Times New Viking “Another Day” – The great thing about hearing this song out of the fuzzy lo-fi context of Times New Viking’s new album Rip It Off is that, at least on the first few times before you’ve heard it, the beginning of the track is totally weird and disorienting. It definitely sounds like some form of pop music from the start, but it’s hard to tell just where you are inside the song, and by the time you figure out its internal logic, the tune is almost over. A lot of Rip It Off has this quality — they are using lo-fi sounds and effects to knock the listener off guard, and keep you wondering about its context. Who, what, where, when, why? This music is deliberately anachronistic, but the band seem more focused on contrasting this ragged, blown-out sound with the slickness of their contemporaries than shooting for cozy nostalgia. (Click here to buy it from Matador.)

The Schema “Those Rules You Made” – Aside from the fact that this is a gorgeous, beautifully crafted faux-Yacht rock gem, here’s the really awesome thing about The Schema’s “Those Rules You Made”: It’s a song about a guy who is sad to be rejected a very persnickety woman with a habit for dumping men for seemingly minor offenses, but never at any point does the singer ever call into question her values or judgment. It’s not “fuck you, you’re a bitch for having high standards,” it’s “well, I suppose it really is quite hard to make your cut, thank you so much for your consideration and good luck in your search for an ideal mate, even if I question whether or not you could find someone who precisely matches your criteria.” He’s not trying to convince her to keep him around, and though he laments her picky nature with a bit of humor, he respects her way too much to be overly defensive or antagonistic. (Click here to buy it from The Schema.)

Meanwhile, over at Fair Game with Faith Salie: I’m very happy with how this segment with Art Rosenbaum and singer Mary Lomax about Dust To Digital’s The Art Of Field Recordings box set came out. Please give it a listen, if just to hear Mary.

Elsewhere: ‘I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE!’: A Guide to Proper Usage

The Dø “At Last” – No, it’s not a cover of the Etta James wedding standard, but lyrically, it’s saying roughly the same thing, albeit without the melodrama. The James song is a terrific piece of music, but if you think about the approach is all wrong — finding the love of your life shouldn’t be the end of the story, as if your problems have been solved and the rest of your life is just one big happy ending. I mean, there’s an emotional truth in that song, no doubt, but I find it a lot easier to relate to the more low key and reasonable expectations for love and commitment in The Dø’s tune. It’s mellow and relaxed, but more importantly, gorgeous and quietly passionate. Olivia Merilahti’s vocal performance hits just the right combination of expressing relief, joy, and a bit of fear that this happy feeling could be fleeting, or that maybe she’s making a mistake by putting all her eggs in one basket. Her fragility is out in the open, and more than anything else, it’s a show of courage, and you can’t really have love without courage. (Click here to buy it via The Dø’s MySpace page.)

Bell “Echinacea” (Live on Fair Game, January 2nd 2008) – You are not wrong if you hear this and think, “wow, this woman sounds as though she is positively beaming through this song.” I was there, and she could barely contain her joy, even in a tiny little radio studio. And yeah, if you thought “wow,” you were right about that too. Much like Bjork, Olga Bell sings with a full-bodied passion and enthusiasm that highlights her courage, conviction, and sensitivity. Bell’s tunes are fluid, dynamic things — there’s always a strong core melody, but the shifting tones and structure around her voice emphasizes a sense of physical movement, an alert mind, and emotions that exist entirely in the present tense of the piece. This is remarkably confident work for a new artist — I can’t begin to imagine what could come next. (Click here for the full session — including a pretty amazing cover medley of Radiohead’s “Videotape” and Thom Yorke’s “The Eraser” — and here for Bell’s MySpace page.)

Grachan Moncur III “When” – The song walks in aimless circles, somehow lost in a place it knows too well. It doesn’t matter what the other instruments do — if they pull off in another direction, if they whine and moan and protest, if they cool out and nod gently — they can’t escape the gravity of that unchanging piano motif. It’s an anchor, and even if its chords are calming, by the end of the piece, it becomes clear that it has kept the song contained within a stifling perimeter. It grinds down on hope, and reinforces pessimism. It’s a beautiful performance full of inspired improvisations, but that just makes the piece more terrifying and seductive. (Click here to buy it from Amazon. Originally posted on February 26, 2007)

James Brown “Cottage For Sale” – James Brown’s greatest gift to the world was his ability to express an undiluted yet highly stylized sexuality via a funk so intense and visceral that it served as the foundation for entire genres of music, but that was not the limit of his talent, only just the summit of his achievements. His performance on the standard “Cottage For Sale” is a perfect example of his fearlessness as a vocalist — whereas most everyone who has recorded the tune has done so with a mannered stiffness that is far too polite and aloof for a song expressing such great sorrow and regret, Brown presented the lyric with a robust, wounded humanity that absolutely nailed its sentiment without any trace of over-emoting. (Click here to buy it from Amazon. Originally posted on December 26, 2006.)

Broadcast “Michael A Grammar” – My name is not Michael, but it’s very common for people to think that it is. It’s not far off from Matthew, I suppose, and it’s a nice enough name, so I’m never very offended. (I mean, if people were accidentally calling me Mike or Mikey or Mickey, I might take some issue.) The only time I ever wish that my name was actually Michael is when I hear this song. Trish Keenan sings the name with a quiet grace and gentle authority – Michael could just as well be her child as it as a lover, a brother, or a best friend. Lyrically as well as musically, the track is intimate and woozy, like a disjointed half-asleep late night conversation set to song. (Related: Could someone have possibly made a better video for the song than this?) (Click here to buy it from Amazon. Originally posted on November 22, 2005.)

Aidan John Moffat “Nothing In Common / Hopelessly Devoted” – The piano loop only lasts for about a minute, but I could stand to listen to Moffat’s lilting brogue over the top of it for at least another five or six before it’d become dull to me. Moffat isn’t just a man with an accent — he has a real gift for subtly expressive inflection, and his words nail images, moments, and scenes with a frightening economy, and a total lack of preciousness, even when he’s talking about Grease. (Click here to preview the record on the Chemikal Underground site.)

Love Is All “Make Out Fall Out Make Up” (The Bees Remix) – There’s not much anyone can do to improve upon the perfection that is the original version of this song, and so the Bees wisely drop everything but the chorus refrain and start from scratch with a dank funk track in the style of James Brown. The horns are especially great, switching up between percussive honks, swelling hums, and brief solo runs that sound dizzy, drunk, and mildly belligerent. All the while, Josephine Olausson shouts the words of the title as though they correspond to dance moves that can be performed in the split second between each command. (Click here to buy it from Phonica.)

Blood On The Wall “Junkeee…Julieee…” – Do you think Mark Arm gets annoyed when he hears this guy’s voice, or does he get excited, shout something like “I finally have a legacy, motherfuckers!,” and start a little mosh pit with whoever happens to be in close proximity? It really ought to be the latter, especially when you factor in Brad Shanks’ knack for bitter humor and casual screaming. “Junkeee…Julieee…” isn’t anywhere near as slow and hesitant as the title implies — if anything, it’s early ’90s grunge-punk in the form of a super-concentrated syrup shot. (Click here to pre-order it from Insound.)

Mike Bones “Love’s Not Yours” – “Love’s Not Yours” falls right on the line separating affectionate pity and schadenfreude, and reads like an obituary for someone who, tragically, has a lot of years left to live. It seems melancholy and gentle, but the more often I hear the song, the more it seems as though he’s just beating the shit out of the guy in super slow motion. “You always hurt the ones you love,” right? (Click here to buy it from the Social Registry.)

Jay-Z and Nas “Success” – Jay-Z is only really happy when he’s working, and it shows in his music — virtually all of his best material is about work in one form or another. Sometimes it’s about the work itself, as in the case of “U Don’t Know,” a piece of music so diabolically self-assured that simply listening to it can make even the most luckless loser feel Jay’s burning ambition in themselves for three minutes. More often, it’s about the aftermath of relentless grinding — the way a fabulous lifestyle becomes less about pleasure and more about jockeying for social position, and the constant threat of personal and professional rivalries. “Success” is bitter, blunt, and hopelessly ambivalent. Jay-Z lays out exactly what he despises about his lifestyle, but shrugs it off because he can’t possibly conceive of a life without his alpha dog status, or without working towards some new plateau of success. It’s not about the wealth accrued, it’s about a fundamental need to prove oneself over and over again. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Imperial Teen “21st Century” – Even the rockers on Imperial Teen’s deeply underrated fourth album are sort of mellow and tranquil, as though they’ve been doped up on meds, or naturally sort of buffered by contentment and/or a nagging sense of displacement. All of the anxiety in the record is dialed way down, but it’s still there, and its faint presence becomes impossible to ignore as the record progresses. It’s a record of small, but important feelings — most of the songs find the singers responding to some form of mundane happiness and comfort, and cycling through elation, distrust, confusion, glib distance, and benign indifference. In other words, their name is now totally ironic: The nuanced, mature emotions on display on The Hair, The TV, The Baby, and The Band have nothing to do with the hormonal extremes of adolescence, and the gentle, low key approach of the record is hardly interested in conquering much of anything. (Click here to buy it from Merge.)

Charlotte Hatherley “Very Young” – The first thing you notice in “Very Young” is how Charlotte Hatherley plays her guitar: It’s all hooks and rock bravado, but with a precision of tone and dynamic effect that makes it sound like a mall-punk tune that has been tricked out by a knowledgeable, passionate pop nerd. The second thing you notice is the way Hatherley’s composition keeps pumping the listener up to a state of manic elation, but the jagged rhythms make you feel paranoid and uneasy, as though you could get caught doing something wrong at any moment. The third thing you notice is just how perfectly the lyrics are suited to the music. She’s singing from the perspective of a young woman who has become involved with an older man, but as much as she insists that it’s a positive, healthy, non-creepy relationship, you feel the song from the point of view of her partner, who is obviously a little freaked out by the age gap, but totally amped about it just the same. Hatherley’s character is wise to the fact that the age difference is a turn-on for both parties, and she plays it up to her advantage even when she seems a little put-off by his condescension. (Click here to buy it from Charlotte Hatherley.)

Elsewhere: Eric Harvey’s “year-end lengthy writeups” aren’t nearly as dry and banal as his self-deprecating title would suggest. If anything, it’s a steady stream of sharp observations laced with some of the most personal writing of his career to date. Please read it.

Gospel Supremes “Do, Lord, Remember Me” – Art Rosenbaum recorded the music found on the Art of Field Recording box set over the course of five decades, and as a result, the quality of the audio varies from track to track. There are some unexpected, unintentional benefits to this approach. For example, some of the more recent digital recordings document singers such as Mary Lomax, who performs unaccompanied traditional ballads dating back hundreds of years. Those records are clear and pristine, and place the emphasis on her voice and the words rather than an aural patina of oldness. On the other hand, the relatively poor quality of this recording of the Gospel Supremes from 1977 serves to compensate for the fact that the song’s arrangement is one of the most modern sounds in the set — the band play electric instruments, and the gospel tune is clearly shaped by R&B influences. The fidelity may be shaky, but the recording gives us a strong sense of time and place, and that context adds quite a bit to the charm of this already brilliant performance. (Click here to buy it from Dust-To-Digital.)

Leroy Carr “Christmas In Jail – Ain’t That A Pain” – Yeah, I imagine that spending Christmas in jail is a pain, to say the least. You don’t get a Christmas tree, there’s no turkey meat, and you’re stuck wondering whether anyone is going to bother to post your bail — not very festive! Leroy Carr’s song mixes genuine pathos with some sharp dark comedy, resulting in a piece of music that’s pretty funny up until the point that you realize that this is something that happens to loads of people every year, and in the case of this tune’s protagonist, it’s something of a holiday tradition. (Click here to buy it from Dust-To-Digital.)

Elsewhere: The recently resurrected Rbally site has a truly exceptional recording of a Wilco show from August of this year. Get it while you still can! If you only want to grab a few songs, I recommend “Hate It Here,” “California Stars,” “Walken,” and “You Are My Face.”

Also: A Christmas shopping tale.

The New Pornographers “Myriad Harbour (Live on KCRW)” – This is excerpted from an email exchange with Rob Sheffield.

Rob:
…Number one is “Myriad Harbor.” Thank you so much for turning me on to that song. When I think of how many great songs I keep learning about from you, that one really stands apart. It’s so funny you just latched onto that one right from the start. It’s not just my fave NP’s (or Destroyer) song ever, I now think it’s one of the all-time best songs about that time-honored topic, coming to New York and having a bad time, not knowing your way around, not being visible to anybody, having nothing to do and nowhere to go, meeting pretty girls in record stores and failing to impress them with your Anthology of American Music purchase. But he sings it so joyfully that he makes it sound like he doesn’t even realize what a bad time in New York he’s having, which means I guess he’s not really having one at all. I feel like I lived out the story of that song so many different weekends over the years, yet I wish I had that song to teach me how to go through that experience without letting it crush the joy of being in New York and being in those record stores in the first place.

Me:
Less than an hour before I got your email, I was walking through the grocery store listening to a playlist, and “Myriad Harbour” came on and it was like YES, the full effect of the song hitting me while I was looking at produce. It’s such a special tune — you’re exactly right about it, but then there’s just so much more. I love how the drums sound so crisp and urgent through the entire thing, but the song as a whole still has that loose stride. That’s so key to capturing the spirit of Manhattan, especially the way it feels when you’re not used to it and it’s hard to understand how people can seem simultaneously hurried and casual. It’s a very weird kind of grace.

“All I ever wanted help with was you!,” that line hits me hard every single time. I guess I’m not alone, because when I saw them play it live a few months ago, a whole bunch of people shouted it out when he sang that part.

Rob:
It’s funny because it took a few months to notice how the words of “Myriad Harbor” are kind of sad and isolated, but he’s not dwelling on the sad part of it, he’s just glad to be there even if nobody notices him and he’s just standed on the corner of Bleecker and Broadway, looking for something to do, trying to pretend he’s Bob Dylan or Lou Reed but just looking like a pathetic stranger and feeling like one, and then when all the sadness comes out in that one line, “All I Ever Wanted Help With Was You,” it’s so intense, and yet still funny. He’s one of a kind, that’s for sure. (Click here to buy New Pornographers music from Matador, and here to buy Rob Sheffield’s book Love Is A Mix Tape.)

Field Music “A House Is Not A Home” – Field Music absolutely nail a specific yet slippery English pop sensibility with a scholarly eye for minute detail, and though they are self-consciously working within an established tradition, their work on Tones Of Town sounds fluid and natural, as though they have access to the same well of inspiration as the songwriters that they emulate. “A House Is Not A Home” seems effortless in the way that only the best songs can, and has a way of sneaking into the back of your mind and setting up residence like a welcome, yet uninvited guest. That’s only appropriate given its set of lyrics, which ponder the notion of what it is to have a home, and seem to posit that a healthy mind can only come from a life full of compromise and cooperation, because otherwise a person grows cold and stagnant if their habits and tastes are consistently unchallenged. (Click here to buy it from Insound. Originally posted on January 10th 2007.)

Marnie Stern “Logical Volume” – Marnie Stern’s busy arrangements are like a highly stylized representation of a world of infinite distractions. Whenever her tiny but enthusiastic voice breaks out of the din it seems like a minor triumph, as though she is defeating insurmountable odds by cutting through the collective noise of humanity and asserting her will. Her songs mostly blast the listener with rapid bursts of treble which require concentration on her part, but eradicate every coherent stream of thought in its path. There’s some peace at the center of each song, but you can only feel it if you can tune out the clutter. “Logical Volume” is actually one of the most focused numbers on her debut album, and unsurprisingly, it’s also the most overt statement of identity and ego. Stern indulges in building up her own myth, proclaiming that she’s been “off the radar way too long” and declaring that this (the song? the album?) is her “Thunder Road” and “Marquee Moon.” It’s a refreshing show of confidence, even if the tone is slightly jocular. (Click here to buy it from Buy Olympia. Originally posted on March 9 2007.)

Also: Happy holidays, from John Cei Douglas.

Hauschka / Tarwater “The Afterlife Of Things” – Though other artists on Hauschka’s new compilation Versions of the Prepared Piano rework or embellish his compositions in often radical ways, Tarwater’s “The Afterlife of Things” barely alters the source material, and simply adds a droll, melancholy vocal performance to an already stunning piece of music. The song is slow and languid. The vocals simply hang over the top, following its gentle rhythm and doing very little to interfere with the simple beauty of Hauschka’s fragile melodies and the chiming tones produced by the unorthodox tuning of his piano. (Click here to buy it from Amazon. Originally posted in my AP Hit Refresh column on April 18th 2007)

Siobhan Donaghy “So You Say” – I didn’t notice it until the third time I heard the song, but the first line of each verse is addressed to a man named Adam. There’s something rather disarming about the way Siobhan Donaghy utters his name — in two quick syllables, she seems wounded, generous, patient, and terminally lovesick. The lyrics are fairly standard “you just dumped me and I can’t deal” stuff, but that tiny bit of specificity changes the feeling of the entire track, making it seem almost uncomfortably small and personal even when it hits its huge Wilson Phillips-as-a-shoegazer-band chorus. (Click here to buy it from Amazon UK. Originally posted here on April 17th 2007)

Joss Stone “Put Your Hands On Me” – Joss Stone never inspired any enthusiasm from me before — her voice is strong but generic, and she seemed to be going out of her way to win cred points with the dullest sort of mainstream pop fans. Her music was inoffensive and generally dull, the sort of thing that you can hear and tune out, or maybe enjoy just enough to ask “hey, who is this?,” get the answer, and then totally forget about it the next day. This song, on the other hand, is quite fun. It’s extremely corny and not especially original, but Stone is utterly unashamed, and embraces its cheesiness wholeheartedly. Her collaborator Raphael Saadiq is clearly mimicking Rich Harrison’s “1 Thing” and DJ Premier’s “Ain’t No Other Man,” and though the track and the vocal performance do not reach the incredible heights of either song, it’s a worthy tune, and I’m glad to hear another song in the style much in the same way that I’m likely to enjoy any reasonably successful copy of the Pixies’ formula. Aside from the obvious affectations, she reminds me a lot of early ’90s Mariah Carey on this recording. She sounds completely overwhelmed by infatuation, and totally amped to be singing. Her pure pleasure in the act of performing is obvious and it elevates a song that would otherwise just be pretty good to something kinda thrilling and special. (Click here to buy it from Amazon. Originally posted here on February 27 2007.)

Elsewhere: Ugh. That’s all I can say about this. A million times over, UGH.

Meanwhile, At Fair Game With Faith Salie: If you want to listen to the segment with me talking about Christmas music, here you go.

Glass Candy “Beatific” – When I say that Ida No sounds like a voice from the past on this song, I’m not simply trying to place an emphasis on its retro quality, though it most certainly feels like a vintage disco tune done up with thick, modern synthesizers. I’m being literal: Her voice does not sound as though it belongs in this era, and her voice — if not her body — seems as if it has somehow been displaced in time. “Beatific” has the same effect as looking through photographs of glamorous people taken long before you were born — so much of the past belongs to the realm of fiction (in one way or another) that it can seem a bit unreal, and entire lives can seem weird and impossible. Glass Candy are clearly aiming for an out-of-time quality in this production, but as Courtney Love used to sing, they fake it so real, they are beyond fake. (Click here to buy it from Insound.)

Meanwhile, At Fair Game With Faith Salie: I recommend checking out the White Williams session that aired last week on the show. You can hear the entire thing with the interview here, but if you only want to download the songs he and his band played in the studio, here you go. Also, we had Pitchfork’s Marc Hogan on the show yesterday to talk about the use of appropriation in contemporary Swedish indie-pop. Lastly, in tonight’s show, I’ll be talking to Faith about what happens when people try to make Christmas music cool. If you’d like to hear the show, you have a few options: you can subscribe to the podcast here, check your local public radio listings, or go to “radio” in iTunes, go to the public section, and tune in to WNYC-AM at 8:00 PM EST.

Say Anything “This Is Fucking Ecstasy” – If Rivers Cuomo was an asshole instead of a douche, he’d be Max Bemis from Say Anything. Both of them write pristine, peppy suburban pop-rock, but their neuroses take very different forms: Whereas Cuomo plays up a wimpy, dorky, faux-chivalrous front, Bemis is aggressive, self-destructive, and antagonistic towards anyone who upsets his delicate mental balance. Most often, his spite is aimed towards conformist “Barbies and Kens,” dismissive hipsters and a succession of ex-girlfriends that he mocks with a sadistic glee that borders on misogyny, but on occasion, he becomes the target of his own endless, extraordinarily bitter critique. Like a lot of charismatic jerks, Bemis can be very funny and insightful, but it can be a slog to listen to 27 of his songs in a row, even when most of them are of very high quality. The misanthropy and narcissism of his words gets to be wearing after a while, but in small doses, the manic bounce of the songs can be utterly intoxicating. I’m being quite literal when I use the word “manic,” by the way — Bemis suffers from bi-polar disorder, and the majority of his songs are like manic episodes set to bopping Thin Lizzy-style riffs. Since Bemis always seems as though he’s teetering on the brink of emotional collapse, those perky numbers are usually the most harrowing — he somehow manages to flip sunny California pop-punk into a tense tightrope act. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Atlas Sound “Quarantined” – After seeing a Deerhunter show earlier this year, my friend told me that he thought the deer in the band’s name was a reference to Bradford Cox, like he was this frail, delicate bambi about to get gunned down, presumably by online music critics. That’s a clever thought, mainly because it zeros in on something really essential to most of Cox’s music: He always comes off as this fragile and bewildered waif who could be literally or figuratively blown away by the sounds on the recordings, whether they are blaring drones or gentle hums. Nearly everything on his debut album as Atlas Sound falls into the latter category, but if anything, he sounds even more vulnerable and exposed. Whereas the noisier songs on Cryptograms and Fluorescent Grey gave him room for cover and offered moments of ecstatic release, the Atlas Sound tunes hover in limbo, and exacerbate a sense of awkward passivity. The two most compelling songs on the record are a diptych that foreground this notion: “River Card” is a delirious, lovesick ballad about feeling helpless in the presence of a poisonous, predatory lover, and “Quarantined” finds the singer drifting off aimlessly while he is “waiting to be changed,” as if mutation, maturation, and evolution are things that just sorta happen to us. (Click here for the Atlas Sound MySpace page.)

Elsewhere: Emily Gould is pretty right-on about Juno, but she doesn’t really get into how incredibly dated the movie seems. More than anything else I’ve seen or heard this year aside from maybe that Black Kids EP, Juno just seems like something that’s here to show us all that it’s time to move on from the dominant “indie” aesthetic of the past seven years and figure out something for the next decade. Juno has its moments, and Ellen Page is pretty remarkable in the title role, but the script is nothing special — much of the snarky humor is just warmed-over quips in the style of Joss Whedon and Amy Sherman-Palladino, and most of the movie comes across like an extremely dumbed-down prequel to Gilmore Girls. It really doesn’t help matters that the art direction and soundtrack* are fucking terrible, even when they throw in unimpeachable tunes by Belle & Sebastian and Cat Power. When you get beyond the slightness of the story, the big problem here is that anything that could be considered charming and novel in the film is just past its cultural expiration date. A lot of Juno would’ve worked really well if it came out six years ago, but at this point in time, it’s just tired, deeply unimaginative, and a bit embarrassing, as if one of your friends ran out over the weekend and got a “more cowbell!” tattoo on their arm.

* Seriously, movies and ads have got to stop using “I’m Sticking With You” by the Velvet Underground. Like, right NOW. It worked in Morvern Callar, but that’s it. I was annoyed with it coming up in the Savages, but man, it was soooo much worse in Juno. I mean, come on, for God’s sake, it’s got to be the worst Velvet Underground song ever, right?

Yo Yo Yo Kids “Presents” – Let’s face it — kids today are too fucking cool for Christmas. By the time they’re old enough for Kindergarten, they’re entirely over it. I mean, c’mon, it’s the same thing every year, and what do you think they are, babies? HELL NO! All of the elementary school students that I hang out with are hip, sophisticated pre-tweens, and they’re probably on to something when they tell me that Santa Claus and his elves are totally lame. That said, acquisition of material goods is never, ever, ever uncool, and so it’s still worth celebrating, or at least until the Wii is all set up.

Anyway, wide-eyed child-like joy is obviously out of the question, but Christmas music is permissible so long as it conveys the same sort of numbness and entitlement found in most contemporary post-Timbaland chart hits. Yo Yo Yo Kids hit just the right balance on “Presents.” The kids pay lip service to your typical secular Christmas iconography, but they couldn’t possibly sound more bored by your sentiment or unimpressed by the pageantry. A little girl raps in the same weirdly indifferent tone Fergie would reserve for advertising the merits of her lovely lady lumps, and it totally makes sense because it’s basically the same song. In either tune, the singer is just playing along with social norms in order to be compensated with expensive gifts, and she can barely conceal her motivations. It’s all just a means to an end. And there it is, the new holiday cheer: It’s Christmas, y’all. Let’s get it over with. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Wu-Tang Clan “Windmill” – I really hate the fact that the Big Doe Rehab and 8 Diagrams came out so close together. I mean, it’s great to have this embarrassment of Wu riches at the end of the year, but it basically forces the fans to digest them simultaneously, and compare them against each other. This is mostly unfair to 8 Diagrams, which can’t help but seem initially disappointing compared to the non-stop crowd-pleasing sound of Ghostface’s latest record.

Think of it in culinary terms — the Big Doe Rehab is aesthetically unchallenging but undeniably delicious, like a really fantastic slice of pizza. It gives you exactly what you want, in just the right way, and even if you don’t care about the level of craft that went into it, you’re going to be satisfied. It’s a can’t-lose proposition. The new Wu-Tang is a gourmet meal, with RZA and his production collaborators serving up some familiar ingredients in ways that are a bit unexpected, with a few odd fusion touches, and unorthodox techniques. It’s the sort of meal that makes you actually think about what you’re eating, and reconsider your tastes. (“Oh, huh, I didn’t realize that I liked capers…”) It’s supposed to taste good too, but it’s intended for a refined, discerning palate — it’s a very cerebral sort of pleasure. The experiments on 8 Diagrams don’t always yield classic results, but for the most part, it’s a complicated, delicate blend of flavors and textures that respects the strengths of its MCs by pushing them out of their comfort zones.

I’ve heard 8 Diagrams at least a dozen times now, and I still don’t even know how to describe the way it feels. It’s stubbornly resistant to adjectives — much of the record falls into the vague space between thought and emotions, it’s basically an entire album of songs that evoke a sense of reserved confusion. It’s an odd vibe; confident but a bit rattled, brave yet paranoid. A lot of the songs feel slightly stunned and blank, with ample negative space filled out with melancholy guitar lines or the eerie sustained hiss of sampled cymbals. It all sounds very honest, like they all decided not to obscure their advancing age by pandering to younger taste, much less hide their conflicted emotions about heading into a rather frightening make-or-break stage of their career. It’s fairly mellow and relaxed, but it’s not easy listening — it’s a full hour of lull without release, and it steadily becomes less aggressive and more despondent as the tracklisting progresses toward a deliberately anti-climactic conclusion. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Radiohead “Bodysnatchers” – Radiohead’s most effective expressions of alienation are incredibly exhilarating: The enormous power chord that signals the chorus in “Creep;” the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush of “The National Anthem” and “Idioteque;” the feeling of victory and escape that accompanies the ascending hooks of “Airbag” and “The Bends.” Thom Yorke’s protagonists are freaked out by their bodies and terrified of the world, but what pushes his work beyond the banality of adolescent poetry is how fully the music, the words, and the vocal performances are rooted in physicality. At their best, Radiohead never let you forget that you’re in a body, whether you like it or not — and in most cases, it is most certainly the latter.

“Bodysnatchers” is an update of “Creep,” at least in the sense that it so baldly states the singer’s discomfort in his own body. Whereas “Creep” is basically a self-deprecating love song, “Bodysnatchers” is complicated and messy — Yorke’s alienation from his body approaches total hysteria, but there’s barely a note of self-loathing, which is exactly what makes it so captivating. If anything, he seems overwhelmed by the rush of existence. When he sings “I’m trapped in this body and can’t get out,” it could just as well be an expression of dissatisfaction with his physical form — too ugly, too male, too female, too far removed from the ideal self that exists in his mind, whatever — as it could be an equation of corporeal existence and spiritual/intellectual imprisonment. Either way, it’s a song about unwilling compromise and limitations, and the singer seems desperate to circumvent nature and reality in order to achieve some greater potential. The tune stubbornly charges headlong towards failure and futility, but its ambition is anything but ugly. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Elsewhere: Carl Wilson appeared on Fair Game yesterday to talk about his excellent new book about Celine Dion’s album Let’s Talk About Love. It’s a fun, light-hearted interview that still manages to touch on the complexity of his project, which uses Dion and her music as a starting point for a very engaging and thoughtful riff on the nature of taste.

The Fiery Furnaces @ The Music Hall of Williamsburg 12/8/2007
The Philadelphia Grand Jury / Navy Nurse / My Egyptian Grammar / Evergreen / Duplexes of the Dead – Automatic Husband – Ex-Guru / Black-Hearted Boy / Bitter Tea / Right By Conquest / Slavin’ Away mashed up with The Garfield El – Candy Maker’s Knife In My Handbag – 48-23 22nd Street – Seven Silver Curses – Slavin’ Away / Don’t Dance Her Down – Single Again – Smelling Cigarettes – Single Again – Don’t Dance Her Down / Japanese Slippers / Widow City / Restorative Beer / Clear Signal To Cairo // Tropical Iceland / Police Sweater Blood Vow / Bright Blue Tie / I’m In No Mood (brief) / Chris Michaels (tease) / Waiting To Know You / Blueberry Boat

Even if you’re just a casual reader of this site, you know that I’ve seen the Fiery Furnaces in concert many times over since the end of 2003. So believe me when I say that this was probably the best show I’ve seen them play thus far. Aside from the encore, this was essentially a slightly tweaked, subtly superior variation of the set I saw them play last month at the Hiro Ballroom, but the thing that put this show over the top was the sheer joy and enthusiasm the band displayed on stage. I’ve never seen Eleanor Friedberger seem so extremely happy to be on stage, and entirely at ease in her performance. Not coincidentally, her voice was in remarkable form, effortlessly conveying the humanity in the songs just as well as pulling off her typically impressive feats of diction. The entire quartet was at the top of their game, and the uniformly lean arrangements called attention to the essential quality of the material rather than distract the listener with their penchant for self-sabotaging excess. A few of the performances may well have been the finest versions of the songs I’ve ever heard — surely the gorgeous, piano-based reading of “Waiting To Know You” was the definitive version of the tune.

The Fiery Furnaces “Bright Blue Tie” (Alternate Version) – “Bright Blue Tie” was played as a request, and the simple piano arrangement for the song was the most pleasant, unexpected surprise of the set. I’d only seen the band play the song once before back in 2004, but the full band piano-centric version from this show was certainly superior, in part because it so nicely echoed the relatively lush alternate take from the Gallowsbird’s Bark sessions. (Click here to buy Gallowsbird’s Bark from Amazon.)

The Fiery Furnaces “Japanese Slippers” (Live on Fair Game) – This simple recording of “Japanese Slippers” — it’s just Eleanor on vocals, and Matthew on a grand piano — isn’t much like the rollicking version that the band played in this set, but it’s one of the most charming things the duo have ever put to tape, mainly because it seems to capture the most basic essence of the tune and explicitly connects it to tradition. (Click here to buy Widow City from Thrill Jockey.)

Elsewhere: NYC Taper has this entire concert available for download.

Also: Building the perfect lolcat.

St. Vincent “Marry Me” – Annie Clarke’s character in “Marry Me” says exactly what she means in plain English, but that only makes the sentiment of the song turn sour when you realize that her capriciousness trumps the sincere, enthusiastic love she feels for this John fellow, and she is fully aware of this fact. She knows she’s leading him on to heartbreak, but he’s so generous, stable, and willing that she can’t resist the safety he offers, though she resents it or feels unworthy of it just the same. I don’t think this is a cruel song, though — the sweetness of the melody when she proposes to him may seem like a lure into a trap, but it’s so clear the character means well, and desperately wants to minimize his pain. She’s confused about commitment, but there’s never a moment of doubt that she loves him. I’m not normally inclined to feel a great deal of sympathy for this sort of behavior, but just like poor old John, I’m helpless to Clarke’s charms. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Decomposure “Hour 5” – Decomposure’s new album comes in elaborate hand-made packaging, with a booklet of thick, torn pages that alternate between abstracted patterns of short black lines and dense blocks of tiny words that loosely correspond to the vocals on the record. It’s ideally suited to the music — austere but worn down, aloof and willfully oblique yet eager to communicate. Even when the songs have strong, accessible melodies — this one in particular sounds a lot like Nine Inch Nails — there’s a sense that the singer is speaking in a code you’ll never crack, but he’s still trying to express something, though he may only be talking to himself. (Click here to buy it from Blank Squirrel.)