John Mayer- Battle Studies (**)

Pay close attention to the cover art on John Mayer’s latest album, Battle Studies.

Notice his gray-scaled physique, his purposefully tussled hair, and his wistful stare, the target of which is decidedly out of frame. Soak it in, let John Mayer’s singer-songwriter plight consume you through the sheer force of his gaze.

Perfectly constructed sadness never looked so real.

The problem is that Battle Studies is all style, with only flashes of substance, from a musician that really started to get serious with his last album. 2006’s Continuum was a breath of fresh air for Mayer, who’d been making good but not great music for a few years prior, and put him in the realm of serious music makers. His decision to focus on his arrangements and stretch his sonic palate made for an engaging listen, and won him heaps of praise for people that thought he was just a pop dandy.

Yet instead of continuing that trend, Mayer seems more concerned with appearing sophisticated rather than actually engaging his listeners. On Battle Studies, Mayer takes his jazz/blues soft rock to Prozac-laden proportions, focusing on half-baked atmosphere and ambience rather than storytelling and song craft.

Things get off to a rocky start, the Edge inspired guitar and lush backdrop of “Heartbreak Warfare” offering listeners a massive sonic experience, but a fairly shallow song. Mayer caps it off with a strained solo, one that’s as frustrated as we’re lead to believe he is, but his lyrics that feel painfully trite. Against a symphony of anguish, Mayer amateurishly tackles the universal with no brainer hooks such as, “Once you want it to begin/No one really ever wins/In heartbreak warfare…”

And it’s only track one.

Make no mistake, Battle Studies is an immaculate sounding record. It's bass is warm and thick, it's drums are deep. The rich syrupy solo on “All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye” and the delicate acoustic melodies on “Do You Know Me” prove that Mayer enlisted some studio muscle, but there’s a tradeoff. There aren’t very many moments where the music feels organic. The digital funk of “Crossroads” flirts with a decent groove, Mayer’s southern rock delivery holding it all together, but it all feels calculated, pieced together to sell John Mayer rather than music John Mayer made.

What the record lacks, and what ultimately made Continuum so captivating, was Mayer’s ability to create intimate portraits while keeping his arrangements lively and evolving. On Battle Studies, Mayer opts to phone in his melodies, allowing songs to meander while their crispness carries them. Considering what an accomplished guitarist he is, it’s a real shame to see that potential go to waste, especially when his solos remind you that you’re on a different song.

Predictably enough, Battle Studies is best when Mayer forgets about how glossy he can make his music. The simple acoustic pluck of “Who Says” is a standout gem, a song that feels more inline with his feelings than the grandiose balladeering he’s become fixated with. Against softly brushed percussion, Mayer’s nimble melodies give way to lines like “It's been a long night in New York City/It's been a long time since 22 /I don't remember you looking any better/But then again I don't remember you…” It’s not that Mayer sounds more convincing, it’s that the words have more weight in subject matter, tackling the ambiguity that comes from fractured relationships rather than the heartbroken absolutism that peppers the rest of the album.

Battle Studies finds Mayer preoccupied with either showing how macho he is, or how torn up the ladies have made him. “Assassins” is a heavy-handed parable about encountering his heartbreaking female alter ego, while “Half Of My Heart” would make even Charlie Brown wince awkwardly. In short, John Mayer lashes out because he has a persona he wants to maintain, and it’s this persona that gets him in trouble.

Still, the record has its bright spots. “Crossroads” proves that the ghost of Al Green looms behind Mayer’s fretting fingers while the spinning melodies of “Edge Of Desire” help listeners drift into a delicate dream world. It’s clear that Mayer can write a melody, and write them well, but on Battle Studies he seems to have forgotten how to make them consistently memorable.

But fear not, because John Mayer has provided listeners with something that he feels trumps a solid record any day, his sensitive side. Battle Studies won’t change any notions or leave a lasting impact, but listeners are left with a sad breathy croon and purposefully constructed hair. Ultimately, it's the sound of plastic emotion, and of a gifted player putting his potential on the shelf.

Key Cuts: Who Says, Crossroads, Edge Of Desire

Sounds Like: The worst parts of KOIT radio.

Click on the artwork to sample Battle Studies for yourself!

Say Anything- Say Anything (****)

By a band’s fourth record, certain things are more or less figured out.

The sound has been solidified, eventually earmarking what future listeners will remember them for, and the line-up is usually cemented as the "classic" line up if it hasn't been already. Think about this: The Beastie Boys released Ill Communication, Korn released Issues, and blink 182 broke into the mainstream with Enema Of The State. Clearly, fourth records are standard bearers and legacy makers, making them extremely important to musical artists.

By the fourth record, fans have an understanding of what a particular band is about, so it’s important for that band to put forth a tremendous effort, or risk fading into obscurity.

Whether or not Max Bemis of Say Anything was conscious of this trend is anyone’s guess. What is clear is that he set out to make a defining record for himself this time around. On Say Anything, Bemis leads his band like a pop-punk general, burning social inequities and salting the Earth with big hooks and big rhythms. Fragile neurosis in step, Bemis and his crew march through 13 larger than life tracks that focus on everything from relationships, to society, to the great big afterlife.

Fans turned off by the shear breadth of the band’s 2006 double album In Defense Of The Genre will find that Bemis has narrowed down his sights this time around. The hooks grab more immediately, and his mixing of sounds continues to uniquely color Say Anything’s music within a stale genre.

The record hits its stride early with the playfully nihilistic “Hate Everyone,” featuring snappy acoustic melodies, chunky guitar lines, and cartoony keyboards. Elsewhere, “Crush’d” flips the Say Anything sound to it’s electronic indulgences, featuring fluttering beats and crisp synthesizers while “She Won’t Follow You” sinks its teeth into melodic walls of distortion. Additionally, Neal Avron’s clean, but not compressed, production keeps a consistent feel throughout the album, even when the songs are stylistically different.

While there are a few bombastic missteps (The carnival interlude on “Mara & Me” comes to mind) Bemis seems to have settled down his musical ADD when it comes to genre splattering. It’s not that Bemis has necessarily turned a blind eye to the musical experimentation of In Defense Of The Genre, it’s that he approaches his songwriting with greater discipline and restraint this time. And after two full discs of pushing the band’s sound to its limits, Bemis has identified and refined what works for the band on Say Anything. While the record doesn’t do anything to win over new fans, Bemis’ singular vision and “evolution without self-consciousness” attitude give the album life and energy.

The album’s standout “Do Better” exemplifies this, taking a pulsing dance beat and covering it with smooth, quirky strings and a twangy guitar solo. Juxtaposed with clever word play like “Life is not a spark in space/An episode of Will & Grace/Controversial yet mundane/Debra’s messing with your brain…” it’s clear that Bemis’ sense of melody allows him some interesting sonic luxuries that accentuate his thoughts.

Bemis' thoughts, however, take this album from simply being a great sounding record into something with a bit more substance. While Bemis has matured from his is first musical outings (Finding a wife and keeping his bi-polar disorder in check) it’s clear that he approaches life with a new sense of perspective this time around.

The second half gem “Cemetery” shows Bemis at his most confessional with lines like “There's a cemetery deep below the sea/There is spaces reserved for fools like me…” Against sparkling acoustic guitars and a grinding, distorted build up, Bemis seems to be taking responsibility for the anguish in his life rather than shifting the blame onto something else as per the genre staple. In the end, he comes to the realization of “Should He asks what got me through?/If He asks me, it was you…” which illustrates Bemis’ new found faith in making human connections.

It is no longer binge and purge writing from Bemis. Instead, cuts like the military drum themed album closer “Ahhh…Men” revels in his new found self-awareness, his comfort in letting that which he doesn’t control, run its course. Bemis sings, “So can I lie in your grave at the edge of the end of the world?/Where I will sit with my love in this fluorescent swirl/Eat us up, break it down to the tiniest cell/In a room with a view and a window to hell…” finding comfort in that all things end, and all things decay, but it’s not to be seen as a failure on his part.

This ultimately creates a record that extends itself organically, while allowing Bemis’ personal growth paint vivid portraits about universal truths.

There are some missteps, “Eloise” goes on for far too long and the chorus on “Death For My Birthday” becomes a bit redundant, but those are small prices to pay for such a consistent record. While listeners will cry out that Bemis has swindled them once again in not rehashing …Is A Real Boy, Say Anything succeeds because Bemis has been able to transfer his matured voice into a greater sonic palate. The result is a record that can stand next to the best of Say Anything’s canon, and in the future, define it.

Key Cuts: Do Better, Cemetery, Ahhh…Men

Sounds Like: Catalyst (A New Found Glory), Interventions & Lullabies (The Format), Pasadena (Ozma)

Click on the artwork to sample Say Anything for yourself!

Weezer- Raditude (***)

Since 2001, one thing has remained constant about Weezer: They’ve pissed off all the critics and fans that fell in love with them in the 90s, and they’ve seemed to take pleasure in doing it.

While bands evolved and lose followers over time, none of them inspire as much hatred and betrayal that Weezer’s ex-fans seem to exhibit. Old followers and rock snobs have collectively disowned Rivers Cuomo, the supposed geek rock equivalent of Anakin Skywalker, accusing him of shifting to the pop music Dark Side with his penchant for hooks and loud guitar. By their standards, The Green Album was too slick, Maladroit was too dull, Make Believe was too poorly written, and The Red Album, for lack of a better way to say it, was just too goofy.

And now, they have Raditude to hate as well.

With 10 tracks, and a fleet of songwriting partners, Weezer’s Raditude effectively ends the hope that Cuomo will ever revisit the mindset that made Pinkerton such a cherished record. Packed to the brim with sugary hooks, punchy rhythms, and squealing guitar, Raditude revels in everything a 13-year-old boy could love about rock music, and everything a 40-year-old man needs to feel young. The result is a record that indulges in ALL of Weezer’s cheesy tendencies, but with half the fun and absence of wit.

On the surface, however, the record is certainly crisp sounding. “I’m Your Daddy” features chugging guitars and thick moog synthesizers, reminding fans that Cars-inspired power-pop never quite goes out of style. Elsewhere, the squealing pseudo metal of “Let It All Hang Out” and the acoustic backed “(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To” inject the disc with plenty of big sing along moments while proving that Weezer is the Bruce Lee of crunchy rhythms.

However, there are some musical detours that bog the disc down, the saccharine quality of such leaving a poor taste in some listeners’ mouths. The Sugar Ray original, but Cuomo penned, “Love Is The Answer” mines a Bollywood aesthetic that feels out of place and inauthentic to really be construed as actual experimentation. Additionally, Cuomo and producer Jermaine Dupri transform the quiet/acoustic Cuomo demo “Can’t Stop Partying” into a bombastic electronic number, with bristling club beats and dance-ready synthesizers.

Oh yeah, and Lil Wayne spits on a verse.

Weezer have always toyed with arrangements, subject matter, and song styles that weren’t native to pop-punk, but this is the first time they fail to be ironic. Raditude’s glaring weakness is its transparency; the disc’s shallowness precludes it from being an astute observation about feel-good culture while relegating it to overwrought, and juvenile, clichés. It’s not that Lil Wayne is on a Weezer record, it’s that listeners can’t take Cuomo’s party anthem about feeling lonely in the club seriously because the music has been constructed too closely to the ideas he rails against.

Additionally, Weezer’s obsession with adolescence is neither clever nor nostalgic. In fact, it comes across as lazy. “Trippin’ Down The Freeway” features an explosive chorus and strong sense of melody, but the lyrics of “I told you that you had put on some weight/You went out with somebody named Kevin Green/You preferred to go to a volleyball game/I told you that you couldn't be more lame…” offer no insight from lost youth love. Much like the Pat Wilson penned clunker, “In The Mall,” it seems like the band is stuck in their Happy Days inspired music video, and cannot move past that when it comes to their subject matter.

Ultimately, Raditude provides a fun listen if an empty one. While it’s all well and good to parade a set of songs that sound like a band enjoying themselves, there is also an issue of really looking at the quality of said songs. Again, the group banishes their best track from this era (The thick, stompy power-pop number “The Prettiest Girl In The Whole Wide World”) to the deluxe edition b-sides, and they fail to exercise any restraint when it comes to their song craft.

In short, the band needs to go back to producer Ric Osseck.

While it’s far from the end of the world, it’s frustrating to see a band just coast on their talents. Raditude is fun in the way 80s hair metal is fun, but never feels as intimate as Weezer’s past catalog. It tragically fails at making listeners think whilst they’re having fun, a hallmark of Weezer’s brightest material. This is partly because of the collaborative song writing process, and the lack of a unified voice, but also because the band seems to be through with painting intimate portraits of their lives.

Gone is the Weezer that toured as metal cover band Goat Punishment, fronted by the Havard student that painted his room all black. Instead, listeners have to accept that this is a Weezer that likes feel-good tunes while hocking Weezer brand Snuggies. While it’s always true that bands evolve and change overtime, it’s fairly uncommon to see a bad relive their teens more than two decades into their career.

Then again, maybe only a band with this much raditude is gutsy enough to try.

Key Cuts: I’m Your Daddy, Let It All Hang Out, The Prettiest Girl In The Whole Wide World (Deluxe Edition only)

Sounds Like: The Cars (The Cars), Hysteria (Def Leppard), Pasadena (Ozma)

Click on the artwork to sample Raditude for yourself!

Tegan & Sara- Sainthood (***½)

In 2007, everybody who was anybody was listening to Tegan & Sara’s The Con. The magazines piled on the accolades while stars like Tom DeLonge raved about the duo’s snappy take on new wave. The Quin sisters were the quintessential indie poster girls in 2007 and with the 2009 drop of Sainthood, it doesn’t seem like they’ll be relinquishing the crown just yet.

Tapping Chris Walla (of Death Cab For Cutie fame) to share production duties, as well as A.F.I.’s Hunter Burgan to help co-write 3 songs, Sainthood finds Tegan & Sara exercising lean melodies against the their monotone delivery and spunky rhythms.

Right off the bat, listeners will find that Tegan & Sara have corrected the major problems that bogged down The Con, namely, that the songs were too crowded. Sainthood is incredibly bass driven, its steady and melodic bounce holding down many of the tracks while Walla keeps the ambient electronics in check. The lead single “Hell” is a great indication of such, featuring Tegan’s rich voice, complimented by dry dance floor beats and fluttering keyboards. While the song’s forceful down strokes are enough to keep heads bobbing, it’s the Quins’ ability to wrap their soulful tongues around twisting metaphors that keeps the audience riveted.

Even if Sainthood isn’t any true step forward for the group, they certainly seemed to have learned how to play to their strengths and eliminate the clutter this time around.

“Arrow” bounces back and forth between cascading overdrive and thumping acoustic guitar, while Sara keeps her nasally register in check. Elsewhere, the album’s stand out “On Directing” throbs along with rich bass work, delicate synthesizers that fade into the ether, and dual vocals that add to the air of spaciousness the Quins seem to be striving for. All together, there is a very organic quality to Sainthood, a spontaneity to the songs that makes them fresher than Tegan & Sara’s previous outing. Perhaps another way to look at it is if The Con opened up the girls’ sonic palate, then Sainthood is an exercise in selectivity.

In many ways, it’s a relief to indulge in such a modest album, especially considering Tegan & Sara’s contemporaries are all trying to out-fox each other in the studio. In that respect, Sainthood never tries to be something it isn’t, opting for restraint rather than indulgence. Yet just because it’s a lean record, doesn’t mean it’s bare bones and sterile. “The Cure” sports some weighty heft with a solid, warm groove and shimmering guitar work. Tegan’s breathy croon of, “All I dreamed up/All that seemed like luck/Seems silly to you now/All I said to you/All I did for you/Seems so silly to me now…” suits the mood perfectly, the atmosphere channeling melancholy rather than rage.

This is also another step up for the girls, for while they’re lyrics have always seemed to revolve around relationships and coming of age, Sainthood feels like a broader perspective than past albums. There are inklings of maturity found all over in the album’s crevices as the Quins explore what it means to hold up relationships and adoration to unreasonable proportions. On the twinkling electronics of “Night Watch,” Sara confesses, “I've got grounds for recourse/Your lungs fill with discourse/You separate from my body/You need consistence from somebody…” The track deftly illustrates a feeling of loss all too common within the group’s subject matter, but Sainthood seems to push for a world-weary perspective rather than a bitter one. This, ultimately, makes the duos lyrics their strongest since 2004’s So Jealous, and makes Sainthood a worthy addition to their canon.

Yet while Tegan & Sara have overcome some of their usual pitfalls, they don’t evade them all. The group still cannot close out an album properly, the second half losing a considerable amount of steam and energy as it meanders along. The stutter-stop pep from “The Ocean” is the sole track that keeps it from flat lining, which is odd considering the first half’s dedication to focus. Part of the problem relies in the band’s sound, their robotic vocals tend to blend together after a while, but some more dynamic songs could have really picked up the disc’s close. As a result, the band just misses out on creating a great record, and merely makes a good one.

Make no mistake though; Sainthood is one hell of a record, expertly balancing Tegan & Sara’s wit with intimate charm. The irony, however, will stem from the fact that most critics will hold them up as indie saints because of this record, the very behavior they write against. Then again, maybe that frustrating level of dissonance will provide more fuel for their follow up.

Key Cuts: Hell, On Directing, The Cure

Sounds Like: Digital Ash In A Digital Urn (Bright Eyes), Take Offs & Landings (Rilo Kiley), The Con (Tegan & Sara)

Click on the artwork to sample some of Sainthood for yourself!

Live: Andrew McMahon @ Swedish American Music Hall (10/25)

At 22 years of age, I’m by no means an old man. I do, however, start to feel like I’ve been around for a while. I pay bills, maintain schedules, and I have to be responsible on a daily basis. As such, I’m finally starting to realize that there are patches of my life where I had to grow up, and I know what it means to grow up with something special, especially when it comes to music.

I’m not talking about simply remembering that hot single you were into as a freshman, radio hits come and go. I’m talking about growing up and learning about life with the records that mean the most to you. Because for me, that’s what Sunday night was about as I saw Andrew McMahon play an intimate acoustic show for an audience that hung on every word.

I went with my friend Steven, perhaps the biggest Andrew McMahon fan I know. He’s seen Something Corporate a few times, Jack’s Mannequin as well, but this was as exciting for him as it was for me due to the small space. Steven, like myself, grew up with McMahon whispering confessional thoughts and big ideas that resonated beyond the hooks they were written with. So naturally, we did our best to keep our excitement in check.

Anytime you see someone that has that kind of affect on you, it’s a big deal.

Additionally, it’s a sentiment the two of us shared with him during the pre-show meet and greet. Security ushered in about 30 of us, Steven and myself included, and we watched McMahon and his right hand guitarist Bobby Raw treat us to a sound check of “Crashin’.” McMahon then took the time to shake everyone’s hand, sign personal mementos, take pictures, and trade stories.

The whole experience was something of a dream, the fans polite and respectful while McMahon never showed the ego typical of most rock stars. Instead, he seemed upbeat, chipper, and gracious. When it came time to meet him, I told him that I’d really love it if he could sing my copy of Something Corporate’s Leaving Through The Window, since it was the album that made me fall in love with his music.

I also told him I wouldn’t be that jerk in the audience screaming for him to play “Konstantine.”

He laughed, his smile still large under the layers of beard that hung to his face, but he took it in stride. He told Steven and I a story about how one audience member in New York made his demands far too vocal and they had to remove him from the venue. McMahon seemed to appreciate the passion and the want to hear such a song, but also found it frustrating when trying to put on a show.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he grinned.

He went onto say that he was thankful I connected to his music, that while maybe he’s not in the same place anymore as when he wrote Leaving Through The Window, he’s proud of the snapshot it took of his life. He seemed to still hold a special place for it in his past, even though most fans rudely cry out for only that material when he performs live.

“Don’t worry though,” he said, “We’ll play some old stuff tonight.”

The three of us took a picture, wide smiles and excited looks all around, and that was that. I remember just mulling it all over in my head, the opportunity to meet the man I’d listened to so many times in high school with my jankey disc man. It was out of this world and something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

The show eventually got under way, McMahon treating fans to stripped down versions of about 20 songs that covered his time in Something Corporate and Jack’s Mannequin, as well as some choice covers. Yet what really made McMahon’s set stand out, was the clear passion he plays with. Starting the evening with “Hammers & Strings (A Lullaby),” McMahon’s tiny frame swayed with the keys he tickled, his voice as immersive as his piano work.

It’s easy to see that McMahon cares a great deal about the things he creates. Having his songs stripped to their bare essentials, audiences can tell he pays attention to how his songs are constructed, the tiny details hidden in their dramatic rises and falls. McMahon has a way of writing that reaches for the moon but feels fragile and delicate. Thematically, his material always seems to portray portraits of people searching for something larger than themselves, people in search of near life experiences during moments of quiet reflection.

In addition to his disciplined playing and song craft, McMahon also resonates as a skilled storyteller. This is perhaps his most endearing quality, evident in the vivid situations he sets in songs such as “Bruised” or “21 & Invincible.” The venue’s intimate setting allowed for a closeness, not only to him, but to the characters he’d talk about. Whether it was in the gentle serene comfort found in “As You Sleep” or the small inklings of hope gleaned from “Swim,” McMahon puts his heart on his sleeve to create these songs, a quality that makes him truly special.

While the evening held many high points, perhaps the highest was when McMahon trotted out a little known Something Corporate song that was rarely played live when it came out. Found on the Audioboxer E.P., “Walking By” was easily the biggest surprise of the night that held the audience in complete silence. Normally a string-laden ballad, the song took on a slow and tender pace in the middle of Swedish American Music Hall, one that matched the frailty of McMahon’s timber as he sang, “Why do you look when you've already found it?/What did you find that would leave you/Walking by?”

It was an evening of breathtaking moments, fun stories exchanged, and some jerk that DID scream for “Konstantine.” It was, however, an evening that felt special not just because of sentimentality, but because it gave a small glimpse to the creator of these songs.

After the show, Steven and I waited once more to see McMahon as he greeted the faithful outside the venue. We expressed how much we loved the show and that “Walking By” was a big highlight for us personally. He smiled, perhaps glad that there were people that thought about songs that weren’t singles, but it almost felt like he got something back from us enjoying a song that clearly bared a great deal of his soul.

Maybe in some way he experienced something close to what we did that night, understanding the affect he’s had on people with the songs he’s made. If that’s the case, I’m glad Steven and I could have shared that with him as he shared his songs with us.

20-Something Bloggers Blog Swap

Blogger's note: This entry's been authored by Amy over at One Size Fits All. She's a talented writer and a wonderful lady, so do me the favor and check out her musings because her blog is a fresh and fascinating thing. I'd consider it a personal favor if you did. Thanks!

In my real life, I’m primarily into contemporary folk music – think a lot of women with unshaved armpits with their acoustic guitars – with some classic rock and ‘80s pop thrown in for good measure. In my car, the volume’s always up, and, so long as it’s not snowing, the window down. In my car, we have dance parties.

For the last five months, I’ve been investing more time in Top 40 music, as part of my mainstream blog project (where you’ll find Mike rocking his socks off today). So it was under that lens that, about three weeks ago, I stumbled onto Whitney Houston’s latest single, “Million Dollar Bill.”

As I said in my own blog, “Million Dollar Bill” is like being transported back to 1992. (Luckily for me, fashion already made that announcement last year, and I am well stocked in leggings and oversized shirts for this adventure.) But for the woman text messaging random things in the corner of the video, and the fact that you’ve since gone through puberty, you would have no idea that any time has passed at all since Whitney’s diva noted days of The Bodyguard.

Which leads me to what happened after I posted that blog entry.

Have you suffered through this phenomenon where you’ve carted around MP3s that you downloaded when it used to take actual time to illegally download your music, but you were so excited that you were no longer taping things off the radio on your boombox that you didn’t actually care how long it took, and then all of a sudden you don’t seem to have them anymore? After listening to “Million Dollar Bill,” it came to my attention that my only remaining Whitney MP3s were “When You Believe,” the duet she did with Mariah Carey for The Prince of Egypt and “Do You Hear What I Hear?”

So, iTunes gift card in hand, I downloaded songs that would have made my pre-puberty self proud. Oh, yes, I’m talking “I Will Always Love You,” “Greatest Love of All,” “Exhale (Shoop Shoop).” Remember those dance parties in my car? Well we had a particularly nice week weather wise last week that found me window down, driving up the crowded main street of my Pittsburgh neighborhood, absolutely belting out “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” Tuesday morning, I passed two of my friends, my hand grasping the air outside to the urgency of “Didn’t We Almost Have It All”; I have not yet heard if I had my music loud enough for them to actually hear as I drove by. I hope so.

By why this flashback? Why the Whitney, the Mariah, the Boyz II Men (not kidding, not at all)? While I made it through middle school relatively unscathed, I can categorically say I’ve never once harbored the wish to repeat even one of those days. Many things in life are layered, nuanced experiences worth examining; middle school is not one of those things. And yet I can’t take my iPod in another direction. It’s been a couple weeks since Dar Williams has had any airtime in my car, and I don’t think I’ve gone that long without listening to her in the past eight years.

And soon, it will be Christmas time. (Christmas music, in my life, does not start until Black Friday.) And, at Christmas, Whitney and Mariah have always reigned supreme. Maybe by the New Year, I’ll understand this need to fall into the bottomless notes of these women, the soulful rhythms of those men, and maybe the phase will have passed altogether. But, for now, it’s nice to know “Count on Me” has not been lost to the dust of my hard drive.

Karen O & The Kids- Where The Wild Things Are Soundtrack (***½)

Maurice Sendak has left a mark on nearly 5 decades of kids and parents alike with his charming children’s book, Where The Wild Things Are. Meticulously crafted with care and love, Where The Wild Things Are represents the best kind of children’s story, one carefully made to be entertaining, as well as present subconscious lessons about life and friendship.

So it’s no surprise that the likes of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Deerhunter, The Dead Weather, Liars, and The Raconteurs were all called in to supplement Spike Jonze’s much labored, live-action adaptation. Whimsically credited to Karen O & The Kids, the Where The Wild Things Are Soundtrack is a rare album that retains enough rambunctious energy for kids, but appeals to a higher musical sophistication.

Forget Kidz Bop, this is the album to drive the kids to daycare with.

Beginning with the wistful humming and delicate acoustic guitar of “Igloo” to the splashy drums and gang harmonies of “Sailing Home” the Where The Wild Things Are Soundtrack balances a fine line between jangly folk-pop and music box laden ballads. Listeners will immediately gravitate to rollicking bombast of “All Is Love,” with its shuffling beat, child backed gang vocals, and subtle piano, but disc is full of rewarding gems.

The biggest draw to the material, however, has to be Karen O’s song writing.

While the album is void of the jagged anger and sexual frustration that marks the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ material, O seems to have found a way to express her thoughts without constructing them like Hallmark jingles. Instead, cuts like the dreamy “Hideaway” find O connecting to listeners with lines like, “Right away, gonna take me from my man/By the way, no they’ll never understand/We’ll have a bit of fun/Watching everyone/Pass us by…” Sweet but never saccharine, O juggles baring her soul with grabby hooks as the spacious ballad is awash with twinkling keyboards, humming acoustics, and brushed cymbals.

Elsewhere, O lends her rich voice to a sparse cover of Daniel Johnson’s “Worried Shoes.” As a low and rich piano provides the song’s spine, other instruments creep in with a gentle tenderness that mirrors O’s frailty. Jaunt xylophone rounds out the track nicely, but what makes it work is the atmosphere O conjures from these simple sounds fitting together like puzzle pieces.

The elegance is in its simplicity, much like Sendak’s beloved novel.

While the album isn’t overrun by balladry, they certainly provide the disc’s emotional core. Still, there is plenty of fun to be had throughout the album’s 40 minute running time. “Capsize” reveals in big shout outs and handclaps, while the percussive stomp of “Rumpus” recalls the joy that comes from children at play. Through a crescendo of hoots and hollers, the track is a perfect feel good moment, one that reveals in the innocence of youth and the unbridled fun that stems from that freedom. If listeners have to ask where the wild things are at, look no further.

Yet for all the sparkling highs, there is a fair share of misses, a reasonable casualty when you’re dealing with a child-like aesthetic.

For one thing, the disc is terribly front-loaded, the most engaging arrangements and poignant atmospheres taking place within the first 7 tracks. Additionally, while the child backing vocals help mold the feel of the music, O and producer Carter Burwell get sloppy with them on the back 7 tracks. “Animal” is a scatter shot, untamed number that could have been shaped into something much less forgettable with a little discipline. Additionally, “Heads Up” feels a bit too campfire eager to have any real staying power, and the repeated musical motifs in “Building All Is Love” undermine the album’s freshness.

It just goes to show you that after all the running around and playing, people get tired.

Complaints aside, however, the Where The Wild Things Are Soundtrack succeeds in a variety of ways. Easily accessible while remaining substantive, it offers a great sonic palate for the film as well as remaining strong as a group of songs. Though rough around the edges, it seems that Karen O & The Kids have been able to put their sonic stamp on Sendak’s work in the same manner Jonze put his visual stamp on it. Where The Wild Things Are Soundtrack feels like a convergence of great ideas, ideas that are just as fun to experience to as they are to dissect.

In this way, the soundtrack perfectly captures the feeling of the film and the feeling of Sendak’s classic: Truths can be gleaned from simple stories, fragile melodies, and the wildest of rumpuses. While this seems like a no-brainer, it took Karen O and a bunch of kids to make that clear.

Key Cuts: All Is Love, Rumpus, Hideaway

Sounds Like: Your first day of Kindergarten.

Click on the artwork to sample some of Where The Wild Things Are Soundtrack for yourself!