Gigi “I’m Not Coming Out Tonight”

Gigi is a project that exists almost entirely because songwriter Nick Krgovich and producer Colin Stewart acquired vintage plate reverb units, a central component of Phil Spector’s classic recordings from the early ’60s. Though in some ways it is disappointing that those two men and their various collaborators chose to emulate those old records rather than attempt to make something totally new with the same technology, who can blame them when that sound is so specific and seductive? I’m sure in the future we’ll have people rediscovering vintage autotune software and making their own T-Pain music. The album is basically like a costume drama, with various singers slipping into the aural equivalent of period clothing and delivering studied approximations of mid-20th century pop mannerisms.

It’s not all so self-conscious, though. “I’m Not Going Out Tonight,” a song recorded with Syndey Vermont and Marissa Johnson, is so stunning in its composition and emotionally affecting in its execution that the plate reverb falls back to being a supporting player rather than the star of the show. This is how it ought to be, obviously. That sound may be a beautiful thing, but the primary reason it has so much cultural resonance is because it was applied to expertly crafted songs that conveyed earnest desire. This is why so many artists cop this sound or lift the “Be My Baby” beat — it is cultural shorthand for the work of artists who found a way to perfectly express innocent, starry-eyed passion. “I’m Not Going Out Tonight” is successful because it’s less about context and nostalgia, and more focused on conveying a powerful longing in its melody, lyrics, and vocal performance. This is heart-melting stuff, especially as the girls sing “I love you so much I can’t stand it” with a lovely angelic cadence as the music reaches its crest. Whereas the other tracks are decent compositions written for the plate reverb, this is a piece of music that truly earns the effect.

Buy it from Amazon.

Sloan @ Bell House 12/4/2009

Take It Upon Yourself / At The Edge Of The Scene / Believe In Me / Autobiography / It Is Never / Don’t You Believe A Word / Keep On Thinkin’ / Money City Maniacs / The NS / new unreleased Andrew song / The Great Wall / Where Are You Now? / Midnight Mass / Oh Dear Diary / Friendship / Witch’s Wand / Fading Into Obscurity / Everything You’ve Done Wrong / Who Taught You To Live Like That? // The Other Man / C’mon C’mon / Chester The Molester / The Good In Everyone

Sloan “Take It Upon Yourself”

Sloan are very good at things that tend to get taken for granted: Writing large quantities of catchy songs; playing fun no-frills rock shows; somehow having the collective temperament to balance out the egos of four distinctly talented songwriters. As they continue to ease into their elder statesmen role, their unpretentious, craft-driven approach to rock and roll becomes more of a narrative thread, but really, when it comes to these guys the only hooks that matter are the ones in the songs. They’re currently touring in support of Hit & Run, an EP of slick, compact tunes in the vein of their two most recent albums, but the focus of the show is on back catalog, mixing surefire sing-along starters like “Money City Maniacs” and “Everything You’ve Done Wrong” with deep cuts like “The Great Wall” and the Between The Bridges b-side “At The Edge Of The Scene.” I was particularly thrilled that they dusted off “Keep On Thinkin’,” a personal favorite and one of the finest early Beatles pastiches I’ve ever heard. It’s hard to say this without worrying that it will come off as reductive or condescending, but this was a very enjoyable rock show from a super-consistent band of hard-working veterans. Good times.

Buy it directly from Sloan.

Washed Out “New Theory”

In a way, I get the sense that by naming his project Washed Out and his EP Life of Leisure, Ernest Greene is trying to beat writers to the punch in how they describe his music. So yes, Washed Out sounds washed out, and the music is rather relaxing. What else is there? Well, for one thing, there’s a soft core of sadness in all of his songs, and the woozy nostalgia in his arrangements is only the scratchable surface of the deep feelings of loss and regret in songs like “New Theory” and “Feel It All Around.” There’s not a lot of concrete detail in this music, and that’s fine, it’s not necessary. In fact, it’s kinda the point. This is more about a hazy impression of the past, and a maddeningly vague notion that you can’t return to something you didn’t appreciate enough in the moment. It’s not about what was real; it’s about what you imagine things could have been.

Buy it from Amazon.

High Places “I Was Born”

Well, I think High Places figured it out. Their first two records were pretty good, but mostly for how they showcased the duo’s promise. Interesting ideas in sketch form, but nothing close to fully realized. This new single is a clear creative leap — new instrumentation in the mix, much more confident vocals, less reliance on drone, more defined structure, bolder dynamics. This is a very focused piece of work, and as it turns out, discipline suits them better than free-floating ambiance. This is not to say they have forsaken atmosphere, though. If anything, that element of their sound is more potent when contrasted with tighter beats and a bolder lead vocal, and the composition conveys a sense of lateral movement rather than a static vibe. More like this, please.

Buy it from Thrill Jockey.

Idiot Glee “It”

Harmony vocals usually imply the presence of others, but the wordless moans and spare keyboard accompaniment in this song just make the lead singer sound so incredibly lonely and isolated as he sings about processing a painful unrequited love. He’s trying hard to hold it together, to accept that what he wants so badly is just never going to happen, but his stoicism barely contains his raw agony, bitter disappointment, and bruised ego.

Visit the Idiot Glee page on MySpace.

Animal Collective “What Would I Want? Sky”

The first three minutes of “What Would I Want? Sky” is a clattering big-beat reverie that simulates the feeling of drifting off into thought while the world is a busy mess all around you. The second half of the song reckons with that state, with Avey Tare questioning his emotions and attempting to snap himself out of a melancholy haze. It’s not a song about sadness, though — it’s about attention and awareness, and a desire for focused thought in a head full of distractions. The shift from one section to the next doesn’t usher in a sense of clarity, but the song takes on a firmer shape while retaining an ethereal density. The vocal arrangement mirrors the lyrical content nicely, as Avey’s confident, straightforward performance cuts through a Grateful Dead sample that seems to scroll through the track on a horizontal line and a harmony part from Panda Bear that gently floats upward on vertical trajectory. The unlikely harmony seems to be part of the point: It’s extremely difficult to get our minds to be entirely focused, but we can at least try to keep our thoughts balanced, and to have them work together rather than dissolve into a distracting cacophony of emotions, concepts, and digressions.

Buy it from Amazon.

Alphabeat “Chess”

Alphabeat have changed significantly on a superficial level, jettisoning all traces of rock from their sound and diving deep into glossy ’90s pop, but the core of their project remains the same. Alphabeat are nostalgists, and whether they are lifting from Kenny Loggins or channeling Ace of Base, they draw on the power of songs that present a glamorous fantasy version of ordinary life. As they made clear on “Fascination,” their debut single that now more than ever reads like the Alphabeat manifesto, they care deeply about escapism, and in our power to invest our lives with the magic and excitement of fiction.

To some extent, their work suggests that our experience as adults are shaped by the narratives of the pop music of our youth. Think of it this way: What was your first exposure to people openly discussing love, sex, and romance, both the good and bad of it? In most cases, you probably gleaned this stuff from what you heard on the radio, mostly intuiting the emotional meaning of the music without totally connecting with the context or subtext. We internalize the narratives, and then on some level expect the patterns to emerge in our lives and/or actively attempt to live it out. This is the basis for Lady GaGa’s “Bad Romance,” though she’s deliberately focused on the glamor of self-destructive behavior, whereas Alphabeat aim for something far more wholesome, though equally dramatic.

“Chess” is about a complicated emotional scenario, but as much as the lyrics express frustration and anxious anticipation, the music is nothing but pleasure. The band streamline difficult situations to the most exciting elements, rendering it all as desirable soap opera drama. There’s an implication of the stakes being high, but that’s just to keep it fun — the real appeal is in the safety of feeling like these romantic entanglements don’t actually matter at all, and that there’s nothing messy in life that can’t be cleaned up and turned into an enjoyable storyline.

Buy it from CD Wow.

Lady GaGa “Teeth”

You may have noticed that vampires and werewolves are very popular these days. This is not lost on Lady GaGa, whose apparent mission in life seems to be synthesizing themes from hyper-mainstream culture into hilariously campy works of bizarre, grotesque beauty. “Teeth” bypasses the flimsy metaphors and gets straight to the subtext: It’s a song about wanting to be submissive to a powerful, threatening man while maintaining a pose of toughness and agency. Unlike Twilight, this isn’t a fantasy of being a chaste good girl swept up by a very well-behaved bad boy. This is another version of GaGa’s notion of “Bad Romance” — she’s fucked up, and she wants the drama of someone even more fucked up or it’s just not exciting. This is about a desire for something primal and totally uncivilized, and these supernatural conceits just get in the way of the point, which is that a great many people want to escape the polite, neurotic aspects of themselves and indulge in something that feels wild and pure. GaGa’s song is ultimately just another fantasy, but it’s sharp and self-aware, and has the benefit of coming in the form of a skewed pop tune that manages to make the steady pounding of a tambourine sound exquisitely sleazy.

Buy it from Amazon.

Lacrosse “I See A Brightness”

The verses of “I See A Brightness” are less like a conversation and more like a split-screen. The girl is the optimist, hoping for a resolution to her conflict with the guy, who is far more hurt and insists that their relationship is over. There’s no back story provided, but it’s pretty clear that if someone has caused this rift, it’s probably her — she certainly sounds like someone who wants to force someone else to compromise while having everything work out in a way that is totally convenient to her wishes. Even still, the guy is being petty and unreasonable as he attempts to shut off an intense emotional bond. The chorus is where the communication comes in. He’s not totally on board with her desire to mend what’s broken, but he’s coming around. The brightness she is promising could just be a brief flash of joy and forgiveness before falling back in the same old negative patterns, but it’s probably worth a shot.

Buy it from Amazon.

Yo La Tengo “If It’s True”

One of the tricks Yo La Tengo have mastered over the years is placing their quiet, unassuming personalities in the context of familiar song styles that are typically characterized by more glamorous vocalists. They’re not the first people to ever do this, and they’re hardly not the only band to deliberately undersell emotional lyrics with a flat vocal affect, but they don’t just stop at irony and call it a day. Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley have learned to give nuanced performances in their narrow range, and when they sing about the complications and struggles of stable long-term relationships, it’s always pitched with just the right balance of honesty and self-effacing wit. They know that they aren’t the most exciting people and that their relationship may not be the most dramatic thing, but they know exactly how to draw you in and make you relate to where they’re coming from even if you’ve never been so lucky to have what they’ve got.

Buy it from Amazon.

tUnE-yArDs @ Bowery Ballroom 11/18/2009

Intro / Powa / “What’s That About?” / “Move To My Hood” / Fiya / Real Live Flesh / Hatari / “Do You Want To Live?”

tUnE-yArDs “Hatari”

As Mike Barthel wrote last night, tUnE-yArDs’ debut album is impressive not just for its unique style and the high quality of its songs, but for the way Merrill Garbus’ deliberate, distinct recording aesthetic makes us pay attention to the subtext in her music. I’ve heard so many albums in my life, but I’ve never encountered anything that blends studio-as-instrument technique with raw, live performance as seamlessly and as inventively as bIrD-bRaInS. All of this sets up an intriguing challenge for her live show — stripped of the framing and textures of her album, can her music be as engaging when she’s just there playing in a room?

The answer: Merrill Garbus is even better when she’s just there playing in a room, accompanied only by a skilled bass player. She’s definitely not hobbled by her reliance on loop pedals — if anything, she turns that potential weakness into a major strength, drawing drama and a “wow” factor out of her virtuoso live looping skills. Just as her recording techniques focus our attention on the construction of the music, watching her build her samples in person invites the audience to observe a portion of her creative process. Her voice, undoubtedly the most arresting aspect of her songs, is the center of her live performance, and she easily ranks among the best vocalists I have ever witnessed. Her technique is excellent, but that’s secondary to the raw emotive power of her voice, and the supreme confidence in how she wields it. She’s absolutely fierce at many points through the set, but also versatile, never leaning too hard on the same tricks.

Nearly all of the songs in her show last night were brand new, and she sold them with such authority the audience responded as if they were all beloved hits. There is no doubt in my mind that her second record is going to be incredible. Do yourself a favor: Go see her play live. Do whatever it takes. If you like this music even a little bit, you’re going to leave the show loving her a lot.

Buy it from Amazon.

Dirty Projectors @ Bowery Ballroom 11/18/2009

No Intention / Remade Horizon / Ascending Melody / Fluorescent Half-Dome / Fucked For Life / Gimme Gimme Gimme / Two Doves / Spray Paint / The Bride / Cannibal Resource / Temecula Sunrise / Stillness Is The Move / Useful Chamber // When The World Comes To An End

Dirty Projectors “No Intention”

tUnE-yArDs was a very tough act to follow, and though Dirty Projectors put on an extremely impressive show, my enjoyment of it was dampened somewhat by my astonishment at what Garbus had done less than an hour previous. There are a lot of ways in which Dirty Projectors and tUnE-yArDs are very similar — they’re both playful with rhythm and melody, they lift a lot from various strains of black music, both boast extraordinary vocalists — but contrasting the two in this way highlights some of the areas where Dirty Projectors are lacking. The most obvious thing is that while Garbus’ music is overflowing with passion, David Longstreth’s compositions are far more reserved in their feeling and even when the songs allow for bursts of ecstatic vocalization, it’s just as mannered as his subtly complicated guitar parts and the girls’ intricate hockets. This isn’t a comment on the quality of Longstreth’s music or its emotional quality, but rather how the extreme discipline of it all can lead to somewhat rote performances. It’s easy to just sit there totally in awe of their craft, but if you’re kinda over that aspect of what they do, the less engaging songs in the set can get a bit dull. That said, the best songs are basically unfuckwithable, and the sheer pleasure of hearing these people nail melodies as brilliant and life-affirming as those in “Cannibal Resource,” “No Intention,” “Remade Horizon,” and “Stillness Is The Move” feels something like a miracle.

Buy it from Amazon.

Tegan & Sara “Arrow”

A lot of people can’t handle criticism of any kind, and conflate it with conflict and cruelty. That doesn’t have to be the case. The singer in this song is requesting constructive criticism and “tough love,” and though it seems to be part of a desire to change for the better, what comes through in the language and in her voice is a hunger for intimacy and acceptance. She wants to know what the other person is thinking, she wants to get inside their head and figure out how to be what they want her to be. She doesn’t want to be torn apart, just brought closer to the person she loves. The music is on edge in the verses when she’s soliciting a critique, but when the song shifts to the chorus, it eases up as she acknowledges some kind of progress. It’s a tense song about high expectations, but there’s a sweetness and sincerity here that opens it up. It would feel so smothering any other way.

Buy it from Amazon.

Felix “You Are The One I Pick”

There is a distinct Moon Pix thing happening in this song, not simply in that Lucinda Chua’s voice somewhat recalls that of Chan Marshall, but in that it evokes the same sort of sad grey emptiness. There’s no solid center to the composition, and though the melodic lines that seem to float through the piece have rich, distinct tones, they sound as though they’ve been whittled down from thick branches to brittle twigs. This is pensive, lovely stuff; elliptical in structure and muted in emotional tone. The title is decisive and declarative, and though the lyrics express clear desire, the music is far more tentative. It’s not a question of commitment — this is more about putting what you want up against the probability of actually getting it, and shrinking a bit when your chances don’t look too great.

Buy it from Amazon.

Fuck Buttons “The Lisbon Maru”

The Lisbon Maru was a Japanese freighter carrying Allied prisoners of war that was sunk by a US submarine in 1942. The ship should have had some kind of marker to indicate its cargo, but it did not, and so the US ended up killing hundreds of its own men. There’s a metaphor in there, but it’s only hinted at in this instrumental by the Fuck Buttons. The piece centers on a steady marching beat, but the emotional charge is in the waves of guitar and keyboards that hit like pangs of regret. It would be sad and moving without the context of the title, but with the suggestion, it opens up considerably. It feels just like being upset about a misguided, confused act of hostility that hurts yourself far more than your nemesis.

Buy it from Amazon.

Amerie “Tell Me You Love Me”

Amerie’s on her home turf here, brashly emoting over a hyper-kinetic beat. Some artists may run away from the aesthetics of their breakthrough single in the interest of avoiding one-hit-wonder status, but Amerie seems intent on making “1 Thing” a genre unto itself, and it’s not a bad idea. Even her least inspired variations on the theme yield enjoyable results, and after all, there’s no sense in avoiding what works so well for you, especially if few other people do anything close to the same thing. “Tell Me You Love Me” flips the ecstatic sound of “1 Thing” into something far more tense and nervous, with the beats seeming to bounce around like neuroses in an anxious mind. She’s singing about trying to make someone love her, and though her exhortations come with the gusto of a distaff James Brown, it’s clear that it’s an uphill battle, and maybe not worth the effort. Can you MAKE anyone love you? I don’t think so. But then again, I’m the guy who fully believes that “I Can’t Make You Love Me” is the most depressing song ever written.

Buy it from Amazon.

Amwe “Friction Between The Lovers”

Most of this song seems to be in Japanese, but Amwe does sing the words “friction, friction” in the chorus, but it comes out sounding more like “rickshaw, rickshaw!” That’s about as much insight I have into this song on a lyrical level, but it’s probably enough, since that buzzsaw keyboard part and the jumpy rhythm are more to the point. Amwe’s voice isn’t rough and tumble, but it’s just assertive enough to fit comfortably with the hardness of the hooks while toning down the harshness a bit.

Buy it from Amazon.

Thao with the Get Down Stay Down “When We Swam”

“When We Swam” has its roots in old time-y rock ‘n’ roll, and as such places its emphasis on the hips, both musically and lyrically. The beat swings gently but with a flirty assurance, and Thao’s words, delivered with a sultry assertiveness, border on outright lasciviousness. There’s no getting around the lust in this music, much less the cocktail of anxieties that inform the experience of the character in the song as she attempts to hold on to something slippery and elusive. Innocent is not the right word to describe this, but there’s a charming youthful ease on display here, and though the song is spiked with nerves, it’s not overbearing at all. If anything, the angst and complication is just part of the fun.

Buy it from Amazon.

Fela Kuti “I.T.T. (Part 2)”

There are a lot of ways that a Broadway production based upon the life and music of Fela Kuti could go wrong or just be sort of unbearably hokey, but Fela! by Jim Lewis and Bill T. Jones is an excellent, engaging show that brings Afrobeat into an unlikely context without diluting the music or condescending to either the source material or the theater audience. The production is built around the conceit that you are at Fela’s personal club The Shrine in Lagos, and he is hosting his show and explaining the circumstances of his life via monologue and his music. The narrative is fairly didactic in the first act, including an entertaining explanation of Afrobeat involving demonstrations of the various musical influences on the distinct sound, and more abstracted in the second, which climaxes with a spectacular, impressionistic dance-centric set piece. The story can get a bit wobbly at some points, but the narrative thread is secondary to the brilliance of the music, which is performed by Antibalas, and Jones’ choreography, which is so amazing as to seem unreal.

Given that he is the center of every scene, Fela is an extraordinarily demanding role, and as such there are two actors in the role, switching off shows through the week. I was lucky enough to see a performance featuring Sahr Ngaujah, the primary Fela. Ngaujah is a truly astonishing actor, and he inhabits the role of the charismatic firebrand with freakish grace as he speaks, sings, dances, and plays his saxophone. It’s very hard to imagine the show even existing without him — the skill set is so specific, the performance is so demanding. He’s built like a superhero and has a level of talent that forces you to wonder how a person such as himself can even exist. I trust that Kevin Mambo, the secondary Fela, is very good in the part as well, but it’s hard to imagine that there are many other men who could handle this, much less surpass Ngaujah.

Aside from some narrative issues, the show is not without flaw. The role of Sandra, the American woman who brings Fela to radical politics, is somewhat miscast. Saycon Sengbloh is a fine actress and singer, but her mannered approach to the part does not convey enough passion or excitement to properly sell this pivotal moment in the story, which happens to include what I must assume is the world’s first dance tribute to reading.

Fela! is obviously not the most pure expression of Afrobeat music you are going to find, and its depiction of Kuti borders on hagiography, but it is remarkable in the way it brings the music and aesthetic to theater without diluting the essence of the material. Fela’s songs are abridged and contextualized to fit the narrative, but it’s neither a standard jukebox musical or a bad cover version. It’s perhaps best to think of this work as a world class Afrobeat revue, complete with a light history lesson for those new to the sound that does not insult the intelligence of those who are already familiar with Fela’s life and music.

Buy Fela’s music from Amazon. Buy tickets to see Fela! on Broadway.

tUnE-yArDs “Sunlight”

I entirely ignored tUnE-yArDs for the better part of this year entirely because I don’t like the name, and every time I saw it in print in promo emails et al I figured it was just another boring band of dudes. This is not the case. tUnE-yArDs is the work of one woman, Merrill Garbus, and her music is so distinct and atypical that I fumble when I try to think of how to describe her in terms of genre.

The songs on her debut album BiRd-BrAiNs are recorded on somewhat crappy equipment as if they were field recordings, but there is a great deal of manipulation in the production, yielding stark contrasts in fidelity and sound level within the pieces. For example, a guitar or ukulele part may be recorded with a crisp, clean tone, but percussion will get blown out and clipped before switching to a more typical sound while shifting placement in the mix. It sounds primitive but it’s an incredibly deliberate and considered work, and the variety of textures floating throughout the album lends a dynamic subtext and the feeling of shifting physical planes. More than any other album in 2009 aside from perhaps Micachu’s Jewellery, BiRd-BrAiNs sounds like something you could reach out and touch, even if the physical sensation would not be consistently pleasant.

Garbus’ compositions are seldom fixed in any particular genre, but she leans heavy on folk, R&B, and miscellaneous African influences. Melody and rhythm come easily to her, but the most striking aspect of her album is her voice, which is fiercely expressive and presented plainly with only natural reverb, so her boldest moments are almost shockingly dry and matter-of-fact. At some points, as when she tenses up to emphatically spit out the words “We can pretend it’s Christmas while we’re locked here in this box / while my brother and all his friends whip out their tiny teenage cocks / if I scream they’ll hear us so let’s count along with clocks” in “Lions,” it’s a sound of flattened horror. In other tracks, as in the gorgeous, nearly anthemic single “Sunlight,” she starts off with a delicate vocal tone that gradually hardens as sweetness becomes desperation, and desperation gives way to self-preservation. There is a fantastic balance here — raw and focused, immediate and careful, calculated intimacy. You can hear the seams in its construction, but Garbus always sounds entirely present and engaged on a level that goes beyond typical studio performance.

Buy it from Amazon.

Lily Allen “22”

Lily Allen is very good at writing songs that bluntly articulate deep, painful fears, particularly those rooted in extremely cynical conventional wisdom about how life works. Even when it is clear that she’s writing from a satirical perspective, it’s hard to imagine that she entirely disagrees with everything she’s singing — she might not want some things to be true or entirely believe that they are, but she’s aware of some very ugly realities. Things may not be quite as bad as they seem in her lyrics, but chances are, your insecurities are quite valid.

Buy it from Amazon.

Julian Casablancas “4 Chords of the Apocalypse”

The best songs on Julian Casablancas’ solo debut are the ones in which he sounds just like himself but not much at all like the Strokes, forcing us to reckon with the notion that the two things are not as synonymous as we’d previously thought. This is a bit like playing dress-up, and for the most part, Casablancas has sense enough to only indulge in drag that flatters his features. I’m not sure what exactly you call a song like “4 Chords of the Apocalypse” — Rec room balladry? Sad prom rock? — but you’ve heard this sort of thing many times before, and he slips into it so naturally that it hardly feels like pastiche. He sounds battered and leveled by love, or whatever approximation of love got him to this weakened state. He’s still got some pride though, even if it’s just sticking to his guns in the face of total romantic disaster: “Don’t you know that if a time warp was open, I’d stand right in my place?” You feel for him, but at the same time you just wish he’d know enough to give up the fight.

Buy it from Amazon.