Foo Fighters- Wasting Light (***½)

A large amount of hype can kill a record.

Buyer’s remorse is a powerful force of nature, like social media, or Brian Wilson’s beard. If a band says their new record is A, B, and C, it better be ALL of those things. A record that’s actually X, Y, and Z can make an audience feel cheated, drastically warping how they digest a new album.

Even worse, it can turn the record into a disappointment when it’s anything but terrible.

Dave Grohl made this mistake with the latest Foo Fighters’ offering, Wasting Light, misleading fans about the true nature of its sound. This was supposed to be Grohl’s face-melting return to all things garage-related, a record that fried your car speakers on long summer drives to nowhere. It was recorded on analog tape, cut in Grohl’s basement. Butch Vig, his buddy from the Nevermind-is-taking-over-the-world days, was producing. Plus, if you needed more connections to Nirvana, Krist Novoselic and Pat Smear were going to contribute to the recording process as well.

Unfortunately, fans received something significantly de-fanged compared to what was described in Dave Grohl’s pre-launch press.

Falling in between the Foos' alternative touchstone The Color & The Shape and its often forgotten follow-up There Is Nothing Left To Lose, Wasting Light is a succinct 11 tracks of slick, radio-ready rock that kicks the cruise control on mid-tempo for most of the ride. Verses are lean, and choruses soar, but little of it captures that zany sense of mayhem that only the Foo Fighters can conjure. As it stands, it’s easy to be disappointed, mainly because Wasting Light feels so safe when it was advertised as something dangerous.

Still, the record gets by on its own merits rather than its formerly perceived identity, and Grohl has written some nice additions to the Foo Fighter’s catalog amidst his somewhat conservative approach. The album opener “Bridge Burning” splices disjointed riffing with frenzied drum rolls before charging full speed ahead with Grohl’s battle cry of “THESE ARE MY FAMOUS LAST/WOOOOOOOOOORDS!” Elsewhere, the head banging, muscle car gallop of “White Limo” hints at the reckless record Wasting Light could have been, while “Arlandria’s” Cheap Trick-meets-Zeppelin aesthetic expertly showcases the kind of guitarist Grohl could become if he applied himself.

It’s important to note that while it’s not as full sounding as some of the Foo Fighters’ past offerings, Wasting Light doesn’t sound hyper compressed or sterile. Vig keeps all the instruments in balance with one another, and even chooses some interesting effects on the messy, pick-slide laced bridge of “Rope.” For a modern rock record, it has quite a bit of character, but it also doesn’t sound as warm as all that “analog” talk would have led listeners to believe. Actually, given the fact that both Grohl and Vig are natural drummers, it's weird to hear Taylor Hawkins' skins buried so deep in the mix.

But a bigger point of contention is how Vig, who has known Grohl for over two decades now, really didn’t push him to come out of his comfort zone sonically or lyrically. That’s the album’s biggest misstep. Producer Gil Norton encouraged Grohl to flirt with bluesier tones and weightier themes on 2007’s Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, and that push seemed to elevate Grohl’s overall craft. As a result, Echoes seemed like the work of a band that was progressing, while retaining their signature voice.

Sadly, all of that experimentation and soul-searching seems to have been thrown out the window on Wasting Light. The big rockers are all about confronting someone, or something, but they all come across as too vague to leave a mark. Ballads like “Dear Rosemary” are all concerned with base level heartbreak, or somebody leaving (“You got away/Got away/Got away from me…”), but never they never really pick up new insights past that. The most expressive Grohl seems to get is on the spacious, open-chord pluck of “These Days,” where it feels like he’s actually looking at something with newfound perspective, “One of these days/The clocks/Will stop/And time won’t mean a thing…”

But really, Wasting Light is a tale about missed opportunities, one where the Foo Fighters could have made a big bold statement and opted to write a safe, digestible record instead. This is most apparent on the late album cut “I Should Have Known,” an overblown, string laden ballad that was centered on Krist Novoselic’s first reunion with Grohl since 1994. While the song sounds pleasant, it doesn’t sound like two masterful musicians coming together to create something special. It’s tragic in a way: Grohl has a legendary talent like Novoselic on his record, and he doesn’t go for the spectacular. He had a very special opportunity, and he stuck Novoselic with a plodding bass line that ANY session musician could have played.

It just goes to show you that potential is another form of hype, and hype is often empty.

Sadly, Wasting Light is a record that was too afraid to pull to any one Foo Fighter extreme, be it their brash dissonant punch, or their arty, sophisticated leanings. Instead it’s a record that lies too comfortably in the middle, one where Grohl’s radio-friendly tendencies got the best of him, and the hype gets ahead of him.

Key Cuts: Bridge Burning, White Limo, Arlandria

Sounds Like: Heaven Tonight (Cheap Trick), Rated R (Queens Of The Stone Age), Maladriot (Weezer)

Click on the artwork to sample Wasting Light for yourself!

Honorable Mention: Music In 2010

For those that have been following my blog, you know that I make a big deal about my end of the year music list. I think such a summation is the mark of a year well listened, and that's why I always spend a great deal of time on it. Long time readers will notice I've done one every year since starting this blog in 2007, and it seems like it always includes more and more releases as the years go by.

This was especially evident when I began compiling my 2010 list. I realized that I had an overwhelming amount of albums to talk about, and cramming them all into one large post would be overkill. So, I decided to give you guys my Honorable Mention list first, a thorough compilation of good records that missed out on holding top spots on my Year in Review (which is currently gestating on my computer).

So without further adieu, I'd like to present you with following releases, ones that I personally endorse with a 3/5 rating or above:

Against Me!- White Crosses (***½): Tom Gabel loves the 80s, anthems, and self-awareness, wrapping it all in the most non-punk package possible.

Alkaline Trio- This Addiction (***½): Chunky hits of graveyard love, but Skiba and Andriano don’t seem as bitter as they used to be.

Atmosphere- To All My Friends, Blood Makes The Blade Holy: The Atmosphere EP's (***): Slug slams his rhymes, Ant blasts his beats, yet peer pressure transforms their typically kinetic hip-hop into something safer.

Avenged Sevenfold- Nightmare (***): The group does their dear and departed drummer proud, scaling back the big rock bravado for leaner thrash.

Band Of Horses- Infinite Arms (***½): Nocturnal anthems with Americana embellishments and stadium grandeur.

Beach House- Teen Dream (***½): An airy mixture of dreamy guitars, heavenly vocals, and soft, processed drumming.

Belle & Sebastian- Belle & Sebastian Write About Love (***): Norah Jones stops by to inject some mid-album pep, but it’s the same love struck folk with soft keyboards that the group’s made a living off of since the 90s.

Ben Folds & Nick Hornby- Lonely Island (***): Hornby’s love-lost prose lacks traditionally grabby hooks, but Folds' vanilla extract voice and jumpy piano more than make up for it.

Brandon Flowers- Flamingo (***): Syrupy slide guitar and nocturnal mournfulness keep this from being just another set of Killers songs.

Cee Lo Green- The Lady Killer (***): Cee Lo loves the ladies; he also loves punchy hooks and James Bond soundtracks.

The Chemical Brothers- Further (***½): Stratospheric beats launch this album into calmer space than the group has ever occupied.

Coheed & Cambria- Year Of The Black Rainbow (***½): If you didn’t care about the conclusion of their story you won’t care about the beginning, but at least they’ve added some industrial crunch and metallic flourishes to keep the ride interesting.

Crystal Castles- Crystal Castles (II) (***½): Electro raves in an abandoned church whilst God floods the neighborhood because he’s totally a mean landlord.

Daft Punk- TRON: Legacy OST (***): Decidedly more string heavy than their usual house-inspired sound, but still with enough day glow synthesizers to keep electronic fans satisfied.

Dr. Dog- Shame, Shame (***½): If it is baroque, don’t fix it, especially if your mining Sgt. Pepper’s Era Beatles.

Florence + The Machine- Lungs (***½): Untamed percussion, rich instrumentation, and whirlwind hooks tied together by tempest-like vocals.

Flying Lotus- Cosmogramma (***½): One part Bitches Brew, one part ADD beat-making, all part hipster magnet.

Fitz & The Tantrums- Pickin’ Up The Pieces (***½): Surprising vocal range and brisk drumming propels this vibrant, neo-soul outfit towards relevancy.

Four Year Strong- Enemy Of The World (***½): Ever wonder what it would sound like if Robot Dinosaur Bounty Hunters from Mars decided to play rough, metallic infused pop-punk?

The Gaslight Anthem- American Slang (****): Brain Fallon reminds the iTunes Generation that American romanticism and cinematic images are all just as important as big guitar hooks.

Gold Motel- Summer House (****½): Compared to The Hush Sound, their jangly 60s obsession is a horse of a different color, but Greta and the boys have a knack for making it feel like summer, 24/7.

Grinderman- Grinderman 2 (****): Marrying Stones-y atmospheres with dense psychedelics gave Nick Cave’s fronted garage band their most diverse offering yet.

Hellogoodbye- Would It Kill You? (***): Oodles of horns and acoustic guitar, but scant on spazzy synths and sugary turns of phrase.

Interpol- Interpol (***): A hint of piano, some strings, and a jilted lover around the droning corner, but Interpol excel at simply churning out a different shade of black.

Joanna Newsom- Have One On Me (***): Newsom’s voice flutters around these dense chamber pop arrangements like a canary caught in a music store.

Jenny & Johnny- I’m Having Fun Now (***): Jenny Lewis and Jonathan Rice are in love with the sound of each other’s voices, it’s too bad their collective croon and shimmering folk doesn’t work harder to endear listeners.

Jonsi- Go (***½): Ditching the post-rock drone for dynamic strings and clamoring percussion, Jonsi makes sure we realize he’s Iceland’s most valuable export.

Kele- The Boxer (***): Half messy euro-club dance numbers, half Bloc Party b-sides, and yet somehow Kele still doesn’t make very many enemies.

Ludo- Prepare The Preparations (***): Their frantic energy is more unhinged, the power-pop is poppier, and the songs just as goofy.

Local Natives- Gorilla Manor (***): If Animal Collective had a poppy younger brother yearning for plays on Pandora, and with less Brian Wilson worship…

Maroon 5- Hands All Over (***): Dropping the glitz but keeping the funk, Adam Levine & Co. continue their brand of white boy soul that’s geared towards Top 40.

Matt Skiba- Demos (***): Sketches of unfinished songs, drenched in reverb and built with acoustic guitar.

Max Bemis & The Painful Splits- Max Bemis & The Painful Splits (***): Sketches of unfinished songs, drenched in reverb and built with acoustic guitar.

Minus The Bear- OMNI (***½): Between the Legend Of Zelda synthesizers, the proggy guitar lines, and the sexy beats, you’ll wonder how Mario and Peach got down without this album.

Motion City Soundtrack- My Dinosaur Life (***½): Dry production, enormous power pop choruses, and Justin Pierre’s exuberance make this the group’s leanest offering yet.

Mumford & Sons- Sigh No More (***): Charming, organic, and inoffensive bluegrass, the kind that could crop up in a Michael Cera movie.

Norma Jean- Meridional (***½): Brooding, layered, and operatic post-hardcore that pushes the band’s sound towards nightmarish zeniths.

Ratatat- LP3 (***): Stringent beats mixed with processed guitar; the perfect blend of sounds for Sonic the Hedgehog’s work out mix.

The Roots- How I Got Over (****): Hip-hop elder statesmen craft a message of triumph, hope, and soul searching, set against classic jazz grooves and expressive piano.

Senses Fail- The Fire (***½): Unsatisfied with the reception and execution of their last LP, Senses Fail decides to burn away its memory with grisly vocals, muscular guitar, and frantic breakdowns.

She & Him- Volume Two (****): Zooey Deschanel’s sweet charm and M. Ward’s even sweeter 60s folk treats listeners to the 502nd day of summer.

The Smashing Pumpkins- Teargarden By Kaleidyscope, Vol. I: Songs For A Sailor (***½)/Teargarden By Kaleidyscope, Vol. II: The Solstice Bare (***): In a quest to alienate fans, the Great Pumpkin offers up Volumes 1 & 2 of his tarot card inspired, 44 song psychedelic love child with mixed results.

Spoon- Transference (***½): A combination of warped blues and spacey atmospheres, all wrapped together by Britt Daniel’s sandpaper howl.

Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross- The Social Network OST (***½): Stasis inducing keyboards and dark atmospheres propel this Oscar frontrunner’s soundtrack.

Vampire Weekend- Contra (****): If this slice of suped-up afro-pop doesn’t have you skipping through Urban Outfitters with its twinkling percussion and quirky beats, you’re listening to it wrong.

The Weepies- Be My Thrill (***): Dual vocals help elevate this airy folk, but some more memorable melodies could have gone a long way.

My Chemical Romance- Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys (****½)

In the midst of bulletproof vests, black eyeliner, and all the classic rock theatricality, a certain aspect of My Chemical Romance’s craft has been lost: Their sense of perfectionism. Whether or not you bought into their penchant for ambition, it’s impossible to say MCR makes music for anyone but themselves. A simple glance at their career reveals a group obsessed with continually topping their previous artistic output, setting the bar higher and higher with each new release.

This is nothing new. Since the band’s inception, they’ve been focused on creating consistency in all realms of their art. This is apparent from their physical appearance to the intertextual Easter eggs embedded in Gerard Way’s prose. Nothing is an accident in the world of MCR, and 4 albums into their career, the very notion of a multi-media style concept remains tied to the fabric of their identity.

They go big, never opting to go home.

That said, it’s been a long journey leading up to Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, and by the sound of the record, it appears to have been one hell of a ride. After scrapping an entire album of darkly tinged, Stooges-influenced punk, My Chemical Romance treat fans to their most eclectic and diverse album yet. While 2006’s The Black Parade was a testament to careful construction and traditional arrangements, Danger Days is splattered with looser songs and vibrant tones, the sound of a group embracing all the overblown recklessness rock n’ roll can offer.

By now, it’s clear that MCR’s concept would be anything but mundane (The record plays out like a radio transmission from 2019, where the group is a rag-tag gang of laser wielding outlaws in a dystopia-style Wild West), yet the album is light on narrative this time around. While pirate DJ Dr. Death Defying pops up every now and then, the songs are the real stars on Danger Days, capturing a sense of urgent rebellion against a backdrop of big melodies.

The snarling, snotty blues of “Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)” and the snyth-laced Trans AM crunch of “Bulletproof Heart” start things rolling, and the band never looks back. Frank Iero and Ray Toro effortlessly trade Iron Maiden-esque lead work like it was second nature, while Mikey Way holds the low-end with menacing proficiency. Yet it’s Gerard Way’s impeccable range that ties it all together, his voice marrying pulpy adventures with arresting images (“You got a bulletproof heart/I got a hollow point smile/We had our runaway scars/Got a photograph dream/On the getaway mile…”). Though the melodies are sing-songy, Way has a sincerity in his delivery, a sense of insistence that elevates his romantic, yet dangerous prose to meaningful places.

This tight sense of storytelling succeeds on two levels, allowing MCR the chance to refine the themes they’ve been singing about for nearly a decade, as well as push their music into new sonic territories.

While Danger Days has its share of loud, fast rock n’ roll (The gritty assault of “Party Poison” and the spikey metallic riffing of “Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back” come to mind), MCR has really embraced electronic embellishments this time around. “Planetary (GO!)” might be alarming for some longtime fans, but its blasting sirens, propulsive beat, and glitzed up synthesizers are like sonic heroin. Elsewhere, “SING” relishes in mammoth drums and twinkling piano, while “The Only Hope For Me Is You” implements thick electronics and shimmering guitars. Unlike some groups that force an aesthetic, MCR use these instruments carefully, branching out just enough to suit a specific song or the album’s future-chic concept.

The real beauty is how MCR makes Danger Days feel cohesive, without feeling directionless.

Even if the sounds and textures they’re experimenting with are processed in nature, the music isn’t. This is clear on the album’s crown jewel, “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W,” a flange flavored combination of Beatles psychedelics and Smashing Pumpkins denseness. Toro’s ethereal axe-work takes the song to dizzying heights, but “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W” finds the band operating on all cylinders, striking a delicate balance between bold experimentation and musical restraint.

In short, it’s clear that the band has grown a great deal since their last full length.

The 4-year gap between Danger Days and The Black Parade seems to have really assisted MCR in their soul searching. Danger Days finds Way mining the depths of his deepest fears, whether it’s cultish nature of religion on “DESTROYA” or the group’s detractors on “Vampire Money,” but he does so with perspective, not compulsion. Unlike other MCR records where ability to hope and love was buried under anguish (or perhaps found at the end of the journey) these seem to be the paramount themes on Danger Days. The group is simultaneously coming to terms growing older (“Hold your breath when a black bird flies/Count to seventeen and close your eyes/I'll keep you safe inside…”), without growing cynical. They’re able to embrace who they are while accepting life’s decay, preserving the urge to fight while realizing how far they’ve come.

And make no mistake, Danger Days is a bold call to arms. Cuts like the grungy, spazzed out “Vampire Money” keep the adrenaline flowing amongst all the lofty keyboards, but the real treat is how it all comes together. My Chemical Romance has made an album that stands up to the best of their back catalog, creating something many groups aren’t interested in making anymore: A big, uncompromising, rock album.

It’ll be wild seeing them top this one.

Key Cuts: Bulletproof Heart, Party Poison, S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W

Sounds Like: Origin Of Symmetry (Muse), Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness (The Smashing Pumpkins), Raw Power (The Stooges)

Click on the artwork to sample Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys for yourself!

Author's Note: The deluxe edition of Danger Days has a bonus EP with one song that survived from the previous album, the much fabled "Black Dragon Fighting Society." While I can’t complain about the songs that ended up on Danger Days, I wonder how incredible the scrapped album still might have been since, quite simply, "Black Dragon Fighting Society" melts faces.

Live: The Black Keys @ The Fox Theater (9/29)

While it’s commonly measured in intervals of time, music behaves more like a presence than anything else. More than a mere denomination for one’s metronome, music ebbs and flows through listeners, taking them to a place that’s deep inside themselves. It’s not supposed to be perfect, it’s supposed to grab you by the throat and make you pay attention.

You're supposed to feel music. You don’t count it out for enjoyment; you let it wash over you as its own living force. You let it take you on a ride.

Bands like the Black Keys understand this innate quality to music, which is why they were able to level the Fox Theater with their brisk wall of sound. Hitting on a healthy amount of material from their back catalog, as well as their new album Brothers, the Black Keys put together a set that moved audiences, instead of one where they merely played at them.

Right away, fans were swept up in the Black Keys' minimal, yet robust, sound. Beginning with “Thickfreakness,” Dan Auerbach let his clunky, crunchy guitar do most of the angular talking over Patrick Carney’s fat, punchy beats. It set the tone for a raucous night ahead, one filled with deep sounds, white noise freak-outs, and muscular riffing.

Throughout their 6 LPs, the group’s songwriting has always remained consistent, but it’s the force with which they recreate these songs live that made their stage show captivating. Cuts like the dizzying “Girl Is On My Mind” and the squealing “The Breaks” illustrate just how MUCH sound the Keys can squeeze out of their guitar/drums makeup. Even the group’s slicker cuts, like the reverb wrapped “Next Girl” or the shuffling “Tighten Up,” benefited from the Black Key’s live thump, which granted these songs a bit more muscle than their recorded counterparts.

As the evening went on, it became clearer that the Black Keys are successful in tapping into this raw energy because of the chemistry shared between Auerbach and Carney.

Always a hard worker behind the drum kit, Carney comes across as positively manic on stage, his intricate fills clamoring through overdriven waves with a crisp decisiveness. Auerbach, on the other hand, has a tunefulness and a soulful quality that he injects into these songs, even as his hand crawls up the fret board like a frightened spider. They compliment each other beautifully; Carney providing the primal punch to Auerbach’s tempered aggression. While the band brought out additional musicians to help recreate the more layered tracks off of Brothers (the richly textured “Everlasting Light” comes to mind), it was clear that essence of the Black Keys lay with Carney and Auerbach's charisma.

They, after all, are the group’s heart and soul, and they wanted the Fox to remember that.

Whether it was the clattering crunch on “Grown So Ugly” or the scattered blast beats on a stripped version of “Strange Times,” the evening’s most memorable moments came when Carney and Auerbach locked into a solid groove with one and other. The duo offered up extended versions of a few of their songs, most notably “Stack Shot Billy,” where they reveled in long segments of guitar bravado and stutter-stop rhythms. Small touches like that helped show that Carney and Auerbach care about making music in the moment, providing the audience with some improvisational flourishes to make the evening unique.

Simply put, the Black Keys weren’t concerned with playing something sterile and lifeless. They wanted to bring the feeling of their records alive, rather than just play them note for note.

As a result, the Black Keys live experience is a loose affair. The thunderous drums and sharp keyboards on “Too Afraid To Love You” were punctuated with Auerbach’s howling vocals. Elsewhere, “Set You Free,” held itself together with sleazy, crawling rhythms, and scattered drumming. Yet the evening’s real highlight was a powerful rendition of “I Got Mine,” which found Carney and Auerbach in noisy synchronicity. The two musicians took turns dictating the arrangement’s frightening pace, expertly displaying the song’s winding melodies with relentless fury.

Ultimately, it was the perfect way to end their set, completely unhinged.

While most live acts find a way to successfully bring their music to life, it’s rare to find a group that operates with such give and take. Above all else, the Black Keys understand what grants music the ability to reach out and grab listeners: Tension. Their songs are a battle between two huge forces, a quality that grants character to these songs, one that’s far beyond the group’s song craft. When you go to a Black Keys concert, you feel as though Auerbach’s wailing guitar and Carney’s rumbling drums can go off the rails at any moment, and before they do, the duo dials it back to avoid a messy crash.

That rise and fall gives their music its vivaciousness, its overwhelming presence, and most importantly, a life of its own.

The Dead Weather- Sea Of Cowards (****½)

Love him or hate him, it’s impossible to ignore Jack White’s musical presence.

Forget the Tim Burton meets Jimmy Page weirdness for a moment and think about White’s undeniable voice as a songwriter. Within The White Stripes, White leads like a blues inspired dictator, ordering Meg to keep the two-step steady while he recklessly abuses his guitar. When he’s with The Raconteurs, he makes sure the focus is on the thick and fuzzy, keeping sparseness in check. He’s hummable, but never hooky, and almost always loud enough to rattle your fillings. White’s entire musical output is predicated on this type of song craft, upon listeners knowing that they’re hearing JACK WHITE’S eccentric version of blues.

So it makes it all the more fascinating to find that on Sea Of Cowards, The Dead Weather’s second album, Jack White does something different for the first time in his career.

He steps back from the driver's seat.

Now make no mistake, White makes certainly himself heard on The Dead Weather’s spazzy and nightmarish follow up, but he also allows his talented cast to push the group’s gothic blues into something far more intricate than their last outing.

On the whole, Sea Of Cowards is a relentless album, loaded with enough white noise vomit to choke Jimi Hendrix himself. It hits listeners in the face with an arsenal of punchy distortion, scattered drumming, and panning guitar work, leaving little in its wake. Whether it’s the spine tingling plucks and hysterical screams of “Hustle & Cuss” or the train wreck wail of “Die By The Drop,” White’s willingness to collaborate firmly pushes the album into exciting, and claustrophobic sonic territory.

Yet much like Horehound, the disc’s real draw is in the vocal chemistry between The Kills’ Alison Mosshart and White himself. The two super stars circle around each other with quick quips and sleazy tension to suit Dean Fertita’s searing lead work and Jack Lawrence’s fuzzed-out four string. Against the slicing synthesizers of “The Difference Between Us,” Mosshart calls out the weak with venomous lines like, “Let's go walk to the border/Let's go walk along the inch/Let's go when no one can see us/And find the difference between us…” Elsewhere, “Blue Blood Blues” finds White’s scathing swagger of, “Yeah, all the white girls trip when I/Sing at Sunday service!” set against lurching, wah-soaked waves, and skuzzy bass.

Lyrically, the group still seems preoccupied with the occult, the fringes of sanity, and calling out double crossers, but they make it seem threatening rather than cliché. Half the fun stems from their delivery and half of it lies in their effortless wit (“When you give me the task/Leave me broke and shirtless/Check your lips at the door woman!/Shake your hips like battleships!”). All in all, Sea Of Cowards provides listeners with dangerous and violent rock n’ roll, just like the Devil intended it.

In the hands of a less competent band, such extremes would bring theses songs to an ear splitting din. Yet The Dead Weather is too careful to forget about spontaneity, and the constant tug of war that makes for exciting musical tension. “I Can’t Hear You” smolders with crisp cymbals and squealing guitars while the late album cut “Jawbreaker” features rolling fills fluttering fret board taps.

What’s fascinating about all of it is that White and the rest of the band make old blues riffs sound strikingly modern, and twice as heavy.

Yet while the album opts for more organic build-ups than the strict quiet-loud-quiet mentality of Horehound, Sea Of Cowards is far from homogenized. Instead, the Dead Weather seem focused on making songs that ebb and flow, bubbling with just enough black magic blues and psychotic freak-outs to drown your ear drums. This is most apparent on the toxic heave and crawling lead work found on “Gasoline.” Mosshart’s go for-broke-screams feel right at home against the onslaught of dueling guitars and wayward bass, the mark of a band finally finding their sound.

And boy, what a sound it is.

White’s always injected himself into solid projects, but The Dead Weather is the only one that wheezes with a life beyond Jack White’s musical quirks, representing the sum of all the members present. That quality makes Sea Of Cowards truly stand out in White’s catalog, an album that feels fuller and well rounded amidst his often-controlling musical mojo. In fact, four of the eleven tracks on Sea Of Cowards are credited to the entire group, while White’s solo writing credit pops up on the organ-drenched album closer, “Old Mary.”

Ironically, by implementing a more communal album writing process, Jack White has helped make the most immersive, and wildly schizophrenic album of his career. Sea Of Cowards not only buries his most mediocre offerings in a sea of slithering slides and anguished screams, it rises up to one of his greatest musical milestones.

Maybe he should share the love more often.

Key Cuts: Blue Blood Blues, The Difference Between Us, Gasoline

Sounds Like: Daisy (Brand New), Them Crooked Vultures (Them Crooked Vultures), Icky Thump (The White Stripes)

Click on the artwork to sample Sea Of Cowards for yourself!

The Hold Steady- Heaven Is Whenever (**½)

When you’re out at a bar and you’re (presumably) drinking responsibly, it’s typically clear as to when to pack it up and head on home.

It’s not a curfew thing; it’s more of a “this-evening-is-winding-down” thing, a natural cut off point to the evening’s festivities. After all, a boatload of fun (read: Conversation, Jack Daniels, and Guns N’ Roses on the jukebox) can only sustain itself for so long before you realize you’re either too drunk drive or too tired to care.

To push it further past that point is a big risk for one’s stomach and head.

And as the quintessential pub band for the millennials, you’d think The Hold Steady would be painfully aware of this trend. You’d assume that after the musically immersive and carefully constructed poetry of Stay Positive, their next album would know just where to go, as well as which punches to pull. Unfortunately, The Hold Steady keeps pushing their familiar brand of East Coast pub-rock on Heaven Is Whenever, and the result feels a bit like that guy forcing you polish off empties around last call.

While producer Dean Baltulonis employs sparkling production into The Hold Steady’s driving hard rock (Perhaps to add SOME difference in their sound), the group still mines the same musical highs and lows they always have. In fact, Heaven Is Whenever begins rather predictably with the dreamy acoustic folk of “The Sweetest Part Of The City” before slamming into spunky and anthematic “Soft In The Center.” It’s a one-two punch that doesn’t surprise but it’s certainly entertaining as Craig Finn’s beer soaked voice throws out bar stool wisdom such as, “You can’t get every girl/You get the ones you love the best…” However, only two tracks in and it’s clear what kind of record Heaven Is Wherever will be: A staunchly conservative one, punctuated by the occasional Springsteen-meets-Jimmy Page classic rock solo.

Yet the band keeps on rolling. The goofy garage rock thunder of “Rock Problems” comes off as middle aged rather than timeless, while thumping cowbell and swinging bass of “The Smidge” flails until it finds a small moment of respite with Finn and Tad Kublar’s harmonized lead work. All in all, listeners will find a very confused sounding band on Heaven Is Whenever, a band comprised of musicians that aren’t sure how to grow up as they still cling to their memories of former glory.

Oh sure, Finn’s hyper-verbose stories about love lost still come off as nostalgic and witty, but only to a point. On any other album lines such as, “I don’t want this to stop/I want you to know/I don’t want you to settle/I want you to grow…” would feel urgent and revelatory. Yet when they’re one Heaven Is Whenever’s “Hurricane J,” they merely sound pleasant, which is disappointing to say about a band that used to be fueled by the timelessness of youth. While it’s clear that The Hold Steady have mastered the art crafting brash, blues inspired power-pop around Finn’s half-spoken choruses, Heaven Is Whenever feels stripped of the group’s usual bite.

And what is a pub band without its bite?

Part of this is due to the departure of keyboardist Franz Nicolay, whose presence is sorely missed within the group’s arrangements. Gone are the jumpy piano fills, the technicolor splashes of organ, and his sense of dynamics that rounded out the group so nicely. Instead, the band carries on without him, only implying piano if it’s absolutely necessary for that extra emotional tug. It’s a pity considering Baltulonis’ production emphasizes clarity over crunch. Added instrumentation could have really fleshed out some of these songs. As it stands, cuts like the album closer “A Slight Discomfort” suffocates under its spacious weight, and the groups more driving rhythms feel anemic.

While there are certainly big sing-along moments embedded within Heaven Is Whenever, The Hold Steady are at their most compelling when they slow things down into power ballad territory. The album’s clear standout is “We Can Get Together,” a swirling waltz that’s coated in sugary harmonies and lilting atmospheres. The experience is almost ethereal, a strong blend of the cinematic and the intimate as Finn humbly repeats “Heaven is whenever/We can get together…”

Ironically, Finn stumbles across the album’s biggest flaw on its greatest achievement.

For while The Hold Steady has made a listenable record, they’ve taken their uniqueness for granted, merely showing up with a bunch of songs that are supposed to sound like themselves. Everything feels middle of the road: The ballads too mid-tempo and the rockers too clean. What could have made the disc stand out is a definite push to one of their extremes, by adding some much needed grit or further exploring the disc’s glistening flirtations.

Unfortunately, Heaven Is Whenever lacks a defining direction as The Hold Steady deals in meandering riffs and melodies that feel too “by-the-numbers” to be anything special. If the group had released half these songs as an E.P., they might have been able to cover up their artistic stagnation and leave a distinct impact on listeners. As it stands, Heaven Is Whenever is just another example of overstaying your welcome when you should probably close out your tab.

Then again, what can you expect from the regulars?

Key Cuts: Soft In The Center, We Can Get Together, Hurricane J

Sounds Like: Heaven Tonight (Cheap Trick), Separation Sunday (The Hold Steady), Tim (The Replacements)

Click on the artwork to sample Heaven Is Whenever for yourself!

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club- Beat The Devil’s Tattoo (*****)

Every so often, a band makes an album that completely floors you upon first listen.

There are many reasons for such a reaction, but I like to think it’s in the effortless way the album unfolds, as if the songs like were “meant to be made.” It’s as if the band sat down and said, “You know what we haven’t done? Write THESE songs yet.” Maybe it takes a second spin to soak up the sonic nuances, but that first listen is filled with an immeasurable sense of awe, simply because that band is firing on all cylinders.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (BRMC) has created exactly such an album with Beat The Devil’s Tattoo, forcing me to approach this review a bit differently than I normally would.

For one, it’s forced me not only to absorb this album, but their ENTIRE discography for the past 3 days. I was not listening to them when the group was heralded as rock n’ roll Jesuses, so I needed to gain some perspective and context for this brooding triumph. Additionally, Beat The Devil’s Tattoo has also compelled me to type a rather untimely review on the last day of March, when this album came out nearly a month ago.

Oh, and write an excessively long lead. C’est la vie.

So onto the music, which, quite frankly, grabs you by the throat for an hour and five minutes and doesn’t let go until it’s darn ready to.

The BRMC trio (consisting of vocalist/guitarist Peter Hayes, vocalist/bassist Robert Been, and new drummer Leah Shapiro) craft bluesy noise rock that maintains riff clarity as well as psychedelic ambience. While there have been endless comparisons made between BRMC and The Jesus & Mary Chain, BRMC don’t seem to be interested in dissonance in the same way. Instead, BRMC let their melodies add heaviness to these songs, using walls of distortion to create a richly detailed atmosphere. This is apparent as the record opens up with the twisting title track, a song that builds from tense slide guitar into a monstrous wave of sound. Hayes’ spiky, but molasses drenched, guitar seamlessly joins Been’s booming bass and Shapiro’s punchy skins work, all of it adding fullness, rather than fury, to the slow burning number.

All in all, it sets the feel for the album, expertly showcasing the group’s hypnotizing rhythms while accentuating their attention to sonic tension. Elsewhere, the band also takes the texture over technicality approach on the hazy dreamscape of “Bad Blood” and the ebbing tidal wave of “Evol,” both proving that slow tempos can sometimes envelop audiences more than the quick ones.

While many bands channeling blues melodies try to dazzle their listeners into submission, BRMC take a different approach. The band’s commitment to work as a unit, as opposed to functioning as a backing band with one star, really sets them apart. BRMC display an innate sense of chemistry in their playing, mostly because all their parts aim to suit the the groove, as opposed to coming off as individually flashy or showy. “War Machine” is the perfect example as it heaves and lurches forward with Shapiro’s thumping drums and Been’s nearly blown out bass. Hayes chimes in with messy guitar white noise, but the real thrill comes from how in-step the three of them are, grinding restlessly and without mercy.

BRMC, however, are smart enough to avoid getting stuck in mid tempo mire. In fact, Beat The Devil’s Tattoo picks up, or slows down, at just the right moments to avoid stagnation. “Sweet Feeling” is a tender, folk infused ballad that benefits from Shapiro’s higher harmonies, while the chain gang vocals of “Aya” come across as positively haunting. Towards the disc’s middle, BRMC even try their hand at down-and-dirty gutter punk with the driving “Mama Taught Me Better.” Hayes and Been’s Oasis-style vocals soar over the song’s chunky rhythms, but it’s the John Bonham-meets-Meg White stomp of Shaprio that really ties the song together.

Lyrically, Hayes and Been mine traditional rock ‘n roll themes such as the occult, love gone wrong, spiritual salvation, and defiant revolution, but their wordplay (and cooler-than-thou delivery) makes it all seem fresh and new. “River Styx” begins with Shapiro’s rattlesnake drumming, Been’s loopy bass, and loads of twangy bends and pull offs from Hayes, under the ghoulish croon of, “But I can't run/If I can't walk/And I won't love/If I can't stop/Every minute/The pressure drops/From your first breath/'Til your heart stops…” The whole thing plays out like one long, warped nightmare, and Hayes and Been play the boogeyman oh so well.

Detractors, however, will be quick to point out that the Devil, and feeling broken, aren’t new to rock n’ roll.

It’s hard to find a band that so completely convinces us these things ARE new; and yet, BRMC does, and does so exceedingly well too. Fearlessness has ALWAYS been rock n’ roll, and BRMC exude that out of their rusty pickups. What ultimately makes Beat The Devil’s Tattoo so great isn’t the fact that BRMC are creating something brand new, it’s that they have a singular vision in mind, and they execute it without a trace of self-consciousness. They don’t seem to care if their brand of blues-rock has enough solos for you. They don’t care if they crack the top 40. Instead, the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club just care about jamming, and jamming hard.

Last time I checked, that’s what the best albums are all about.

Sounds Like: Thickfreakness (The Black Keys), Lullabies To Paralyze (Queens Of The Stone Age), MACHINA: The Machines Of God (The Smashing Pumpkins)

Key Cuts: Beat The Devil’s Tattoo, War Machine, River Styx

Click on the artwork to sample Beat The Devil's Tattoo for yourself!

Guns N' Roses- Chinese Democracy (****)

If nothing else, Guns N’ Roses’ long awaited Chinese Democracy is a story of numbers.

• $13+ million in production costs.
  
• 14 years since The Spaghetti Incident?
  
• 5 different guitar players.
  
• 2 Velvet Revolver albums later.
  
• 1 original member.
  

And for all the hang-ups, for all the missed release dates, the enigmatic antics of Axl Rose, the longest running joke in rock history has finally become a reality. In hindsight, Chinese Democracy could have easily been a disaster, especially after the reports that Rose re-recorded the album over 3 times. However, Rose and his rag-tag team of hired guns (Pun intended) have completed an album that, while carrying a few miss-fires, sounds incredibly unique and expansive in a rather bland music climate.

Initially, many media outlets criticized the album’s leaks (Beginning in 2002 mind you) simply because they confused Rose’s electronic studio trickery with the absence of energy. However, one listen to the album’s title track, and those fears are instantly erased.

“Chinese Democracy” explodes from hushed whispers, to thick pseudo grunge guitar, with sleazy lead work (From Finck or Fortus, or SOMEBODY), and Tommy Stinson’s booming bass. It recalls such GNR staples like “Garden Of Eden” and “Out Ta Get Me,” channeling Rose’s affection for gutter punk fervor but remaining distinctly modern with it’s twisting, robotic solos. It gives listeners hope that GNR 2.0 can effortlessly integrate Rose’s fascination with electronica with their classic rock influences.

Still, it’s not a perfect marriage but I suppose things in the GNR universe rarely are.

“Shackler’s Revenge” sounds like Rammstein at a 70s disco, while the absolute throw away “Rhiad N’ The Bedouins” feels like Led Zeppelin covering Nine Inch Nails. At it’s worst, Chinese Democracy slightly falters because of its tendency to cram too many ideas into one little track.

However, the record’s real strength is its eclecticism.

For this, thank no one else but Buckethead. While he’s credited as writing only a few songs on Chinese Democracy, it’s clear that his virtuosity has gotten Rose to thinking about the different directions to take this band.

The flamenco funk of “If The World” seems awkward at first, but becomes more inviting thanks to Rose’s wailing falsetto, over twinkling piano and a seductive porno groove. Elsewhere, the blistering swagger of “Scraped” recalls the serpentine riffing of “Welcome To The Jungle” while Buckethead’s furious fretwork burns through the song.

For a group of musicians with such dissimilar histories, it’s impressive how much they sound like the old GNR at times.

But make no mistake; Chinese Democracy is NOT an album that Slash and Izzy could have made. Both were content playing blues licks a la Aerosmith and AC/DC, rather than push themselves to the full-scale symphonic statements Rose had in his head. And while Rose only hinted at incredibly baroque art-rock on Use Your Illusion I & II, he’s indulged in every grandiose whim he can think of on Chinese Democracy.

“Street Of Dreams” sports everything from Rose’s Elton John style piano to vibrant string arrangements, thick guitars, and ascending solos. It all climbs into an impressive crescendo as Rose sweetly croons, “I don’t know just what I should do/Everywhere I go I see you/You know it’s what you planned, this much is true/What I thought was beautiful, don’t live inside of you anymore…”

Not even Queen had arrangements this indulgent, yet it all fits together effortlessly.

And if you didn’t think he could cram more into a single track, nowhere are Rose’s art-rock illusions of grandeur more realized than on the epic “Madagascar.” Here we see what Rose had been beating himself up over for 14 years straight: a full horn section, hip-hop beats, pained and somber guitars all climaxing over eerie samples of MLK to Cool Hand Luke. All of this under Rose’s cracked voice as he laments about freedom and injustice.

It’s all a bit ironic considering this album should have been titled Chinese Dictatorship, but Rose’s pulls it off as only a dreamer could.

And looking back, everything revolving around Chinese Democracy has been an extension of Rose wanting to “bury” 1987’s Appetite For Destruction. It’s hard to blame him too; Appetite was an incredibly important record for its time and place, all at once putting the danger back into rock music and killing off hair metal. However, in Axl’s mind, all he could do was go bigger and heavier to try to outmatch this timeless work.

So when Chinese Democracy goes heavy, it lays it all out. “Better” is a thick, Drop C tuned dirge, with spidery licks and Rose’s banshee wail. Guitarists Robin Finck and Ron “Bumblefoot” Thal trade melodic sweeps and arpeggios like they’re going out of style while Rose sings, “So bittersweet/This tragedy/Won’t ask for/Absolution…”

And when it comes down to it, Chinese Democracy is the story of one man refusing to comprise for anything.

While nothing is worth a 14 year wait, it’s clear that Rose has a vision to jettison this incarnation of Guns N’ Roses into the high art band he hopes it can be. Despite its age, Chinese Democracy sounds remarkably fresh. All things considered, its collision of traditional hard rock and classical leanings simply isn’t being explored by other contemporary artists, making Chinese Democracy a truly unique statement.

The album’s true opus is the aptly titled “There Was A Time,” a lavish statement that incorporates Rose’s impressive range, staggered choirs, thick drumming, sweeping strings, and the tightly controlled assault of GNR 2.0’s guitarmy. The mammoth outro rivals the timeless axe theatrics of “November Rain,” but on a much larger scale.

Axl Rose’s scale.

And if the rumors of a trilogy of albums are true, we might not have to wait another 14 years for Axl Rose and the Gunners to release another solid rock record.

Sounds Like: Enter The Chicken (Buckethead), Use Your Illusion I & II (Guns N’ Roses), A Night At The Opera (Queen)

Key Cuts: Street Of Dreams, There Was A Time, Madagascar

Click the artwork to sample some of Chinese Democracy for yourself!

Metallica- Death Magnetic (*****)

Metallica have never been satisfied with being the band the public wanted them to be.

While their 1991 self-titled album made them into superstars, they spent a majority of the 90s trying to distance themselves from their 80s output.

1996’s Load and it’s sister album RELoad found the Four Horsemen flirting with bluesy overtones that sharply contrasted their thrash roots. In addition, they released a covers collection, had a live bout with the San Francisco Symphony, and attempted to cleanse their inner demons with 2003’s critically dismissed St. Anger.

So, what does one make of Death Magnetic, an album that was promised to be a return to their 80s roots as well as their first with bassist Robert Trujillo?

Well for one, it’s an album that is focused, lean, and incredibly baroque. While producer Rick Rubin encouraged the band to capture the energy they had during the making of 1986’s Master Puppets, Death Magnetic seems to draw more from their 1988 album …And Justice For All, with its progressive leanings and constantly shifting melodies.

Guitarists James Hetfield and Kirk Hammett trade off staccato and crunchy riffs that stutter and stop on a dime, infusing them with dual harmonies and frantic urgency. The album’s opening track “That Was Just Your Life” explodes with thick lumbering riffs and hard-hitting drums from Lars Ulrich, all capped by a blistering solo from Hammett.

For 40 year old men, they’re playing like they’re 20.

Death Magnetic revels in arrangements that average around the seven-minute mark, compositions that twist and turn with effortless ease and precision. Metallica throw in chugging breaking downs and rapid time changes that don’t feel rushed or pasted; as if they’ve rediscovered their love for the complex song craft that marked their earlier works.

And this newfound youthfulness can be attributed two key factors: the addition of Trujillo to the fold and Hetfield’s returned confidence.

Trujillo’s perhaps best known for his work with the Suicidal Tendencies, but he brings that punk energy to Death Magnetic in truckloads. Tracks like “The End Of The Line” successfully showcase Trujillo’s ear for dynamics as well as how powerful his mammoth bass is. He locks in, with a sense head-banging grooves and smooth delivery, adding fullness Metallica’s sound.

Elsewhere, Hetfield has begun to mine what made his 80s lyrics so powerful. After coming across as desperate and neurotic on St. Anger, Hetfield’s growl returns with anger and authority. While he’s always had one of the most dominate voices in heavy metal, he seems comfortable for the first time here since Metallica’s self-titled album, and that presence really ties these songs together.

Lyrically, Hetfield laments on death and decay on Death Magnetic and the images he conjures up are incredibly visceral, while avoiding macabre clichés. On “Cyanide,” Hetfield presents us with such striking images as, “A narrow freshly broken ground/A concrete angel laid right down/Upon the moon that swallows fast/It’s peace at last…”

It’s refreshing, after the communal lyrical input that marked St. Anger, that Hetfield has finally settled into a comfort zone with his writing.

“The Judas Kiss” expertly features Hetfield’s sinister swagger with lines such as, “Bow down!/Sell your soul to me!/I will set you free!/Pacify your demons!” Against an onslaught of Iron Maiden-inspired guitar lines and dissonant starts and stops, “The Judas Kiss” builds into an eerie blend of wah-soaked atmospherics and deep drumming.

And unlike the raw and caustic production on St. Anger, Rubin has kept things bone dry on Death Magnetic without sacrificing warmth. Trujillo’s bass rumbles. Hammett’s guitar sears, and Ulrich’s drums are commanding. The venomous “Cyanide” illustrates this best, with movements that effectively showcase clean guitar tones, but are juxtaposed with dirty riffs, booming bass, and rolling drum lines.

But for all this talk of returning to their roots, Metallica hasn’t forsaken what made their music compelling in the 90s. “The Day That Never Comes” revisits their exploration texture and dynamics with shimmering leads and a massive chorus, before it launches into a mess of punk riffing and fluid arpeggios.

The band also reexamines “The Unforgiven” with “The Unforgiven III,” channeling bludgeoning blues riffs alongside Ennio Morricone influenced strings. The result is something more than a mere sequel, but a track that evokes a sense isolation and self-reflection as it slowly culminates into fiery Hammett solo.

Yet this aspect of self-reflection is why Death Magnetic succeeds.

Metallica have finally begun to be comfortable with who they are as musicians as well as their legacy. These songs don’t just represent music that comes easily to them or a regression, but represents a synthesis of what they excelled at in the 80s as well as what they’ve learned from their experimentation in the 90s.

The album’s third track, “Broken, Beat & Scarred” exemplifies this philosophy for Metallica. A staggering six minutes and 26 seconds of fluid double bass drumming, snarling bass, and an avalanche of sharp guitar lines; it features Hetfield’s gruff vocals as he shouts, “You rise/You fall/You’re down and you rise again/What don’t kill ya/Make ya more strong!”

And with an album like Death Magnetic, it seems Metallica will be going strong for a very long time.

Sounds Like: Rust In Peace (Megadeth), …And Justice For All (Metallica), Core (Stone Temple Pilots)

Key Cuts: That Was Just Your Life, Broken Beat & Scarred, Cyanide

Click the artwork to sample some of Death Magnetic for yourself!

Author's Note: This review appears in a recent issue of the Sonoma State Star. As this is the author's own writing and this is his own blog, in addition to holding the position of A&E Editor for the Sonoma State Star, he posts it here with express consent of himself. Duh.

My $0.02: Chinese Democracy (Sort Of) Starts Now!

The faithful (myself included) that still hope for new material under the Guns N' Roses moniker got quite the shot in the arm on June 18th. 9 tracks from the long awaited Chinese Democracy leaked onto the Internet in their most complete forms yet. 6 tracks have been leaked previously and were initially thought to be in their mastered/final mixes, but are now thought to be old demos from 2004. The other three tracks are brand new to fans, with only a rough quality version of "Rhiad & The Bedouins" available previously.

So with MOST of the mythical Chinese Democracy hitting the Internet and creating quite the firestorm in the blogging community, the questions on everyone's mind are:

• How do these measure up to the Gun's N' Roses name?
• How do these new mixes compare to the old ones?

Well it just so happens that your truly has spent the time to dissect them to their fullest.

Better
Compared to the 2007 studio demo, this version of Axl's grinding modern rock maelstrom features some odd compression on the chugging guitars in this 2008 leak. The plus is that Axl's voice is much clearer on this version, though some might complain it's TOO high in the mix. However, the backing vocals ass just the right touch of haunting melody even if the newly added electronic squiggles do little for the overall track. Axl's howling breakdown followed by the twisting, Tom Morello-inspired, solo still holds the same incredibly power. Still, it feels like Axl's compressed the guitars too much on this mix, where they should really be sporting some grit.

The Blues
Of all the tracks in this newly acquired collection, "The Blues" probably benefits the most from the added production. This song has become crystal clear, with Axl's piano coming across powerfully, yet sweetly. The crispness continues with underlying acoustic guitars contrasting sharp strings for a truly baroque, orchestral statement. Listeners will find an incredible amount of things to focus on, as the added time has really made this track into something spectacular.

Chinese Democracy
Hearing the 2007 version of this demo really gave me a whole lot of hope that this album could marry the classic GNR sound with Axl's industrial leanings. However, this new 2008 incarnation is a bit of an anomaly for me to really decide on. For one, the track's build up into the glam-meets-Ministry riff doesn't quite explode with the same crunch that its previous mixes sported. In addition, it seems like even more studio trickery has warped the already bizarre squealing solo to absurdly ridiculous, but enjoyable, proportions. Perhaps a focus on the meat and potatoes of the main riffs and punky drumming, rather than the electronic garnish, will help this track really make the big punch it's capable of.

I.R.S.
The first immediate change is that the acoustic-laced introduction on "I.R.S." has become incredibly vibrant and shimmering. In addition, Axl really scaled back on the heaviness that the main grinding riff had. Instead, he accentuates the underlying synthesizers and the pounding drums. The track now has a great sense of space about it. With the big solo simply crashing down on listeners in an obscenely overdriven catharsis, "I.R.S." now peaks in a blues-meets-digital flurry even if it sacrifices some power in the verses.

If The World
This is perhaps the most bizarre and schizophrenic track of the bunch. Here, Axl manages to cram nimble flamenco guitar, dry drumming, growling bass, and 80's porn wah-wah, all over his highest singing register. It's the busiest and messiest of all the tracks here, but it's also the most interesting because it's so overblown. "If The World" represents Rose at his most decadent, quickly shifting from brilliant with Buckethead's perfect lead work, to cheesy with out of place synthesizers. Chances are, this might represent the most eclectic that Chinese Democracy has to offer, and the good/bad that comes with that.

Madagascar
This track was immediately one of my favorites when I heard a really rough demo in 2004 and has grown by leaps and bounds with every subsequent release. For one, the large horn sections are now powerful and contend comfortably against the sweeping strings. Again, the backing vocals are perfectly placed without feeling overblown. The cymbals are crisper this time too, while the guitar riffs simply swirl around each other in dramatic tension. This is Axl's answer to "Civil War" and "Estranged," all in one track, perfectly balancing his grandiosity with his poignancy. "Madagascar" is a powerful and epic, which is a huge testament to something that's been in the works for over 10 years.

Rhiad & The Bedouins
I'll be honest, I've been listening to a rough and muddled version of this since 2002 and I still think this track has a terrible hook. "Rhiad & The Bedouins" is Axl channeling Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" with a high pitched wail, but setting that to trip-hop beats. The guitars have about 3 too many delay effects on them and the whole experience is abrasively grating. Even the band's backing harmonies don't save it, set against an onslaught of glitchy electronic gobbledigook. Of all the tracks that have leaked, this feels the most cut and pasted, and aside from the spidery solo, "Rhiad & The Bedouins" is Roses' only true misfire in the bunch.

T.W.A.T. (There Was A Time)
Of all the leaked Chinese Democracy material, this is by far my favorite of the bunch. It might be Axl Roses' most complex and layered statement in his entire musical career. This new version of "T.W.A.T." scales back Axl's passionate voice and allows for some serious clarity in the underlying instruments. Acoustic guitars creep in, the bass rumbles, and the somber but itchy guitars cut through effectively. The percussion has also been greatly enhanced, from the large and booming main drums to the added break beats that spackle the arrangements. Set against a flurry of evocative backing vocals and expansive strings, Buckethead's epic lead wails and grows into a delay soaked juggernaut. In short, "T.W.A.T." is simply Symphonic Art Rock 101 and copy cats should take notes.

Unknown (This I Love/Message For You/Prostitute/2000 Intentions?)
This as of yet titled track has stirred up quite a bit of hubbub on Guns N' Roses forums over the official title. Yet sonically it's another weird combination of sounds. There's the muzak-influenced piano line that seems to drive the song in addition to some loopy trip-hop infused percussion. Then, the chorus explodes in a fervor of crunchy distortion and stabbing strings. The track's most exciting moment is when it all breaks into crashing chaos over a fluttering bass drum, but the real problem is Axl's trite delivery. Vocally and lyrically, there is nothing exciting going on and Axl's whining about "fortune and fame" fails to leave a lasting mark. This is certainly the one song that tries the hardest to seem serious and important, but ultimately stumbles because it labors under that delusion so fervently.

The Verdict: No one will ever admit Chinese Democracy was worth the wait. It's not at $13 million dollars and over a decade in production. One of Axl's glaring problems with this batch of songs is that some of them like "Better," "I.R.S.," and "If The World" are starting to suffer because they've been reworked so many times. Mike Clink's production on Use your Illusion I & II balance the spontaneity of the group's live energy with Axl's epic visions. Here, we only get the latter and I think it behooves Axl to just release the damn songs already.

That being said, Axl is creating some interesting arrangements with his revolving door of a band. It's not perfect but most of the these songs are brave and truly unthought-of musical combinations that are exciting and dynamic. And these new versions do offer some positive changes, creating a greater sense of space in many of the 9 tracks. There is never a dull moment in any of these songs but that doesn't mean they always attain the perfection that Axl is striving for.

Still, I suppose the general public won't appreciate them because of Axl Roses' attitude towards his fans. In fact, most might be more comfortable looking at this collection as a solo effort by Rose. Axl Rose & The Gunners actually has a nice ring to it...

In any event, these tracks off the mythical Chinese Democracy warrant a listen from even the most skeptical afn. Who knows, you might find something enjoyable sitting in this Chinese stew.

Weezer- Weezer (The Red Album) (*****)

The iconic cover of Weezer’s third self-titled effort, loving dubbed Weezer (The Red Album), perfectly captures the essence of the 10 songs found on the record.

There’s guitarist Brian Bell, sporting jaunt head wear and a scruffy beard for some serious romancin’ at the bars. Next to him is drummer Pat Wilson, opting for a clean-cut sweater and tie that might seem comfortable snuggled in a Ralph Lauren advertisement. Not to be out done is Weezer’s mastermind Rivers Cuomo, clad in a distinguished Stetson and augmented with a moustache that would make even Burt Reynolds blush.

Rounding out the motley crew is bassist Scott Shirner, sporting shades and a serious t-shirt, illustrating his attitude with two simple words.

Death Defyin’.

Why I point this out is because this type of Weezer is a very specific kind of Weezer. This Weezer doesn’t care about re-writing a modern classic like Pinkerton to appeal to Pitchfork Media, or aiming for radio play like on the carefully constructed Weezer (The Green Album). This is a Weezer that’s concerned with creating songs THEY want to play.

And it shows.

The Red Album is like Cuomo & Co.’s answer to The White Album, a completely over-the-top and ridiculous take on what they’ve perfected as well as a synthesis of everything and anything in the musical spectrum. It’s baroque, brave, bombastic, and above all fun. While Make Believe saw the LA four-piece gingerly reaching out towards experimentation, The Red Album seems to be a giant leap forward and ultimate embrace in those ideas.

Nowhere is it more apparent than on the epic “The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations On A Shaker Hymn).” Opening with twinkling pianos and piercing police sirens, “The Greatest Man…” is an expansive multi-movement rock epic that covers everything from thick, melodic glam rock to gorgeous acapella counterpoint. There’s splattering of down and dirty rap with Cuomo busting rhymes like, “I’m like a mage with the magic spell/You come like a dog when I ring yo bell…” while the band channels The Cars in the very next breath, implementing chugging guitars and rising synthesizers to a glorious climax.

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” eat your heart out.

Between the military drum beats and big backing vocals, it’s Weezer at their most symphonic and orchestral, seamlessly weaving dissimilar pop gems together in an incredibly cohesive way. And if there’s ever a constant with Weezer, it’s their ability to really tap into pop brilliance without relying on clichés.

The opening track, “Troublemaker” exemplifies their deft grasp of melody, with Cuomo leading his band through a jangley off-kilter groove. Crunchy riffs and pure rock n’ roll swagger pour from the track, with Cuomo’s call of, “You wanted arts and crafts/How’s THIS for art’s and crafts…” joyously answered by blindingly buzz saw guitars.

Unlike any of the post-Pinkerton material, The Red Album is the only release where the band feels completely confident behind all their instruments. “Pork & Beans” features the fiercest power-pop since “Buddy Holly” with gorgeous backing harmonies that hark back to the band’s original bassist, Matt Sharp. Here, Weezer feels unrestrained and self-confident while still retaining their heavy-handed geekiness that made us fall in love with them to begin with.

Interestingly enough, many of the tracks like “Pork & Beans” recall the thick and fuzzy pseudo-grunge that permeated Weezer (The Blue Album). Yet the band is careful not to strictly rehash the riffs that made them famous. Instead, they opt to work within that frame work and tone, offering the same pummeling energy but with equally awkward lyrics such as, “Timbaland knows the way/To reach the top of the charts/Maybe if I work with him/I can perfect the art…”

Those waiting for Weezer to become Shakespeare, need to get over themselves. Pinkerton wasn’t even THAT sophisticated in its rhyme schemes but it (along with Weezer’s following albums) tapped into an innocence and tenderness that is distinctly charming and moving.

Vocally, everyone stretches their chops on this record, with each member singing lead vocals on at least one track. The stand out has to be Shriner’s “Cold Dark World” where his gravely voice adds just the amount of edge to the snythy, bass driven song.

Elsewhere, the rap-rock extravaganza “Everybody Get Dangerous” is uproariously enjoyable and bears Cuomo’s penchant for memorable sing-a-longs. From the dirty and angular guitar work, to the record scratches and Wilson’s beefy beats, the track seems to plateau over Cuomo’s climbing falsetto. The song recalls Rick Rubin’s work on Licensed To Ill, with driving jams that act as a dynamic method to deliver silky smooth rhymes as well as the boisterous shout-out of, “Everybody get dangerous!/Everybody get dangerous!”

Plus any band to add, “Booya!” for backing vocals is either crazy or brilliant.

Maybe both.

But ultimately, The Red Album succeeds because Weezer has such a strong knack for crafting concise power-pop. “Dreamin’” is easily the album’s opus from its thick rolling riffs to the 50s-inspired hook. And just when listeners think they know what to expect, the band drops out in favor fluid guitar picking, with birds chirping in the background alongside sugary vocal harmonies. The track ascends as the drums pick up steam, finally exploding into a chunky groove set under Cuomo’s velvety vocal delivery.

In the end, The Red Album is a testament to great song writers, even if it’s completely over-the-top ridiculous. It shows how to take the outlandish, the spectacular, and the grandiose, to favor smaller arrangements and make them into a hell of a good time.

And with all that said, here’s to hoping for another Weezer (The _____ Album).

Sounds Like: The Cars (The Cars), A Night At The Opera (Queen), The Blue Album (Weezer)

Key Cuts: The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations On A Shaker Hymn), Everybody Get Dangerous, Dreamin’

Nine Inch Nails- The Slip (****)

I held off for as long as I could before reviewing Nine Inch Nails’ newest stab against the record industry. At first I thought it was because of the immediacy with which The Slip ingrained itself into my psyche. Its punk by way of industrial fervor is all at once sparse and hooky, a far cry from the intricately crafted Year Zero and sprawling Ghosts I-IV.

Long story short, I was scared because of how I raved over [With_Teeth] upon its initial release, when it ultimately proved to be a somewhat under-cooked batch of songs.

Add to the fact that no one is used to this much new Nine Inch Nails material so quickly. Since 2007, Trent Reznor has release 4 proper bodies of work in rapid succession where it used to take him 6 years in between releases.

So with all that in mind, how does Reznor’s free gift to fans, The Slip, measure up?

Well, it’s the most biting and straight-ahead aggressive material since Pretty Hate Machine in 1989. Tracks like the sinister “Letting You” with its stutter-stop drum beats, white noise guitars, and Reznor’s distorted howl, make for positively skin crawling compositions. The track seems to climb and climb until it finally blows out your headphones in dissonant static, followed by an instant of unsettling silence. "Head Down" follows similar suite, with slightly eroticized violent imagery, buzzsaw guitars, and Reznor's dependable "Head Like A Hole" machismo.

And unlike the hooks found on [With_Teeth], this collection of songs never blends together in a radio-friendly haze. Reznor’s ear for melody is in full form on The Slip and nowhere is it more noticeable than on the album’s single, “Discipline.” Sporting a positively disco-inspired back beat and a hypnotic bass line, Reznor brims with bleak sexual tension that recalls club staples like “Closer” and “Only.” Strings augment the eerie atmosphere, and Reznor’s whisper-to-smooth delivery is undeniably catchy.

Being free from the bondages of a major label has also allowed Reznor some interesting freedoms, including 4 E.P. instrumental opuses. So the fear of Reznor following Prince by becoming reclusive and indulgent, was openly apparent. However, The Slip simply dashes those concerns aside by offering concise and tight arrangements that never seem too decadent.

“Echoplex” is a prime example. Sporting a climbing and descending bass line, the distant keyboard splashes and tense strings truly give the song a sense of foreboding. The bridge lumbers along in a junkyard wall of sound that seems to gasp, just to stay alive. It adds to the claustrophobic feel of the track, with Reznor’s morose refrain of, “And I just slowly/Fade away…”

That being said, Reznor does not abandon the somber piano leanings explored on Ghosts I-IV. The album’s crown jewel is the positively desolate ballad, “Lights In The Sky.” His fragile voice is merely supported by twinkling piano keys that march forward in funeral-like procession. It’s classic Reznor, meticulously weaving the personal with the apocalyptic in truly heart-wrenching fashion as he sings, “Watching you drown/I'll follow you down/And I am here right beside you/The lights in the sky/Have finally arrived/I am staying right beside you…”

Elsewhere, the instrumental tracks “Corona Radiata” and “The Four Of Us Are Dying” offer listeners drifting, space inspired soundscapes, that hold the only pretension on the collection. Where Ghosts I-IV reveled in its ability to capture short bursts of mood and ambiance, these instrumentals sometimes wear out their welcome, materializing the fears of Reznor’s overindulgence.

At times they’re a tad too sparse and the decision to catalog them side by side on the album tends to slow down the second half's momentum. However, Reznor somewhat succeeds due to his careful exploration of these dense sounds. He becomes comfortable with a lack of forward moving melody, opting for slower developing waves of sound while tapping into something primal within these compositions. The synthesized drums are almost heart-beat inspired, and the gentle drifting guitar on “The Four Of Us Are Dying” gives a great sense of openness.

If there’s a place where The Slip feels underdeveloped, it’s that the songs sometimes feel too distinct to fully come together thematically. Rather than feeling like an album, The Slip sometimes falls into the precarious position of just being a collection of finely tuned songs. However, this is perhaps a great criticism for an artist that has unlimited freedom: Reznor has been able to “slip” past overly-grandiose statements that simply devour other artists in his position.

And if The Slip is on Reznor’s tab, perhaps his fans should consider donating A LOT for his next batch of songs.

Sounds Like: Point #1 (Chevelle), Violator (Depeche Mode), Pretty Hate Machine (Nine Inch Nails)

Key Cuts: Letting You, Discipline, Lights In The Sky

My $0.02: Remembering Kurt Cobain

Today marks 14 years since Kurt Cobain was found dead in his apartment.

14 years ago puts me at age 6, and I couldn’t even begin to tell you what I remember about that day. Cobain wasn’t a spokesperson for my generation either. Being born in 1987 puts me worlds away from Cobain with only his recordings to bridge the gap. However, I do think about it because with my life depending so much on music now, it seems rather appropriate to muse on such things.

But I guess I think about him today because he represented the last big shift in contemporary rock.

You can say Cobain was sloppy musician, that he ripped off the Meat Puppets, The Beatles, and anyone else under the sun. It’s also easy to take pot shots at his drugged up wife, and his erratic behavior that hampered live shows.

But the one thing that Cobain excelled at was honest songwriting, and being the forbearer of something different in rock music. And when Nirvana ushered in grunge, it was more than just a fad that died out.

It was a force to be reckoned with; caustically blaring from every radio and CD player, stating that rock didn’t have to be perfectly constructed. Sometimes, it was about the passion, the messiness, and shear force with which the music hit you. It wasn’t about constructing an image, so much as it was deconstructing trends.

While I’m sure there will be bands that are remembered from my generation, they’ll never have this impact that Cobain had.

I could name bands like Thursday, Radiohead, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers as all being incredibly innovative artists in their own right. Perhaps in Thursday’s case, they’re the Nirvana that never was, laying the ground work for a sound that was exploited by so many so quickly while they were never really commended for it.

And ultimately, it’s sad to think they’re might not be another Nirvana, Cobain, or huge shift in rock like there was in 1991. That fear of stagnancy makes me wonder if there will ever be another shift like that.

In the end, I guess I don’t think too much about Cobain today, but more about what he stood for. Even if he hated the pedestal people put him on, they put him on there for good reason. His contribution was less about craft, but more about ideas and passion. I suppose it’s just a shame that Cobain died never really feeling comfortable with people confusing the two and holding him up like they did.

Just like it's a shame, that something like this didn't hit me when I was 6.

The Used- Shallow Believer E.P. (**½)

Some bands just become huge. 

And when this happens, their career can take many roads. They can continue to push their sound forward with the same passion that marked their early releases, or they can change their approach to where everything is calculated and constructed in their music. When this happens, it’s usually the band’s own indulgences in the studio that decreases the quality of their work.

For The Used, their new digital E.P., Shallow Believer, is the perfect illustration of how a band transitions from earnest, passionate song writing, to overworking and overloading their music. The 10 track E.P. is a collection of b-sides and rarities that spans the group’s three studio albums; showing fans that The Used’s drastic change in sound has served them as “hit or miss” at best.

“Dark Days” begins the collection and right off the bat you can tell that the band is aiming for a dense sound. Quinn Allman’s dry acoustic guitar is layered with ethereal sounds, synthetic drums, and faint murmurings from front man Bert McCracken. It’s ambient for the sake of ambient, because after 20 seconds McCracken lets loose a throaty shriek that welcomes chugging guitars and a pulsing mid-section.

The song continues in typical fashion with McCracken’s half-spoken verses and large swelling choruses carrying the melody, but the ending is where it gets ridiculous. For the last minute, the instruments cut out leaving only McCracken’s forced falsetto and a lone piano to close out the number.

Since when did The Used start channeling Elton John?

This exemplifies what’s wrong with Shallow Believer and the way that the band approaches song craft these days. There is simply too much going on in these tracks, like they took bits and pieces of unrelated sounds and strung them together as well as adding extra instrumentation that overburdens the material. Rather than consolidating and scaling back the arrangements, or making logical progressions, the band overworks the material and destroys the spontaneity of the songs.

Not every song needs a giant string section, a somber piano break, or glitzy electronic beats to catch people’s ears. Some of these tracks like the sparkling “Sun Comes Up” and the melancholy “Sick Hearts” might have had more staying power if they didn’t sound like they were backed by a full orchestra, or if they sounded remotely close their lyrical subject matter.

The only time where this schizophrenic merging of sound comes up with something interesting is on the fuzzed out “Into My Web” and horn driven “Back Of Your Throat.” A b-side from their second album, “Into My Web” displays a more natural progression from cascading melodies, to a pulsing up stroked guitar rhythm and a, messy bridge that adds depth rather than length. It’s one of the few times on the E.P. where McCracken’s processed voice doesn’t detract from the song.

Elsewhere, the bombastic and swing influenced “Back Of Your Throat” sports an almost grungy guitar line and is augmented by full horns. It lumbers along just barely because of McCracken’s manic vocal delivery, but fails miserably with lyrics like, “In this exchange I often touch myself/To go ahead and let those dirty words pass right through me.”

McCracken is no Bob Dylan, but he’s penned some truly haphazard lyrics for these songs, ranging from horribly awful to incredibly forced. The acoustic closing ballad “Tunnel” sports huge swelling string arrangements as well as uninspired lines like, “Cause we are/The light in the tunnel/We are the living and dying/See how we are/Alone in the world…”

It’s clear that with lines like that, McCracken is hoping to have The Used show up on a “Monster Ballads” compilation one day.

Still, there are bright spots on this collection of songs; moments that remind you that The Used once filled their music with passion and reckless abandon. “Choke Me,” the hidden track on their self-titled album makes an appearance here to inject some life into the middle of the album. It’s an abrasive and caustic song that features the band battering away at their instruments in tightly organized chaos, while McCracken spills his guts out into the microphone.

The E.P.’s standout is “Slit Your Own Throat,” a song that failed to make it to the final cut of their previous album, “Lies For The Liars.” The frenzied drumming gives way to Allman’s dissonant and gritty guitar while McCracken spews some of the most venomous and hateful lines directed towards those that broke his heart.

In between McCracken’s tortured screams you can see what The Used began their career as and why they were so compelling in the first place. They used to perform songs with such anger and hatred, but tempered it ever so slightly to make it palatable. Lines like, “I gotta take this moment just to push you down/Spin you around with my foot at the back of your neck…” remind listeners of a band that reveled in how ugly and twisted they were, rather than how many hooks, or instruments, they could cram into a song.

And ultimately, Shallow Believer doesn’t live up to what the band once was. However, it proves that The Used were at their best when constructing chaotic and demented songs rather than overblown pop ballads. Perhaps on their next release, they’ll have little more faith in the old adage, less is more.

Sounds Like: Lead Sails Paper Anchor (Atreyu), The Black Parade (My Chemical Romance), Lies For The Liars (The Used)

Key Cuts: Slit Your Own Throat, Into My Web, Choke Me

Author's Note: This review appears in a recent issue of the Sonoma State Star. As this is the author's own writing and this is his own blog, in addition to holding the position of A&E Co-Editor for the Sonoma State Star, he posts it here with express consent of himself. Duh.