stereophone

Moving Right Along

2012-01-03T18:26:00.002-05:00

Dunno if there's anyone that still follows this blog, but if you do you'll want to change your links to sensibly ridiculous. It's where I've been blogging about random stuff, but since I don't post often enough either here or there I've decided to consolidate. All the backlog from Stereophone has been transferred over and I won't be posting here anymore.

30 Day Song Challenge Days 10-13: Weekend Catchup

2011-11-13T15:42:00.001-05:00

So I'm behind. Time for one giant post catching me up.

Day 10: A Song to Which You Fall Asleep

I'm going for the positive interpretation of this one - a song you enjoy falling to sleep to - rather than the negative - a song that is so boring it puts you to sleep. I don't really feel like trying to recall whatever song Incubus or Kill Hannah were playing when I fell asleep seeing them live.

My choice is a bit odd for this one because it's actually about not going to sleep and instead staying up all night with a significant other and, well, using your imagination. Maybe it's a desire to fall asleep to a sweet song for sweet dreams, maybe it's Amy Millan's soft, smoky, almost whispered vocal, maybe it's the trancy electronics. Whatever it is I always feel pleasantly ready for a good night's sleep whenever it comes on. The surreal, dreamy music video seems to back me up.

Day 11: A Song From Your Favorite Band

Check out post number 1 for my feelings on favorites. TL;DR I hate them. I guess I'll pick the Weakerthans, and since I like cats I'll go for this song:

It's a cheerful song from a band that's wonderfully good at communicating loss and longing.

Day 12: A Song From a Band You Hate

Hate is a strong word. But it's a fairly accurate one.

Day 13: A Guilty Pleasure Song

I don't believe in guilty pleasures when it comes to music. If you like it, like it proudly no matter what some asshole might say about it - even if that asshole is me. I've jokingly given people shit over Hanson and earnestly given them shit over Nickelback, but if that's the kind of stuff that does it for you then by all means listen proudly. I have no illusions that everyone loves the music I love, but I also have no illusions that it matters that anyone else love it. I've had this conversation enough times, however, to know that most people will not let this drop until I give an answer. And, of course, I know the kind of answer they're looking for: a song that I'm not 'supposed' to like as a indie music fan, or as a male. Even though I'm not ashamed at all to admit I like me some Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, or Kelly Clarkson I've learned to recite these names just to end that line of conversation. Just like I'm ending this post.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 9: Shake Shake Shake Shake Shake

2011-11-09T18:48:00.004-05:00

Day 9: A Song That You Can Dance To

I’m going to slightly modify this one since it’s too broad as it is. There are pretty much infinity songs that I can dance to depending on what you mean by ‘dance.’ Slowdancing or slamdancing? Skanking or bootyshaking? Break? Interpretive? (OK, I can't do those last two.)

In the name of fun I’m going to assume this means bootyshaking. And not just a song that you CAN dance to. A song that you HAVE to dance to. A song whose beats conjure an irresistible urge to break-it-down. A song that, as if by magic, instantly forces feet to step and hips to shake, resulting in the inevitable busting of moves.

Now, before I get into the song I picked please feel free to peruse this Grooveshark playlist of songs that didn’t quite make the cut.

And now the main attraction:

I could talk about how it's the flourishes that make this song, from the short hits of keyboard to the splashes of smooth saxophone to Michael's velvet "heee hee" to the sexy blues guitar riffs that pick up towards the end. But I'm not a liar. Everyone knows that the lifeblood of this song, the engine that makes it move is one of the hottest bass lines ever written. Everything else balances on its ever-grooving shoulders. Remove any other element and this song is still a hit that makes your internal organs beat in time. Take away that bass and it's a nigh-unrecognizable shell of itself.

There are a lot of great dance songs out there, but, as is his wont, in this vein Michael Jackson created a song that stands tallest among giants. In the Highlander universe of dance songs in which there can be only one "Billie Jean" has beheaded all other challengers and absorbed their power. "Billie Jean" defeated M. Bison on level 7 difficulty without losing any health. "Billie Jean" successfully played DragonForce - "Through the Fire and Flames" on expert without missing a note on its first try. If a group did a routine on America's Best Dance Crew to "Billie Jean" they would lose because the judges would pick the song as the winner. Chuck Norris tried writing the best dance song ever and just ended up with "Billie Jean" again.

It's the first, last and everything.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 8: Sing With Me, Sing for the Year

2011-11-08T21:55:00.002-05:00

Day 8: A Song to Which You Know All the Words

Searching my head for a song that fit today’s prompt was a fun exercise if only to remind me of the songs I used to have memorize. These are the songs, after all, they were played incessantly out of tape-decks, CD players, car stereos, computers and portable MP3 players at various stages of my life. Going through these tunes was like flipping through a musical biography.

For instance, the first song that I could sing all the way through from memory was… actually, let’s not go that far back. The SECOND song that I could sing all the way through from memory was Metallica’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” I can actually remember the first time I heard it. I was at a friend’s birthday party (let's call him... 4)and he was opening presents. There were two gifts that were clearly (from the size and feel of the wrapped package) CDs and as he went to open then he hopefully chanted, “Metallica, Metallica, Metallica, Metallica,” and cheered when he tore through the wrapping paper to reveal Ride the Lightning and Master of Puppets. I’d never heard either but his enthusiasm rubbed off onto me and as we listened to the albums I launched into two pre-teen years that were exclusively dedicated to Metallica and Megadeath.

This almost magnetic attraction to metal was broken in middle school when I learned all the words to the majority of Green Day’s Dookie, and then later in high school when I learned all of Blink 182’s Dude Ranch and Less Than Jake’s Hello Rockview, among many others. Of course there were some clunkers here or there on my way to memorizing Rilo Kiley’s “Pictures of Success” and Belle and Sebastian’s “Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying.” But I think in large part I still enjoy (in some cases nostalgically, but in most cases not) the tunes I used to know by heart. I could probably still sing along, actually, if the song was playing in the background.

These days I memorize a much smaller percentage of my favorite songs than I used to. I listen to more new albums a year than in high school and the list of older albums that are still in steady rotation is far longer. The only song to come out this year that I can confidently claim to know front to back is probably Admiral Fallow’s "Four Bulbs". That’s not the song I want to spotlight right now, however. Instead, my pick is going to go to a song from one of my favorite albums from last year, M. Ward’s Hold Time. It’s a song that I like to think I can sing half-decently and one that, when I do sing it, always brings me a measure of peace. It’s also really pretty.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 7: Do You Remember When We Used to Sing?

2011-11-07T21:03:00.006-05:00

Day 7: A Song That Reminds You of a Certain Event

The redundancy of these prompts is making these posts a lot less interesting. Most of the instances I noted from the last two days have not only involved a someone/somewhere, but a particular event involving that person or place. Now I’m stuck trying to find a song/moment I haven’t already addressed and then trying to find something new and interesting to say about how music works with memory. Let’s see how this goes.

Way back two days ago I mentioned a certain wedding involving a certain song about heights and a certain lifting into the air of a certain fri3nd. Well, since I was responsible for the playlist at this reception there were clearly several awesome songs played that night leading to multiple memorable moments. Not least of which (actually, most of which) being this song:

This has been one of my favorite Get Up Kids songs for quite a while and I slipped it in thinking it would just be a nice slow dance song. In hindsight I clearly underestimated the power of several drunk, reformed emokids. You see the groom, most of the groomsman, and a large chunk of the similarly-aged attendees had been in our youth (and to some degree still are in adulthood) Chuck Taylor-wearing, navel-gazing, non-ironic, die-hard fans of second-wave emo bands like the Get Up Kids, Saves the Day and Jimmy Eat World. So as this song opened – one of only a handful of happy love songs in the genre – and the newlyweds began to dance, we – mid to late 20-somethings channeling our mid to late teens – linked arms around them and began to sing.

In my head I remember a tender moment in which several close friends serenaded a just-married couple, pouring the emotions we felt into every word, articulating what the two of them really meant to each of us. Reality probably looked more like a group of fairly drunk guys surrounding a mostly sober couple screaming lyrics loudly enough to drown out the actual song. Hopefully it was more touching than ridiculous. To this day I haven't seen the video.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 6: Somewhere Out There, Out Where Dreams Come True

2011-11-06T21:00:00.004-05:00

Day 6: A Song That Reminds You of Somewhere

Initially this was kind of a difficult one for me in light of yesterday's challenge. Songs that remind me of people usually remind of specific times with those people which are also rooted in specific places. As such most songs that remind me of a somewhere also remind me of a someone. As I combed my memory/song library only two instances came up that brought to mind a place that wasn't also strongly attached to a person.

Exhibit A:

I got my driver's license in 1999. That year I was living in Broadview Hts, OH, just over the border from North Royalton. The intersection of State Rd. and Royalwood Rd. held the last stop light before my house, and the time from this light turning green until I pulled into my driveway at home was exactly 2:02. How do I know? Because in 2000 this was one of my favorite songs and countless times coming home from work or hanging out with friends I'd sit at this light and queue up this song. When the light turned green I'd unleash those power chords and accelerate home. I'd never go particularly fast (at most 5 or 10 mph over the 35 limit) but belting out power-pop late at night on an wide, nicely paved, empty road with the windows down it felt like I was flying. I have a lot of positive memories and warm feelings surrounding "I.O.U. One Galaxy", many of which involve friends, but the strongest one will always be me, alone with a short stretch open road.

Exhibit B:

I came to Death Cab for Cutie kind of late. This song, the first track off of their debut album, came out in 1998 however I didn't get into the band until I hit my middle years of college in the summer of 2003. Discovering indie rock is what college is for, right? Between the end of summer quarter and the beginning of fall that year some friends and I went camping around Hocking Hills, OH right about the time I was wearing out this CD (well, would be wearing it out if it was possible to wear out CDs.) Even though there were three other people in the car at the time whenever I hear this song I don't think of them; I think of a warm late-summer day driving through middle-of-Ohio greenery. I don't remember what conversations we had, or if we had any conversation at all. I just remember sun reflecting off the dashboard, wind in my fingers as they dangled out of the driver's side window, and winding roads with trees on either side.

When I came up with these songs I was struck, but not surprised, by the fact that they both were heavily connected to driving. Ohio is still a place where independence and freedom is largely - especially at young ages - emotionally tied cars. The midwest is a place with a lot of space and driving was an easy way toss myself out into the middle of it. The space inside was either my own or shared with people I chose to share it with. I've previously written about my feelings regarding music and driving so I won't repeat them here. I'll just state that I spent a LOT of time from the ages of 16-23 listening to music in my car. Though the geography outside of my driver's seat often changed the somewhere my music lived was, in large part, my car stereo. Though that's a place I can't have back now (and wouldn't if I could since driving in New York City is always an annoying prospect for me and gas is like a million dollars per gallon now) it'll always be a place I look back on and cherish.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 5: Remember, Remember on the 5th of November

2011-11-05T22:01:00.003-04:00

Day 5: A Song That Reminds You of Someone

Easiest prompt yet. As soon as I saw this one I knew which song I'd pick. Of course, just diving right into that piece from the get-go wouldn't be fun, would it? No, first I need to blather on about a bunch of other songs in addition to today's selection.

Music can be a pretty powerful trigger for memory, but it can also be a pretty random one. Some associations come through significant personal events and some seem to just inexplicably happen. Whenever I encounter any song by Broken Social Scene I immediately think of a friend of mine who once randomly asked me on Facebook if I'd ever heard of them, and the only time I remember ever hearing Franz Ferdinand's "Do You Want To?" was when I was dancing with a girl I'd just met at Thursday's in Akron. I've danced with plenty of girls, so the reason I'd remember this so vividly escapes me. The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights", however, is a song I've heard countless times but now whenever I hear it I instantly think of a particular fri3nd and his wedding when we lifted him up into the air when this song came on. Whenever I hear "Baby Love by the Supremes I always think of my aunt who apparently used to sing it to me when I was a baby and who told me about this when I was a teenager by singing it to me again.

So which song has a connection so vivid for me that it immediately sprang to mind the instant I read "Song That Reminds You of Someone"? Well, let me start off by telling you a story.

The year was 2000. I was fully immersed in a pop-punk phase and my favorite bands at the time were Rancid and Less Than Jake. I was driving with a couple of friends of mine, let's call them 4 and 6, and we were listening to the self-titled first album of a certain L.A. pop-punk band that had become one of our staples. We were rocking out, as always, singing along, but when this song came up we took it to another level.

As the song progressed I pulled up to a stop light, put my foot securely on the brake, and belted out the lyrics along with my two friends. We were bouncing out of our seats when the guitar breakdown started at 1:27 and when it hit for real at 1:43 let me tell you: we air guitared that shit hard. Like no other three people have air guitared anything in the history of air guitar. The unfettered air guitaring madness of those five seconds has reverberated forward through time so that hearing any snippet of this song immediately brings me back to that moment with those two guys. The lyrics advise to, "Feel it all and know that this will pass," but this is something that never has, and I hope never will. Air guitar.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 4: Sad Songs Say So Much

2011-11-04T23:30:00.001-04:00

Day 4: A Song That Makes You Sad

After lamenting yesterday that I had too many sad songs in my music library you'd think today's prompt would be easy for me, but actually it's probably even harder. See, it's actually really rare for a song to bring down my mood. A really well done sad song tends to have either a tragic soulfulness (think anything Solomon Burke has ever done) or a raw, visceral power (see: Rites of Spring) and I tend to get caught up in its purity of declaration; lost in the poetry of the lyrics. I love being moved by music and when an artist or group makes me feel something through song I can't help but fall in love with the beauty of their expression. In these cases I feel inspiration more than anything else.

When my mood is down to begin with I'll even use sad songs to bring me up as hearing someone else deal with pain brings a sense of comforting camaraderie. Perhaps this really is the reason it's so hard for me to find music that makes me sad - I use so often use my favorite sad songs therapeutically. Sometimes, in the throws of anxiety and heartache, the only proper medication is pouring two fingers of whiskey while Morrissey pleads for something he wants.

Only one song has ever made me cry, Autopilot Off's "Friday Mourning", and that had more to do with circumstance than the actual song. It popped up randomly on WinAmp a couple of hours after I'd learned my grandmother died and I insta-bawled, but the song had never affected me that way before and hasn't affected me that way since. It was just sort of a coincidental trigger - I never strongly associated the song with the event. For a while The Good Life's "Album of the Year" brought me down because it pretty accurately reflected a situation I had going on, but that kind of pain always fades and the song lost its effectiveness over time.

As a sucker for love songs I suppose the song that really affects me, the one that brings me down despite its delicate, graceful instrumentations and simple, evocative lyrics, is Iron and Wine's "Naked as We Came".

It's an incredibly pretty song that's wonderful to listen to, but whose ultimate message is that even the most perfect love will end in death. No matter how storybook the life the last chapter is already written. This is a hard truth to bear since it is so immutable. Songs about pain and loss are easier to take because along with all the sorrow there's always hope that something better will come along after. That your life will move on once the hurt heals. In this song there is no pain to get over, nothing to move past; only the fact that once you move past it, once that pain ends, another end awaits you. The best times are at the beginning, waking up next to the person you love, and nothing ever disrupts this except for the one thing that's completely unavoidable.

The album that holds this song, Our Endless Numbered Days is incredibly hard for me to listen to for this precise reason as this theme carries through. The record isn't one of sadness, however, but more of, "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die." It's about living fully because our time is limited. I don't usually shy away from these themes, but this isn't quite Emerson cavalierly writing,

“Just to fill the hour – that is happiness. Fill my hour, ye gods, so that I shall not say whilst I have done this ‘behold an hour of my life is gone,’ but rather ‘I have lived one hour.’”

There's a resignedness within Days that seems so poignant, so melancholy that I cannot get past it.

Here's to hoping for a cheerier topic tomorrow. After writing this it might be time for some whiskey and Morrissey.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 3 - Happy Happy Joy Joy

2011-11-03T16:19:00.001-04:00

Day 3: A song that makes you happy

Today’s prompt is a bit serendipitous since last weekend I began picking through my mp3 collection to make a playlist of upbeat songs – much like Barney’s get psyched mix.

That project taught me one thing about my happy songs: they are incredibly outnumbered by sad/angry songs. I have days upon days of music at this point and out of all that I’ll probably come up with a handful of hours of happy tunes. Though I’d wager that sort of distribution is the norm among music in general. Those negative emotions always seem to be the easiest to credibly relate to other people. Positive emotions are harder to channel without being cliché.

So, how do the happy songs do it? How are they able to elevate/change a mood?

Some do it by being deep and soulful. A warm blanket you can just wrap around your shoulders and lose yourself inside. Some do it by being cute and sweet, channeling sunshine and rainbows and puppy dogs and whatnot. Other songs bring the smile with a few anthemic, major power chords and sweet solos while others just make you want to dance forever.

Though they work in different ways these songs share the ability to make those bad times seem good and good times seem great.

For my money not many things turn shit to sugar quite like the Beatles’ 1969 album Abbey Road, and of the many life-brighteners on that record Ringo Starr’s “Octopus’ Garden” outshines the rest.

From the casually marching drums and bass to the neatly meandering guitar, this song is so comforting in its simplicity. It exudes a child-like innocence not unlike that Muppet Movie classic “Movin’ Right Along”. It’s a song that walks up, extends a hand, and says, “Relax, stop thinking, enjoy life.” Sometimes those are the happiest moments of all.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 2: A Bad Idea Wrapped in a Bad Song

2011-11-02T22:01:00.001-04:00

Day 2: Your Least Favorite Song

Ugh, another category based on picking one song out of many equally deserving candidates. There are a few difficulties particular to choosing a song for least favorite song. First and foremost it’s a choice that, by definition, should be hard to think of. Most songs that I find to be truly bad are songs that I won’t listen to enough times to stick in my memory. And what does “bad” mean, anyway? Terrible execution? Horrible song writing? Overuse of cliché? General douchitude?

When I was regularly reviewing music I believed that it was better to be spectacularly incompetent than forgettably boring. Practice can make you a better player, but true creativity can’t be learned. By this definition all of the worst songs I’ve ever heard are buried in the waste bin of music history, forgotten and unrecoverable.

But we’re not necessarily talking about “bad” songs when we talk about least favorite, are we? Something can be a least favorite without necessarily being the worst. Like a completely mediocre song that becomes mystifyingly popular to the point where it’s overplayed everywhere. Such force-feeding of an otherwise inoffensive song could certainly drive it into the realm of least-favoritism.

But what about a song that's boring, cliche, overplayed, douchey AND sports a general ideology that's completely irresponsible bordering on dangerous? What about a song that epitomizes a mindset that's as poisonous as it is cathartic and has led to ten years of disastrous decisions? Is that worth least-favorite status?

Why yes, Toby Keith, it is.

It's said that Keith wrote "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue" in 20 minutes, in late 2001, in reaction to both his father's death in March of that year and 9/11. It's certainly very emotional, and very personal to him and while the feelings he puts into it are understandable to a degree they are so, so misguided (at best.)

Though I graduated from high school in June 2001 I'd actually turned 18 too late to vote in the 2000 election. At that point I didn't have strong feelings politically, nor was I terribly informed about politics in general but after the World Trade Center attacks I got informed very fast. I wanted to find some kind of reason something so devastating could happen, some sign the kinds of changes it would bring going forward. Most places I turned for information in those early days, however, contained either shock or anger. Worse were the talk radio hosts who, in their hurt, proclaimed things like, "We need to bomb somebody for this. It doesn't matter who we bomb, we need to bomb somebody." Nobody knew how to deal with these events, nobody knew what to do in the face of the feelings of powerlessness that radiated from downtown Manhattan and the Pentagon.

And so we tracked the Taliban to Afghanistan and started bombing them wherever we found them. Still stunned, the pacifist in me felt our reaction was too fast, too knee-jerk and so I joined protests against the war. Months later I watched news footage of missile strikes in Baghdad. Nine years later we're still there. Thousands of American lives later. Millions of Iraqis and Afghanis later. Because we allowed our panic and our rage to lead us into action before we knew what we were doing, before we formulated a way to get ourselves out. We started bombing a lot of somebodies and the bombs are still falling.

Myriad Toby Keiths across the country wrapped themselves in words like freedom and images of the Statue of Liberty, bald eagles and Uncle Sam because they couldn't face the uncertainty of a world in which America was not invulnerable. And in their insecurity they shouted, "You'll be sorry you messed with the U. S. of A./ We'll put a boot in your ass it's the American way." And sharing those fears (and fearing for their jobs) a majority of Congress shouted it too. And America changed from the measured, compassionate, open society I'd grown up perceiving it as into a place that was divided, scared, irrational and dangerously aggressive.

Is any of this Toby Keith's fault? Of course not. He's not the source of all of the close-minded animus and fear-mongering that's gripped this country for a decade. His song is just a really good example of it.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 1 - One Song to Rule Them All

2011-11-01T13:54:00.002-04:00

So it’s November, and that means National Novel Writing Month. Instead of writing a novel I’ve decided to blog the 30-Day Song Challenge. I’ll not likely approach 50,000 words, so it’s not a direct replacement, but this is a little more interesting to me, and is more along the lines of the kind of writing I want to practice right now.

So, without further ado…

Day 1: Your Favorite Song

I’ve always found the concept of a “favorite song” to be kind of ludicrous – with the exception of songs that are tied specifically to a certain event or memory. First dance at your wedding, somehow playing in the background when your first child was born, etc. But such occurrences are rare. Seminal moments don’t happen very often and – outside of the first wedding dance which is usually a pretty deliberate choice that shows a prior connection to the song anyway – when they do happen the odds aren’t great that a song will happen to be playing, let alone a song you like.

In light of all of the possible great songs to pick from having one favorite has always seemed like an indicator that you’re not listening to enough songs. People are multifaceted, and if there’s a song that speaks equally to every aspect of anyone's personality I have not heard it.

And yet here I sit, trying to rifle through all of the possible #1s to find a single song to fit into this little online quiz. I’m not going to bother listing all of the possibles and will just skip to the pick of the day, which – I should point out – should not be taken as an accurate measure of my favorite song because that will change depending on my mood and which contender I’ve heard most recently. And because such a measure is stupid.

I picked this song for several reasons, not least of which being the fact that I love everything about it. I love its sparse simplicity, and how the heavy reverb emphasizes the song's cavernousness before the space is filled in by a fuzzy, dissonant, detached 90s guitar. I love the pace, and the metronome-steadiness of the high-hat which sets the stage for the impartial, analytical, naval-gazing lyrics. I love that the introspection is dispassionately delivered but is, at the same time, deeply personal.

At various times I’ll see myself as a scientist, solving problems logically and sifting through experience with fact to attempt to make sense of my own world, or as a journalist, trying to clearly communicate events or ideas. Sure I’m not handing out pills to anyone, but I like to think that I try to ease the pain of people close to me with a triple cocktail of booze, food and conversation, and anyone that knows me at all probably knows that I’ve been shooting myself with rock and roll steadily and in large volume for over a decade now.

While it’s not terribly emotionally impactful this song has a lot of utility for me. It calms me down when I’m feeling anxious or stressed. It centers me when I feel like I’m drifting in a direction I don’t like. It speaks to me clearly during the times I’m desperate for clarity.

Oh, and by the way, the song is Guided by Voices – "I am a Scientist".

Numbers and Letters/Admiral Fallow at Mercury Lounge 3/20/11

2011-03-22T22:26:00.000-04:00

When it comes to live music there are some bands that just 'get it'. Whether through superior musicianship, arrangement, sheer power of performance or some mix of all three a band will usually reveal early on if it's going to throw down with hot pyromantic fire or deliver something far more tepid and forgettable. There's a certain purity of sound, a clarity of mission, a transformative, magnetic rightness that drips like sweat from every pore.

On March 20 the Mercury Lounge was lucky enough to hose two such acts. Arriving freshly from the marathon of the SXSW music festival both Numbers and Letters and Admiral Fallow turned in wonderfully beautiful sets. The former spoke in tones of brooding, bluesy Americana while the latter delivered disarmingly accented Scottish folk.

The slow pace and frequent repetition of Numbers and Letters is not usually something I enjoy but frontwoman Katie Hasty made me a believer from the moment she opened her mouth. It wasn't her affable Midwestern charm that changed my mind (though the fact that she gave away home-made cookies didn't hurt) but more the unwavering conviction with which she sang. In front of the band's simple yet well-played melodies she projected absolutely everything she had in her. She reached down deep and poured emotion not just from her lips but from her heart, her guts, the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet. At one point the band faded back leaving her alone, supported only by her guitar and microphone stand; a devastating elemental force of yearning and heartbreak capturing every ear in the room. She even skillfully tackled Tom Waits' Chocolate Jesus.

Lesser groups would be worried about following such a performance. Thankfully Admiral Fallow is no lesser group. The Scots took the stage loose and smiling before launching into a set of pure, humble excellence. Lush, rolling melodies joined driving rhythms to push wave after wave of unassuming yet poignant snapshots of everyday life. Minute details were thrown into sharp relief as perfect expressions of jubilation, hope and yearning swirled together with six players on stage effortlessly moving as one. Each note, each strum, each breath was by itself only gently moving, but taken as a whole the music was tangible, thick, and wildly evocative. The group ran through it's entire catalog (including an Elbow cover) in its set + encore displaying a wide breadth of feeling that had every face smiling, every toe tapping and, occasionally, every eye watering.

And then, the next night, they did it again at The Way Station in Brooklyn. In a much more low key atmosphere, in front of a smaller yet similarly devoted crowd, on a Monday night two days before they were to head back to the UK Admiral Fallow came through once again with an achingly personal performance - lightened by frontman Louis Abbott's self-effacing charm. The venue was far more low-key and homey than at Mercury and the group, eschewing most of its drum kit and the lion's share of its amplification, proved that while greatness doesn't necessarily require volume it always, always, always demands passion. Thankfully it seems that passion is something this group is always able and willing to give.

Life, Love and A Fairytale of New York

2010-12-01T13:27:00.003-05:00

The holiday season seems to come earlier and earlier with Christmas sales even appearing before Thanksgiving this year. Everyone has their own touchtones for these early winter months. Black Friday, in November, is the official start of holiday shopping (as if that needed an official start) and for the next 30 days people will be flooding stores in search of some kind of perfect gift. Christmas trees (and menorahs) are going up, earnestly gaudy decorations are popping up on houses and in living rooms and red clothing is becoming relevant in even the most monochromatic of wardrobes. People in warm climates dream of snow while people in cold climates allow themselves to enjoy it at least through New Year's Day. While the sounds of Christmas are in large part dominated by Bing Crosby and Salvation Army charity bells, in my life no December is complete without one song: The Pogues classic "A Fairytale of New York".

This is not a song I ever sang in school. It's not one I've ever heard from a caroler's lips. But it is the most stirring holiday song I've ever encountered. It's full of nostalgia, longing, a sense of youthful adventure and tragic heartbreak - in short, the breadth of human experience. From its drunken, squalid beginnings in a jail cell on Christmas Eve the song is transported to a past relationship, yearning for the both the sweet fervor of beginning and the rocky agony of ending. Even more powerful than the particular story being told is the idea it expresses: that love and passion don't necessarily fade even though the relationship that spawned them might be irreparably destroyed. Shane McGowan wistfully singing, "I turned my face away and dreamed about you," promises that those feelings have life beyond the moment they are experienced and the song's final, haunting verse reveals through a painful exchange of bitterness and love that while the individual moments my only reside in the past the emotions will always be real.

Musically the song is just as stirring as its lyrics, from the slow, rolling intro sparsely featuring McGowan's gravelly croon over a simple piano to his interplay with strings, winds and Kirsty MacCall's sharp, rebellious vocal. My heart races with impetuous romance whenever I hear her sing, "When you first took my hand on that cold Christmas Eve/ You promised me Broadway was waiting for me" and is wrenched when she spits, "You scumbag, you maggot/ You cheap, lousy faggot/ Happy Christmas ya arse I pray God it's our last". Though the meaning of the chorus changes with every repetition the bombastic fanfare in its rise and fall gives me goosebumps. Every. Single. Time.

This is a carol that celebrates life in all facets, the high and the low. It revels in the stunning, whirlwind beauty of love and the piercing, gut-wrenching beauty of tragedy. The song isn't clean or innocent or full of child-like wonder like most associated with this time of year. Sure, those tunes are enjoyable in their own right. I've played in newly fallen snow, listened intently for the patter of hooves on my roof, and eaten chestnuts freshly-roasted on an open fire. No matter how heartwarming those memories are, however, I could go the rest of my life without hearing "Winter Wonderland" or "Frosty the Snowman". On the other hand I'd be surprised if I make it through the rest of today - or any day this month - without listening to, and being moved by, "A Fairytale of New York".

Girl Talk's "All Day" Doesn't Stack Up to his Yesterday

2010-11-22T19:55:00.000-05:00

A lot of words have already been written around the interwebs about what the new Girl Talk album, All Day, is. I'm going to start with a few things it's not.

It's not groundbreaking. It's not innovative. It's not astonishingly new.

In fact the more spins Gregg Gillis' recent work receives (including the two albums prior to this) the more glaring it becomes that he's just digitally recreating what a lot of great DJs have been doing for years. To say it's earth-shattering is to neglect the work done by Kool Keith (Dr. Octagon), Qbert and Shadow, and the complex mixes that Gillis has been lauded for are easily overshadowed by The Avalanches superb Since I Left You from 2000.

Granted, the novelty of Girl Talk isn't entirely based on his mixing skill. He's become famous largely for taking recognizable bits of iconic rock songs and mixing them in with hip-hop on a massive scale. Rock fans, through his work, are introduced to classic and club hip-hop through songs they've grown up knowing and loving. In this vein, though, All Day still isn't the most interesting piece in Gillis' own catalog. Feed the Animals from 2008 is far more fun and engaging using far more sound clips creating songs that sound more spry and organic. Its an album that creates the same club vibe but relies less on playing huge clips of actual hits. Some of the snippets heard on All Day are actually re-used from the previous record which furthers the impression of this album as a lesser reproduction. Even 2006's Night Ripper seems, to me, the more ambitious project as it isn't as beholden to club hits to create its beats. Biggie's "Juicy" played over Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" might be the best few seconds of work that Gillis has ever done. In light if this (lack of) progression even Gillis' early experimentations with glitch seem more intriguing.

Listening through this album for the first time is sort of like listening to the Ramones' End of the Century after already hearing and loving Rocket to Russia. The production is much cleaner and the techniques are essentially the same but the songs have lost some of their punch. Indeed, the fact that they are so similar to previous work, at some point, simply indicates an inability to grow further. Perhaps a more apt comparison would be to Green Day's Dookie. It's an album that stands on the shoulders of many previous giants and doesn't really build on the band's own work, but became a success precisely because the band's past record brought it to a critical mass of critical praise and underground awareness. It's not necessarily better than Kerplunk but it has undoubtedly cleaner production and it capitalized on Kerplunk's success to launch the trio into the popular consciousness.

This is all not to say that All Day - or End of the Century or Dookie - is a bad album. In fact, it's quite good. Gillis' transitions between clips are much smoother than past efforts and his penchant for instantly recognizable rock riffs with (mostly) club songs remains compelling. It's just a shame to see Gillis' next step after two excellent albums be a step sideways and back.

Joy Formidable at Bowery Ballroom 11-16-2010

2010-11-19T21:31:00.000-05:00

They are not YouTube sensations. They are not darlings of the indie blogosphere. But with a gigantic, cavernous sound, a simple, honest charm and earth-shaking rhythms the three members of The Joy Formidable are everything that's good about rock music.

The British trio finished their American tour at the Bowery Ballroom armed with an off-the-charts energy and enough fuzz and noise to blast the audience back to the early 90s. These tunes were more spry than their Seattle-launched predecessors, however, and grunge's melancholic shoe-gazing was replaced by a sense of euphoric revelry. The show wasn't so much a performance as a celebration and while the audience was pulled into the mass jubilation it was clear that nobody was having more fun than the three on stage. Matt Thomas, a mass of unkempt hair and flailing drumsticks, kept impossibly frenetic beats flying from his kit allowing pauses just long enough for listeners to catch their breath before diving into the next sonic whirlpool. The interplay between Rhydian Dafydd, playing the part of the enigmatic bass player, and the coy, sweet buzzsaw that was frontwoman Ritzy Bryan was adorable as the two long time friends played off of each other during and between songs. Dafydd's bass lines waltzed easily through the pillars of Bryan's gigantic riffs giving each enormously powerful song surprising agility.

While some bands construct songs though building tension and anticipation the Joy Formidable excel at creating successive and increasingly intense moments of release. They fashion moments of unbridled, unrestrained catharsis. They are a maelstrom of passion and intensity and, god, it is a blast getting lost in their storm.

They tore through most of the material from the band's mini-album A Balloon Called Moaning as well as new single "I Don't Want to See You Like This".

The group also unveiled the first single from next year's upcoming full-length Big Roar, the stark and haunting "Anemone".

The set ended with a nigh ten-minute rendition of "Whirring" that still seemed to end all too soon.

It would be easy to say The Joy Formidable are tailer made for anyone who spent the 90s listening to guitar heavy "alternative rock", or followers of the sharp guitars and sharper vocals of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or Sleater-Kinney. In truth, though, the band should appeal to anyone in love with fantastic rock and roll. It's a group that grabs hold of ears and hearts and limbs forcing each into realms of purely instinctual feeling. Perhaps most amazing of all they do it with smiles plastered across their faces and a desire to share them with anyone that will listen.

Neon Trees Are Terrible... in Awesomeness

2010-08-03T21:57:00.001-04:00

I want to hate Utah pop-punk outfit Neon Trees. I want to loathe this band with every ounce of taste I have. Their music is simply a conglomeration of every pop gimmick that's been popularized in rock music over the last ten years and the record lacks depth, soul and heart both musically and lyrically. There are songs on the band's debut, Habits that literally make me cringe. And yet... and yet there are moments on the record that approach pop perfection with dynamic rhythms, heroin-addictive hooks and beats so catchy they're practically pandemic.

Opener "Sins of My Youth" seems a direct musical rip from 2008's well-meaning but unrealized and annoying post-emo musical Razia's Shadow complete with forceful but non-evocative vocals trying to convey some emotion the vocal never delivers. It's a party song about regretting drugs and parties which, I suppose, is ironic but a sort of irony that is more irritating than clever. This flows into "Love and Affection" which fails to conjure anything close to either emotion with unimaginative melodies lifted from 2004 while "In the Next Room" would make Panic at the Disco wish someone really would close the Goddamn door so nobody would steal their vaudeville-meets-pop-punk shtick. With "Our War" the Forgive Durden circle is drawn to a close with a sedate, contemplative monologue preceding a mostly forgettable closer.

Despite all these issues, despite all these mediocre songs I cannot stop listening to this album. Why? Because of a four song stretch in the middle that makes for some of the best summer music of the year. "1983" is actually probably a stupid song, but as a 27 year-old my senses of the tune's flaws are obscured by nostalgia and its hooks piled upon hooks. "Girls and Boys in School" attacks with a high-hat and snare good enough to fill out the playlist at most indie-rock dance parties in 2006 while "Your Surrender" is a jumping, pounding, pogo-ing anthem of who-cares-what-because-this-chorus-is-so-fun.

None of this would be able to salvage the record, however, without "Animal" which is, I have to say, is an almost perfect pop song. It's nimble and agile, subtle pauses leading into quick, entrancing movements. It has hooks, sing-a-longs, and just enough 2001 garage-rock affect to temper the singer's over-indulgent vocal. The result is a hot, hot, hot song that if their label marketed it smartly, would be an instant mainstream hit. It's exuberance and youth bottled and rendered in 0s and 1s.

Habits spends most of its time mimicking sounds of the band's successful predecessors and in many cases the failings of the songs are more failings of the source than of Neon Trees. When the band hits on something good, however, it's fucking electric.

Vinyl Exams: The National and Broken Social Scene

2010-05-15T20:57:00.004-04:00

The National's High Violet and Broken Social Scene's Forgiveness Rock Record will likely be remembered as two of the better albums of 2010. Aside from the two dropping in the same month, these releases share several common traits. Both are lush, rich and deep. Both come from bands that have a several album history of excellent music. And both boast fantastically packaged vinyl versions to the tune of 180-gram double-LPs.

High Violet comes shrink-wrapped with a sticker annoyingly attached to the flimsy plastic. I personally can't stand keeping shrink-wrap on a record, usually opting to buy heavier plastic sleeves. Luckily it does seem that the sticker - which is mostly ad copy, but cool looking ad copy - is easily removable and transferable.

The front cover carries a grey background and is adorned with a multicolored, cursive, shadowed rendering of Pope Pious IX's quote defending the dogma of the immaculate conception:

If, therefore, any persons shall dare to think - which God forbid - otherwise than has been defined by us, let them clearly know that they stand condemned by their own judgement, that they have made shipwreck of their faith and fallen from the unity of the Church.

The band's name stands on its side as does the name of the album, inset with foil.

The back cover is a bright purple with white text. The album name once again appears in foil inset.

As this is a double-disc the packaging is actually a gate-fold with the inside spread including the liner notes and a black and white picture of the Dressler brothers, Aaron and Brian.

The sleeve of the first disc (sides 1 and 2) is bright purple on the front with the word "HIGH" written in large white letters. The back features a black and white picture of Bryan Devendorf. A small, easy to miss slip with a digital download code is inserted along with the first disc. The sleeve of disc two (sides 3 and 4) is colored bright purple like the first with the word "VIOLET" in large white lettering. On the back appears a picture of Matt Berninger and Scott Devendorf.

Those lucky enough to have struck early enough to get a numbered, limited edition copy of this album will find that their records are a deep violet and are slightly translucent (hard to see in the picture.)

The High Violet package is exact, concrete and remarkably attentive to detail. The violet/white trim color scheme permeates the entire release with the exceptions of the stylized black and white band photos.

Forgiveness Rock Records comes pre-packaged in the kind of heftier plastic liner that I prefer, which is good since the band and album names are imprinted on the plastic and not on the actual record cover. The front cover art consists of a splice of several different pictures including a crowd scene, a city-scape, a field of flowers, a boat and various kinds of sky. Bisecting the images is a wide cone of light shining upward.

The back cover features a picture of a large, paint-brushed color splotch.

The inside spread sees the album's lyrics hand-scrawled in the background with a mountain range superimposed over the top. This is more art than functional lyric sheet since each half is once again bisected by a white column with a track list and producer's credits.

The front of the disc 1 sleeve is simply the album title drawn in smudged pen and enlarged. This spare presentation could seem anti-climactic but actually conveys a very personal touch. The back of the sleeve reproduces doodles of the various band-members. The disc 2 sleeve has more doodles on the front though the back is the star. As BSS has so many members performing so many different functions within each song, the back of the second sleeve features liner notes and itemized musician credits for each individual song.

The final impression the album leaves is one of incredible creativity but also of deep intimacy. It's just as careful and purposeful as High Violet but evokes a more riotous, frenetic feeling, much like BSS' music compared to The National.

The packaging in both cases is meticulous, reflecting the ethos of each band and each group's musical style. Clearly a lot of thought and love went into these, which is fitting considering the quality of the songs contained within.

In Defense of Fans of Bland

2010-04-21T13:31:00.001-04:00

When I woke up Tuesday morning I heard a voice. At first I couldn't place it; it was a voice I hadn't heard in years. It fought with my blaring alarm clock for my attention, and when my flailing hand finally hit the snooze it came through clearly. Sitting up in my empty bedroom I heard the smooth tones or Rob Thomas in my head as he sang, "she said I don't know if I've ever been good enough..."

The lines bounced around my brain while I cooked breakfast, showered and commuted to work until, unable to hold back any longer, I spent a large part of the morning time-traveling back to high school. Matchbox 20 wasn't a band I loved, but it was a band that made a few songs that I loved. I navigated my spreadsheets and e-mails that morning to the tune of Push, 3am, and If You're Gone and marveled that ten years later I still knew a lot of the words. Not only that, I found myself still liking the songs despite not liking the band anymore and despite knowing that if they came out now I would more likely than not dismiss them. Listening to the tunes again, though, I was unable to disassociate the songs from what I felt when I first enjoyed them.

I wonder now how some of the bands that shaped my late adolescence would fare with critical, curmudgeonly, 27 year-old me had I never heard them in the first place. This Brooklynite doesn't feel the same longing for escape and frustration with his surroundings that made Less Than Jake's "History of a Boring Town" - and the rest of Hello Rockview for that matter - so essential to the Ohio-rooted 17 year-old I was. I can't say whether the angst-filled earnestness that made The Get Up Kids' Something to Write Home About so compelling in 1997 would strike the same chords now without being played on decade old strings.

How much are our feelings for the bands that we love tied to who we were when we first heard them? More importantly, does this make our taste suspect - a product of our situation and environment more than our ear? Or does it just make our relationship with music that much more beautiful and personal?

As someone who's never wanted to level judgment at someone for liking (what I think is) a terrible band I'd have to say the latter. When it comes to music feeling is king. While originality, skill and emotion can often feed into that if a crap song comes along at the right time in someone's life then that song will be playing in their heads for the rest of their life. And while blogs like this can always try to ensure people happen upon songs like "For Me This is Heaven", if it ends up being "I Want it That Way" who is anybody to really judge?

Bands can be picked apart and musicians can be critiqued, but when it comes to fans sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. Most people will call that a "guilty pleasure" but I say that when it comes to music no pleasure should be guilty. I'll blast my stereo to Arcade Fire and Kelly Clarkson with equal pride because who cares what anybody else thinks of it? When it comes to music cool is bullshit, approval means nothing and Rob Thomas is invited to my iTunes any time I feel like it.

Third Annual Record Store Day This Saturday, April 17

2010-04-16T13:43:00.000-04:00

In 2008, after the first record store day, I wrote a piece on the continual value of record stores with regard to music. As a meeting place, a communal resource and a stockpile of very old, very analog sensory perceptions these storefronts remain a vital part of musical culture.

Record Store Day began as a way to celebrate and revitalize the rich tradition of the music repository, the brick-and-mortar, the mom-and-pop. I've gone out and spent far too much on both previous Record Store Days and I happily anticipate a repeat this year.

I think you should, too.

Check out the Record Store Day Web site for participating locations. Several shops are hosting in-store performances by nationally known acts so check ahead to see if any can't-miss happenings are happening nearby. There will also be several RSD-exclusive released including a Bon Iver/Peter Gabriel split 7" where they cover each other's songs.

To commemorate the event Carrie Brownstein - formerly of Sleater-Kinney, currently one of the best music writers around - published a little questionnaire on her NPR blog Monitor Mix. Follow the link for her answers, read below for mine.

Q: What was the first independent record store that shaped, inspired or merely catered to your musical tastes? (If you've never set foot inside an indie record store, I urge you to head to one on Saturday and see what you've been missing!)

A: Chris' Warped Records, formerly located on Madison Ave in Lakewood, Ohio. For 20 years this was THE store in Cleveland. It traded in punk, hardcore and ska, hosted in-store shows and sold tickets to shows at local clubs. It was one of the linchpins of the Cleveland scene, but sadly is no more.

Q: What was the first album that changed your life?

A: Metallica's Ride the Lightning was the first album I loved and Blink182's Damnit was the first album to get me to love something that wasn't metal. Less Than Jake's Hello Rockview, though, was probably the first album that really hit home. The themes of dissatisfaction and anxiety over the future came around at just the right time, just when I needed them.

Q: What is one of the most prized albums or singles in your collection?

A: In February of 2003 I bought my first issue of Punk Planet magazine - mostly because of the name - and the cover story was a three part interview with the members Jawbreaker. I'd never heard the band before but based on reading the article, and the description of the band's influence, I was very interested in giving them a listen. One month later I was visiting New York for the first time and my sister took me to Generation Records in Greenwich Village where I found, among other things, 24 Hour Revenge Therapy. It instantly became one of my favorite albums and remains so to this day.

Press Play on Hey Marseilles - To Travels and Trunks

2010-04-11T17:25:00.001-04:00

While festivals like Lollapalooza, Bonaroo and Coachella get a lot of hype year after year for their huge line-ups of headlining talent it's the weeklong events of CMJ and SXSW that routinely capture my imagination. While the big, sprawling weekend extravaganzas offer the opportunity to see scores of huge names on one bill the small-club marathons in New York and Austin allow extremely talented, criminally overlooked acts to make a leap to the national stage. CMJ 2007 yielded one such gem in the form of a solo act armed with an acoustic guitar and a set of cracked, heartbreaking pipes. This intriguing find was none other than Bon Iver, who of course went on to explode in the indie world, even capturing the attention of Peter Gabriel.

I haven't been similarly blown away by anything at these two festivals in the two and a half years since, until SXSW 2010 yielded the Seattle folk orchestrations of Hey Marseilles. The band's full-length To Travels and Trunks - written in 2008 to be re-released this June - blew me away from the first listen of the first track.

The arrangements on the album are amazing, navigating the space between simple folk rhythms and sophisticated orchestral flourishes. Constant, steady guitar riffs press steadily onward as various strings and horns flit in and out of their path. As a violin fades, a trumpet takes its place in a series of crescendos filled out by booming percussion. It's an album of grand constructions that nevertheless gets all the little things right.

The record is a chronicle of wanderlust; an ode to exploration and braving uncharted experiences. To the tune of hand claps and light, ambitious strings the irrepressible "Rio" reads like an instruction manual on how to jump headfirst into possible disaster for the mere chance at unforgettable adventure. The band sings, "I will go where the days left to breathe are not gone; are still long. I am traveling on." For those taking the leap the marching drumbeats and triumphant guitars of "Hold the Morning" promise, "We will sing to the thunder. Clap as the earth shakes."

Inherent in any hunger for newness, of course, is a restlessness with the status quo. The soft guitar picking of "Cannonballs" lays down a soft launching pad to explore this stir-crazy anxiety. "These days are not fast. Times will not last, so they say, but I'm having trouble believing." The message repeats in the waltz-like rise and fall of "From a Terrace" which calls out, "Routine is rapidly pounding her post, can't you stay in the moment that needs you the most?"

There is no fear of consequence on this record; rather an idea that failure and loss are but steps on the way to something greater. "You Will Do for Now" states in a voice full of realized mistakes and insecurity that no matter how bad today is there is always tomorrow and, "Regret won't keep the sun from the sea."

Throughout the record Hey Marseilles strives to show off the stunning elegance of intrepid risk-taking, whether it be the heady thrill of success or the poignant melancholy of failure. This is no more apparent than in album stand-out "Calabasas". In past years both the Arcade Fire and LCD Soundsystem have used a technique that involved repeating musical phrases but adding to them with each repetition. Each time through instruments and layers of complexity piled on resulting in an incredibly multi-textured and evocative sound. "Rebellion (Lies)" uses this affect to create a grand sense of drama and exuberance while "All My Friends" channels a tremendous sense of isolated longing. "Calabasas" uses this to draw scenes of gentle, stunning beauty.

It begins with a recurring guitar riff supporting simple lines like, "Take what you need from the words I leave from the windowsill in blue concrete." Soon enough a gentle violin comes in bowing a gentle melody and the pair are quickly joined by a booming bass drum. Backing vocals, keyboards, a cello and an accordion all in turn slide in to fill out the sound underneath a lead vocal delivering the same few lines over and over again. Elements slowly fade out and fade back in creating a gentle ebb and flow that builds into a minute and a half long strikingly graceful instrumental interlude. The intensity picks up to crashing cymbals and the vocals cut back in leading a grandiose crescendo to a moving, intense climax and a coda that finishes back with the simple guitar that opened the piece. It's an arresting, picturesque love song that conjures more meaning with five lines than a lot of bands do in an entire album.

The song is a grand gesture, an exclamation point in the middle of the record and an early entrant for song of the year.

With To Travels and Trunks Hey Marseilles have crafted an earnest, absolutely gorgeous album that displays not only skilled songwriting but also heartfelt lyricism. While the vocals sometimes skew too tender they are generally compelling and when paired with the record's fantastic musicianship result in some of the most moving pieces of music in recent memory. The album is a must-listen, and for any lucky enough to be in the tour path the band is a must-see.

New Legislation Would Be a Few More Nails in Radio's Coffin

2010-04-05T20:52:00.002-04:00

NPR recently reported that President Obama supports legislation that would charge AM and FM radio stations royalties to labels and artists, presumably in place of terrestrial radio paying ASCAP fees.

On the surface this seems like a pretty innocuous move - supported by struggling artists like Tony Bennett, Cheryl Crow and "Money is a drug and MCs are on it" will.i.am - but really it looks to me like just another way the majors are trying to exert control over the musical marketplace and squeeze the last few cents out of their business model before it shrivels up and dies. The royalty rate hikes in 2007 nearly crippled Internet radio and this system would do the same to terrestrial indie stations.

Radio stations that play anything other than Top 40, classic rock or country tend to be locally owned businesses that aren't exactly raking in the cash. New fees on top of operating expenses and the tightening ad budgets of this economy will force most of these stations to run in the red or go under. Sure Crow and the Black Eyed Peas love this move. Their music gets played on Clear Channel stations all over the country, and with these kinds of laws Clear Channel will be one of the few companies able to pay the increased royalties.

But what kind of landscape does this leave us with? The same six songs on every channel played on loop every hour?

Artists deserve to get paid for their work. This is a fact. But moves like this are akin to artists poisoning the well that they drink from. How many small bands thrive on airplay? How often are record sales driven by a first listen on the radio or on a Web site? When up-and-coming bands would kill for the kind of listenership a medium-sized radio station - even in 2010 - commands, how does it make sense to claim that the radio stations are the only ones benefiting?

Musicians and radio stations - both online and terrestrial - should have a symbiotic relationship. When one thrives, both thrive. By increasing royalty fees on what is in essence radio stations advertising their product, the major labels - who not even ten years ago were found guilty of paying stations in exchange for increased radio airplay - are killing an essential source of musical distribution.

Is this the brave new world the online frontier promised young musicians? Not too long ago writers were tripping over themselves to declare the playing field level since now any artist with a guitar and a Myspace account could be discovered and make it big. Now OKGo, a band made famous by YouTube, isn't even allowed to embed their own music videos on their own Web site.

Make no mistake. The major labels would prefer it if customers bought music based on nothing but traditional advertising campaigns and album art. No advanced listens, no peer reviews, no refunds, no returns.

YouTube Tuesday: PS22

2010-03-30T09:16:00.001-04:00

This New York Public School has become an Internet sensation. There really is nothing like a children's chorus rendition of a pop song to tug at the heartstrings and the way these kids throw themselves into these songs with such earnestness is quite moving.

I first heard their sweet tones in their cover of Phoenix's Lisztomania which provides a more sweeping and grand take than the high energy original. The looks on the kids' faces as they sing is transformative. Watching their slick moves during Lady Gaga's Just Dance never fails to bring a smile to my face and watching this grainy rendition of Aretha Franklin's Respect always drops my jaw.

Picking a favorite of them all isn't easy, but in the end it comes down to two:

Part of the popularity of these videos is probably due to the novelty of watching children sing these radio songs. But on top of that these young performers add a sense of wonder and innocence to everything they sing. There's an inspired and inspiring purity in these arrangements that's infinitely compelling.

Hat's off to the PS22 chorus and to their amazing choir leader for tapping something magical in these kids and for sharing it with all of us.

Check out the chorus' YouTube channel for more videos.

With Congratulations MGMT Makes Strides in Distribution of Music, If Not in Music Itself

2010-03-22T20:55:00.004-04:00

These days whenever an album leaks it's usually amid concerns of an impending lawsuit from the RIAA or a DMCA take-down notice. The modern (major label) music industry hasn't been all that accepting of new media in recent years, evidenced by EMI curtailing the distribution of music videos online or the label's repeated litigation against Dangermouse. It comes as a pleasant surprise, then, that when MGMT - signed to Columbia/Sony - found out the new album leaked the band decided to stream the entire thing.

The statement on the Web site reads:

Hey everybody, the album leaked, and we wanted you to be able to hear it from us. We wanted to offer it as a free download but that didn't make sense to anyone but us.

While it may not be surprising that a young band "gets" internet distribution of music, this represents quite a step forward at the very least. The phrase "that didn't make sense to anyone but us" implies that the band actually took this idea to its label and that the label agreed, at least to the idea of the free stream. For a major to agree to free streaming of an album before the official release date is a very promising baby step towards a realization of how promising online channels can be.

Radiohead and NIN had to release their albums on their own to experiment with online marketing and though indie labels have been testing these waters for years the majors haven't shown very many signs of budging. With EMI, one of the slowest to adapt to the new digital marketplace, mortgaging its back catalog its about time the other labels looked to harness the internet's potential instead of trying to close Pandora's Box.

The album itself is mostly unremarkable. Most of the tracks are mid-tempo and aimless, without any real energy or drive. The majority of the album plays like really good background music that sounds nice but doesn't have much behind its pleasant, shiny exterior. The two exceptions are fourth track - and album standout - "Flash Delirium" and the record's finishing title track. The former begins with quite a hip electronic intro before kicking into the dance-friendly hard beats that made the band famous. The song has the heartfelt exuberance that made "Kids" one of the best songs of 2007. "Congratulations" backs off from the aloof affect that possesses much of the rest of the record. The warm acoustic guitar is soft and inviting and the spare arrangements of the track provide a touching end to an album that otherwise keeps the listener at arms length.

Though the end product may not have been stellar, Congratulations represents a brighter future for the music industry. If the Big Four (soon to be Big Three?) can build on this they might just survive this new millennium after all.

Vampire Weekend Tops Billboard and I Say... Meh

2010-01-20T21:52:00.001-05:00

Apparently Vampire Weekend's sophomore effort, Contra, has charted at the top of the Billboard 200. When I first heard this news I tried to muster some indignation but really, I can't bring myself to care. I've been aware of VW for almost three years and have been indifferently shrugging my shoulders about the group for two of them.

My issue with Vampire Weekend was never that I disliked the band. It was that so many people thought they were the next great thing, and I couldn't get together enough feeling to care either way. They make some nice, fun little pop tunes, sure. There's a place for that. But I thought most if not all of the hype surrounding them was incredibly overblown.

Clearly my dire prognostications from March 2008 did not come to pass, and VW has survived the blogosphere's comical backlash and spared themselves the fate of Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah. While that's good for them, that doesn't really change my opinion. They still make nice little forgettable pop tunes that are easy to listen to - which is good for them since the Flaming Lips have made quite a career of that - but I still don't see the big deal.

I can't really say my opinions tend to follow the charts, though. Looking at the best-selling albums of the year in the U.S. I own a grand total of one from the past 20 years.

I suppose it's good for "indie-rock" (a term that was only descriptive for a few years last decade) that an independent release has hit the top of the Billboard charts. It's a sign of the times that you don't necessarily need the marketing arm of a major to chart. You just need a thousand over-eager bloggers jumping too quickly to anoint the next king of the hill. Easy, right?

Gorillaz Return With a Macabre Blast from the Past

2010-01-20T21:24:00.001-05:00

It shouldn't be news anymore that the Gorillaz are finally returning with a new album, one Plastic Beach. The first single, "Stylo", moves like a Tim Burton review of the last 30 years of music. A recurring disco riff plays underneath a dark 80s synth-pop beat. Shit gets real at 3:17 when none other than Mos Def drops some lines hard.

The album is due out on March 8th and the full tracklist follows:

01 "Orchestral Intro" (featuring Sinfonia ViVA)
02 "Welcome To The World Of The Plastic Beach" (feat. Snoop Dogg & Hypnotic Brass Ensemble)
03 "White Flag" (feat. Kano, Bashy & The National Orchestra For Arabic Music)
04 "Rhinestone Eyes"
05 "Stylo" (feat. Bobby Womack & Mos Def)
06 "Superfast Jellyfish" (feat. Gruff Rhys & De La Soul)
07 "Empire Ants" (feat. Little Dragon)
08 "Glitter Freeze" (feat. Mark E Smith)
09 "Some Kind Of Nature" (feat. Lou Reed)
10 "On Melancholy Hill"
11 "Broken"
12 "Sweepstakes" (feat. Mos Def & Hypnotic Brass Ensemble)
13 "Plastic Beach" (feat. Mick Jones & Paul Simonon)
14 "To Binge" (feat. Little Dragon)
15 "Cloud Of Unknowing" (feat. Bobby Womack and Sinfonia ViVA)
16 "Pirate Jet"

Flotation Walls: If You Haven't Heard Them, You Haven't Heard Anything Yet

2010-01-20T15:36:00.004-05:00

I have seen a lot of live music. I've ventured to sprawling outdoor festivals and tiny basement home shows. Huge arenas, smoky bars and places with enough exposed wiring to warrant serious concerns about fire safety. This usually involves wading through waves of mediocrity in the hope that, while sifting through grains of underwhelming talent and skewed vision, at least one bright gem will emerge.

For most music fans this search for the Good Show, at one time or another during our lives, becomes an obsession. We stalk our favorite bands hoping to hear our favorite songs given new dynamic life; the audiophiles that bothered to show up before the headliner standing in expectant judgment of the openers. We spend evenings at small clubs daring unknowns to impress us, to give us a reason to have another beer or stay past our friends' set.

Signs of a Bad Show usually make themselves known early and often with unready groups showing little direction and little sense of their own aesthetic. Whether tentatively tip-toeing through their songs or wildly flailing about without a clue how the different parts of their music should interact - a syndrome that occurs in more than a few headliners of national tours - these sour notes make the eventual discovery of a Good Show all the sweeter.

On January 16th at the Bushwick Music Studios the brilliantly anarchic Eskalators played a very good show. They didn't play with precision, but with an earnest exuberance that was at once invigorating, infectious and insanely addictive. The band was the spirit of ska blended with the irrepressible euphoria of Tilly and the Wall and the unpretentious fervor of Matt and Kim. Their 15 players dolled up in homemade costumes freewheeled through the set with one thing keeping them from being the far and away best band of the night: they happened to play with a group that was a force of nature.

Flotation Walls took the stage in a room of people that had never heard them play a note but before the end of their first song they had the entire audience eagerly hanging on their every chord progression. The Walls were displaying their acoustic arrangement on this tour and their simple set up of acoustic guitar, vibraphone, violin, stand-up base and floor tom still managed to create gigantic, dramatically shifting soundscapes. Before the end of their first song, "Sperm and Egg", every eye was turned to them and every ear was tuned to them. As the show progressed rapt listeners stomped along, memorized and sang back choruses, and joined the band as they ended the set - to the foreboding "Worms" - in a collective, cacophonous chant.

In that tiny club for those 45 minutes the four Walls were not only the center of attention, but the center of a community that they created, that was born of the expression of their art and that lived in each singalong and each raucous cheer.

Their sound, both live and recorded, is robust, deep and, for lack of a better word, complete. The bass and drums lay out a solid foundation and a huge, cavernous architecture which is filled in by myriad disparate yet complementary melodies played on any mix of guitar, violin, vibraphone and accordion. And while the instrumentations are truly wonderful they aren't even the best part; the group's vocal harmonies are the element that no other band even approaches in quality.

It's quite amazing how four (sometimes five) people on the road can simulate the 25+ people that played on their debut, Nature, but the live arrangements are equally compelling, exhibiting a dichotomy between pinpoint precision and unbridled release. It's this dual nature (ha) that truly sets the band apart, making them equally intellectually and emotionally compelling. Every booming percussive melody is met by a dynamic, fleetfooted response; every showcase of technical mastery is offset by a furious, dissonant crash. Moments of soft, contemplative beauty turn instantly into menacing, eviscerating, and sometimes even celebratory eruptions of sound.

In their last year of touring Flotation Walls have refined their vision, as evidenced by their fantastic Flophouse Session in Boston. Their unified voice is commanding and clear; completely defined and fully realized. Rest assured that any search for the fabled Great Show will begin and end any place the Walls are playing and anyone even close to the band's tour path would do well to plant themselves firmly on the route.

Music as an industry and as an organism revolves around a lot of different people. Artists, certainly, but also promoters, club owners, critics (and would-be critics), and myriad others. Before we did anything else, however, we started out as fans. And it's bands like Flotation Walls that made us fans in the first place.

YouTube Tuesdays: Naj Me Tender

2010-01-19T19:55:00.001-05:00

Clicking around YouTube, it's become apparent to me that it's a "thing" on YouTube for cute girls to cover Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" on ukulele. While I'll occasionally take a dim view on Internet memes I'm glad this one turned up because it led me to YouTube's NajMeTender.

The Singaporean singer has been a YouTube user for about a year and a half recording covers (and a couple of originals) on ukulele and melodica, and singing her own harmonies. Her sound editing is actually quite good and the songs come out (mostly) seamless with the occasional lapse in lipsynching - that is, lipsynching to herself during little dance interludes. Her voice is lilting in the range of Ingrid Michaelson with most of her videos possessing an endearing, adorable quirkiness.

How can anyone not like a cute Asian girl covering The Cure:

Sungha Jung and his Amazing Guitar Licks

2009-11-19T13:34:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure where I've been for the past two years but Korean preteen Sungha Jung has been on YouTube showing off some of the most wicked guitar work I've ever seen.

Clearly a guitar prodigy, Jung has made quite a reputation for himself playing striking arrangements of pop hits playing both the rhythm and the melody through his one guitar - even if the song was originally meant for two guitars and a singer.

It's truly hard to pick a favorite as each piece is not only ridiculously skillfully played, but also very thoughtfully arranged. His steady "California Dreamin'", his re-imagining of "No Woman No Cry" from 2007 and his perfect reproduction of "The Boxer" from 2008 have been among my favorites. His latest video, an amazingly intricate picking of "Isn't She Lovely" immediately rose to the near top of the list however my favorite video still has to be his 2007 video of "All Along the Watchtower". Enjoy:

Farewell Myspace Music, We Knew Thee... Kind Of

2009-11-13T20:22:00.000-05:00

According to TechCrunch the free streaming service Myspace Music will soon be heading for a pay model.

I'll be honest here, before I read this story I'd never even heard of Myspace Music and had no idea what it was. I hadn't touched my Myspace profile in years. It seems that the service is little more than a year old and, at least at first, sported some very ambitious ideas. It was to be a cross between imeem and the iTunes music store in that people could make playlists and stream any number of major label music tracks and while users could pay per download to purchase the songs the lion's share of revenue was to come from advertising. The problem lay in the fact that Myspace Music is bleeding money in the form of royalties to the major music labels and its ad revenue, due to the fact that nobody uses Myspace anymore, is not sufficient to keep the service afloat. It's hard to believe that a paid subscription model will save the offshoot as having to pay for something doesn't seem like it would attract a userbase that is already fleeing.

On the bright side, this probably won't affect the streaming on normal Myspace profiles, contrary to Prefix's misreading of the situation. Any band that wants to put their own music on the site will still be able to do so, and people will be able to listen to it for free. Really, this is the only thing that makes Myspace worthwhile at all.

Wyclef Jean Returns to the Streets

2009-11-13T19:52:00.000-05:00

In a recent interview on Prefix 'Clef expounds on how his new album, From the Hut, to the Projects, to the Mansions will return to his roots:

It comes from the era when I was coming up, and the mixtape was how music got out there. From the Hut, to the Projects, to the Mansions is recorded in that style. It’s beat driven with pure spitting over it.

Interestingly enough, part of the inspiration for the back-to-rapping feel of the record was a fan approaching him on the street and being disappointed he wasn't will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas - ironically another musician who has gotten away from songs that are, well, good.

The first video from the record, "Streets Pronounce Me Dead", highlights the central theme of the album: 'Clef resurrecting the style from his earlier music after "the streets" claim he's grown too far from where he started. The song is very reminiscent of Lupe Fiasco's The Cool with spare, steady beats over a husky, coarse, straightforward delivery. Check it:

Chamillionaire Strikes Back at Haters

2009-11-11T18:57:00.000-05:00

Though it remains to be seen who is actually worse off after listening to the song - the haters or the innocent bystanders that had the misfortune of listening to it. The video itself is interesting enough, with little pop-ups highlighting the spoils of his career, showing off his "bling" and letting everyone know how "balla" he is.

The song, however, is crap. You have to be pretty cheeky to sample Tom Petty at all, let alone his most notable work, "Free Fallin". I mean, seriously, this is one of the most beloved songs in American rock music. If you're going to drop a beat onto it, it'd better be good. Chamillionaire, however, brings weak sauce and the lyrics he spits over top aren't much better, all corn and cheese. Ironically I guess this post makes me a hater, and as such this song was meant for me. So take a listen as Chamillionaire tells me good morning and smiles his way to the bank.