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!

Paramore- brand new eyes (**½)

Every once in while, there needs to be a band like Paramore.

This is because fans love female fronted pop-rock. Heavy on hooks and riot grrl chic, Paramore is the 2000s version of No Doubt, all the way down to the bright hair of their female lead singer. While the two bands might be on different ends of the musical spectrum, the one thing that’s certain is that audiences are always gung-ho about the image. It’s appealing to a broad variety of fans; girls think Gwen Stefani and Hayley Williams “get them” while boys just want to get on them. Additionally, both bands sported breakout albums that defined their scenes (Tragic Kingdom and Riot!), and both culled a massive fan base with extensive touring.

Eventually, however, the freshness of the image wears off and audiences must judge these bands based on their artistic merit. While the populist consensus is that No Doubt have cemented their legacy with Rock Steady, the same honor cannot be bestowed just yet for Paramore and their new album, brand new eyes.

Teaming up with veteran producer Rob Cavallo (Who helmed Green Day’s American Idiot), Paramore march through 12 slick songs that come off conservative from a band known for their energy.

While brand new eyes makes for easy listening, it’s frustrating to see Paramore go through sonic growing pains that are normally reserved for a sophomore slump. The quintet’s main problem is that they are too afraid to really take a leap artistically, so their sound resides uncomfortably in the middle of giving fans what they expect, and pushing their sound just far enough to make sure people know this isn’t Riot!: Part Deux.

However, things begin promising as the band is off and running with “Careful,” a track that explodes with Zack Farro’s scattershot drumming, Taylor York’s chunky rhythms, Josh Farro’s thick lead work, and Williams’ commanding voice. The song finds Paramore doing what they do best, combining head bobbing rhythms with stop-on-dime precision and crashing riffs. Jeremy Davis does a great job of holding the arrangement down with his driving bass as the song breaks allow Farro the ability showcase his rich-delay enhanced guitar.

Yet for every breath of fresh air like “Careful,” there are the songs on brand new eyes that really lack staying power and bog down the album’s middle. “Feeling Sorry’s” thumping rhythm goes nowhere fast, with a tired chorus that feels a little phoned in. “Looking Up” follows suit, implementing the same stuttering riffs that bands like Lit and Sum 41 played out to perfection years ago. Lead single “Ignorance” brings some interesting glam grooves and riffs to the table, but the chorus structure will feel like the lost verse of “Misery Business” for most die-hards. In short, Paramore know what they do very well, and it acts like a crutch sometimes.

The other problem with brand new eyes is that most of these tracks are stuck in mid-tempo, never really choosing to fully embrace the potential for speedy melodies or acoustic leanings.

When Paramore does picks a side, the results are the most engaging on the album. “Misguided Ghosts” is a tender and folky acoustic ballad that displays Williams’ voice as bare and vulnerable. York and Farro’s guitar work sparkles in the space, and the sparse arrangement puts the focus back on song craft rather than predictable build-ups. “Playing God” displays an interesting synthesis of the two sides, but would have benefited from a bigger build up during the bridge. Against riffs that ebb and flow along Williams’ rising and falling backing vocals, Paramore illustrate they have the chops to explore new sonic territory, but seem too afraid to embrace it fully.

Still, the brightest part of the album is Williams. Her vocal command is extraordinary, adding spunky perspective and just the right amount of heartache to be taken somewhat seriously. On the expansive album closer “All I Wanted,” Williams shows her impressive register with the ascending repetition of, “All I wanted was YOOOOOOOOOU!” The band supports her well over thunderous drums and massive power-pop influenced riffs. Overall, the track reminds fans that Paramore were a once band with a huge sound, a band that seems to have shrunk it down for brand new eyes.

Sadly, Paramore play things close to the vest on brand new eyes, and the result will appease their shallow fan base while leaving listeners that are interested in progression, a bit letdown. What made Riot! exciting was the band’s willingness to flirt with new wave, vocal lines that felt spontaneous and guitar lines that went from tiny to huge at the drop of the hat. Those elements feel anemic on brand new eyes. While the band channel them on cuts like “Turn It Off” and “Brick By Boring Brick” it’s with half the enthusiasm, half the fun.

Ultimately, Paramore need to decide if they want to appeal to teeny-boppers or open themselves up to real growth. No Doubt was able to balance both, pushing a more electronic flavor forward with Rock Steady while keeping the hooky elements for their fans. Paramore need to find an avenue to explore and stick to it, instead of squandering their potential, leaving the sonically curious wanted more.

Key Cuts: Careful, Misguided Ghosts, All I Wanted

Sounds Like: From Under The Cork Tree (Fall Out Boy), Bleed American (Jimmy Eat World), Weezer (The Green Album) (Weezer)

Click on the artwork to sample some of brand new eyes for yourself!

AFI- Crash Love (**)

“Crash Love” can mean many different things.

If you’re Davey Havok, AFI’s lead singer, you’ll swear that Crash Love is your band’s strongest release yet, a gripping lamentation on celebrity iconography and fleeting experiences. In fact, Havok has even gone on record saying, “The record is really more about how the great attraction to inappropriately shared intimacies, carefully constructed personas, and the loss of a sense of self can affect an entire world…” He also assures listeners that it’s also a step forward in the band’s evolution, stripping back the dense electronics of 2006’s Decemberundergound in favor of more immediate rock sounds.

Sweeping social commentary from the guy that echoed Winona Rider in saying his whole life was one, big, dark room just 3 albums ago.

Yet if you’re part of the legions of AFI faithfuls that will seek out the record, you’ll find that Havok (Along with guitarist Jade Puget, bassist Hunter Burgan, and drummer Adam Carson) have provided fans with something different. Instead, you’ll find that AFI have crashed a gold covered plane filled with their childhood musical influences into the towers of everything AFI once stood for in terms of originality.

Crash Love is an exhausting record. This is not because the sounds and themes are difficult to dissect, but because AFI sound so complacent throughout the disc’s 12 tracks. It’s downright frustrating listening to a band, that’s evolved so purposefully over their last two albums, make something so slick, by-the-numbers and conservative here. Where the band used to surprise listeners with explosive choruses, anthematic sing-a-longs, and tense musical moments, Crash Love offers up slickly produced stadium rock that would rather channel The Smiths and Bowie instead of Nine Inch Nails and Danzig.

“Torch Song” does a good job of misleading listeners off the bat. Amidst thunderous drums, warm bass, and twisting lead work, AFI treat listeners to an expansive opener that recalls the call-and-response of their younger years. Against Puget’s staccato riffs, Havok croons, “I’d tear out my soul/For/You my dear…” While light on the gloom and heavy on gang vocals, “Torch Song” acts as the album’s brightest moment.

Sadly, the album’s biggest problem comes down to the fact that AFI sound too much like their influences. “Veronica Sawyer Smokes” comes across as a Morrissey throw away, and “It Was Mine” is all power-pop-meets-Queen with disastrous results. What used to make AFI unique was their ability to synthesize their influences and splatter them across a hardcore punk frame.

Now, the band seems bored with trying to be innovative and is stuck simply imitating.

Gone is the sweeping dark grandeur of Sing The Sorrow and the cold/electronic ambiance of Decemberunderground. Instead, Crash Love revels in guitars that chime rather than crunch, and arrangements that never take off in addition to feeling out of character. “Too Shy To Scream,” is a chunky glam number with a swing shuffle, a song who’s uptempo hooks feel out of place against the supposed “edgy” lyrics of “I'd die/If you only met my eyes/Before you pass by/Will you pause to break my heart?” While the band has explored song arrangements foreign to punk in the past, it has never come across as forced and has haphazard as it does on Crash Love.

But perhaps the most disconcerting part about the record is how lazy Havok’s writing has become. As AFI has evolved, he became an expert exploring the darkest recesses of the human soul. While he always wrote highly melodic hooks and choruses, Havok was careful not to let cheese creep into his troubled prose.

On Crash Love, however, Havok embraces every clichéd writing trick in the book. “Darling, I Want To Destroy You” features trite lines such as, “I must confess/I am over dressed/Not impressed/Are you not impressed? /Darling I want to…” On “I Am Trying Very Hard To Be Here,” Havok leads his band in calling out, “FLASH FLASH CAR CRASH/We’re not fixtures/QUICK NOW QUICK/Take our pictures!” It’s heartbreaking, and over digitally muted guitars and sterile drumming, AFI come across less as artists and more as gimmicks.

Yet despite the sour taste long time fans might feel with Crash Love, the album does have some shining moments. “End Transmission” creates a chilling atmosphere with Puget’s syrupy guitar lines and Burgan’s moody bass. The album’s single, “Medicate,” injects some life into the album’s second half with a blistering solo while “Cold Hands” features some aggressive grooves. While none of the tracks maintain the listener's attention for their whole running time, AFI do flash occasional moments of brilliance within the album's running time.

However, it’s all too little too late. AFI always prided themselves in their ruthless experimentation because it was earnest and authentic, but Crash Love comes across as neither. Instead, AFI have created an album that does not play to their strengths, but an album that captures a once fearless band as a shadow of their former selves.

Celebrity has taken a toll on this band, and ironically, in whining about movie stars and car crashes it seems that AFI has become the very thing they attempted to dissect. It’s with this that perhaps another meaning can be gleaned from “Crash Love:” The moment where one’s desires converge into a large mess that no longer resembles what you once felt attached to.

From that perspective, at least the album is appropriately titled.

Key Cuts: Torch Song, End Transmission, Medicate

Sounds Like: Wish (The Cure), The Golden Age Of Grotesque (Marilyn Manson), Strangeways Here We Come (The Smiths)

Click on the artwork to sample some of Crash Love for yourself!