October 21st, 2009 10:10am
Dick Valentine of the Electric Six is obsessed with deconstructing, satirizing, and critiquing modern masculinity, and so it’s not a big shock that his band’s heaviest album to date pushes its masculine horror to its most absurd extremes. Whereas last year’s Flashy was overflowing with barely concealed insecurities and naked desperation for sexual power, the most harrowing moments on KILL showcase characters whose cynicism and hopelessness run so deep that they’ve entirely surrendered to the idiotic depravity of their base impulses. The riffs have an oppressive weight, and bear down on the grooves like giant feet stamping out the character’s last burning embers of self-respect and decency. Throughout the record, Valentine vacillates between his own smirking self-awareness and inhabiting the role of a clueless beta male in Ed Hardy drag, unconvincingly selling himself as a badass. KILL is their bleakest, most grotesque album yet, but somehow it still comes out feeling fun and funny, thanks in large part to Valentine’s dark wit and total commitment to his premises.
October 20th, 2009 7:21am
No disrespect to Gucci Mane, but I’ve heard this song at least two dozen times in the past week, and I can never remember anything about his performance, even when I’m actually listening to it. There isn’t even anything wrong with what he’s doing here, it’s just that his shine is so thoroughly blocked by Big Boi that his parts just feel like something to kill time while the star catches his breath for the next verse. As brilliant as this is, this is business as usual for Big Boi: Immaculately constructed and rhythmically complex yet extremely playful lyrics delivered with an effortless yet freakishly high level of charm. He has a great way of making everything he raps sound casual and conversational, as if he raps his way through virtually every verbal exchange on a daily basis. Gucci Mane can’t help but recede into the background — he’s exactly the kind of monochromatic rapper who seemingly exists to highlight the color and versatility in the voice of a guy like Big Boi. At least in this track he’s complementing his style, and not dragging it all down.
October 15th, 2009 9:02am
Do you think this guy has actually accidentally lit a few girls’ hair on fire while attempting to flirt with them? I really hope this is not a case of “write what you know.” Then again, the clumsiness and anxiety in this song is so potent, it can’t possibly come from anything but lived experience. The lovely thing about this tune, though, is that he’s smiling cheerfully through his ridiculous awkwardness, and there’s a genuine optimism about his ability to overcome it, and actually have some sort of moment of triumph, even if that means making out with a girl without literally burning her.
Lowell Brams and Sufjan Stevens’ Music For Insomnia is a thing of jarring beauty that perfectly evokes varying states of exhaustion, restlessness, and distraction. Their more discordant compositions are the most immediate and unnerving in how accurately they simulate a sort of aggravated daze, but the more relaxed pieces capture the lovely moments in which waking life blurs into a dream world. The prettier bits are rather sleepy, but there’s never more than a few seconds of peace on the record. True to Brams and Stevens’ subject, the closer the music gets to a state of rest, the more inevitable it will be that noise and tension will jolt you awake, or just alert enough to not be asleep.
October 14th, 2009 8:31am
Ghostface rarely sounds as vulnerable as he does on “Stay.” His guard is dropped, his voice is raw. He sounds like he’s in love. He’s doing everything he can to convince this woman to stay with him, to choose him over some other dude. He doesn’t sound insecure, per se, but he’s definitely unsure of his chances and working hard to prove himself. At this point, he’s just exhausted and bleary-eyed. He’s talked himself out, he’s right on the edge of giving up, but even if she’s putting him through hell, he knows she’s worth the effort. Maybe she’s just fucking with his head, maybe she’s just selfish. It hardly matters, and you can hear evidence of his steady, possibly stupid love in his every breath, and in the warmth of the bass, and the glowing timbre of the sped-up soul sample.
October 13th, 2009 8:36am
I am used to hearing Britta Persson sing in English, but her vocal style can get so slurry that her words become a blur, so it’s not such a big adjustment to listen to her sing in Swedish. This collaboration with Bröderna Lindgren is intended to be a sort of children’s music, but to my ears it is indistinguishable from what I think most of us will recognize as carefully arranged upbeat Scandinavian pop. It makes me wonder if the Swedish have only given us access to the kid’s music all along, and they’ve been hoarding the grown-up music for themselves for decades. Maybe ABBA is just like Raffi to them, you know?
There’s something very on the nose about the sound of this, as though on some level it’s actually a parody of Joy Division, New Order, and bored, sad, horny young people. It’s hard for me not to hear this as being at least somewhat deadpan, but at the same time, it’s not just some stupid joke. This is excellent icy synthpop, and the band’s apparent droll sensibility only serves to enhance the quality of the track. If they weren’t having a bit of fun, this wouldn’t be fun for me either.
October 8th, 2009 8:23am
Rebekah Raa sets up romantic ideas and then knocks them down as she attempts to reconcile the difference between idealized, dramatic love and the relationship she knows in real life. It’s not that she’s totally disappointed by her experience — it’s pretty clear that she appreciates moments of genuine, spontaneous connection — but it certainly seems that she is concerned that she and her partner are not invested enough in what they have and are simply killing time together. The sound of the song is appropriate to the subject matter: Relaxed and comfortable, but with a creeping restlessness and agitation that is never resolved.
October 7th, 2009 6:44am
Instead of thinking “Wow, Dizzee Rascal did a song with Armand Van Heldnen, how weird?,” why not come away from this track with the thought “Why isn’t Armand Van Helden doing more rap records?” While it is true that not every MC feels at home in dance music as Dizzee — his high water mark remains “Lucky Star” with Basement Jaxx — there are plenty others who would shine in this context, and sure the world could do with more of music of this variety, right? Van Helden and Dizzee both do their respective things on “Bonkers,” and without even really meeting each other halfway, they snap together perfectly. The song is a good time, but at its core Van Helden’s track and Dizzee’s vocal are stressed-out and manic, and the piece gets its weight and punch from the way the negative feelings clash with the goofy bits.
October 6th, 2009 8:36am
I’m not sure what song Think About Life are sampling here, but I love it, and greatly enjoy the effect of including a sped-up soul sample in a non-rap context. I’m not totally sure what kind of song this is, actually, but it’s a glorious, groovy musical mutant. There’s a wonderful optimism in the sound of this, this passion and desire that spits in the face of obstacles and pessimism, and dares to keep pushing higher and higher. Some songs bring the sunlight, and this one is a bit like someone grabbing the sun and tossing it at your head.
October 5th, 2009 9:09am
Would so many kids be willing to embrace nerdiness — at least on a superficial level — if “brain” was not a slang term for blowjobs? Who knows, but I love it. “Dorkin'” is about dancing and receiving oral sex, but it feels genuinely dorky. Part of that comes from the unapologetic poppiness of the track, but it is mostly conveyed by the vocal style, which comes off like a grinning, not-quite-wholesome version of the Clipse. When Stakk Money says “I get so much brain it don’t even make sense” in the chorus, he actually sounds a tiny bit surprised by his good fortune. Normally this would just be empty bragging from an overprivileged alpha male, and it still basically is, but something about this guy makes me think “Wow, good for you, kid!”
This may be a case of writing what you know. Mi$Z spends the entire track discussing her fashion aesthetic, and the ways her over-the-top cuteness and style influence the men and women in her social circles. It’s adorable. My favorite bit is when she boasts that she’s the reason trends begin, which feels so charming and honest. She may have a lot of reasons to be fashion-forward, but the one that comes through loud and clear in that moment is the desire for validation from her peers for her creativity and personality on her own terms.
October 2nd, 2009 8:35am
At about 2:34 in “The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine,” you can hear my favorite bit of sonic detail in any song that I have encountered in recent months. Though I am open to the possibility that it could be some kind of synthesizer, it is very clearly the sound of cell phone interference. I know that distinct sound mainly from being in my friend’s car — it’s the noise made when signals from his iPhone disrupt the music on the stereo. It’s a very evocative thing to hear, in and out of context. It’s like a sudden headache made audible, and it imposes on you like an unwanted guest. It’s mundane, but also sort of otherworldly, and I’m sure that if you were to look at a visualization of the sound waves, it would appear unusually jagged yet boxy.
Like the rest of the songs on Embryonic, “The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine” seems as if it were designed to simulate a bad trip, or an otherwise deeply uncomfortable state of being. The bass looms especially large, lurching along at a frequency that pulls up memories of nausea and cramping. The beats mostly stomp and crush, as if the drums were just the feet of some gigantic monster. Bits of treble fire off, like tiny synaptic lasers in a sci-fi gun battle somewhere deep in the brain. This may all seem unlistenable in print, but the songs themselves are marvels of paranoid psychedelia, and even the most overbearingly grim compositions have a cool, calm center and elements of beauty amid the darkness and murk. It’s ugly and even a bit depressing, but The Flaming Lips have created a fantastically vivid musical nightmare.
October 1st, 2009 8:55am
The bass is what pulls this song together, and it’s certainly what carries it along, but it’s not necessarily what draws my attention. I’m more interested in the piano chords that seem to pass through the composition like some kind of sad, drunk apparition, and the way the drum fills seem overly stiff in contrast with the fluid grace of the bass parts. Sarah Assbring is singing about a crumbling, failed long term relationship and it makes sense in this context — the music feels exactly like the strange emotional space of a consistent, comforting pattern that has been gradually ruined by ongoing bitter conflicts.
September 30th, 2009 9:22am
There is a generosity in the very sound of Erlend Øye’s voice, but it’s understated and rather matter-of-fact so he always comes off as a sweet, romantic diplomat. That’s certainly the role he plays in “Mrs. Cold,” a sparse, gentle ballad in which he negotiates a conflict with a lover who is putting up a chilly, defensive front. There are lines that could seem condescending in another context, but Øye delivers them without any trace of ill will, and a clear respect for the person he is addressing. He doesn’t back down from his point of view, but he seems open and willing to listen and forgive. Pop songs tend to favor a more hysterical and stubborn approach to relationship troubles, but I quite like and relate to this forthright yet mellow approach to communication.
September 29th, 2009 8:11am
Basement Jaxx are known euphoria merchants, but the best songs on their new album are melancholy, angst-ridden, and utterly lovesick. “My Turn” is a desperate plea for reconciliation that nevertheless retains the color and bump of a classic Jaxx production, if not the manic intensity. The up tempo elements are not at odds with the sentiment of the lyrics. Instead, the sound serves to highlight the optimistic, open-hearted love of the song’s protagonist, and make it abundantly clear how much he yearns to make things right. Maybe he’ll feel more crushed and hopeless later on, but in this moment, he is still convinced that there’s still a chance for all of this to work out, despite the complication and frustrations. It’s very sweet.
September 28th, 2009 8:00am
Phoenix @ Central Park 9/26/2009
Lisztomania / Long Distance Call / Lasso / Run Run Run / Fences / Girlfriend / Armistice / Love Like A Sunset parts 1 and 2 / Too Young / Rally / Consolation Prizes / Rome / Funky Squaredance // Everything Is Everything / Playground Love / If I Ever Feel Better / 1901
I will try to be very polite about this: Based on the turnout for this show, it is safe to say that Phoenix is officially a mainstream band now.
I have not seen them perform since they were touring for Alphabetical. Aside from the shift in fan demographics, the major difference between then and now is that they’ve loosened up a bit. They’re still slick and professional, but their show feels more spontaneous and “rock” now, which goes along with their general change of direction and emphasis. (Well, also, they stopped throwing baguettes into the crowd. Tough economy for everyone these days, I guess.) This was a fun set, and the audience was certainly enthusiastic for the material from Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, but I felt a bit removed from the experience, despite having a lot of emotional energy invested in some of these songs. Let’s just blame this on my head being elsewhere, and that I happened to be surrounded by some very obnoxious audience members. The band certainly put their hearts into it.
The lyrics of “Rome” read like an interior monologue with minimal context, but there’s more than enough there to suggest potent waves of doubt, jealousy, regret, and nostalgia. It is so bittersweet, especially in the way it suggests that as much as it is clear that the romance is over, it will be impossible to fully extricate himself from this person. It’s your fault, it’s their fault, it’s someone else’s fault, it’s just the way it goes. At least the song can find the beauty in feeling so defeated.
September 24th, 2009 8:59am
Love as an adventure, love as a struggle, love as a triumph over loneliness, insecurity, and mathematical probability. “Explorers of the Heart” celebrates all of this, and its form mirrors the arc — doubtful, melancholy verses building up to a chorus that bursts with a hard-won joy. Some songs shoot for euphoria, but that isn’t quite what’s going on here. Instead, you get the sense that as incredibly happy the singer may be, she also is a bit exhausted, and more than a little amazed that she managed to beat the odds and win despite all the obstacles and adversity.
September 23rd, 2009 9:51am
Some singers rely on lyrics that convey their meaning with directness and precision, but Yukimi Nagano is the type to let her words roughly sketch out a feeling that she embellishes with her voice. This approach puts more faith in the unique effects of music — you could say what you need to say if you have to, but singing can successfully communicate nuances that writing and conversation will typically fail. “A New” is not exactly inscrutable, but you can better intuit the connections between Nagano’s lines, and sense her wonder and confusion as everything she understood about someone is upended, and she attempts to sort it out. Are things better? Are things worse? Has nothing actually changed? It’s hard to say, but I’m sure that she doesn’t know, and that’s the point.
September 22nd, 2009 9:46am
“Fallen Over” is the latest in a slow trickle of solo singles from Rose Elinor Dougall, and each song has proven the former Pipette to not only have a great knack for propulsive, melancholy pop, but also a great skill in penning vivid, disarmingly straightforward lyrics about romance. There’s a trace of Morrissey in the melody of this number, but Dougall isn’t going for dark wit, and her self-deprecation is mainly in the interest of expressing earnest desire. Despite the fact that this is a song about the clumsiness of two people falling in love, the music is glorious and graceful, underscoring a confidence and faith the singer won’t admit in her words.
September 21st, 2009 7:54am
There’s something in the Victorian English Gentlemens Club’s music that makes me want to indulge in mischief. Their songs are frantic and dynamic, but also focused and direct, evoking the buzz of paranoia and the thrill of transgression. On top of that, the group vocals tend to imply a feeling of camaraderie, as if you’re just part of a jolly crew of kids up to no good, desperately seeking fun in a boring, stifling world. “Bored In Belgium” is explicitly about escaping a dull existence, attempting to find relief and release, and though it’s unclear whether that is entirely possible, the song itself is certainly an amazing catharsis.
September 17th, 2009 4:23am
of Montreal @ Santos Party House 9/16/2009
Set #1: Mingusings / Suffer For Fashion / Sink The Seine / Cato As A Pun / Forecast Fascist Future / Requiem For OMM2 / Rapture Rapes The Muses / Id Engager / Faberge Falls For Shuggie / For Our Elegant Caste / Touched Something’s Hollow / An Eluardian Instance / Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse / The Past Is A Grotesque Animal Set #2: We Were Born The Mutants Again With Leafling / Bunny Ain’t No Kind Of Rider / Beware Our Nubile Miscreants / My British Tour Diary / She’s A Rejecter / Love Hangover (with Solange) / Heat Wave (with Solange) / Oslo In The Summertime / Anderson Cooper 360 chant –> very long jam including bits of Sweet Child O Mine, Suffragette City, Daytripper, She’s Like The Wind, Footloose, and Don’t Let Me Down
These are the setlists from the stage. As you can see, the band deviated significantly from their plan for the second set of the night.
This was not a public show, but rather a Fashion Week event put on by various sponsors. As such, I think the band was in an odd mood, and far more inclined to fuck around than they would be at a show full of paying fans. The first set was fun but certainly not the band at full power, and I don’t blame them — they were performing for a crowded room mainly comprised of people with minimal investment in their music. There were excellent moments — “Grotesque Animal” was particularly unhinged — but overall, the quality of the songs trumped the pleasure of the actual performances. By the time the band came out for a second set, Kevin Barnes was clearly pretty far gone for whatever reason, and basically seemed insane for the remainder of the evening. “Bunny…” was a total trainwreck, albeit in an amusing way, and from there on, the performance became increasingly odd and loose until the group surrendered to their impulses and basically just jammed out on classic rock nonsense while Barnes’ wife and her friends writhed around onstage. It was wildly indulgent, and totally hilarious. Also, uh, Solange showed up for a while there. Huh.
