May 18th, 2009 7:39am
This is either the best or the worst song to hear when you are consumed with a desire to beat the hell out of someone who has deliberately hurt someone you love, and there is virtually nothing you can do about it. I’m not sure. On one hand, it heightens this feeling of excruciating tension, and even when it purges that negative energy at the end, it offers very little relief. It leaves you feeling sick, thwarted, and powerless. Awful, awful, awful. On the other hand, the song conveys grief, and not anger — it’s about the paranoia and guilt that comes after doing something horrible. It’s a reminder of why violence is almost always a terrible option — it’s too easy to lose control, to go to far, and become far worse than the person that you hate. If you have a conscience, “Bull Black Nova” will punch you in the gut. It’s the worst case scenario, the nightmare that keeps you from ever crossing a line. Even if you’re entertaining a violent fantasy, you never want to be the guy in this song.
May 15th, 2009 8:04am
The guitar part at the start of “Casablanca” has a wonderful force and velocity, but it is most compelling in the way that it seems to push against a tide suggested by the drumming. It’s a great way to open an album — confidently moving through pressure, asserting itself without seeming violent or angry. Once the song moves beyond that point, it goes to a lovely, tuneful place before ending with a sound like gears grinding to a halt, shooting sparks and finally going up in flames.
May 14th, 2009 7:37am
There is something about Sam Beam’s voice, particularly in the context of his fuller musical arrangements, that makes me zone out and ignore his lyrics. I liked this track immediately, but probably heard it about fifteen times before thinking that I should try to pay attention to his words. As it turns out, “Sinning Hands” seems to be sung from the perspective of someone with rather complicated issues regarding sexuality. There isn’t a great deal of context in the lyrics, but there is the distinct impression that the protagonist is ashamed of his sexual relationship with a woman whose “eyes hide like kittens, new and wet.” (Uh, okay!) As the song moves along, his body withers and decays, seemingly corrupted by this sexual encounter. It reads as though it could be based upon some sort of myth or allegory, but I suppose there is always the chance that this is sung from the first person and that Sam Beam is some sort of deeply messed-up prude. I wouldn’t know.
May 13th, 2009 8:06am
Maybe I’ve been listening to the wrong things for too long, but it is refreshing to hear a rap entirely from the perspective of someone other than the rapper, and for that character to be an empathetic portrayal of a frustrated, luckless dude stuck working terrible jobs with little hope of socioeconomic mobility. Cam’ron isn’t breaking ground, but he is touching on something raw and real, and even though he can shine on more boastful songs, he is more convincing when giving voice to an underdog. Some of that comes down to the very sound and cadence of Cam’ron’s voice — he’s just so good at sounding beleaguered, and he sells this character by underplaying his anger, and giving his performance a touch of humor and….well, if not optimism, then a belief that life isn’t entirely awful.
May 12th, 2009 8:12am
Dick Valentine’s music is very often concerned with the notion of evil its most banal and ridiculous manifestations — stupidity, laziness, tastelessness, apathy, pointless greed and corruption. The frustration at the heart of so many of the songs comes from this feeling that we’re powerless against the overwhelming force of all this minor malevolence, and it’s somehow easier to stand against the transcendent horrors of the world than all of its pettiness and venality.
Evil Cowards, Valentine’s new project with Fall On Your Sword’s William Bates, is mostly focused on this theme, and how all these little sins chip away at everything that matters in one way or another. The songs still sound like Electric Six — how could anything written and sung by Dick Valentine not sound like Dick Valentine? — but the arrangements push further than what is normally found on those records, going further into electronic pop territory than usual, and allowing for an orchestral bombast ideally suited to his manly pipes. “Soldiers of Satan” falls into the former category, revisiting the groovy synth pop style of E6 gems such as “Fabulous People” and “Infected Girls,” but with a greater sense of heroic drama in the melody and the vocal delivery. Valentine’s lyrics may come across as the sentiment of a defeated man, but he still manages to convey a defiance, courage, goodness and maturity entirely at odds with the name with the name Evil Cowards.
May 11th, 2009 6:56am
The wonderful thing about Lacrosse is that even when their songs express some great frustration, they still convey this incredible joy and overwhelming optimism, as though any obstacle could be overcome with focused positivity and willpower. “It’s Always Sunday Around Here” is essentially about wanting to get out of a boring rut, and though lyrically it never offers any real solution, the music sounds like six Swedes punching and kicking and smiling at life until it yields to their indomitable will, and everything becomes magical and exciting. The words may be passive, but the sound is so incredibly active — they’re earning their happy days, and working hard. The song is incredibly pleasurable, but more than that, it’s so useful: How could you not want to make your own life much better while listening to this?
May 8th, 2009 9:05am
In case you needed reminding, Fluxblog is still in pledge drive mode. Details about why I’m doing this right now can be found here, but long story short, I’m going through a very rough period financially and I’d be grateful for any help you can provide. You have two options — you can either donate whatever amount of money you’d like via PayPal, or you can purchase one of two t-shirt designs on sale here. Those shirts, designed by Ryan Catbird and John Cei Douglas respectively, will only be on sale for another week or so, and then I’m putting in the orders. If you want a t-shirt, you should get on that now! Again, thank you sooooooo much for you help. It means a lot.
May 7th, 2009 7:34am
Basement Jaxx are masters of ecstatic release, and so it makes a lot of sense that whoever wrote the lyrics for this new single would foreground that concept, and make the entire song about finally getting exactly what you desire the most. The song takes place after the catharsis, but the feeling of relief is the chorus is so powerful and joyous that it implies an incredible, all-encompassing yearning and anticipation leading up to that moment of ultimate satisfaction. This is such a simple, brilliant expression of what the Jaxx do best, and clearly an instant classic in their canon of singles.
Though I enjoy the bolder points of Jehn’s voice as much as I ought to, the most captivating bits of her performance on this song are the small details. Specifically, I love the sound of her exhaling into the microphone at various points in the track. I like the pause, the implication of slight exhaustion, and the indication of letting a thought linger in the mind for a few moments before moving on to the next line. It suits the song very well, which comes across like some kind of dark fantasy, even without the spookier elements in the arrangement.
May 6th, 2009 8:15am
Groupshow’s compositions are totally zonked out, but at the same time, they are rather playful and imply a physicality that can be lacking in a lot of avant garde electronic music. I’m particularly fond of the way they can make very cartoonish sounds seem so mellow and pretty — few people can make a “boing!” noise come across as somewhat ethereal, but they pull it off. The (seemingly?) live percussion in this track is an inspired touch, making the entire track feel loose and jammed out, even if that is probably not the case.
This song just barely sounds like the Peaches we’ve all come to know over the course of this decade, but in the context of her new album it makes perfect sense, especially after the bolder but no less vulnerable and sincere “Talk To Me.” This is the “mature” Peaches — still bawdy and button-pushing, but willing to reveal herself as fragile now and then to great effect. For more thoughts on I Feel Cream, my review of the album is up on Pitchfork today.
May 5th, 2009 9:43am
I have no previous investment in Rick Ross, and I do not care at all about the various embarrassing scandals exposing his ridiculous attempts at seeming like an authentic gangster despite his past in law enforcement. Honestly, I think that anyone who needs a musician to be more “authentic” than talented is an immature imbecile and bereft of taste. Ross certainly is gifted. He may not be the best in the biz, but his voice is an inviting presence, particularly on slick, luxurious tracks that recall the heyday of Biggie Smalls and the high-end absurdity of Hype Williams videos. Ross’ rhymes cannot come close to that of Smalls’, but he slips comfortably into a variation on the “Big Poppa” persona in this song, presenting himself as an unlikely ladies man with a macho bravado that is just slightly eclipsed by his sensitivity and affection for the woman he is addressing. The-Dream adds some strong vocal hooks and the track’s crisp, busy beats add just a touch of roughness to the smooth tone of the arrangement, but the emphasis is rightly placed on Ross’ gravelly voice and the sweetness of his lyrics.
“All At Once” all but begs for annotation, but its pleasures come more from Liechtenstein’s craft and skill than in simply recreating the feeling of recordings from 20-30 years ago. There are no original moves here, but every part of the song is well executed and locks together as part of a larger framework. I’m especially fond of the way the bass throbs with a sinister, muted sexuality, and how the vocal harmony seems to indicate shifting and overlapping planes.
May 4th, 2009 7:48am
Annie Clark tends to deliver her vocal parts with a calm, steady tone that makes even her most anxious lyrics come across as extraordinarily lucid, but as she sings the emotional climax of “The Neighbors,” her voice trembles a tiny bit, indicating great stress and strain in the slightest inflection.
“How can Monday be alright, and then on Tuesday lose my mind?”
She sounds genuinely exasperated by her emotional instability, in the way that only someone who identifies as a solid, well-adjusted person can be. The composition mirrors that tension when its gorgeous melody and airy string arrangement crash into a heavily processed guitar part that synthesizes a hundred shades of angst and frustration into a concentrated yet strangely muted gut-punch of sound. In context, it seems like deeply repressed negativity coming up to the surface, but still remaining just barely under control.
I suppose this song just had to be about birds in some way, or at the very least, some other thing that flies through the air. Birds make the most sense, though — beautiful, not particularly menacing, and small enough to have a measure of grace. The prepared piano in this piece has an incredibly lovely tone, especially when they hit these bright notes that seem to sparkle for just moment as the key is struck. It all comes together to create this strange vision of my mind of small birds darting through the sky, but rather than being made of flesh and bone and feathers, the birds are brief flickers of colorful light, like fireworks.
May 1st, 2009 6:59am
This “classic rock” sounds works well for Kim Deal. Her voice and persona slips so well into the sort of raw, groovy rock and roll that barely holds together as its performers attempt to get across some vague yet highly potent desire. Deal sounds sweet, wounded, wonderful, and bewildered as she shouts it out over this music, which sways and staggers with an awkward, drunken version of grace. It sounds like the moment before something or other — it could be some kind of victory for her, or maybe she just passes out.
There is a lovely crispness to the treble in this song. It rings out, giving the impression of an object with a tight, solid form, but somehow lacking in weight and density. It’s a funny thing to realize that these men are actually singing about someone having a sad birthday. It certainly suits the emotional, empathetic tone of the melody, but it nevertheless seems like a trivial subject for a composition that implies something much more epic.
April 30th, 2009 11:00am
Fluxblog still needs your help! To reiterate what I wrote in this post, I am currently in very bad shape financially, and I’m asking for your support in order to keep this site going. If Fluxblog means anything to you, now is the time to step up and show your support. Ryan Catbird and John Cei Douglas‘ t-shirt designs are still on sale for a limited time — I plan on cutting off orders within the next two weeks, so if you’ve been putting it off, you’ve got until then, or you’re just going to miss out. If you’re not interested in t-shirts but want to help, you can donate whatever you like here. Every dollar is appreciated! (If you do this, though, you may want to email me your address, as you might get a little something in return anyway.) Thank you!
April 29th, 2009 6:59am
“The Atlantic Ocean” is bouncy, assertive and smooth, which is more or less the impression its character wishes to convey to the world at large. He’s terribly self-conscious, but he’s making it work for himself — he’s insinuated himself into a scene, he’s built up his social and cultural capital and he’s ready to spend. He may not be fully at peace with his studied affectations, but he’s become what he wants to be, and that is something to be proud (and envious) of, given how much courage it can take to actually go through with such a thing. Maybe he’ll get lucky, and he’ll eventually get to the point when he, as Courtney Love used to sing, will be able to fake it so real he’ll be beyond fake.
April 28th, 2009 8:01am
One of my favorite things about Marnie Stern’s music is that her lyrics very often express this unshakable certainty that we have the power to change our habits, rework our minds, and improve ourselves. It’s not hippie dippie babble, either. When she sings about rearranging her mind or grabbing victory from the jaws of defeat, it comes from a place of knowing how hard it is to do just that, and the intense focus and discipline required to fundamentally shift one’s way of thinking and living. This subject matter is an inspired and appropriate match for her music, which overflows not only with excitement and energy, but this feeling of anxiety and impatience. That’s part of why her sentiment feels so true — she’s psyching herself up, grappling with neuroses, pushing herself to the limit, and all the while there is this powerful yearning for the end result that comes through in every note. Ultimately, the desire to triumph drowns out every other feeling and thought, and it’s just amazing. I don’t know how anyone could hear this without getting a jolt of adrenaline, or feeling overcome with ambition.
April 27th, 2009 6:53am
There is a part of me that is incredibly frustrated by the fact that this song is an incomplete sketch, and will likely remain so for all time. I find it hard to understand why anyone, even someone so overflowing with high quality music as Stephen Malkmus, could throw this away without even finishing it, or at least trying one more take without calling out instructions to his drummer. Still, knowing Malkmus’ tendencies as well as I do, I get the feeling that if he had completed the song, he probably would’ve altered the lyrics so that its moments of totally straightforward flirtatiousness would become more silly or opaque. This would not have been such a great thing, particularly as this song does so much to capture the rawest essence of Malkmus in flirt mode — sweet yet chill, funny but direct, clever without trying very hard.
The fact that he’s barely got his words together makes the mumbled bits come off like unimportant asides, underlining the importance of his clear, declarative statements. It’s like he’s nervously darting his eyes around the room, but making perfect, confident eye contact when he says exactly what he means. I’m fond of the fact that he’s singing bold, direct lines like “I know why you love me, dear,” and “take a chance on how you feel now,” but it’s even better when he spits out a perfectly formed Malkmusian come-on like “you’re nothing but a specialized thing I would like to know about.” Even when shambling about, the guy has this impossible grace. Some guys go for smoothness and swagger, but he barely ever seems like he’s trying too hard to impress — he just does. He’s got style for miles and miles, so much style that songs like this get wasted.
April 24th, 2009 4:03pm
Fluxblog needs your help. As you’re probably aware, times are very tough right now. As you’re maybe not aware, things have been especially rough on me — being a writer in this economy absolutely sucks, and even when freelance gigs are available, they seldom pay particularly well, and checks tend to come in at absurd, unpredictable intervals that can lead to rather disastrous bank balances when rent time comes at the first of the month. Maybe you’re thinking “oh, Fluxblog has ads now, that guy must be raking it in.” Well, you’d be wrong about that! The economic downturn has led to very modest ad rates for websites across the board. Every penny counts, of course, and this is where you come in: By buying one (or both!) of the new Fluxblog t-shirts, you are helping to keep my head above water financially, and ensuring the continued existence of this site.
If Fluxblog means anything to you, this is the time to show your support. Maybe you’ve found some of your new favorite bands. Maybe you’re in a band or work for a label that I’ve given positive coverage. Maybe you’re a fan of the writing. Maybe you just think I’m a good dude. If you ever wanted to give something back, now is the time. This site is a one-man operation, and it is a labor of love. A lot of time and effort goes into the curation and the writing — this isn’t some nonsense site that slaps up every promo mp3 that hits the inbox, and the text isn’t some bullshit copy pulled from PR blasts. My motivation has always been writing for and serving an audience — now it’s your turn to do me a solid.
I’ve always hated the idea of having a donation button on the site. I don’t want to take too much from you, and if you’re going to give something to me, I feel the need to give you something in return. That’s why we’ve got the t-shirts — it’s just the same as when WFMU or NPR have their fund raising drives, and you get some swag for your donation. If you hate t-shirts, you should still chip in. If you don’t want the shirt, you can give it to charity or use it as a rag. You could even email me a note and tell me not to send one to you. Whatever makes me you happy is fine with me.
Thank you!
April 24th, 2009 7:21am
I enjoy this song because of, and not in spite of, the fact that it very much sounds like something Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim would do on Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job! as a joke. Though it’s clear enough that Tiga is taking the music a lot more seriously than they would, it’s also pretty obvious that the vocals are intentionally campy and ridiculous. Basically, as the track funks along, Tiga flirts with and flatters a lady in relatively strange ways, and she rejects him at every turn, and the end result is a track in which it’s difficult to tell whether this is part of some odd sexual game they are playing, or if he’s a weirdo getting shot down for good reason, or if she’s just this incredibly aloof and unfeeling ice queen.
April 23rd, 2009 7:12am
Very often when someone has a profound experience, they will go on to do everything they can to recreate that experience, and almost inevitably, the transcendental magic of spontaneity and inspiration mutates into the choreographed drudgery of ritual. “Following The Itinerary” is indeed about a group of people attempting to recapture the excitement and peace of a joyful moment, but it’s so mellow and laid back that it’s hard to imagine these people accidentally having a bad time for trying too hard, or getting too bummed out if they miss their mark. Actually, just listening to this, it’s impossible to imagine that they wouldn’t have a lovely time doing whatever they’ve got planned.
How’s this for a good time: All the lewd bass and bold beats of Baille funk, but with the dayglo synth tones and sleazy whimsy of French house. French producer Feadz is clearly reverent of the Brazilian sound, but not overly so — rather than studiously ape his inspirations, he opts for a delightfully goofy tone. This silliness flatters the vocals of 8 year old MC Wesley, who raps confidently in the typically horny cadences of Baille funk for an effect that is simultaneously adorable and vaguely unsettling.
April 22nd, 2009 9:35am
There is no trust in this song — not for the person being addressed, or the language either person uses to end their relationship. Every civil consideration is called into question, and every word uttered is analyzed for traces of malice, or taken as evidence of the empty rituals of human interaction. Like virtually all Junior Boys songs, the music is comfortable but chilly, and the lyrics are direct, but aloof and dispassionate despite the subtle soulful inflections in Jeremy Greenspan’s voice. The most uneasy aspect of this piece is just how pleasurable it feels, and how that seems to deepen the singer’s disconnection from the person addressed by encouraging the notion that he’s getting some small measure of sadistic gratification out of putting up a distant, unfeeling front. The song also sounds kinda sexy, which isn’t an adjective I’d prefer to use to describe something with such a passive-aggressive tone, but there you go.
