Archive for 2010

Mirah “Gone Are All The Days (Disco Mix)”

Mirah’s first few versions of “Gone Are All The Days” were stark and simple, with her voice and rhythm suggesting something bigger and deeper without filling in much space. There’s a charm to that sort of minimalism, but I feel like in the case of this song, the full-on punk-disco approach is far more effective. Even still, as much as the song has been filled-out, it’s still tight and spare, with a clear aesthetic debt to the Gossip in their tense-yet-danceable mode. They could go further — I could definitely hear this with disco strings and a bit of piano for color — but that would lighten it up, and I think the sweetness and smoothness of Mirah’s voice is flattered by the contrast of this rigid yet pulsing arrangement.

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Magic Kids “Phone Song”

Magic Kids aren’t the type of band to reinvent the wheel of sunshine pop. Think of them more like artisans invested in crafting very fine wheels of sunshine pop. They’re a deliberate and welcome anachronism; if this was food you’d probably find them at a nice farmer’s market or upscale specialty grocery. “Phone Song” is immediately familiar, and there are probably dozens of oldies that sound almost the same, but there’s a charm in their adaptation of an old timey songwriting recipe, and a quality in how they put it all together. It’s cute and lovely, and though that’s not always enough, it’s fine enough here.

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Curren$y “Audio Dope II”

Curren$y has one of those voices that seems as though it could’ve been genetically engineered for the purposes of rap — he need not even work too hard on rhymes to make his words come out sounding smooth, seductive, and musical. You can hear echoes of Snoop Dogg and Pusha T in his delivery, but he’s certainly his own man. I quite like the way his verses have this sticky quality, as though every line coats the beat like a slow drip of honey. The music for “Audio Dope II” suits this quality perfectly — the resonance of his voice seems to slick up this rhythmic loop that grinds like gears, and the bright tonality complements his dark, nearly monochromatic cadences.

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Deerhunter “Revival”

There’s been a long tradition in Christian pop of songs with lyrics that could just as easily be about God/Jesus or some wonderful boyfriend. Bradford Cox seems to be toying with that ambiguity in “Revival,” a brief, tightly composed yet gentle tune about being saved that mostly conveys a sense of hard-earned relief. As usual, Cox plays the passive character — he’s been through some horrible times, but he’s found someone who sets him at ease. At the end, Cox sings “darkness always, it doesn’t make much sense,” and that’s the point really. It doesn’t matter how he found his way out, only that he knows enough to let go of his misery and loneliness.

Visit the website for Deerhunter’s Halcyon Digest.

Earth, Wind & Fire “September”

“September” is the kind of song that I had known pretty much my entire life but could never place. It wasn’t identified for me until just recently, and even that didn’t really stick with me. Oh, that’s Earth, Wind & Fire? Okay. It’s actually called “September”? Huh. Now it’s stuck in my head forever. There are two reasons: Most obviously, this is one of the most ridiculously catchy songs ever penned. Every moment of it is a glee-inducing earworm; each part of the composition has a legitimate claim for being the best bit. (My favorite could be the horn fanfare that punctuates the chorus. But please, don’t make me choose.) More personally, I’m just not ever going to forget Vicky’s face as this song — one of her favorites ever, more or less her personal anthem, the thing she blasts to counter the noise of her “DJ” neighbor — played on a jukebox, a total surprise to her. She looked so totally happy that her expression was cartoonish in its cheeriness. Dancing in her seat, smiling and mouthing the words, completely within the song. I’ve seen this sort of thing before, with her and others, but there’s just something so profound to me about witnessing someone love a piece of art so intensely, so purely, so fully. It’s one of the most beautiful things I can think of, and now it’s what I picture when I hear this song: Perfect adorable totally unselfconscious ecstasy.

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Pavement @ Pitchfork Music Festival, 7/18/2010

Cut Your Hair / In The Mouth A Desert / Silent Kid / Kennel District / Shady Lane / Frontwards / Unfair / Grounded / Debris Slide / Spit On A Stranger / Range Life / Perfume-V / Trigger Cut / Fin / Stereo / Two States / Gold Soundz / Conduit For Sale! / Stop Breathin’ / Here / The Hexx

Pavement “Unfair”

I don’t know how to write about seeing my favorite band for the first time in over a decade in any sort of critical way. Any critical part of my brain was shut off during this set, it was all just a blur of glee, love, fandom, and an emotional bond with all of this music that goes beyond reason. I was freaking out through most of this show. I’d be embarrassed to see footage of myself, especially during “Unfair.” But it was like…a religious experience, maybe? Like what it could be to go be a devout person finally going to a holy land, or maybe it’s more like saying your prayers in the company of the very people who penned them. Maybe I’m overstating it, maybe I’m not. I think that more than any other music, this is the music that is the most a part of the fabric of who I am, and this was a hugely enjoyable and possibly profound thing for me. That’s about as close as I can get to explaining this.

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Owen Pallett “Midnight Directives”

This is a brilliant composition, the sort of piece that is urgent in tone, yet reveals itself upon repeated listening. The melody swoops and soars, but its a rather chilly sort of bombast — it’s a drama of intense thought, not physicality. I find myself often rewinding and going back over that final climax in the vocal section, just before the instrumental resolution: “For a man can be bought, and a man can be sold / and the price of a hundred thousand unwatered souls…” In context, that bit sounds defiant, thrilling, and terrifying all at once.

Owen Pallett “Midnight Directives” (Max Tundra remix)

Max Tundra’s arrangement of “Midnight Directives” brings in standard Tundra elements — a frenetic pace, extremely bright synth tones, a nerdy sort of funk — but does little to alter the main vocal part, which carries the essence of the tune. In this way, it’s a matter of dressing up the song in a new outfit. This is a more relaxed “Midnight Directives,” a version that tosses out the drama that makes the original so compelling, but focuses on flattering the song’s truly exceptional melody.

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R.E.M. “Life and How to Live It”

1. The opening guitar figure of “Life and How To Live It” is like a lit fuse in slow motion. The fire gradually consumes the wire, and when the song kicks in all at once at the 30 second mark — KA-BOOM.

2. The opening line is “burn bright through the night,” which may help to explain why I can only imagine this song visually in terms of hot light contrasted with total darkness. In addition to the fuse imagery, I have long associated “Life and How To Live It” with a county fair or amusement park at night. I have no idea how this ever got in my head — some of you may recall that I have a similar though somewhat more literal interpretation of “Carnival Of Sorts” — but it’s in there, and it’s probably never going away.

3. The first time I saw R.E.M. perform this song was at Madison Square Garden in 2003. It was the first song in the encore. I remember the lights going out, then some flicker of strobe light as Peter Buck began the song. I’m not sure if that’s actually accurate, but it’s what I remember in my mind’s eye. When I think of this moment, I see it in black and white. I didn’t realize what Peter was playing right away, and it had never occurred to me that it would be in the setlist. I was stunned.

4. “Life and How To Live It” reveals itself in concert. It gets wilder, faster, and more cathartic. The moments of the composition that feel euphoric on the studio recording sound absolutely unhinged in live performance. Whereas the version of the song on Fables of the Reconstruction capably simulates the manic state of the song’s deranged protagonist, its live incarnation finds the entire band taking a method approach, and fully inhabiting his ecstatic madness.

5. “Life and How To Live It” is based on the true story of Brev Mekis, a schizophrenic man from Athens who split his home into two sides, each with a totally different set of furniture, books, clothing, pets, etc. He would live on one side for a while, and then switch to the other, and back again. After he passed away, it was discovered that he had a few hundred copies of a book he had written outlining his philosophy published by a vanity press hidden away on one side of his house. The book was titled Life: How To Live.

6. The majority of the songs on Fables of the Reconstruction are concerned with older, unknowable men who in some way retreat from the world around them. Whereas the other tracks describe a man’s actions from the outside looking in, “Life and How To Live It” is written from the perspective of its subject. I doubt that this was a deliberate decision, but it would make sense that Michael would relate to Mekis’ radical compartmentalization of his life. Most obviously, Mekis’ lifestyle is roughly analogous to that of a touring musician — time is split between two distinct ways of living, each accentuating a different state of mind. Ultimately, both sides feed into the other, arguably giving the person a more varied and rich life experience. (There is certainly an interesting argument to be made that the song reflects Michael’s sexual confusion as a young man, and the intentionally separated home represent life in and out of the closet.)

7. It helps to think of the song’s arrangement in the context of its lyrics: Michael is singing about a man running around and hollering as a structure is being built. Bill Berry lays the foundation of the building, and holds the piece together as Peter’s parts give it substance, color, and shape. Mike Mills’ bass part is the most dynamic element — it darts, climbs, and leaps around and through the form of the song, as if to represent Mekis’ frenzied state as his vision of an ideal life takes shape before his eyes. Mills’ bass lines in the song are crucial to the success of the composition, and are essential to its feeling of constant frenetic movement and elation.

8. All four members of the band get at least one moment in the song when their respective contribution seems to pop outside the bounds of the composition. (For one example, consider the way Peter’s guitar part seems to bounce up dramatically in the chorus.) This is brilliant, not simply because it makes for a ridiculously exciting piece of music, but because it allows each of the musicians an opportunity to channel the character’s joyous lunacy. For a song about a bizarre loner, there is not even a trace of alienation or condemnation in “Life and How To Live It.” Truly, every aspect of the song respects its subject’s skewed vision, and throws itself headlong into his creativity, pleasure, and unwavering faith.

Buy it from Amazon. Originally posted 7/22/2008 on Pop Songs. My review of the new Fables of the Reconstruction reissue is here on Pitchfork.

Britta Persson “Meet A Bear”

The melody of the first single from Britta Persson’s forthcoming third album seems to roll out, like a string unfurling from a ball of yarn. It’s not totally graceful, but it comes out soft and smooth, so much that you might miss the non sequitur that gives the song its title. She starts off the chorus by stating that she would like to “meet a bear before I die,” but then goes on about wanting to help a teenage girl break up with some guy who made her feel more adult. It’s rare that I find a song where I wish I could ask the singer, mid-song, to go back and elaborate on something. I’m so curious, though! Meet a bear? Like, an actual bear, not gay slang? A bear in the woods, a bear in a zoo? A cartoon bear wearing human clothing? A bear that might talk to you? Because it’s “meet a bear”, as in socially engage with a bear, not just see one in passing. A grizzly bear? A panda bear? There is so much vivid, precise language in this song about girls in Tokyo playing rock music and the behavior of children in a school building, but man, I’d love just one more detail about the bear thing.

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Wolf Parade “Little Golden Age”

Dan Boeckner has one of the best rock and roll voices of his generation. He always sound serious, passionate, and intense, but not so much so that he seems dour and humorless. At his very best, he’s like Springsteen filtered through punk rock — the Boomer sentimentality is stripped away, and all the grandiosity is traded away for a bare bones minimalism with equivalent levels of bombast. “Little Golden Age” is an ideal vehicle for the Springsteen-not-Springsteen quality of his voice. The arrangement implies some deep, burning emotion, but it’s mostly just a song expressing a reticence to indulge in self-mythology. You could call it nostalgic, maybe, but is it actually nostalgia if you’d never want to go back to it?

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Dirty Projectors & Björk “On And Ever Onward”

I do not know whether or not David Longstreth wrote this song specifically for Björk to sing, but either way, this greatly flatters a particular quality in her voice that is at once wild and mature. She sings this song with dignity, authority, and warmth, each word comes out sounding like true wisdom. The rest of the Dirty Projectors girls sing around her, their parts constructing much of the arrangement, leaving the instrumentation to add a few rhythmic and textural suggestions, like a thinly drawn outline to contain the color of these voices. The piece is lovely and gentle despite some slightly shrill tones, conveying a powerful optimism and humility in the face of nature.

Buy it from the band. All of the profits go to the National Geographic Society Oceans Project.

Shapes & Sizes “Too Late For Dancing”

Shapes & Sizes have a searching, curious sound — their best songs tend to wander, or excitedly push at their own boundaries. Caila Thompson-Hannant, the group’s better and most prominent vocalist, has a brave quality in her voice that often makes the music seem like an adventure expedition into the unknown. Their third album, Candle To Your Eyes, is their best and most surprising yet. They’ve somehow found a way to merge their expansive art rock sensibility with a sort of ersatz sultry funk. “Too Late For Dancing,” the record’s most impressive track, is overtly sexy and surprisingly fluid in form, slinking its way through an ever-shifting, but always wide-open negative space. Thompson-Hannant sounds amazing here — quirky and bold as ever, but now also very soulful and seductive. They’ve discovered something rather distinct and brilliant here, a zone not unlike the xx’s subdued sex pop, but far more detailed in texture, and far more airy in tone than claustrophobic.

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Big Boi “General Patton”

I’ve got to assume that Big Boi — a.k.a. Antwan Patton — has been sitting on that “General Patton” title for years, and was just waiting around for a track with the appropriate militaristic, operatic grandeur to serve the conceit. He made the right call. “General Patton” is a terrific balance of gravitas and strut, strength and swing. Big Boi leans into the beat hard enough for some lines to land like punches, but his cadence is rather bouncey, allowing for as much aggression as levity. That’s the upside of this song, anyway. The downside? The track carries on for too long after Big Boi has finished rapping, and — this is the really bad thing — it’s followed by a brief, deeply unfunny skit. I wish that a guy this brilliant knew enough to edit that stuff out.

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The-Dream “Sex Intelligent”

The-Dream mostly boasts and flirts his way through his songs, but what makes him so interesting is the way he laces all of that bravado with neuroses and complicated, often totally confused intentions. Much like Beyoncé, he sings about sexuality as a bargaining process, inextricably knotted up with material possession and social status. The latter is key to The-Dream, whose sexual prowess is framed as a competitive drive rather than a mode of affection, a way of proving himself superior to other men. When he declares himself to be “sex intelligent,” he chops and screws his voice, bringing his high, expressive voice down to a slow, dumb monotone. I hear self-loathing in this move, especially in the way it contrasts with his more dramatic, emotive singing throughout the track. He’s turning it all off, making himself an animal or a machine, distancing himself from all these conflicts and contradictions, and forcing out every thought but whatever insecurity is driving him to make his sexual rivals “irrelevant.” His fear is transparent — he’s terrified of not being good enough, and not measuring up to arbitrary standards of masculinity. It could be that, deeper down, he realizes that no amount of orgasms can make up for how cold and emotionally unavailable he’s made himself as a result of this ruthless, soulless pursuit for primacy.

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School of Seven Bells “Windstorm”

Upon hearing School of Seven Bells’ second album, my first impression was that they were wise to drop the haziness and shoegazing, since they didn’t need it and there are too many young musicians masking their timidity and weak skills in that sound. However, when I revisited their first record, it was all sharper and more polished than I had remembered. There’s nothing blurred or muted about Disconnect From Desire — the band is still dreamy, but there’s no soft-focus on this beauty. The vocals are up front in the mix, the singing is confident but not showy. It makes me think of when you see artistic nude shots of fashion models, and their nakedness is so matter of fact and devoid of vulnerability or need to appear particularly sexy. Their body is just there, a natural state that seems totally unnatural in the absence of social convention and the neuroses that go along with it. “Windstorm”, like most everything else the band does, projects a clear-eyed calm in the middle of an arrangement that implies wide-scale drama. They sound enlightened and peaceful, but it seems almost non-human, like the emotional equivalent of a sculpted body shot in crisp black and white. It’s striking in its lovely coldness.

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Ted Leo and the Pharmacists “Where Was My Brain?”

A big problem with being an idealist is that not only are you guaranteed a life of bitter disappointment, but you’re stuck always envisioning some better way of living and wondering why everyone went the other way. Wasn’t it obvious? Couldn’t you see it? “Where Was My Brain?” vents the frustration of doing what you think is right but always being on the wrong side of history. The song has a sense of humor, but the joke is very sad and self-deprecating: Why did I ever think everything was going to get better? Even with that notion as a central hook, you can’t shake Ted Leo’s optimism and determination. This isn’t a song about giving up. Not at all. If anything, it’s just about setting up realistic, adult expectations for positive change, and learning to make do with “the best in an imperfect world.”

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The Roots “How I Got Over”

How I Got Over sounds more or less exactly like the sort of hip hop record a band of guys who have become accustomed to performing in nice suits every day would make. It’s clean, it sounds expensive and “classy.” Relaxed and content, but concerned and engaged. To some extent, it’s The Roots being The Roots, but it’s also a different direction for them, something that looks to the future of what they can become as they age, and as their methods change with their day job as a late night television house band. They’ve sounded darker, they’ve sounded hungrier, but this new sleek, adult tone suits them well, and if someone was going to explore this territory for hip hop, I’m glad that it’s them.

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Scissor Sisters “Running Out”

“Running Out” is all about stress and pressure — to keep yourself happy, to keep other people happy, to make sure that the gravy train you’re all on continues to run smoothly despite the possibility that your luck could suddenly run out — but it’s hardly a drag. The song sounds like a David Bowie aerobics video; the mood is sassy and focused. There’s always the fear that success is finite, that the other shoe is about to drop, but this song isn’t about giving into that fear but instead using that awareness of impending failure as a motivation to keep moving, keep thinking, keep smiling, keep dancing. Upbeat pop for the generous workaholic!

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Kylie Minogue “Better Than Today”

Last year I wrote about how it seemed like the sheet music for Beyoncé’s “Crazy In Love” could just be a row of exclamation points on a staff. With that same concept in mind, I think the sheet music for Kylie’s “Better Than Today” would be all smiley faces, rainbows, shooting stars, and maybe a few unicorns on the bridge. This is Kylie in hyper-Pollyanna mode, and I love it. Kylie is always at her best when she seems sweet, positive, and generous, and this is basically a song in which she makes a case for the pragmatism of optimism over delightfully bouncy hooks. This is neither aggressive or oppressive in its joyfulness — if anything, it’s just an open door to a path to something other than frustration and misery. You can walk through it, or pass on by. It’s kinda hard to turn Kylie down, though.

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Gay Genius “Spit It Out”

Gay Genius is a collaboration between Tyler Martin of James Rabbit and Nessie of Nessie and Her Beard. It may be a bit silly to point this out given how obscure both of them are, but given the fact that I have written about James Rabbit several times over the years, I figure at least some of you would be interested in knowing that. “Spit It Out” has the same charming informal professionalism of Martin’s recordings, but the style is much different, shedding the manic glee of James Rabbit in favor of a mellow approximation of Erasure. Nessie’s voice and phrasing comes close to that of Andy Bell, but the music is far more relaxed and low-key than a typical Erasure tune. It’s more of a slow burn, which makes the urgency of the vocals seem a bit more impatient and anxious. The passion is there, but it could be futile.

Get the Gay Genius album via Tyler on the James Rabbit site.