Would you believe...an update?

BY WHAT MEANS OF SORCERY IS THIS?!

The means, I can assure you, came at a crack in my schedule. For the most part, law school has you mortgage ALL of your blogging time to talk about things like consideration, in personam personal jurisdiction, and mens rea. However, that doesn’t mean my jukebox has stayed silent. Consider this a piecemeal run down of my past few months of listening. Enjoy!

blink-182: Neighborhoods (****½): It may not be Tom, Mark, and Travis’ finest hour, but it’s certainly an exciting homecoming. Picking up where their 2003 untitled record left off, Neighborhoods is the sound of three strong men letting their musical chemistry take them down some interesting avenues. The good news? It’s 100% a blink-182 record rather than an AVA or a +44 album. “Up All Night” soars with spazzy phasers and call-and-response vocals while the crashing pop-punk juggernauts of “Hearts All Gone” and “Natives” call to mind blink’s early roots. Though less spacious than their previous efforts, blink-182 has really explored groove this time around (The stompy, Cure-flavored “Snake Charmer”) while coloring their instantly recognizable hooks with some driving melodies and ringing snyths (“Ghost On The Dance Floor”). The deluxe edition is well worth the purchase, but the big draw here is how effortless it sounds for these men to play together again. It’s been a long 8 years, welcome back blink.

Jay-Z & Kanye West: Watch The Throne (***½): Distracted seems to be the name of the game on Watch The Throne, a jumbled amalgamation of buzzed out dubstep future soul that seems to have been constructed in a space ship run by No I.D. and Frank Ocean. It’d be a disaster if Yeezy wasn’t so charming as hip-hop’s class clown, but the slew of machismo-rap bravado he trades with Jay does the project a disservice. It mercilessly points out Jay’s age and seems forced from two rappers that never produced their best work in that vein. Still, with personalities this enticing, who needs depth? “Otis” make clever use of Otis Redding's chopped and skew vocal scats while the space thump of “No Church In The Wild” is as elegant as it is hefty. A lot of hype went into Watch The Throne, too bad it felt a bit out of character for Jay and Ye’s kingdom.

The Horrible Crowes- Elsie (****½): Don’t you miss it when albums carried that live pub feeling, the singer barely able to croak into the microphone? So did The Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon, which is why he wrote Elsie alongside good friend Ian Perkins. Somber, spacious, and world weary, Elsie is a throwback to when music hinged on subdued theatrics and cigarette breaks. “Sugar” features Fallon at his most confessional, set against nimble acoustics and thunderstorm drums in the distance. Elsewhere, “I Witnessed A Crime” throws in some slide guitar sigh, while “Cherry Blossom” rests on rattled whispers. A touch of old amplifier crunch here, a Tom Wait yowl there, and you’ve got a collection of songs that aim to bring people together instead of pull them apart. It’s bar music, nighttime music, proud to be alive music.

Sainthood Reps- Monoculture (****): Someone call Derrick Sherman because 1994 wants its buzzsaw swagger back. Falling somewhere in between In Utero-Era Nirvana and the chiming atmospherics of Alice In Chains’ balladeering, Monoculture is one jagged thrill ride. “DINGUS” exploits the epitome of slash and burn dynamics where the album’s meticulously crafted closer “Widow” balances swirling white noise shimmer with a hefty groove. Though the Brand New comparisons are unavoidable given Sherman’s musical connection, Monoculture is an album that blasts and gasps with it’s own rusty pulse. While many bands mine the 90s for nostalgia, Sainthood Reps mine them for a focus on atmosphere, resulting in a record that feels familiar and new all at the same time.

Saves The Day- Daybreak (**½): Even if Chris Conley is the last vestige of Saves The Day leftover from Through Being Cool, it’s hard for anyone to have imagined that Daybreak would be so…sedate. While the album’s title track tries to infused some multi-suite, moog flavored pop into Conley’s usual pop-punk blast, it feels a bit too cut and pasted. Overall, Daybreak seems too clean, too muted, as if someone filed off all the rough edges and macabre chic Conley crafted on Sound The Alarm. Cuts like the power-pop flavored “1984” should take off with a caffeine rush of energy rather than settle for “been-there-done-that.” Though the disc picks up with the twangy Weezer-like crunch of “O,” the obvious is clear: Uninspired artists make uninspiring music.

St. Vincent- Strange Mercy (****½): Armed with an arsenal of icy synthesizers and rubber band fuzz guitarwork. Annie Clark lays out all her enigmatic charms on Strange Mercy. “Cruel” features swelling Disney-esque strings, alongside jumpy keyboards, while “Cheerleader’s” gauzy ascent swirls around Clark’s dreamy register. While her past efforts had more of an orchestral leaning, Strange Mercy revels in bending the synthetic, balancing digital crunch and heave like “Dilettante” with the glowing minimalism of “Champagne Year.” There’s an underlying sense of dread lurking just beneath the surface of these songs, but like the best big bad wolves, Clark does a lot more showing than telling. Her breathy voice keeps it all together, part coy seductress, part violent angel, an engrossing blend of contradictions that makes Strange Mercy a monster release.

Thrice- Major/Minor (**½): Thrice needs help. A new direction, a new producer, ANYTHING. Everything about Major/Minor smacks of tired, whether it’s Dustin Kensrues’ strained timber or the group’s second “live-band-in-a-room” LP. Though the rough and tumble riffage on “Yellow Belly” starts the album on a high note, Thrice march through 10 more shades of modern rock gray, coupled with a flat mix. Ultimately, the disappointment stems from the fact that the group seems to be under performing, which has never been a hallmark of their output. If Beggars was expansive and wistful, Major/Minor is dry, cookie-cutter, and understated, the kiss of death for sonic chameleons like Thrice.

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!

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart- Belong (****½)

Records used to take you places.

When the needle dropped, or the CD started to spin, it was like opening the wardrobe door to Narnia. You got lost in the sound, disconnected from your day-to-day grind. Vocalists became guides across the often tense, musical terrain. In many ways, the best records made it seem like you were discovering something that had been previously hidden, about the world or about yourself. The fun was in exploring familiar thoughts, moments, and feelings that you hadn’t looked at in quite that way before, instances that made more sense in a dream than in reality.

The adventure was in discovery, or at the very least, exploring familiar facets of life in newfound ways.

This sentiment isn’t lost on The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, and their sophomore album, Belong, is a testament to that kind of album. Clocking in at less than 40 minutes, Belong transports listeners somewhere in between 1988 and 1991, where fuzzed-out guitars could be adventurous without being aggressive. Add some romantic harmonies and confessional style lyrics, and you got an album that begs to be unwrapped, a diary to some of highest highs and lowest lows in the human spectrum.

It’s a bold move, for while most bands approach this kind of music to bank on the melancholy of adolescence, Pains remain charmingly disarming throughout. Instead of a trip down memory lane, Belong stands on its own two feet, swaying and tumbling towards something more meaningful than nostalgia.

To show how serious they are, Pains starts the record off with a bang. The album’s title track is a blistering 4 minutes and 19 seconds of claustrophobic guitar crunch and soaring hooks, one that dips and dives so much that it’d make Billy Corgan weak in the knees. Additionally, the breathy vocal trade-offs between keyboardist Peggy Wang and guitarist Kip Berman give “Belong,” and the rest of the album for that matter, an androgynous flair, enhancing the record’s overall dreamy tone.

It doesn’t stop there: “The Body” is propelled by Kurt Feldman’s kinetic drums and Wang’s sunshine soaked synthesizer, while the late album treat “Too Tough” is immersed in watery, slow-dance inspired bass work. Through it all, Pains are locked in and focused, the sign of a group whose output is more important than the image surrounding it. Pains is determined to take listeners into their world, where walls of psychedelic overdrive wash over tender earbuds and soft hearts. In the hands of a lesser band, this could prove downright cheesy, but not on Belong. None of the performances come across as flashy or showy, itching for that deft solo or big ballady plateau. Rather, each band member adds just enough to a given track so that it’s able to breath with its own lungs, each part delicately intersecting to create something bigger.

That’s the beauty of Belong, it’s a body of songs with a variety of influences, one that’s able to effortlessly translate old sounds into something remarkably fresh and vivid.

Another facet that really stands out is the production, which has drastically improved since the group’s 2009 self-titled debut. The choice to use famed 90s producer Flood (Depeche Mode, Nine Inch Nails, U2) was a masterstroke as he gives every instrument ample space without an abundance of studio sheen. While old shoegaze records glossed over the rhythm section to focus solely on the plethora of Marshall stacked guitars, Flood is able to bring a sense of balanced space on Belong, giving the album some real punch. “Even In Dreams” marries its chunky, power-pop chug with an ethereal cascade of white noise, creating a studio atmosphere that’s as immense as experiencing it live. Elsewhere, “My Terrible Friend” sports a Robert Smith-like bounce and technicolor keys, with each instrument gently hanging in place rather than acting like a collection of competing sounds.

Of course, this attention to detail would be somewhat lost if the songs didn’t delve below the surface. Thankfully, Pains understands that, and they aim to reveal emotions rather than hit on worn-out clichés. Whether they decide tackle isolation (“Belong”) or intimacy (“Anne With An E”), they do so with naked honesty and wry wit. Lines like “She was the heart in your heartbreak/She was the miss in your mistake/And no matter what you take/You're never going to forget…” from “Heart In Your Heartbreak” keep listeners on their toes, not because they’re brand new insights, but because they’ve added a wrinkle to the familiar pangs of heartache. Where most bands would opt for the hyper-verbose and intellectual, Pains keeps it simple, unafraid to inject some pop sweetness into their otherwise sobering revelations.

And what heartbreakingly beautiful revelations they are, for Belong is certainly a record about being alive, about the small moments in one’s life that feel like the largest.

With just the right amount of melodrama, The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart capture those moments in a record that your older sibling would have loved, and then passed on to you when they became too cool for it. In many ways, Belong is the type of album you’d listen to alone in your room, earphones strapped on tight, head cradled by shag, as you're hooked from Berman’s first loopy lead. It’s an album that takes you away to learn certain truths that no amount of conversation could ever impart, complete with mountains of buzz saw guitar that make real life seem a little less exciting.

In the end, it’s a record that you feel, both in your head and in your heart. Not so curiously, Belong comes at time where so many records fail to make us feel anything at all. Okay, maybe it's not Loveless, but at the very least it take us somewhere new, and it's one hell of a ride.

Key Cuts: Belong, Even In Dreams, My Terrible Friend

Sounds Like: Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (The Cure), Nowhere (Ride), Siamese Dream (The Smashing Pumpkins)

Click on the artwork to sample Belong for yourself!

Terrible Twos

Ever want to give musical artists the "I'm very disappointed in you..." treatment?

The Strokes- Angles (*½)

After being heralded as garage rock’s saviors for nearly a decade, it’s a tad ironic that The Strokes’ 5-year hiatus ends with Angles, their most overproduced and banal record yet. Light on hooks and heavy on Julian Casablancas’ drunken drawl, Angles finds the New York 5-piece spitting out their most polished effort yet, all in the hopes that their style-over-substance mystique can keep them relevant for another decade. No joke: Angles sounds like it was recorded in a spaceship from 1986 while the group took turns playing their favorite Talking Heads cassettes in their DeLorean. Guitars whine rather than squeal on Angles, lacking any sort of crunch that could possibly spice up the clumsy riffing on “Metabolism” or the meandering “Taken For A Fool.” Though Fabrizio Moretti’s drums sound immaculate (Deep, yet soft at the same time) the clean production really showcases how the group’s songwriting has deteriorated. None of these songs burst with enthusiasm or compel listeners to invest themselves past the track’s surface sheen. Whether it’s on the impending, Nintendo-inspired buzzing of “You’re So Right” or the “Last Nite” rehash of “Under Cover Of Darkness,” the group fails to approach these songs with any zest or zeal, and the apathy shines painfully through. The few moments worth mentioning are when The Strokes actually seems like they’re playing their tales off, creating tension that’s scarcely found in their discography. “Machu Picchu” expertly sports syrupy textures, jerky overdrive, and snappy time-changes. Elsewhere, the dueling bumblebee guitar battles on “Two Kinds Of Happiness” show listeners what happens when the group really applies themselves. Sadly, Angles sounds rushed, an uninspired “Rock Album By The Numbers” from a group that supposedly revitalized music just a decade ago. What’s most disappointing isn’t that The Strokes created a bad album, it’s that they hoodwinked everyone into expecting a masterpiece.

Key Cuts: Machu Picchu, Two Kinds Of Happiness, Games

Panic! At The Disco- Vices & Virtues (**½)

It would have been easy for Brendon Urie and Spencer Smith to release Vices & Virtues under a name that wasn’t Panic! At The Disco, free from all the expectations that were sure to follow. Heck, it might have helped distance themselves from ex-guitarist/songwriter Ryan Ross, the semi-silent wordsmith that masterminded their debut. Yet just like they had the gumption to call the summery, 60s-inspired Pretty. Odd. a Panic! record, the same can be said here. The large upside, however, is that Urie and Smith bring the disco back into their sound, fleshing out Vices & Virtues with frenzied drum machines, big strings, and a plethora of twinkling keyboards. The sheer instrumental stockpiling makes this a more diverse record than Pretty. Odd., as does the added power-pop punch in Urie’s hooks. “The Ballad Of Mona Lisa” sports a slinky bass line set against shadowy strings before exploding into thick, driving distortion. Additionally, producer John Feldman helps bring some of the demented whimsy back into Panic! but all the bells and whistles can’t hide the fact that Urie is uncomfortable in the lead songwriter position. Many of the songs are simply disposable, and though he stumbles onto some gems (The acoustic laced valentine “Always” comes to mind) he splits the difference between moonstruck ballads and woe-is-me pandering, offering little else in terms of lyrical scope. What really defined Panic! was Ross’ dark sarcasm, the dissonance between the melodies they used and his often morbid fairy tales. That venom is absent on Vices & Virtues, and it's clear that Urie desperately needs his partner in crime to infuse those big hooks with some pointed substance. “Let’s Kill Tonight” simply cannot hide its flat chorus of “Let's kill tonight!/Kill tonight!/Show them all you're not the ordinary type…” with all the crashing beats from the all the studios in the world. In the end, Vices & Virtues sounds like a more familiar follow up to Panic!’s 2005 debut, but lacks the character to really stand on its own two feet.

Key Cuts: The Ballad Of Mona Lisa, Always, Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met…)

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.

...And The Kitchen Sink

It should come as no surprise that my taste is eclectic. Right?

Brandon Flowers- Flamingo (***)
If there was any doubt that Brandon Flowers is the primary creative force behind The Killers, look no further than Flamingo. The ten-track puesdo-concept album about Las Vegas (or being lonely in Las Vegas) finds Flowers cherry picking from The Killers' Bowie meets Springsteen worship, with gentler and often successful results. “Only The Young” finds guitars chiming and crying over spacious keyboards while the stutter-stop twinkle of “Hard Enough” features tender guest vocals from Rilo Kiley’s Jenny Lewis. In true Vegas fashion, Flowers’ hammy and overwrought voice makes some of the songs overstay their welcome but that’s part of Flamingo’s charm. Flowers stayed away from making a serious record, as he often attempts to with The Killers, and he made an honest record for himself, rather than his band or his label. The results seem perfect for any night drive with miles of desert ahead.

Key Cuts: Only The Young, Hard Enough, Playing With Fire

Grinderman- Grinderman 2 (****)
It’s difficult to make dangerous rock n’ roll theses days. There’s no market for it; everyone wants something slick, auto-tuned, and compressed, something that’s heavy on beats but light on grooves. So when a dirty, sleazy, and downright evil sounding record like Grinderman 2 comes along, you know there’s some guts behind that decision. Nick Cave’s savage blues project has emerged from their bourbon soaked cocoon, producing an immense record with no apologies. While the content matter is familiar Cave fair of murder, obsession, and rough sex, he finds some interesting ways to inject humor into an otherwise demonic album (“I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar…”). Yet what really stands out on Grinderman 2 is the strides Cave has taken in expanding the group’s sound. Grinderman’s first album was loud and raw, but not much else. Grinderman 2 is decidedly larger in scope, reveling in longer songs that feature clamorous waves of wailing wah and dusty drums. “Kitchenette” is a loopy, low-end boogie while “When My Baby Comes” is swathed in eerie strings before erupting in phantasmal distortion. The excess works, and Cave manages to find a way of pushing the production without stripping the songs of their grit. With Grinderman 2, Cave created an album that rivals even his darkest material with the Bad Seeds by sticking to his guns and warped fantasies.

Key Cuts: Mickey Mouse & The Goodbye Man, When My Baby Comes, Kitchenette

Linkin Park- A Thousand Suns (*½)
Rap-rock was never highbrow art, but it’s hard to dispute Linkin Park’s mastery of it. It’s the reason fans were upset when Minutes To Minute turned into Linkin Park’s answer to The Joshua Tree. Those listeners were hoping for more consistency, not experimentation, and it was a shock to the system. In theory, A Thousand Suns should be an easier pill to swallow knowing the band could drop a surprise, except it’s not. While the album covers the similar, soft textured aesthetic of its predecessor, Linkin Park flounders under the weight of the album’s pretension. Half the album is comprised of ambient, glitchy interludes that go nowhere, while its actual songs come across as parodies of Public Enemy fed through Kid A’s iPod. Oh, and then there’s “The Messenger,” the album’s acoustic closer where Chester Bennington decides to scream out of tune for about 3 minutes. While the record sounds pristine thanks to Rick Rubin and Mike Shinoda’s deft production, the band sounds confused, attempting to be vaguely political with a record that lacks urgency. In all, it showcases Linkin Park dealing with ideas and sounds that are over their heads. At least they brought the rap part back, except not really.

Key Cuts: When They Come For Me, Year Zero (Nine Inch Nails)

Terrible Things- Terrible Things (**½)
When it’s all said and done, Terrible Things are a band comprised of scrappy castaways. Vocalist/guitarist Fred Mascherino (ex-Breaking Pangea/Taking Back Sunday), guitarist Andy Jackson (ex-Hot Rod Circuit), and drummer Josh Eppard (ex-Coheed & Cambria) thought they could make better music together than with the bands that shunned them, and the results are mixed. While their self-titled debut is a fun slice of lean power-pop, Jackson and Eppard play backing band to Mascherino the entire time. The disc employs the same crunchy but slick one-two punch of Mascherino’s solo effort, Bend To Break, but with more formulaic accents this time around. Strings come and go on “Been Here Before” while guitars inevitably sparkle before they crash on “Up At Night." Some how it’s not as exciting the second time around. Mascherino’s usual charm is evident behind the microphone but it overshadows Jackson, and the stories they tell fail to leave a mark. It's clear they're desperately upset at someone, or something, but the music isn’t telling the same tale. In the end, Terrible Things is very much Bend To Break: Part Deux, which is a shame considering most of the songwriting is credited to the whole band. The good news is that it sounds rather innocuous, which is perhaps why they were dismissed from their mother bands in the first place.

Key Cuts: Up At Night, Terrible Things, Conspiracy

The Weepies- Be My Thrill (***)
Charmingly intimate and instantly accessible, The Weepies never have to push hard to create a beautiful sounding record. Be My Thrill, their fourth LP overall, finds the musical duo of Deb Talan and Steve Tannen churning out soft rock anthems that would feel right at home in a Charlie Brown holiday special. Whether it’s the shuffling hook of “Red Red Rose” or the Elliot Smith-like harmonies on “Hummingbird,” The Weepies craft immediate pop music in refreshing fashion. With subtle embellishments of brushed drums and quaint piano, the record retains a certain level of minimalism without feeling lo-fi. There are some drawbacks though; the album’s tandem vocals sport a clear winner when it comes to charisma (Talan’s meek but silky delivery proves quite the attraction), and the album isn’t as richly layered as 2008’s Hideaway, but Be My Thrill is genuinely entertaining. It’s an album reminding music fans that middle of the road records can house decent songs without being contrived or calculated. Not everything needs to be a grand statement, and it’s refreshing to hear The Weepies embody that.

Key Cuts: Red Red Rose, Add My Effort, Hummingbird

Weezer- Hurley (****)

By all accounts, Hurley should have been the critical and mainstream nail in the coffin for Weezer.

Fans have been clamoring about the decline in their work since Weezer (The Green Album) and it finally came to a head with last year’s Raditude. While the record contained a handful of decent cuts, its sheer goofiness and push towards hyper slick pop (I’m looking at you Dr. Luke and Lil Wayne) made even the faithful Weezer fans cringe. It's not that the record was abhorrently bad, it’s that the band seemed preoccupied with singing to a younger generation about silly things, a generation that was in diapers when Rivers Cuomo’s sweater was unraveling.

And it seemed like Hurley would follow suit in Weezer’s unraveling: The album was named after LOST’s Jorge Garcia (Or was it the clothing company?), would feature additional songwriters (AGAIN!), and would memorialize Mr. Garcia on the cover in pure Raditude fashion (Uh….dude….). It seemed all the stars were aligned for Weezer to make an album that even their most trusting fans would despise.

But then the band did what it usually does, and threw a quirky curveball.

They drew on the unhinged nature of 1996’s Pinkerton for inspiration.

Make no mistake, Hurley isn’t Pinkerton II: The Saddening, but the lop-sided arrangements, fuzzy swagger, and the “just-out-of-his-singing-range” Cuomo make quite the impact. Miles away from a full on metal record, and too heavy to function as a pop album, Hurley comes with aggressive hooks and a newfound sense of energy, displaying a revitalized Weezer in the process.

The disc begins with the overdriven, runaway train of “Memories,” a speedy arrangement where Cuomo reminds listeners of their humble roots and his penchant to name check the 90s. From here, the disc takes off with the crunchy, soaring power-pop of “Ruling Me.” A sister song to Weezer (The Blue Album’s) “No One Else,” “Ruling Me’s” spiraled drumming and chugging riffs give the song a retro aesthetic as Cuomo’s dorky charm takes center stage, “We first met/In the lunchroom/My ocular nerve went/POP! ZOOM!”

In many ways, it offers what Weezer fans have been hungry for since 2001.

While the band has opted for some back-to-basic approaches in the past, it’s sometimes sacrificed Cuomo’s sincerity as a singer. Weezer’s often criticized for having a workman-like attitude when it comes to their melodies, but that stilted delivery is absent on Hurley. Instead, the album’s biggest strength is the band’s ability to revisit older aesthetics rather than attempting to emulate them. This keeps Cuomo’s singing fresh while still giving them wiggle room to add musical flourishes.

“Where’s My Sex?” revisits the barbed-wire plod of “Crab,” but Cuomo’s vocals come across almost schizophrenic throughout coy turns of phrase like, “Meg likes to hide it/She says that it gives her a kick/It may be under the rug/Or stuck in a shoe closet…” Elsewhere, “Unspoken” challenges Cuomo’s highest singing register as he’s backed by unconventionally warm acoustic guitar and lilting flute runs. Then, as if Cuomo’s sentiments of, “In the evening, every night/I am dreaming of a chance to make it right…” came across too sweetly, the track erupts in jumpy distortion and wild drumming that would rattle the loosest of fillings.

Clearly, this is a different Weezer from the one that was packaging Raditude with Snuggies just a year ago.

Cuts like “Unspoken” and the drum machine blasted “Smart Girls” continue to display a band that walks a fine line between pop genius and musical insanity. Cuomo’s strength as a songwriter has always been when he can make an arrangement feel bigger than the instruments Weezer’s playing, and there are a great deal of those moments present on Hurley. While Weezer (The Red Album) expanded their sonic palette, Hurley focuses it. The album functions as a big sounding rock record that features small embellishments to suit its songs, like Michael Cera’s dancing mandolin on “Hang On” or the spacey keyboards riding under the lumbering stadium stomp of “Trainwrecks.”

But above all, the Weezer seem excited throughout Hurley’s 10 tracks, a welcome change of pace from Cuomo’s pseudo irony. It proves that they can write a consistent, raw album that’s as big as their nerdy dreams. Hurley might not be quite the Pinkerton love-child fans were hoping for, but it ultimately comes across as an earnest effort from a bad constantly scrutinized for coasting on their talents.

While fans will always stack their first two records above everything else they put out, it’s refreshing to know that Weezer takes it all in quirky stride. Albums like Hurley remind listeners that a sense of humor is just as important to a great record as great riffs. After all, they’re just songs, and half the fun is in not knowing what to expect next.

Because odds are, Weezer would have made everyone furious if they released Weezer (The Bluer Album) instead.

Key Cuts: Ruling Me, Unspoken, Where’s My Sex?

Sounds Like: New Wave (Against Me!), Bend To Break (The Color Fred), Heaven Tonight (Cheap Trick)

Click on the artwork to sample Hurley for yourself!

Live: Something Corporate @ The Warfield (8/24)

No matter who you are, there are always records that stick with you for your entire life.

This is because the artists that made those types of records tapped into something pure and real. Sure, their sound might become a distant mark of times past, but what stays with people are the melodies, the meaning behind hooks, and the memories of what they all felt like. In short, we experience the biggest unknowns as we come of age and the records that stick with us act like an anchor during those tumultuous times.

For myself and many others, Something Corporate is a band that made those types of records.

With Leaving Through The Window and North, Something Corporate tapped into what it meant to grow, how it felt when every intimate change in your life suddenly became an uncontrollable maelstrom. This wasn’t a band that catered to trends; they stuck a piano in a pop-punk band, and talked about how awkward it is kissing drunk girls as opposed to seeking them out. Instead of finding things to scream about, they gave teens everywhere hope when there was none, explaining the intensity and adventure that often accompanies youth.

So it was fitting that their live show, a show that was part of their 10-year reunion tour, exuded the same earnest vibrancy that made their records so special. As the Warfield houselights cut to black, and their boxed logo popped against blue light, Something Corporate took the stage ready to play the songs that transformed a generation.

Opening with the jumpy flutter of “I Woke Up In A Car” it was clear that visiting these songs again meant the world to this band, as well as their fans. Bobby Raw and Josh Partington spent the night trading arena-ready riffs and swirling atmospherics, while Brian Ireland kept time with marked precision against Kevin “Clutch” Page’s steady low-end. And while piano mastermind Andrew McMahon probably garners more creative thrill from Jack’s Mannequin these days, seeing him performing alongside this rag tag team of musicians put a smile on his face as big as Something Corporate’s sound.

Between songs, McMahon would pepper in stories about their band, and about the songs they were playing, but the biggest thrill came from how in sync the group was. In the time it’s taken the group to go on hiatus and for Andrew to tour the world twice over with Jack’s Mannequin, the 2010 incarnation of Something Corporate operates with locked precision. McMahon joyfully took to songs like the coy and playful “Drunk Girl” with the same twitchy energy of his 18-year-old self. Elsewhere, Ireland’s double bass fueled the menacing “Only Ashes,” while the power-pop drive of “Watch The Sky” found Raw and Partington sinking their teeth into chunky rhythms. It’s not so much that the group was heavier in a live setting, it’s that they threw themselves into their performances, assuring fans that this tour was not about nostalgia.

Yet through it all, it’s Andrew McMahon’s presence that really gives these songs soul and character, the reason for Something Corporate’s timelessness.

Like in Jack’s Mannequin, McMahon has a way of seeing the world that’s almost cinematic. For the entire night, his voice and his piano painted pictures exploring the struggle to find intimacy. Whether it was in the sprawling weight of “Konstantine” or the tender hopes of “As You Sleep,” McMahon reminded listeners about the importance of living when it hurts to breath. He’s always been able to tap into the very human notion of security with insecurity, and this gives his songs real sincerity. In the end, McMahon and the rest of Something Corporate tell these stories because that’s the way we reveal ourselves to one another as we make revelations that shape our lives.

This was most apparent on the evening’s tremendous standout, “I Want To Save You,” a song that soared with feedback soaked guitar, crashing drums, and ascending piano. Within it, McMahon outlined the story of a girl looking for love, the need to feel connected, and the very real feeling of giving everything to the person you can’t bear to see suffer. It was the concert’s crown jewel as it presented what the band has always been about: Searching for something tangible.

There will always be fans that churn out for a Something Corporate show, but if that’s their sole reason for buying tickets, they’re missing out. From their show at the Warfield, it’s clear that Something Corporate is about creating connections with people, in sharing those awkward and often painful life moments and watching them becoming cherish memories. It’s about the punk rock princesses you might have met, and the time you saw that straw dog in the street because you were so high, awake to life’s waves.

It’s about all of us exploring the darkest corners of life’s universe as brave astronauts.

Whether or not the group decides to write another record, or keep touring, it’s clear that they’ve left their mark on the world in an incredible way. Something Corporate’s reunion tour wasn’t so much about remembering a band’s successes, but about remembering how it felt when that band seemed to understand everything you were going through.

And that’s as timeless as the records that stay with you forever.

Motion City Soundtrack- My Dinosaur Life (***½)

Nerds don’t have it easy.

Sure, people like Rivers Cuomo and MC Lars have been on the forefront of geek chic in the 00s, but the constant battle they’ve endured for social acceptance (while remaining true to themselves) is as much of a universal constant as death, or taxes.

On some level, maybe that’s why bands like Motion City Soundtrack are so appealing. Coming from a genre that’s saturated with far too many A New Found Glory sound-a-likes, Motion City’s music comes across as charmingly inviting while retaining a quirky sense authenticity. No bad haircuts for them, instead they’ve remained true to themselves with a steady diet of pop culture references and quick hooks.

It’s with no surprise then, that the Minneapolis 5-piece keep things consistent on My Dinosaur Life, their fourth album overall. Tapping Mark Hoppus of blink-182 fame for the production duties, My Dinosaur Life finds Motion City name checking everything from Busta Rhymes to the Ocarina of Time, amidst furious, down stroked guitar and big choruses. The result is a record that plays to their strengths as songwriters, and less as an innovation on their current sound.

The record hits the ground running with the driving “Worker Bee” and the hard-hitting “A Lifeless Ordinary (Need A Little Help),” both tracks offering an energetic one-two punch. Against the backdrop of Joshua Cain’s bouncing guitar and Tony Thaxton’s enormous drums, vocalist Justin Pierre uses his smooth upper register to confess, “I think/I can figure it out/But I’m gonna need a little help to get me through it/Need a little help to get me through it!” Jesse Johnson’s airy piano provides some lightness to the song’s stompy chorus, but it’s all very clear that this is a different Motion City Soundtrack than the one that wrote 2007’s Even If It Kills Me.

In fact, there are two big differences that distinguish My Dinosaur Life from the rest of Motion City’s back catalog.

The first being Pierre’s newfound lyrical maturity, which is a welcome change from the band’s usual “so-invested-it-hurts” mentality towards life. On My Dinosaur Life, Pierre has found a more optimistic sense of self to combat the perils in his world. There’s more than enough blame for ex-lovers, but there’s also a proud sense of personal progress that stems Pierre's prose. Whether it’s lamenting on past tragedies for future wellness (“Her Words Destroyed My Planet”), a refusal to wallow in self-pity (“History Lesson”), or the defense of a specific social circle (“@!#?@!”), My Dinosaur Life shows Pierre as someone ready to take the unknown by the horns and wrestle it to the ground.

This brings us to the album’s other huge difference, and that’s the band’s stringently conservative take on its own sound. This is surprising, considering the risks Pierre is taking with storytelling this time around, but My Dinosaur Life sheds much of the experimentation and quirky synthesizers that made Even If It Kills Me such a breath of fresh air.

It seems that Motion City Soundtrack wrote a set of songs that’s primarily guitar driven this time around, light on ballads and heavy on vigor. Hoppus also seems to implement a “less-is-more” production style, where each instrument carries itself with clarity, but lacks richness. The bass is bouncy, and the guitars zoom from muted to buzzing, but none of it quite crunches or chugs along with much weight. Instead, Motion City Soundtrack relies on their energy, a quality that’s endearing, but also shows a band afraid to take the next big leap in their sound.

However, the album does find a comfortable groove midway through when Hoppus and Motion City decide to pepper these tracks with some expanded instrumentation. The acoustic strum turned dancey thump of “Stand Too Close” and the string laced “History Lesson” give the album a bit more character than its typical pop-punk by the numbers approach. Elsewhere, “Pulp Fiction” flies by with fuzzy melodies and twinkling keyboards. Pierre’s rapid fire wit goes into warp speed as he juxtaposes life’s style and substance with lines such as, “And like a nightmare/Covered in the tracks that brought you there/Paranoid and frozen in the heathers/Like a slasher film/I’m torn in opposite directions/The plot sucks/But the killings are gorgeous…”

Sadly, the filler on My Dinosaur Life relegates it to the status of a good record, rather than a great one. “Hysteria” is a rather vanilla mid tempo sing-along that shows Motion City coasting when they should be going for the jugular. Additionally, “Delrium’s” banal chant of “I swear/To pharmaceuticals…” and “@!#?@!’s” overly confrontational chorus of “You all need to go away/You mother ****ers!” tend to mar a rather consistent lyrical outing.

Despite those mishaps, however, My Dinosaur Life is the sound of a band that’s enjoying themselves. While they sport their share of growing pains, Motion City Soundtrack serves up another sweet and satisfying exercise in quirky pop-rock, their geeky fans hanging on every go-go-gadget guitar part and Miami Vice name check. If other bands indulged in what they loved as unabashedly as Motion City Soundtrack does, pop music might be less about fitting in entirely.

In fact, nerds might have the good life.

Key Cuts: A Lifeless Ordinary (Need A Little Help), Stand Too Close, Pulp Fiction

Sounds Like: You’re Awful, I Love You (Ludo), Pasadena (Ozma), Weezer (The Green Album) (Weezer)

Click on the artwork to sample My Dinosaur Life for yourself!

Weezer- Raditude (***)

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

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

And now, they have Raditude to hate as well.

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

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

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

Oh yeah, and Lil Wayne spits on a verse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click on the artwork to sample Raditude for yourself!

Summer Songs

It’s suddenly that time of year again, where the days are long and the nights are short. The smell of Banana Boat seems to fill the air, and people are sporting their aviators on the long drive to the beach, top down and wind in their hair. As such, the summer deserves a spectacular soundtrack to commemorate the mountains of BBQ and tanning that will ensue. Here's 5 albums to mark the occasion with.

20 Good Vibrations: The Greatest Hits- The Beach Boys
It would be inappropriate to exclude the Beach boys from any list dealing with the summer, so they proudly kick off this one. While they’ve got truckloads of classic tracks scattered across their discography, 20 Good Vibrations: The Greatest Hits is a lean and concise representation of their very best. Cuts like the wistful “Surfer Girl” with its swaying harmonies and warm bass really seems to embody those endless nights looking out at the lapping tide. Elsewhere, the rickety thump of “California Girls” conjures images of swimsuit clad ladies and island paradises. And as the sun sets on your beach adventures, doesn’t it make sense to have Brian Wilson and Co. holding down the tunes?

Key Cuts: Surfer Girl, I Get Around, California Girls

40 Oz. To Freedom- Sublime
While it might be one of the landmark albums in stoner culture, that doesn’t mean 40 Oz. To Freedom can’t be enjoyed sober. In fact, part of the reason it appeals to that specific crowd is because of how laid back the songs come across. Deftly blending everything from reggae to punk, ska, and hip-hop, Sublime marches through 22 tracks about enjoying the lazy days of summer, as well as capturing the restlessness of Southern California. “Waiting For My Ruca” starts off with a rather deep and hypnotic drum beat while Bradley Nowell’s nimble voice holds it all together with crafty hooks and smooth singing. Additionally, “Badfish” is a tender love song that’s augmented with rich surf rock tones and sugary upstroked guitar. Ultimately, with an album this relaxing, it’ll grant your summer some freedom in no time at all.

Key Cuts: Waiting For My Ruca, Smoke Two Joints, Badfish

Californication- The Red Hot Chili Peppers
Is there any other place in the world that seems to embody the season more that California? In that sense, it only makes sense that the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s Californication makes it onto our list. But aside from its namesake, the music found on Californication certainly embodies the spirit of the season with its fuzzy bass work and syrupy lead guitar. This is an album made for road trips, from the rumbling and tension filled “Parallel Universe” to the somber and expansive “Scar Tissue.” With unflinching honestly, the Chilis remind listeners not only of the best parts of the season, but of how the experiences seem to linger with us long after summer has past. Like sun baked baseball caps and clearly defined tan lines, Californication reminds listeners that some things about summer run deeper than mere photographs can capture, and that’s the record’s real beauty.

Key Cuts: Parallel Universe, Scar Tissue, Otherside

Everything In Transit- Jack’s Mannequin
Continuing with the California theme, Everything In Transit seems to be Jack’s Mannequin’s (And pianist/songwriter Andrew McMahon’s) open valentine to everything Southern Californian and beach-related. With descending piano and drifting guitar, “Holiday From Real” treats us to the sights and sounds of Venice Beach as well as McMahon’s fascination with capturing perfect moments in musical snapshots. Lyrically, McMahon is enamored with finding personal oases in the Californian sun while the whole world seems to tighten around him. If that sounds like a bummer, it isn’t. The record’s rich harmonies and upbeat hooks keep the songs hopeful, alongside the message. The real stand out is the synthesizer soaked power-pop of “Miss Delaney,” McMahon’s story of a girl who keeps him waiting in all the wrong ways. If “the-one-that-got-away” isn’t filled with summer nostalgia, nothing is.

Key Cuts: Holiday From Real, I’m Ready, Miss Delaney

Weezer (The Green Album)- Weezer
So this is it, the perfect epitome of the summer sound. Weezer’s second self-titled album is everything that makes up the season and thensome. For one, it sounds HUGE with deep drums and crunchy, but melodic, power-pop earmarking all of songs. Additionally, Rivers Cuomo seems preoccupied with love and memories, the stuff that summer is made of. So with confident rock swagger, Weezer marches through ten tight tracks that are tailor made to blast at full volume on your stereo. Most know the quaint acoustic charm of “Island In The Sun,” but the album’s hidden gem is the driving “Simple Pages.” Here, Cuomo reminiscences about his perfect crush with romantic images of radio hooks and huge guitars. It’s fitting, for Cuomo crafts the same sort of album he idolizes, an album that sounds big but feels intimate. In the end, he captures the spirit of the season with Weezer (The Green Album), making an album that feels endless even if its 30 minute running time makes it seem like a glowing memory.

Key Cuts: Photograph, Island In The Sun, Simple Pages

Author's Note: This is the last piece I wrote for for MIX IT UP Magazine, my internship site over the past year. What's posted on this blog is the unedited version, so check out MIX IT UP's website for the online/print version.

Green Day- 21st Century Breakdown (*****)

Green Day is Generation Y’s version of The Clash.

If this statement is unsettling, it shouldn’t be. Both bands began with highly melodic three chord punk, spent their career sporting hooks catchier than swine flu, and eventually evolved to effortlessly marry their punk spirit with a myriad of other musical styles. Simply put, Green Day and The Clash understand that punk is more than a specific sound, and that frees them up to make some interesting arrangements.

While the concept rock grandeur that marked 2004’s American Idiot pushed the Berkeley threesome back into pop culture consciousness (As well as into a truckload of Grammys), it’s 21st Century Breakdown that proves their stylistic shift into storytelling wasn’t a gimmick to win fans. In fact, 21st Century Breakdown is an album that pulls Green Day’s sound to its polar opposites, from string laden piano balladry to smatterings of gritty East Bay punk.

The album opens with a decisive bang as the title track acts as an overture to this multi-act rock opera, which follows young couple Christian and Gloria through three acts titled “Heroes & Cons,” “Charlatans & Saints” and “Horseshoes & Handgrenades.” Amidst swelling piano and Tré Cool’s thunderous drums, “21st Century Breakdown” explodes with crunchy power-pop fervor as Billie Joe Armstrong’s rich guitar smoothly meshes with Mike Dirnt’s warm bass and Beach Boy harmonies. Taking cues from the pomp and circumstance of The Who and Queen, Armstrong laments, “I was made of poison and blood/Condemnation is what I understood/Videogames to the tower's fall/Homeland Security could kill us all…”

If American Idiot was an unsettling look at America’s social psyche, 21st Century Breakdown is a scathing indictment.

But the urgency doesn’t peak within the first proper track. “East Jesus Nowhere” sports chunky riffs and a shuffling swagger as Armstrong sings, “Raise your hands now to testify!/Your confession will be crucified!/You're a sacrificial suicide/Like a dog that's been SO-DO-MIZED!” Elsewhere, the visceral “Murder City” revisits the gritty energy of their “Dookie” days while the industrial tinged hardcore of “Christian’s Inferno” speeds along faster than Green Day have played in years.

Yet the album retains a large amount of character when the band begins to stretch out their sonic palette. Whether it’s the lush 50’s inspired pop of “Last Night On Earth,” the piano twinkling turned driving three chord assault of “¡Viva La Gloria!” or eastern tinged “Peacemaker,” Green Day prove they can effortlessly shift musical styles without sacrificing their trademark voice.

But the album’s real gem is the eerie “Restless Heart Syndrome,” a track that pushes Armstrong’s voice into melancholy falsetto and down to the deepest depths of his soul. Building from spine chilling piano, delay enhanced guitar work and horror movie-like strings, the track eventually erupts into metallic sounding chaos with Cool’s enormous drums and Armstrong’s wah-soaked lead work. Heavy on atmosphere, “Restless Heart Syndrome” is the stuff of nightmares with lines such as, “I've got a really bad disease/It's got me begging/On my hands and knees/So take me to emergency…”

Green Day has certainly attempted to match their predecessor in terms of musical breadth, but 21st Century Breakdown really succeeds because of how Armstrong weaves their lyrics and narrative together with sharp sophistication.

With this album, Green Day essentially explores the societal controls that govern individual choices and promote apathy in modern America. The “Heroes & Cons” song cycle concerns itself with whether or not the spirit to fight injustice is enough without a moral center (“Overthrow the effigy/The vast majority/Burning down the foreman of control…”). “Charlatans & Saints” explores the falsehoods that pacify human beings through mind numbing drug use, religion and idealized iconography (“Vendetta, sweet vendetta/This Beretta of the night/This fire and the desire/Shots ringing out on a holy parasite…”). Lastly, “Horseshoes & Handgrenades” deals with how the media promotes a warmongering culture while the human spirit wages an internal war for social change that feels just out of reach (“Your faith walks on broken glass/And the hangover doesn't pass/Nothing's ever built to last/You're in ruins…”).

This is heady stuff coming from the guys that titled their breakout album after poop.

While producer Butch Vig adds some slickness to the overall quality of the instrumentation, and goes a tad overboard in compressing Armstrong’s vocals, none of it feels calculated to appeal to mass radio. At 18 tracks, Green Day has made one of their longest and densest albums to date, without having it feel drawn out and tedious. Ultimately, 21st Century Breakdown feels authentic both in spirit and in execution, an album that sounds big and sports big ideas.

As the band eases into their 40s, it’s clear that like The Clash before them they’ll continue to explore the world and their song craft on their own terms, further separating themselves from the nihilistic gutter punks that make records too short sighted to affect social change.

And while Green Day might think the 21st century is broken, they’ve at least presented spectacular album to help point out its problems.

Sounds Like: The Beatles (The Beatles), Dookie (Green Day), Tommy (The Who)

Key Cuts: 21st Century Breakdown, East Jesus Nowhere, Restless Heart Syndrome

Click on the artwork to sample some of 21st Century Breakdown for yourself!

Author's Note: This review is my last contribution to the Sonoma State Star. It's been a wild ride guys and I wish you the best of luck in the future.

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’