This Song Starts A Craze...

Norah Jones- The Fall (****)

2009-11-28T11:11:00.000-08:00

It’s always been kind of easy to knock Norah Jones.

While 36 million records worldwide would seem to contradict that, Jones has always seemed to inspire hatred among music purists in spite of her populist appeal. She’s too young. She has many songs written for her. She’s not a true “jazz artist.” The list goes on and on for her detractors, but on her new record The Fall, don’t be surprised if certain purist start bagging on Norah because there’s “not enough Norah Jones sounding piano” on it.

Instead, The Fall finds Jones asserting more control over her songwriting (Writing or co-writing each track here), while gently shifting her pop jazz influences closer to American roots music. While Jones is no stranger to experimentation (The folk influences on Feels Like Home, and the southern jazz touches of Not Too Late come to mind), this is the first time since her debut that Jones seems comfortable with the direction. As a result, The Fall showcases Jones in a variety of moods and emotions, while coming across as a rich and lush dream.

The first single “Chasing Pirates” is a great indication of Jones’ newfound autonomy. Held together with ebbing Wurlitzer, snappy drumming, and Jones’ molasses thick voice, the track balances hooks with a bubbling effervescence. The overall affect is as buoyant as Jones is coy, but provides a certain amount of depth that’s mostly lost in pop music.

However, if there’s one thing The Fall excels in, it’s in drifting atmospheres that envelop the listener. On The Fall, guitars chime, fading in an out with rich reverb and soft distortion. Bass lines like the slinky crawl found on “I Wouldn’t Need You” pull listeners in as Jones weaves tales about love lost. Elsewhere, the smoky barroom stomp of “It’s Gonna Be” is peppered with rough blues guitar and pulsing drums, conjuring images of Bourbon Street dives and long nights.

While Jones surrounds herself with some fine musicians, her choice to hire producer Jacquire King was a gamble that paid off in spades. Known for his work with Tom Waits and Modest Mouse, King’s knob twisting makes The Fall dense without feeling cluttered. His soft, but never murky production suits Jones’ rich voice as she balances her frailty with longing, creating sounds as surreal as her prose.

The Fall might come across as sonically smooth, but it’s Jones’ stories that bear her sharp teeth. More so than ever before, Jones wears her heart on her sleeve in singing about her flaws, her insecurities, and her struggle with relationships. On “Light As A Feather,” Jones croons “While the seasons will undo your soul/Time forgives us and takes control/We separate our things to put us back together…” This sense of decay runs rampant throughout The Fall, and rather than simplifying heartache into an “Us vs Them” war of words, Jones is careful to grant weight to shared intimacy.

Ultimately, Jones’ more mature look on loss keeps her stories fresh without being preachy. The climbing blues of “Stuck” creates an awkward late night rendezvous between two people don't know how to really co-exist with each other. Lines like “I’m sitting here stuck/Plastered to me seat/I think up a reason to leave/When you finally stop speaking…” show Jones is interesting in exploring human frailties as opposed to surface level bursts of frustration. The result makes her storytelling on The Fall as captivating as the music it accompanies, perhaps the rarest feat of all in pop music.

While it’s a bit unusual to have a Norah Jones album that is so light in ivory, it’s refreshing to find Jones daring to experiment with a myriad of sounds as well as her lyrics. Yet what makes The Fall truly shine, seems to be the balance with which Jones pulls these parts together. There is not one thing, one musical slant, one lyrical idea, that overpowers the rest. Instead, The Fall comes across as a fully realized work, one where modest means and honest parables come together seamlessly, and without pretension.

On the jumpy piano of “Man Of The Hour,” Jones softly whispers about the only kind of man that could truly capture her heart: Her dog. She confesses, “You never lie/And you don’t cheat/And you don’t have any baggage/Tied to your four feet...” showing that it’s not perfection or the ideal that she’s searching for, but authenticity. Through her charming honesty, Jones hits on what we’re all searching for: The chance to live with who we truly are, without the push to be labeled as something we’re not.

But don’t worry; plenty of people will hate her for singing honestly as well.

Key Cuts: Chasing Pirates, Light As A Feather, I Wouldn't Need You

Sounds Like: Field Manuel (Chris Walla), The Remainder (Feist), Girls & Boys (Ingrid Michaelson)

Click on the artwork to sample The Fall for yourself!

John Mayer- Battle Studies (**)

2009-11-24T09:38:00.000-08:00

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 (****)

2009-11-12T10:48:00.000-08:00

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 (***)

2009-11-03T11:47:00.000-08:00

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)

2009-10-29T10:59:00.000-07:00

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)

2009-10-27T11:24:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-26T09:49:00.000-07:00

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)

2009-10-20T15:19:00.000-07:00

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)

2009-10-07T11:48:00.000-07:00

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 (**)

2009-09-30T13:11:00.000-07:00

“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!

5 Shot Reviews

2009-09-23T19:20:00.000-07:00

Try as I might, I couldn’t keep up with ALL the releases that have come out this month. I did, however, have things to say about the ones that fell through the cracks, so I thought I’d share quick thoughts on some of these large name albums.

The Black Dahlia Murder- Deflorate (****)

In the realm of extreme metal, no one continues to put forth albums that are as accessible while remaining vicious like The Black Dahlia Murder does. Most bands sacrifice the music or the muscle in this genre, but Deflorate does neither. Sure, a noticeable slickness has crept into their production, but Deflorate still presents 30 minutes of sweeping guitar solos, manic riffs, and endless drumming. As usual, Trevor Strnad’s schizophrenic vocals balance between grating shriek and deathly growl and band continues to stop and start on a dime. While they subscribe to the “if –it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it” mentality, it seems to be suiting them just fine.

Key Cuts: Black Valor, Christ Deformed, I Will Return

Imogen Heap- Ellipse (**)

The largest problem with Ellipse is that Imogen Heap has dropped her hyper-layered style of electronica and opted for sparser songs. This would have worked if she could have kept the album’s energy up, but banking on spacious keyboards and her unconventional voice don’t really make the record compelling. “Swoon” gets the closest in recapturing Imogen Heap’s loopy melodies, but even that crawls at a snail’s pace. Though there’s nothing offensive on Ellipse, there’s also nothing that will really stick out at listeners. Fans used to be surprised with a clever sample or a thick beat that made her songs come alive; however, Ellipse struggles to maintain a musical pulse.

Key Cuts: First Train Home, Swoon, Between Sheets

Jay-Z- The Blueprint 3 (****)
Jay-Z has struggled since coming back from retirement. Kingdom Come was abysmal, and American Gangster was too high in concept and not in execution. The Blueprint 3, on the other hand, displays Hova doing what he does best, surrounding himself with a talented production team and hungry guest stars as he talks about life on top. Lyrically, he seems to be very aware of the legacy he’s crafting for himself and that comes up quite a few times in tracks like “Empire Of The Sun” and “Forever Young.” However, the record really shines because of how Kanye West and No I.D.’s blend of synthpop and soul dominates the album’s production. The music seamlessly bridges old and new flavors, playing out like a greatest hits parade to compliment Jay-Z’s hip-hop reign. While it’s sad to see “Jockin’ Jay-Z” absent from the final cut, no one will be jockin’ the Jigga Man after a record like this.

Key Cuts: Run This Town, Empire Of The Sun, Forever Young

Pearl Jam- Backspacer (**)

Perhaps it’s hardest to see 90s music stars age, but it’s a fact of life that eventually catches up to everyone and Pearl Jam is no exception. Rekindling their relationship with producer Brendan O’Brien, Backspacer is the sound of a band painfully trying to recapture lost youth. It’s curious considering how their 2006 self-titled effort felt like a more authentic stab at the band’s roots, but it’s clear Pearl Jam sounds tired. “The Fixer” is a fine introductory single with its bouncing rhythms and Eddie Vedder’s hooky “Yeah, Yeah Yeahs…” but the buck stops there. The production strips away the band’s natural grit even if it spaces out the rhythm section well. Oddly, it’s the acoustic folk-tinged moments that resonate most. “Just Breathe” showcases Vedder as a world-weary traveler, and feels more honest than any of the louder numbers. If slowing down is a sign of age, maybe th

e band should consider leaving the amps at home from now on.

Key Cuts: The Fixer, Just Breathe, Supersonic

Muse- The Resistance (***)

Anticipations run high when people tout you as Queen for Gen Y, and it was only a matter of time before Muse slipped up a bit. The Resistance while being a solid album is simply a good album from a band we’re accustomed to getting GREAT albums from. While the skittering electronics of “Undisclosed Desires” and the Freddy Mercury swagger of “United States Of Eurasia (+Collateral Damage)” provide the album’s meat and potatoes, Muse have made a record that is light on riffs this time around. As a result, the songs don’t explode like they normally would from these Brits, and it shows. The three-part “Exogenesis” symphony is a nice listen with pulsing beats, sweeping strings, and mammoth sounding guitar, but it’s rather subdued in tone when it should go for the throat. Ultimately, The Resistance is a record that will easily grow on fans but it’s far from the stratosphere this band is capable of reaching.

Key Cuts: Uprising, Undisclosed Desires, United States Of Eurasia (+Collateral Damage)

Brand New- Daisy (*****)

2009-09-18T11:26:00.000-07:00

Let’s get something clear: Brand New is dead.

Daisy is evidence of that.

This album isn’t a charmingly witty take on pop-punk. It’s also not a hyper verbose and dreamy homage to the Smiths and Built To Spill. There is no God here for the Devil to fight, and at times fans might not even know if Brand New (as they know them) are here.

This is Daisy, and it will eat your babies.

After another long extended absence, the Long Island 5 piece returns with a record that is all fire and brimstone, full of noisy riffs, gut wrenching screams, and dense atmospheres. While vocalist/guitarist Jesse Lacey has taken a backseat to guitarist Vinnie Accardi’s writing for this record, it’s clear that the band worked as a solid unit with a very focused mindset to craft this 40-minute monster.

Beginning with an old timey phonograph and 30s inspired jazz singer, “Vices” quickly gives way to manic chaos and dissonant riffs. Instruments slam into each other with caustic fury and Garrett Tierney’s bass holding the song steady. Lacey’s raspy screams and Brian Lane’s spacious drumming beat on the eardrums. Brand New have always enjoyed a level of energy in their work, but on “Vices” and on the rest of Daisy, they’re never felt so visceral.

This can be attributed to two very specific things: A) Brand New’s sudden fascination with the blues and B) Their urge to play far more groove oriented music. From Accardi’s searing lead work on “Bought A Bride” to the seductive verses in “Sink” Brand New have flavored their riffs with a blues overtone that adds to Daisy’s old feel. Listeners will find that despite being produced in 2009, the old sermon snippets and vinyl pops make the record feel like something you’d find in an attic. This sudden southern flair has added an interesting dimension to their sound, one that compliments Daisy’s raw feel while adding something new to Brand New’s sonic palate.

And when it comes to groove, Brand New have some seriously hypnotic ones. The album’s title track stomps and grinds along aside mournful gang vocals and spidery guitar lines. Elsewhere, the album’s closer “Noro” wheezes and lurches its way down into the bowels of hell with Tierney’s over fuzzed bass and Accardi’s twangy lead work. The band carries over the same of foreboding that they had on The Devil & God Are Raging Inside Me, but the songs on Daisy are looser, more claustrophobic, and a lot messier.

Yet it’s the lyrics that really grip listeners, both for their unflinching honesty and tragic frustration.

While many die-hard fans will complain about their directness, Daisy seems to be fixated around the afterlife, the evil that permeates the human condition, and the dangers of religious evangelism. On the smoldering “Gasoline” Lacey screams, “So there's a sickness and it's goin' round/But no one's got a vaccine/And they can drown in holy water/But I think it's time we all come clean…”

Suffice to say, Brand New aren’t a band to mince words, and the binge and purge writing is big part of Daisy’s allure.

While it’s unclear who wrote which songs (All lyrics credited to Accardi/Lacey) what IS clear is how these men in there 30s still feel lost, forlorn, and uncomfortable about where they are in the lives. “Bought A Bride” tackles the unnerving truths of settling down for the sake of direction, “Should've been a soldier/I could've fought and died/There's no revolution/So I bought a bride…” while “Daisy” paints a larger more existential quandary as Lacey chants, “Well if you take all these things and bury the past/And pray that they turn to seeds and roots and then grass/It'll be alright/It's alright/It'd be easier that way…” Brand New’s imagery tends to revolve a great deal around nature this time around; a push towards something more basic or even human, and the results hold a more somber sense of melancholy than past albums.

In any event, both men are preoccupied with how social institutions are fleeting, and that there is a moral/spiritual decay we should be conscious of. On the album’s crowning achievement “You Stole,” Lacey gently whispers over delicate and dreamy guitar lines, “So if I'm a liar/And you're a thief/At least we both know where the other one sleeps/So let's end this tonight…” While the rest of the track rumbles forward with crashing riffs, Lacey’s voice adds a sense of majesty to the white noise confusion and gentle atmospheres.

And what it ultimately comes down to is how well Brand New’s songwriting is maturing with their age. The short answer? Like fine wine.

Daisy isn’t always messy and dissonant, the off-timed jazzy twinkling of “Bed” offering atmosphere and haunting visuals, but make no mistake that it is a record that requires multiple listens because of how raw it is.

Yet at the same time it’s subversive, a record will get under people’s skin while they unpack it and spend time with it. Daisy is a rare record because while most bands can easily do a stylistic overhaul, not many maintain the same sense of voice and honesty as Brand New has. In their interviews and on record, Brand New are a band that refuses to cater to what’s expected of them, and as a result, they are able to carry forward sonically while maturing with that special world perspective that makes them so unique.

So perhaps it’s best that the Brand New, as world knows them, is dead. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have been able to forge forward and make a record like Daisy.

Key Cuts: Bed, You Stole, Bought A Bride

Sounds Like: Thickfreakness (The Black Keys), Loveless (My Bloody Valentine), In Utero (Nirvana)

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

My $0.02: Billy Corgan's Smashing Experiment

2009-09-17T09:28:00.000-07:00

Billy Corgan seems to be trying to lead The Smashing Pumpkins' legacy into stranger and weirder places these days. Whether it's turning a blind eye with the abdication of Jimmy Chamberlain, hiring a new 19 year old drummer, or telling his fans they suck, Corgan has been adamant that The Smashing Pumpkins are HIS band now, and he'll do whatever he damn well pleases. As such, yesterday's announcement about the release of a new Smashing Pumpkins album is just as strange.

Teargarden By Kaleidyscope will be a 44 song concept album about Corgan's tarot fascinations, released online and through limited edition E.P.s. Additionally, once all 44 songs are released, Corgan has promised fans a box set that culls together everything in one concise package.

Oh, and did I mention that the online downloads are free?

Let me repeat: Billy Corgan is NOT charging money for theses songs.

It's a dicey move, one that's grand enough for the Great Pumpkin and his humble little band, but can a project of this magnitude really sustain itself? It's hard enough to maintain a good double album full of quality material and rarely is a trilogy even attempted. 44 songs is a TON of music, and Corgan's promise of "the original psychedelic roots of The Smashing Pumpkins: atmospheric, melodic, heavy, and pretty" might not be enough to win over those who soured on Zeitgeist.

Here are some things to consider:

The Good:
-As an avid fan of Siamese Dream, Corgan's promise of the original Pumpkins sound does intrigue me. I'm not short-sided enough to believe this album is going to sound like a time capsule from 1993, but a bit more shoegaze and a little less metal could add some life to Corgan's recent output.
-Corgan has effectively diminished the effect music piracy can have on an album and is reaching out to Generation iTunes. His release of songs one at a time, for free, in a digital capacity, makes the release more difficult to really disperse for pirates. In fact, it asserts his artistic autonomy while presenting his distribution method as the best way to get the material. The added bonus of E.P.s and box sets are ideal for collectors and faithful fans. Is it the beginning of the musical revolution we so desperately need?
-Unlike some bands (I'm looking at you Bloc Party) that offer an incomplete album online, the Teargarden By Kaleidyscope project is the whole enchilada. Bravo, Billy.

The Bad:
-Will this seriously impact how we listen to records? Corgan is releasing these songs one at a time over the coming months, so unless fans hold out until all the material is out, they won't be experiencing the material as one complete work. This troubles me, especially because I'm a firm believer in "the album" as an art form.
-How will he maintain interest? While everyone is buzzing about it now, receiving updates via Facebook or Twitter will become monotonous for every song release. This is going to be a big challenge for him.
-What fidelity can fans expect with these initial releases? Will we have to wait a year before we experience these songs at 320 kbps? For audiophiles, this is really frustrating.

Ultimately, we'll have to wait to see the full success/failure of Corgan's newest ego trip. Yet if the songs are good, none of this might matter one single (pun intended) bit.

Live: blink 182 @ Sleep Train Amphitheatre/Shoreline Amphitheatre

2009-09-14T14:11:00.000-07:00

It’s important to remember when you fell in love.

There’s only one first time for it and it leaves one hell of an impression. Nothing in the world is quite like those small little tingling moments when your head feels light and your heart beats too fast. You swoon, and your mind takes a snapshot of how your body feels. It’s pretty incredible.

So one can imagine how it feels to feel that again, and I need to thank blink 182 for that.

While nostalgia has been running high on blink 182’s summer reunion tour, the band puts on a show that can almost justify the $40 t-shirts they sell. Supported by Chester French, Taking Back Sunday, and Weezer, blink 182 has assembled a ticket that’s interested in tapping into something deeper than just past reputations.

They want you to feel them like a force of nature (Or call girl), and that’s exactly what they accomplish.

The wet, rainy evening began with the rather bland Chester French, offering up half-hearted dance punk for the crowded masses. It left audiences hungry for the real large guns as Andrew "D.A." Wallach and Maxwell Drummey’s material simply failed to leave an impact. They dabble in big sing-a-long choruses and funky synthesizers, but lose the audience when they start singing about “laying pipe.”

Yet it made sense having them on the tour: They are a band desperately attempting to achieve great things through modest means. It’s a label that blink 182 heard all throughout their early days. In a fun way, it seemed like blink’s decision to include them was a nod to their younger years, perhaps hoping to grant Chester French with the same hope that their musical heroes gave them.

Still, there is no substitution for good music and the night’s performances only got better.

Taking Back Sunday ripped through a concise set that ignored a great deal of their old material, but proved they still have a great knack for working a crowd. Adam Lazzara still slithers like Gen Y’s Mick Jagger, and new guitarist Matt Fazzi seemed incredibly comfortable singing dual vocals on classics like “Cute Without The ‘E’ (Cut From The Team).” While the stutter stop energy and rusty riffs of “Sink Into Me” kept audiences on their toes, it was cuts from 2006’s Louder Now that truly made the set. “Liar (It Takes One To Know One)” hit the audience hard, Mark O’Conell’s deft cymbal work and Eddie Reye’s punchy guitar paving the way for Lazzara’s all-too-snide vocals. The band ending up closing with “MakeDamnSure,” the stadium echoing Lazzara’s romantic throes syllable for syllable.

While it’s clear that Taking Back Sunday has lost a great performer with the departure of Fred Mascherino, they provided a show that was tight, precise, and no-nonsense. Which was great, because Weezer brought the first wave of nonsense.

Led by vocalist/guitarist Rivers Cuomo (the 12-year-old trapped in a 39-year-old body), Weezer put forth a show that was high in shenanigans and power-pop. While the band’s matching jumpsuits and ukulele smashing antics kept fans laughing, it was the music that kept them entertained. Playing close to half the songs on 1994’s Weezer (The Blue Album) the band reminded fans that they still have a knack for being the coolest uncool guys ever. “Undone (The Sweater Song)” still crunches with all the fuzz and dorky self-loathing that made it huge more than a decade ago, while “Pork & Beans” chugs along with its thick melodies and awkward wit. Elsewhere, “Say It Ain’t So’s” flashy guitar solo let Weezer pretend they were stadium gods, while their new single “If You’re Wondering If I Want You To (I Want You To)” reminds fans that they can still write charming love songs.

Still it’s Weezer’s imperfections and their consistent pursuit of rock grandeur that continue to charm. While they’re sonic palate has expanded a bit (Brian Bell playing keyboards on “Perfect Situation,” Pat Wilson occasionally picking up a guitar and shredding on “Hash Pipe”), it’s Weezer’s ability to shoot for the power-pop moon and fall slightly short that pushes people to see their live set. They’ve never been a sophisticated band, but their talent stems from hitting hard with hooks, sweet melodies and clumsy situations. It’s endearing, in a “kids-playing-superheroes-with-a-towel-for-a-cape” type of fashion.

In short, Weezer understand why people love them and they love to give the people what they want. Love is not based in perfection it’s based in balance, a balance of fun and meaning.

blink 182 understood that too.

As the black curtain dropped to the opening pick slide of “Dumpweed,” the San Diego trio put together a 2 hour set full of the things that their fans fell in love with. There was machine-like precision of Travis Barker’s drumming, Mark Hoppus’ wistful singing and bouncing bass, and Tom DeLonge’s messy guitar and 12th grade mindset. Yet the most compelling part of the show was how much fun the trio seemed to be having just playing together, revisiting through their back catalog and their biggest singles.

Sure, DeLonge’s voice can’t always hit the notes he could a decade ago, and the band would occasionally fall out of step with one another, but the passion they had for their songs was front and center. Cuts such as the snotty “Anthem Pt. 2” and wildly dissonant “Stockholm Syndrome” were punctuated with added fervor from their studio counterparts. Additionally, the band treated fans to extended instrumental sections on ballads like the Tim Burton-esque “I Miss You” and “Down.” Rain kept the audience cold and shivering, but there was hardly a mouth that wasn’t screaming alongside Hoppus or DeLonge’s lyrics.

It was all love, pure and simple.

However, the real fascinating part about the show was how well blink’s discography seemed to gel. A thick and chunky rendition of “What’s My Age Again?” seemed right at home next to the abrasive thump of “Violence.” “Carousel” wasn’t its thinly recorded self, it was a furious 3 chord assault that felt comfortable next to the swirling bass work and dreamy guitar playing of “Always.” Supplementing their goofy charisma with passionate playing, blink 182 were able to present audiences with a consistent summation of their past and present without feeling like a tribute to themselves. In fact, it was clear that it came from a place of love, right down to DeLonge’s t-shirt.

Standing there as the house lights came up, it was evident that the evening had been all about love (Even if the merch booth was about cash). Seeing Hoppus and DeLonge crack sex jokes and embrace on stage within a matter of minutes could have only happened if they really believed in what they were doing as a band. 2009’s blink 182 wants to play these songs as an extension of who they are, and seeing them live reminds listeners why they bought their albums in the first place.

It’s love, the ability to revisit something and have it move you like it did so many years ago. It means taking something into yourself, warts and all, because you see some of the truest truths in it.

It’s love, and blink 182 gets it.

The Beatles- The Beatles Stereo Box Set (*****)

2009-09-09T20:40:00.000-07:00

Remastered.

The word strikes fear into the hearts of music purists everywhere. For in a simple turn of phrase, it connotes that their beloved bands lived in caves, primitive by today’s sleek technological advancements. It connotes that the band’s output was simply not up to par with today’s standards, that somehow the sounds they created and the stories they told were inferior, simply because recording technology wasn’t as sophisticated as today’s hyper-slick studios. It implies that the band, in 2009, needs something to help improve what they created, because the state it’s in is not good enough.

Remastered.

It’s okay if you bristle at the sound of it, most do.

The practice of remastering classic albums always makes fans worry. There is the overwhelming tendency for engineers to go a tad too compression happy and erase the vibrancy of the original recording. It can lead to a poor product, go against the band’s studio intentions, and cause an awful fan backlash. So naturally when EMI announced a complete remastering of The Beatles’ discography, even I (Who generally favors remasters) bristled.

Yet after a few run-throughs I can say, bristle free, these are incredble.

Rather than do a run down of each album, this review show how the remastering team of Guy Massey, Steve Rooke, Sam Okell, Paul Hicks and Sean Magee attempted to grant the iPod generation the ability to hear what the Fab Four heard as they arranged these songs. While toeing careful lines, this mastering team made choices based on what would afford the tracks the most clarity, instead of brick walling the sound into a compressed mess and killing the song’s natural dynamics.

Simply put, the tracks are not just louder. The Beatles’ material has finally been granted a depth it never quite achieved in mono or in their 1987 CD presses.

Instead of the shrill grating gang vocals, fans young and old are treated to full-bodied harmonies on the pre-Revolver material, and crisp cymbal work that never truly stood out before. For the first time since we saw them on the Ed Sullivain show, The Beatles sound like they have a robust energy to them. It’s a treat to hear John Lennon’s scratchy vocals on “Twist & Shout” feel wild and unhinged, Paul McCartney’s desperate singing inundated with sharp strings on “Eleanor Rigby,” or George Harrison’s melancholy surf-guitar on “Nowhere Man.”

The remastering never attempts to make the instruments feel contemporary, and that’s its major strength. Instead Harrison and Lennon’s guitars still feel as twangy as they would have in 1964. Elsewhere, McCartney’s bass bumps along with spunk, while Ringo Starr’s drumming (While pedestrian) feels deep and brisk. Yet through careful restoration, all of it comes across with a softer touch and warmer resonance than their previous CD counterparts.

However, the real treat in listening to these remasters is in the small details one’s ears now pick up on. The propulsive drive of “Back In The U.S.S.R.” isn’t just in the searing lead work anymore, but the fluttering piano and driving bass that feel more in grained in the mix. McCartney’s acoustic guitar on “Blackbird” sparkles with new shine, while the eclectic strings and samples on “A Day In The Life” no longer feel like an avant-garde experiment, but a breathtaking experience.

Suddenly, you’re falling in love with The Beatles all over again.

These remasters really did a great job in allowing listeners to experience the low end of the tracks without disrupting the musical tension. Suddenly, Starr’s drums on “Something” feel weighty, McCartney’s bass work nimbly creeps through, and the syrupy strings add a dreamy quality to Harrison’s wistful croon. “In My Life” revels in delicately plucked guitar as Lennon’s nostalgic voice is backed with soaring harmonies that feel just as passionate as they did on your parents’ records.

Yet what separates these remasters from the sea of botched ones, is their humility.

These songs weren’t improved, for the master tapes and mixes all existed to the public in some form or another. Rather, these remasters were done to grant an experience, an experience The Beatles wanted us to have from the start. While die-hards will avoid them and stick to their scratched vinyl’s, The Beatles Stereo Box Set offers a clarity and sense of space that only the men making it could have heard, something that technology wouldn’t let them give to us. To grant this to fans is not only gracious, but should rewrite the book on what it means to remaster something (And the intentions behind such projects).

Maybe in the future, we’ll be saying, “Hey, this got remastered just like The Beatles stuff.”

Suddenly, we’re not bristling anymore.

Spin These First: Please Please Me, The Beatles (The White Album), Abbey Road

Sounds Like: 4 guys from Liverpool.

The Used- Artwork (0)

2009-09-08T15:05:00.000-07:00

Something that receives no credit should always be met with trepidation. It’s very elitist to assume that everything that comes out of a critic’s mouth is gospel, and this blog is certainly NOT gospel. Let’s be honest, the masses reading this shouldn’t just accept a 0 rating because that’s lazy. Rather, that is when it’s most necessary to dissect a critic’s arguments, because 99.9% of the time the rating is too harsh or misguided.

So be scrutinizing readers, but let me propose that this album might be in that other .1%.

The Used’s Artwork is either the year’s best comedy album, a satire on contemporary post-hardcore, or it’s an over-compressed record that the band had the audacity to pass off as, “artwork.”

It’s safe to say this blog feels it falls under the latter designation.

For starters, Artwork is inauthentic. As vocalist Bert McCracken described the album in an interview with Alternative Press, Artwork is about, “Coming to grips with how much you really hate yourself…” Please ignore the fact that this comes from a 27 year old MySpace version of Andrew W.K. who probably has more cars than you have pairs of shoes.

While McCracken might very well feel that way, never has he expressed it in such a juvenile manner as he has on Artwork. This is, hands down, the most horrendously written record of the year from a band that seemed far cleverer not so long ago. Lines such as, “I haven't lost anything except my mind/Expect a thousand confessions that you will not find…” or, “Don't let me go, don't say good bye/Cuz you know that I'm not alive…” fail to resonate because of how trite, ham-fisted, and lazy they come across.

“You'll never make it alone/It's easier to go…” sings McCracken on “Men Are All The Same.”

It’s one thing to explore these dark themes with frustration and rage, but McCracken sings them as if he’s reading off his shopping list, making them seem hollow and disingenuous in the process. There are no revelations to be found in Artwork’s constructed anger and this regression is sad to listen to. Whatever maturity The Used gained from their last studio outings has simply vanished as McCracken’s prose sinks into adolescent mire, one that listeners should be too embarrassed to take seriously.

With lyrics this ho-hum, the band’s sense of danger, or even relevance, has been stripped clean, transforming Artwork into something compact and marketable for Hot Topic stores everywhere. Simply put, mad 14 year olds are going to eat this stuff up.

It doesn’t stop there. McCracken has never been a poet, but the band typically saves him with somewhat interesting melodies, even if they’ve move on from the chaotic stop-on-a-dime madness that marked their early records. 2007’s Lies For The Liars, while over-produced and slick, provided fans with crunchy riffs, frantic energy, and big crescendoing choruses that promised fans more interesting arrangements in the future. Additionally, The Used firing John Feldmann and hiring Matt Squire as their producer was an attempt to get back to a more messy sound, a sound that McCracken even prided himself in.

“Our songs are 10 times messier and noisier than they've ever been,” McCracken told Alternative Press.

This is a lie.

Barring the sharp melodies from guitarist Quinn Allman on “Blood On My Hands,” there isn’t anything remotely heavy about Artwork. Guitars hum when they should hammer down (“Sold My Soul”) and McCracken’s whiney voice has been smothered in Pro Tools and pasted onto ballads (“Watered Down”). Elsewhere, new drummer Dan Whitesides simply keeps time, stuck in the familiar soft-verse/loud-chorus that the band literally beats to death with Squire’s hyper slick production style.

So much for rawness and spontaneity.

Where McCracken promised fans noisier songs, the band delivered saccharine sweet ballads and mid-tempo monotony. Allman’s rich and layered solo on “Kissing You Goodbye” would almost be a highlight of McCracken hadn’t made it feel like a hair metal ballad, complete with overwrought piano as he sings, “On my own, I'm nothing/Just bleeding, I'm not kissing you goodbye…” Additionally, when it comes to the anti-religious zeal of “On The Cross,” The Used never find the head-banging groove they strive for, and the track is undermined by the spoken word samples of a particularly bigoted evangelist.

We get it guys, you don’t like the church. That’s about as subtle as Tila Tequlia.

Keep in mind; however, this isn’t an issue of a band experimenting with a new sound. Instead, Artwork is a band failing to live up to it’s potential, offering something that’s safe, bland, and rarely engaging. Therefore, it doesn’t make sense to give Artwork any merit, whatsoever. When the passion has been stripped from the craft, the work’s value is questionable at best, and this is the case with this album.

So take care to make up your OWN minds about Artwork. Question this blog, and do your own detective work readers. At the very least, listen to the album, because it's rare to see an album so forced and contrived as this one.

Key Cuts: None.

Sounds Like: A very TIRED band.

If you’re curious, click the artwork to sample Artwork for yourself.

22

2009-09-03T19:32:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to...well, me I guess. It's a been a weird ride so far and I'm told it gets weirder. So to make sure that ride is filled with good tunes, I've made a list of 22 of my favorite artists and the underrated songs I love by them. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

A.F.I.- Dancing Through Sunday

Alkaline Trio- Jaked On Green Beers

The Beastie Boys- Root Down

The Beatles- Oh! Darling

Beck- Timebomb

The Black Keys- Thickfreakness

blink 182- Violence

Bloc Party- Sunday

Brand New- Moshi Moshi

Death Cab For Cutie- Cath...

Elliott Smith- Somebody That I Used To Know

Green Day- Armatage Shanks

The Hush Sound- Not Your Concern

Kanye West- RoboCop

Metallica- Devil's Dance

Muse- New Born

Nine Inch Nails- The Fragile

Radiohead- Life In A Glasshouse

The Smashing Pumpkins- Dross

Thursday- Circuits Of Fever

Weezer- We Go Together

The White Stripes- Ball & Biscuit

As Tall As Lions- You Can’t Take It With You (***½)

2009-09-03T13:15:00.000-07:00

People aren’t comfortable with things that land in the middle of the spectrum. Why you ask? Because they can’t assign a name to them, they can’t classify them. People are far more comfortable when something IS, or it ISN’T and if it’s PERHAPS, well then all best are off.

As such, New York’s As Tall As Lions are in the same boat. Too hooky for Pitchfork’s snarky elitism and too dense for mainstream radio, these Long Islanders attempt to take their arena ready indie pop to the masses on their own terms. What they present is You Can’t Take it With You, an album that focuses on creating atmosphere rather than bite sized sing-a-longs, an album that’s rich in texture.

To help achieve that goal, it’s clear that a great deal of time went into the crystal clear production of the record. On the opening “Circles,” listeners are treated to snappy drums, Dan Nigro’s syrupy tenor, and Saen Fitzgerald’s angelic guitar work. “Circles” is positively pristine, introducing listener to the dream-like quality of the rest of the album with a fairly concise track.

This is perhaps the band’s greatest strength: The ability to make a 3 minute song seem like a 12 minute musical journey.

It doesn’t stop there though. The r&b flavored title track is awash with thick harmonies and jazzy bass work while the shuffling “Duermete” is a spacious piano laden number that makes careful use of Fitzgerald’s shimmering leadwork. Nigro sounds fragile on the track, his disciplined voice rising and falling as the song drifts by, and the band really focuses on using the space between the melodies to make it haunting. There is a dreamy quality to much of You Can’t Take It With You, and As Tall As Lions really seem to mine that for all it’s worth.

But make no mistake; this isn’t just a record that sounds good. Nigro’s lyrics can be fairly confrontational when he’s not too busy professing his love to his lady. The jaunt 70s inspired piano of “Is This Tommorrow?” sports lines such as, “As children grab their guns and line up to die, doll/And our hollow headlines, oh they just prove to warn/Yeah, calling in the time's read today/If you're not confused then you're not really...” Against a stutter-stop backbeat and dizzying bass line, Nigro rages against apathy with deft wordplay rather than frantic screams. His voice is emotive but never reckless, and finding a pop band with that much insight is a rare feat.

Elsewhere, the melancholy intimacy of “Sleepyhead” is another on of the album’s highlights with lines such as, “Where I am's nowhere it seems/When thoughts of you get a hold of me/I squint my eyes and try to see/Just where's the line between a coma and a dream…” Against a sparse background of soft keyboards and delicate drumming, As Tall As Lions have an incredible talent for making poignant situations seem innocuously safe.

It’s a fascinating writing style; one that warrants their albums repeated listens.

Yet for how brilliantly the band seems to synthesize these elements into great songs, the album has some glaring flaws, namely, that As Tall As Lions did not go far enough. While You Can’t Take It With You has a noticeably more soulful vibe than it’s self-titled predecessor (The old time jazz/Charles Mingus-flavored “We’s Been Waitin’” comes to mind) the band’s lost some spontaneity in their exploration of sonic texture.

As Tall As Lions deftly explore looser rhythms, unconventional drumming patterns, and off kilter melodies, but the musical climaxes are far too familiar. Where their self-titled reveled in lush instrumentation and hooks that truly stood out, this record’s more relaxed pace bogs down some melodies that should really explode. “Go Easy (See The Love)” should be positively expansive but its predictable rise and fall make it simply okay. And in addition to losing steam on the latter half of the album, You Can’t Take It With You simply doesn’t contain songs that pop out at listeners.

While As Tall As Lions expertly balance a myriad of influences and parts, this is the first time those parts tend to outshine the whole.

All in all, You Can’t Take It With You is a fairly strong release, if an uneven one. The disc neatly hides nuggets of brilliance that are fun to unpack, but the experience is nowhere near the overwhelming satisfaction gleaned from their self-titled. Yet perhaps this album, like As Tall As Lions’ sound, isn’t meant to firmly reside on one side of the fence. Perhaps, the band intended to craft an album to explore, rather than to simply turn up.

If that’s the case, fans will have to be comfortable with appreciating You Can’t Take It With You for what it is.

Key Cuts: Duermete, We’s Been Waitin’, Is It Tomorrow?

Sounds Like: Illuminate (Lydia), The Needle, The Space (Straylight Run), The Alchemy Index Vol. III: Air (Thrice)

Click on the artwork to sample some of You Can’t Take It With You for yourself!

Outside Lands 2009: Day 3

2009-08-31T19:32:00.000-07:00

My apologizes for not Tweeting like a good little Web 2.0er, but I decided that my last day in the Shangri-La that is Outside Lands was going to be all about the music and good times. That's why I'm filling you in now, after the good times were had. As such, the final day of the San Francisco's second Outside Lands came to a tremendous and wild conclusion. Here were the highlights...

12:45: Chris and I shuffle through the gates and find that the overcast day keeps the sun at bay.

1:00: We go and visit our friends David and Whitney at the Farmer's Market tent. They were working, so we thought they should have visitors that are familiar. The farmers gave Chris a peach that was apparently incredible. Whitney and I discuss Outside Lands plans, Paramore, and the other blog I'm maintaining with David. We agree to meet up during M.I.A.'s set.

1:30: Chris and I camp out in front of the Twin Peaks stage, awaiting the arrival of Atmosphere. We discuss Inglorious Basterds and the whole of Quentin Tarantino. We come to the conclusion that most people like Tarantino movies for the wrong reasons. Namely, the violence.

2:15: Atmosphere takes the stage with a roaring reception from the hungry crowd. Anthony Davis settled behind his turntables as Sean "Slug" Daley took to greeting the crowd, goading them to chant "GOD LOVES UGLY!" alongside him.

2:20: After a few numbers featuring the quick wordplay of Brother Ali, Atmosphere break into a rousing rendition of "Yesterday" the thick soul beats and jaunt piano piercing through crystal clear over Slug's amped up delivery. Slug's suave spit of "Listen all ya'll/It's a Sabotage..." during "Puppets" drew a wave of applause for the Beastie Boys, who were sadly absent from the festival due to MCA's brush with cancer.

2:35: Slug taught us a new dance. It consisted him holding his hands up. Good thing it segued into the entrancing storytelling of "Less One."

3:15: Chris and I venture over to the Intel dome. We are served blue liquids in viles. We are unsure if they are an energy drink or Gatorade. We are underwhelmed by Intel's 1998 version of "The Future."

3:30: I buy some sweet potato fries. Chris and I lament on the proper uses for ginger in dipping sauces. We do not come to an appealing consensus.

4:00: We stake out an area for Modest Mouse. The wind picks up and Chris and I ridicule hipsters in bad plaid.

4:20: Issac Brock leads his indie counterparts on stage for a smooth take of "Gravity Rides Everything." This perks me up for a set that might contain a great deal of The Moon & Antarctica. It doesn't, but it hardly makes it a bad set.

4:30: The band keep a mellow tone throughout their set, drummer Joe Plummer keeping time effortlessly alongside Eric Judy's steady bass. Shockingly, Brock kept his haggard vocals in check in an attempt to follow his band. Smooth versions of "Fire It Up" and "Dashboard" really hit the crowd.

5:10: They launch into the long twangy rhythm of "The Whale Song." Brock's hypnotic guitar makes me enjoy this more than the EP version.

5:25: They don't play "Float On." Modest Mouse earn kudos from me.

5:30: Fooding commences. Hard day of rocking makes one hungry.

5:45: Steven, David, and Whitney join Chris and myself. We catch up and are informed that Jack White's band The Dead Weather was good.

6:05: M.I.A. takes the stage with horribly dressed backup dancers, a fleet of percussionists and one smooth DJ. Her costume appears to be a cheetah with heart ears. I forget the fashion, and indulge in a booming version of "Bambo Banga."

6:30: While she'd sometimes hold the mic too far away, M.I.A. was quite the show(wo)man. Her and her oddly dressed cohorts turned the Polo Fields into a gigantic dance party. Clever sampling of the Beastie Boy's "Sabotage" as she spit "Bird Flu" drew even more applause and was a nice gesture on her part.

7:00: It's clear that M.I.A. does a great job on her live show. The beats are deep and pulsing, her DJ energetic and spontaneous, and her delivery lively. "Paper Planes" closed everything nicely, sampled gun fire ringing all throughout Golden Gate Park.

7:30: We push forward for Tenacious D. The cold sets in.

7:50: After a great deal of screaming, The D make their way on stage. They take us on a rockin' odyssey where they whip out Zeppelin-influenced classics like "Wonder Boy" and defeat the Devil.

8:45: After making careful work of "The Metal" in sinks in that despite their joking stage show, Jack Black and Kyle Gass actually put on a great concert. They're voices on pitch, their energy rivaling a great classic rock band, and their acoustic playing precise, Tenacious D might be a satire on bone head rock but they end up being so much more.

9:20: I bid farewell to Outside Lands under a starry sky.

Special thanks to SPIN Magazine for awarding me free tickets. I like free music and they obliged.

Outside Lands 2009: Day 2

2009-08-30T10:23:00.000-07:00

Forces larger than myself were keyed into the fact that San Francisco dwellers are not used to the sun being so....well, hot. As such, Day 2 at Outside Lands was far more subdued than Day 1. With a gentle breeze blowing off the ocean, the day made for a more relaxing outing inside San Francisco's little paradise.

1:30: I'm on a MUNI full of very cranky concertgoers. I make friends with a slight man sporting a large handlebar mustache. His plans for the day? "We're gonna BBQ and do this shit RIGHT!" I couldn't agree with him more.

2:05: I'm being searched as I enter. The chain link fence herding us in suddenly collapses and a very bald man is running away. Staff is less that enchanted.

2:15: I meet up with Steven and Brandon. We muse about lemonade and the like.

2:20: Groundation begins. Now when it comes to reggae I'm very particular, but these guys are the real deal. Armed with an army of horns, reverb, and good times, these Sonoma natives kick out the jams.

2:40: It's occurred to me that there is a green haze hovering over the crowd. It explains the awful dancing of white people.

2:50: Harrison Stafford informs the crowd that Groundation is "conscious music" not pop music. I can get behind that insomuch as most of the crowd's consciousness has been altered. Joking aside, however, Groundation's take on traditional reggae is very percussive and jammy. Stafford's lyrics about spiritual discovery and over coming personal struggle are wonderfully compelling as well.

3:15: I stop by the Panhandle stage and catch a few minutes of Portugal. The Man. I'm convinced they need to decide on a genre and stick to it. Post-hardcore doesn't always mix with piano balladry and odd percussion. Well, maybe if you're Chiodos.

3:30: I notice that in addition to the balding 40 year old men, the audience gathering for Mastodon have two very distinct camps. One is the white/dreadlocked rasta crowd and the other is 40 year old soccer moms. This is perhaps the most bizarre crowd I've evern been in.

3:55: Mastodon take the stage and pummel the audience for an hour. The mixing was a tad off as Brann Dailor's double bass overwhelmed most of the band's meaty riffs, but their overall quality of play was tight and lean.

4:15: I come to the conclusion that naming the band "Mastodon" is about the most metal thing one could do. Mastodons were big and violent, just like metal.

4:50: Brent Hinds shows us how much he likes the whammy bar for a good five minutes. He conjures some evil sounds from his axe, his fingers flailing and bending to match the group's thrash-meets-prog sound. It's what one would expect: Big and violent.

5:10: I run towards food. All that rockin' empties the stomach quickly.

5:30: Steven meets up with me again as we camp out for TV On The Radio. We talk about awful concertgoers. Kids today just don't know how to behave at shows.

5:38: Crazy lady quote, "I'll get TV on YOUR radio!"

5:40: TV On The Radio take the stage for an incredible performance. Opening with "Love Dog," the group makes full use of a live horn section as Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone's soulful vocals dip and dive.

6:00: The crowd is flat out dancing to the grimy groove of "Red Dress." For a band that crafts their albums so meticulously in the studio, it's refreshing to see TV On The Radio add a bit of swagger. Ultimately, their songs come across more like a horn driven armada than detailed experimentalism, but the result is still astonishing.

6:40: The band closes with the up-stroked energy and verbose wordplay of "Crying." The crowd hungered for more as TV's thick break beats and robust horns brought the funk and the fun.

7:00: Steven leaves to go meet up with Brandon as I'm joined by my friends David and Whitney. We catch up, chew the fat, and eagerly await the next act.

7:30: With a fleet of musicians and two very afroed individuals, The Mars Volta take the stage for what can only be described as an hour and a half long musical freak out. They open with "Goliath," Cedric Bixler-Zavala wailing into his taped up microphone as Omar Rodriguez-Lopez's wah engorged lead work twisted and turned with the group.

7:40: "Don't drink the black coffee, because there is a fish in the perculator." -Bixler-Zavala

7:50: All the fears I had about seeing The Mars Volta live have vanished. While the group interspersed some ambient and spacey jams, they stuck to songs fans knew off their 4 album output. "The Widow" impressed with monoliths of deliciously funky riffs while "Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of)" crashed down with prog-rock style.

8:56: They annouce there will only be one more song, and as the crowd takes in the freakish backdrop of a skeletal fish, The Mars Volta assault the audience with the post-hardcore-meets- Frank Zappa jazz rock of "Wax Simulacra." I don't know how they do it, but The Mars Volta make messy and seemingly random sounds feel cohesive and digestible in a live setting.

9:15: I meet an Austrailian man that overhears me talking about Incubus' performance the day before. He informs me their cover of Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" was a bit "faggy." We're not friends.

Outside Lands 2009: Day 1

2009-08-29T10:10:00.000-07:00

To say that the Outside Lands festival in Golden Gate Park is a concertgoer's idea of heaven might not do the whole event justice. With stages, booths, and events set up across three expansive meadows, Outside Lands might be heaven on earth. Period. As such, here's an account of my first day adjusting to paradise.

12:15: My friend Paulina and I arrive and have Venom energy drinks thrust into our arms. We don't drink them because we feel awkward about letting things named after snakes into our bodies.

12:30: I'm greeted by the enormity of the event. It's akin to a kid in a candy store.

12:40: Merch merch merch. I pick up a Silversun Pickups t-shirt.

12:50: We set up camp at the Lands End Stage in the Polo Fields. We're instantly aware that San Francisco has been licked by the sun, and a tremendous amount of sunscreen is applied.

1:05: Autolux takes takes the stage and opens the day. I'm reminded of how underrated Future Perfect is as an album.

1:15: "Turnstile Blues" rock us in all it's swirling, feedback induced glory. I come to the conclusion that Carla Azar can hit the hell out of the drums.

2:00: The first wave of hipsters start setting up camp. Paulina and I decide the criteria with which to identify them. They are as follows: Plaid shirts, bad stubble, tight pants, bright colored pants, Ray Bands, clove cigarettes, and any mention of The Smiths.

2:15: I berate Paulina for not liking her iPhone. After playing with it, I realize I want one even more.

2:30: Built To Spill comes out on stage (After a few members doing their own soundcheck) and proceeds to blow us all away. My only previous brush with the band is "Car" as covered by Brand New so I don't know what to expect. Within their first opening songs, I'm hooked.

2:40: I start noticing where Ben Gibbard borrows his singing style from. The band is tight, their arrangements falling in the realm of thick pop-rock with an indie flavor. The guitar bends are rich and they play a mean solo.

3:00: They play "Car."

3:40: Clouds roll in an shield us from the sun. Thank goodness.

3:50: I'm suddenly aware that Silversun Pickups have a larger following then I expected them to. Our campsite is overrun. Standing room only.

4:15: Silversun Pickups takes the stage. We are inundated with hipsters and smoking enthusiasts.

4:30: To say Silversun Pickups are a great live band is, again, a gross understatement. Brian Aubert's voice is ethereal and passionate, Nikki Monniger's bass is pulsing and deep, and Christopher Guanlao's skins work is detailed and precise. The band's energy is ten fold of their recorded selves, propulsive and almost punky at times.

4:40: They bring the fuzz with supped up versions of "There's No Secrets This Year" and "Panic Switch." While stripped back from their album counterparts (Keyboards taking a back seat to their messy guitar work), I'm convinced seeing them headline would be an incredible show.

5:12: Sliversun Pickups close out their set with a raucous and overdrive soaked version of "Lazy Eye." The crowd goes nuts and the feedback shakes Golden Gate Park. Tremendous.

5:30: I meet up with my friend Steven briefly. He's going to see Tom Jones. Paulina and I say we're staying for Incubus.

5:40: I chide Paulina about her crush on Brandon Boyd.

6:00: Incubus take the stage and sound tremendous. Ben Kenney's bass is low and grinding while Mike Einzinger reminds us how versatile a guitarist he is, his chunky riffs ranging from punk to metal to jazz with a few quick strokes.

6:12: They drop "Anna Molly" on the crowd and the huge sing-a-longs take hold, partially to help Boyd who was battling a cold. The selfish part of me took a great deal of pleasure in the fact that their set had a great many tracks off Light Grenades, my personal favorite Incubus album: "Anna Molly," "Love Hurts," "Quicksand," "A Kiss To Send Us Off."

6:30: I'm convinced that DJ Kilmore understands dynamics.

6:56: The band ends with a blistering take on Prince's "Let's Go Crazy." I'm shocked they don't end with "Drive."

7:15: Paulina and I escape the now cramped crowd in search of drink. We pick up food and set up camp a further distance away for Pearl Jam.

7:30: I try to convince Paulina that Paramore are a decent pop-rock act. She doesn't buy it.

7:50: Pearl Jam take the stage and the crowd erupts in cheers.

8:10: A few songs in, and the band is tight and focused. For musicians that got lumped into the grunge scene, it's wonderful to see them truly play like a classic rock band. Big meaty riffs, blusey solos, and Eddie Vedder's gravely voice.

8:30: We learn Vedder's voice is nearly shot from the tour. He begins rambling about being safe in the pit. I'm convinced that Vedder sounds like a crazy homeless man. It's a good thing.

8:40: "Evenflow" is a force of nature. The thunderous drumming brash guitar showmanship scream rock 'n roll. There is a reason this song was HUGE in the 90s.

9:00: The crowd starts helping Vedder sing Pearl Jam classics. "Black" is positively haunting with such large gang vocals.

9:50: Pearl Jam close out their set with Neil Young's "Rockin' In The Free World" capping off a great day with a classic song.

10:00: I don't envy the clean up staff.

The Rundown

2009-08-27T10:55:00.000-07:00

Pardon me for slacking on my posting but for being unemployed, life is startlingly distracting at the moment. Additionally, I've been working with a couple friends of mine to get another blog up off the ground. It's called 1,000 Words and its primary focus is developing a community for short fictions writers. I'm a regular contributer as well, writing things that aren't music related. If that's your thing, I suggest your check it out.

Now then, things to expect from THIS blog in the near future:

Concerts!

I've won tickets to Outside Lands in Golden Gate Park this year. Expect coverage of that for the next few days as well as my pointed opinions. I was over at the park yesterday to pick up my tickets and the whole thing is fenced and tented. Very excited.

Album reviews!

This seems like a no brainer, but I'm anxious to share my thoughts on new albums from As Tall As Lions and Imogen Heap. The Used are also slated to drop an album so If I have time, I'll write on that. However, I don't think that will be a nice review. It's....well, less than stellar.

September! September!

Aside from the fact that I'll be seeing blink 182 twice in September (And turning 22. What's THAT about?), I just realized this is going to be an incredibly strong month in terms of music. Here are the releases I'm excited for:

Backspacer by Pearl Jam

The Blueprint 3 by Jay-Z

Brand New Eyes by Paramore

Break Up by Scarlett Johansson (C'mon, you've got to chuckle a bit)

Daisy by Brand New

Crash Love by A.F.I.

Endgame by Megadeath

Remastered versions of The Beatles' studio albums (A touchy subject for most)

The Resistance by Muse

Sadly, I was also looking forward to writing up Hot Sauce Committee, Pt. 1 by The Beastie Boys but I suppose that will have to wait. Here's to hoping MCA a smooth recovery and that the album drops this year.

With that, I leave you with Radiohead's recent performance of "These Are My Twisted Words" at Frequency 2009, simply because as my friend Trevor once said as he imitated me, "You know what's real kids? RADIOHEAD!"

Live: Green Day @ the HP Pavilion 8/19

2009-08-19T16:39:00.000-07:00

It’s rare to find an established band that cares so much about their live show. At a certain point, groups usually find the magic in performing is gone, and they don’t mind letting their energy slack, their showmanship drop. It’s a common, if unnerving part of the live concert experience, but it’s a fact of life in the music world.

Thankfully, it was a fact of life that was absent from the HP Pavilion last night.

Bay Area rockers Green Day pushed through nearly three hours of music with blistering 3-chord aplomb, passionate singing, and a dazzling pyrotechnics show. The venue served as a perfect setting for the band, which served as intimate while still allowing for the stadium bravado of their latest album, 21st Century Breakdown.

Yet, the evening opened up humbly enough with Scottish rockers Franz Ferdinand. The four piece warmed the crowd up with their jangly take on Kinks’ inspired dance rock and kept fans quite engaged throughout. From the raucous dance hall thump of “This Fire” to the messy call and response of “Take Me Out,” singer/guitarist Alex Kapranos lead his group with his robotic delivery and gentile charm.

While Franz Ferdinand performed well enough, the audience was clearly hungry for Green Day, a sentiment made very clear by the wave of screams that emanated as “Song Of The Century” blared through the speakers. Then, as singer/guitarist Billie Joe Armstrong, bassist Mike Dirnt, and drummer Tre Cool all took the stage, pandemonium broke out all across the floor.

Beginning with the crashing riffs of “21st Century Breakdown” Green Day’s nearly three hour set covered much of the latest album as well as their 2004 rock opera American Idiot. Fans were treated to the grungy shuffle of “East Jesus Nowhere,” the athematic anti war rhetoric of “Holiday,” and the frantic hardcore of “St. Jimmy,” each one executed to perfection in an effort to outshine their studio counterparts.

Considering their incessant need to move around the stage, it’s a marvel how Green Day is able to keep their sound in check. Everything remains in perfect balance from Cool’s fluid drumming and Armstrong’s thick but brash guitar. Cuts such as the hopelessly romantic “She” continue to show that Dirnt has some of the dirtiest bass lines in rock, perfectly suiting Armstrong’s strong delivery. Touring guitarist Jason White kept up with the disciplined Berkeley unit with searing lead work his own, adding depth and melody to Green Day’s frenzied pace.

Still, it’s a feat to see Green Day still ecstatic about capturing the energy of these songs, and in many cases improving on them. While the first half of the show drew from their 00s output, but the second half brought all the fan favorites. From the crunchy “Welcome To Paradise” and “Basket Case,” to the sludgy “Brain Stew,” Armstrong’s snotty snarl made each syllable jump and each fan scream. It’s clear that nearly 20 years into their career, Green Day understand how to create a rapport with the crowd.

“Put away your fucking video cameras! We’ve gotta connect as human beings!” screamed an excited Armstrong before launching into a thunderous rendition of “The Static Age.”

Despite being near their hometown, it’s clear that Armstrong really tries his best to connect with fans during a Green Day show. Throughout the course of the set list, Armstrong brought up crowd members to stage dive, play guitar, or even sing verses alongside him. In fact, there wasn’t a song that went by where Armstrong didn’t attempt to make the crowd part of the experience, make them more than just bystanders.

Armstrong’s charisma extended beyond just shouting out the event’s venue, it exuded from him. From the way he’d hold notes just a little too long, or the anecdotes he’d share with fans, it was clear that Armstrong wanted fans to see these songs the way he did. Before launching into the propulsive “Murder City” Armstrong told the crowd about how he wrote the track, a mere day after the BART police shooting on New Year’s. Such tidbits are personal for the band, and it was clear that the audience appreciated Armstrong letting them into Green Day’s world.

The show picked up again towards the end. “21 Guns” arrested the audience with shimmering lead work as Cool’s military style drumming provided the song’s backbone, sparks and fireworks showering the band on stage. After a gritty and savage run through of “American Eulogy,” the band returned with the three song encore of “American Idiot,” “Jesus Of Suburbia,” and “Minority” as if to ask their fans to join them in expending just a little more energy.

Armstrong returned alone with an acoustic guitar for a sweet and somber second encore. While the show had reveled in Armstrong’s mile-a-minute theatricality, it was here that he pulled in audiences without so much as a word. Offering up bare acoustic versions of “Christie Road,” “Last Night On Earth” and “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life),” it was clear that Armstrong had succeeded in his quest to connect with his fans.

Green Day may be an institution now, but it’s clear that the love they have for their songs and for their fans will always result in a live show that THEY care about. Thinking about it in those terms, it’s hard to imagine the band offering up anything less.

Thrice- Beggars (****)

2009-08-04T11:05:00.000-07:00

How does a band follow up a 4-disc concept record where each disc thematically explores the natural elements fire, water, air, and earth? Well, you could go grander, offering fans a more complicated work to digest that keeps your work inaccessible.

Or you could be like Thrice, and strip everything back to its bare essentials.

After the last chapter of The Alchemy Index was released, Thrice spent some time on the road but quickly jumped at the opportunity to get back into the studio. The result is Beggars, a 10-song album that finds the band focusing less on being studio wizards and more on being an organic four piece.

Make no mistake, however, stripped back and concise do not translate into a sonic regression. In fact, fans of earlier Thrice works such as Identity Crisis and The Illusion Of Safety will find that Beggars has little in common those albums save for Dustin Kensrue’s sandpaper vocals. Instead, Thrice has opted not to experiment with lush and meticulously crafted textures, but with solid riffs and quirky rhythms.

From the opening pulse of Eddie Breckenridge’s lumbering bass on “All The World Is Mad” to Teppei Teranishi’s bluesy guitar noodling on “The Weight,” Thrice make it clear that Beggars is an album of songs, not symphonic statements. Instead, the album comes across as a song cycle that’s far more immediate than anything off The Alchemy Index. On Beggars, tracks are more concerned with groove, feeling far looser than anything the band has done before.

At first, listeners will be taken aback by how subtle the record is, and they should be. All the tracks here, especially the heavier ones, are constructed to be more intimate than bludgeoning. What that means is that Thrice has evened out their sound, pushing their delicate and soft passages together with a small dabbling of their discordant take on post-hardcore.

For a band that has spent two releases attempting to separate their sound into distinct parts, it’s refreshing to find them combining these elements in a fashion that seems effortless.

“Circles” is easily the album’s strongest track, featuring Riley Breckenridge’s fluttering drums as they ride fluid, shimmering guitar lines, and warm bass work. Kensrue’s somber vocals push the track into melancholy as the group’s rich guitar work begins to climb and soar. With smooth changes and seamless transitions, songs like “Circles” display a band that has developed into a group of great songwriters with each successful release.

Much like The Alchemy Index before it, Beggars finds Kensrue’s lyrics weighing weighty existential musings. Cuts such as “Wood & Wire” sport lines like, “Dead man walking down the hall/To meet a mess of wood and wire/Lead me to where mean fear to tread/Towards the thing I most desire…” giving listeners ideas and concepts that aren’t simply surface level hooks. Set against rich piano and hazy feedback, Kensrue’s lyrics remain poetic as he contemplates the humanity that comes from personal struggle. Elsewhere,

However, the album’s greatest strength is how well its overall concept permeates throughout all the musical elements. On Beggars, the guitars range from fluid to gritty, the bass fuzzy to full. No robotic distortion, no slick studio sheen. Thrice sound like a group of men making music rather than men displaying music that’s been tinkered and toyed with. There is a natural quality to Beggars, one that gives the songs soul and life when their parts seem simple and pedestrian. It’s a record that’s light on indulgence save for sparse piano here and there. Instead, it represents a band creating expansive arrangements and visceral movements using modest means, perfectly falling in line with the album’s muse.

Thrice expertly displays this on the album’s closing track “Beggars,” marrying messy feedback with fluid melodies against Kensrue’s bluesy howl. In one fell swoop, the band show the triumphs of man only go so far, but our unity stems from our humanity, “As you lie in your bed/Does the thought haunt your head/That your really rather small?/If there's one thing I know in this life/We are beggars all…”

In an age of auto-tuned theatrics, recycled pop compression, and expensive pro-tools worked sounds, it’s a breath of fresh air to find a record that revels in its simplicity. It harkens back to a time where the human spirit could find itself seeped in creation rather than putting out a product.

In that respect, Thrice should be proud, for they’ve achieved that revelation thorough the most basic of means.

Key Cuts: Circles, Wood & Wire, Beggars

Sounds Like: Ghosts I-V (Nine Inch Nails), OK Computer (Radiohead), The Joshua Tree (U2)

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

Folsom Prison 5 Year Old

2009-07-29T10:04:00.000-07:00

She's cute now, but I see an all black wardrobe in her future.