane than other music. It is so inherently joyous and beautiful that it hardly matters whether or not it is an improvement over their last outing. A Boards of Canada album that is merely competent is more spectacular than anything most other bands can even imagine, and as long as Boards of Canada sound like Boards of Canada, I'll always have a special place for them.
Boards of Canada - The Campfire Headphase - I can't really explain why I love this record any more than I can explain why a sunset is beautiful, or why we fall in love. It just is, and I just love it. I've already discussed once the intangible greatness of Boards of Canada, so I don't really feel the need to do so again. I'll simply let it be known that every time these guys put out a record, and it sounds at least a little like their previous work, it will be more or less a shoe-in for #1 on any of these lists I make. Their music exists on a different plane than other music. It is so inherently joyous and beautiful that it hardly matters whether or not it is an improvement over their last outing. A Boards of Canada album that is merely competent is more spectacular than anything most other bands can even imagine, and as long as Boards of Canada sound like Boards of Canada, I'll always have a special place for them.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Tom's Best of 2005: #2
Sufjan Stevens - Illinois - Let's get some things straight here: Sufjan Stevens in not some magical figure who can reach the innermost feelings of anybody and everybody. He's not making me feel a whole lot of sympathy for John Wayne Gacy. He's not doing an album for every state as an attempt to reach the heart and soul of every single American (in my eyes it's more of a system of organizing his ridiculously prolific songwriting), and quality control is still lacking just a tad (if you're releasing an album with 22 songs that's almost 80 minutes long, and your band is not the Beatles, you probably need to trim some fat somewhere). But for such a looooooong and winding album, there's a remarkable amount of fantastic material.
I'm not ready to call Stevens the premier songwriter of his generation, but as a polyphonic pop maestro, he has few, if any, rivals. Songs like "Come On! Feel the Illinoise!" and "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!" are positively bursting with an ecstatic energy and unique way of winding divinely gorgeous melodies around irregular rhythms and dense backdrops. Same goes for "Jacksonville," "Chicago," and "The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders." The first time I put on Illinois, I knew I was in for a treat as soon as I heard the second track, "The Black Hawk War" (I'm foregoing the song's subtitle, which takes about as long to write as the song does to listen to). What sort of indie rocker has the audacity to write an enormous fanfare, complete with blasting horns, to announce his own entrance? Only Sufjan Stevens.
Stevens has an amazing ability to combine huge, bombastic arrangements with ambitious, multi-part songs, often topping 6 minutes or more in length, and somehow keeping them completely grounded and unpretentious, and that might be his greatest strength. No matter how sprawling and epic, Stevens' songs glow with a warmth and humanity that often feels paradoxical and always feels like a triumph of the human spirit. Am I being hyperbolic? Maybe, but he deserves it. This would easily be #1 with a few less meandering piano interludes, and if his next album is as much an improvement over Illinois as Illinois is over Greetings From Michigan (a terrific record itself), that one will have no problem making #1, either, and maybe #1 of the decade, or more (there's some hyperbole for you).
I'm not ready to call Stevens the premier songwriter of his generation, but as a polyphonic pop maestro, he has few, if any, rivals. Songs like "Come On! Feel the Illinoise!" and "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!" are positively bursting with an ecstatic energy and unique way of winding divinely gorgeous melodies around irregular rhythms and dense backdrops. Same goes for "Jacksonville," "Chicago," and "The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders." The first time I put on Illinois, I knew I was in for a treat as soon as I heard the second track, "The Black Hawk War" (I'm foregoing the song's subtitle, which takes about as long to write as the song does to listen to). What sort of indie rocker has the audacity to write an enormous fanfare, complete with blasting horns, to announce his own entrance? Only Sufjan Stevens.
Stevens has an amazing ability to combine huge, bombastic arrangements with ambitious, multi-part songs, often topping 6 minutes or more in length, and somehow keeping them completely grounded and unpretentious, and that might be his greatest strength. No matter how sprawling and epic, Stevens' songs glow with a warmth and humanity that often feels paradoxical and always feels like a triumph of the human spirit. Am I being hyperbolic? Maybe, but he deserves it. This would easily be #1 with a few less meandering piano interludes, and if his next album is as much an improvement over Illinois as Illinois is over Greetings From Michigan (a terrific record itself), that one will have no problem making #1, either, and maybe #1 of the decade, or more (there's some hyperbole for you).
Friday, January 06, 2006
Tom's Best of 2005: #3
The Fiery Furnaces - Rehearsing My Choir - If ever there was something that could be described as an acquired taste, this is it. This might be the only album on this list that I wouldn't recommend unconditionally. Nobody will ever put this on at a party, and nobody will ever roll down the street with this blasting out of their windows. You won't hear anything else like this in 2005, or possibly ever. It may seem impenetrably weird, but with a pair of headphones and some patience, it reveals itself to be a nuanced and complex and very well-made album.
I wrote earlier that Rehearsing My Choir occupies space somewhere between Philip Glass and Gilbert and Sullivan, but that really doesn't even begin to describe the sounds contained on this album. There's a disco breakbeat here, some swinging rock there, and even a bizarre salsa of sorts, all filtered through the Fiery Furnaces' weirdness. On first listen, the random shifts in tone, genre, melody, and everything else seem frustratingly arbitrary, but once you start getting familiar with the songs, the reveal themselves to be complex and suite-like. You start looking forward to repeating instrumental phrases that crop up now and again, and you even start paying attention to the lyrics.
The lyrics are a whole separate matter. Between this and Blueberry Boat, the Furnaces seem to be gearing up for a run at a Guinness world record for most words contained on a single album, and it can be especially hard to take in considering that the preferred form of delivery here is through the gruff voice of an 83-year-old woman, a voice which can either add a new level of depth with its world-weary tone or just be really creepy. At their core, however, the songs are standard fare, stories of loss, lust, and heartbreak. They just happen to be unusually specific in time and location. If people can't relate to them, it's not because they can't relate to feeling jealous of a former lover's current partner, it's because they can't relate to feeling jealous of a former lover's current partner in Chicago in the 1940s.
Add to this the Fiery Furnaces' usual habit of throwing every weird organ, tack piano, and synth tone they can find at you, and you're faced with this question: Is it an accomplishment worth noting to take tried and true subject matters and song styles and present them successfully in a manner that is completely unique? If your answer is yes, Rehearsing My Choir might be right up your alley.
I wrote earlier that Rehearsing My Choir occupies space somewhere between Philip Glass and Gilbert and Sullivan, but that really doesn't even begin to describe the sounds contained on this album. There's a disco breakbeat here, some swinging rock there, and even a bizarre salsa of sorts, all filtered through the Fiery Furnaces' weirdness. On first listen, the random shifts in tone, genre, melody, and everything else seem frustratingly arbitrary, but once you start getting familiar with the songs, the reveal themselves to be complex and suite-like. You start looking forward to repeating instrumental phrases that crop up now and again, and you even start paying attention to the lyrics.
The lyrics are a whole separate matter. Between this and Blueberry Boat, the Furnaces seem to be gearing up for a run at a Guinness world record for most words contained on a single album, and it can be especially hard to take in considering that the preferred form of delivery here is through the gruff voice of an 83-year-old woman, a voice which can either add a new level of depth with its world-weary tone or just be really creepy. At their core, however, the songs are standard fare, stories of loss, lust, and heartbreak. They just happen to be unusually specific in time and location. If people can't relate to them, it's not because they can't relate to feeling jealous of a former lover's current partner, it's because they can't relate to feeling jealous of a former lover's current partner in Chicago in the 1940s.
Add to this the Fiery Furnaces' usual habit of throwing every weird organ, tack piano, and synth tone they can find at you, and you're faced with this question: Is it an accomplishment worth noting to take tried and true subject matters and song styles and present them successfully in a manner that is completely unique? If your answer is yes, Rehearsing My Choir might be right up your alley.
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