Before I begin- and this is intended to be a track-by-track review, or at least a record of my impressions of each track- I just want to take a minute to complain about the complete lack of quality record stores around me (that I know of, anyway). I went to three different stores in an attempt to find this album (a highly anticipated one among certain segments of the population) before giving up in frustration and buying it on iTunes. Now, it very well could be that I'm just not cool enough to know where to go to find the cooler music that I listen to (anybody could find Zeppelin, but it takes a hipster to find Dinosaur Jr.). Maybe there's a super-hip indie store somewhere around that had a billion copies, but even the semi-indie-oriented Newbury Comics utterly failed- although I suspect they might have been sold out, because there was a gap in one of their displays in the front. I also had to resort to iTunes to get the album Without a Sound. Ugh.
Alright, review begins now (and bear in mind that this is the first I've heard any of these except the single, and I don't remember what it sounded like):
1. "Pieces"
The album starts out pretty heavy, with a typical J. Mascis riff and some snare-heavy drumming. The bass is only occasionally audible, though. Here we have a classic Mascis drawling song. The snare has a nice, fat, 1970s-ish sound to it. It sounds like John Bonham's. Guitar solo is good, not great- scratch that, it's great, but not right at the beginning. It's a twisty necked melodic thing. I've noticed several high-speed rolls on the toms, but they have a pretty similar sound- I'm not sure if it's just the snare and then one tom, or if Murph's (another one-named musician) drums are just not very distinctively tuned. Definitely a solid opener: powerful, engaging, but still incredibly slacker in nature.
2. "I Want You to Know"
More immediate vocals on this one- perhaps a vocally-driven track? Hi-hats have that particular shearing sound, like something being slashed or chopped at- I don't know how to explain it if that doesn't immediately make sense to you. Lou Barlow's bass remains a low rumble, not especially distinctive. Syncopated snare on this one, a little stuttering thing that functions as a sort of heavy, heavy leitmotif. This is another Dino song that approaches an almost countryish sound, albeit one run through high distortion and much heavier than country artists are wont to be. Impressive drum roll leads into solo at about 2:50. Solo is very high pitched- sort of reminds me of "Feel the Pain." I haven't really payed much attention to lyrics up to now, but it seems like they're pretty typical quasi-angsty "song about a girl" lyrics, but who cares? The music's good. The guitar takes on the sound of an electric violin played squeakily at a few points.
3. "Ocean In the Way"
A bit slower. Drum rolls have been replaced with those heavy two-handed tom-plus-tom and tom-plus-snare slams, a la Dave Grohl on Nevermind. Snare, however, remains fairly active. I think J. is muttering "Ma, ma, mama, ma, ma," but I can't be sure that's what it's meant to be. I don't think I've managed to make out a note from the bass yet- wait, there's one (I promise I did not make that up). Interesting restructuring going on- slowdown on the guitar, plaintive vocals, and almost melancholy guitar. Make that "wistful." Is this the start of the solo? Yes. A good curveball- a short, sad, almost sweet solo in contrast to the previous two fast paced and significantly more intense solos. Guitar is definitely reaching for sadness- good Sehnsucht potential, if you happen to be a rocker with an introspective or romantic bent, in the classic sense.
4. "Plans"
A slower, sadder riff here. Bass is finally pretty easy to follow. J. almost sounds like Eddie Vedder on this one. Cool fill at about 1:05 or so. The solo comes early in this one and is a slow one with some tension in it- almost reminds me of Jimmy Page's solo on "Achilles Last Stand." Secondary, quick solo carries on that same vibe. I'm really going to have to read lyrics at a later point, because I am utterly incapable of remembering them as I hear them at this point. Sudden shift at about 3:05 to a chugging, punkish riff, but quickly transitions out. We're now dealing with a repeating vamp. For some reason, I am reminded of R.E.M. J.'s plaintive voice is making another appearance. To their credit, Dino's song titles almost always appear as direct lyrics, which makes keeping track of them simpler. Third quasi-solo is a bit more typical for Mascis. Scratch the "quasi," it's a full-blown solo, it just had some vocals over the top and that made me think it was going to end quickly. I'm definitely getting reminded of "Achilles Last Stand" by those solos. Weirdly edited finish- drum distortion, I think? But it's quiet and intended as one of those "change of pace 'studio outtake' type endings."
5. "Your Weather"
I can only assume that Lou Barlow is singing here, with J., I think. Drums are a heavy, quarter-note-pulse stomp with frequent crashes, at least to this point. The vocals are doing weird things right now. I'm liking the guitar work. Murph has now gone into a low-toms rhythm. Now back into treble cymbal rhythm. Bass is a hard to notice but powerful undercurrent to the guitar. Another sequence sans cymbals/hi-hat, but this one is more snare driven. Abrupt ending. Took me by surprise.
6. "Over It"
Funky wah-wah stuff- or at least it sounds like wah to me. The primary riff has a punk feel. Really nice drum roll early on. J. is warbling like Elvis, had he lived a couple more decades: "What could I do? Run around on you-ooo-ooo." "It's true-ooo-ooo." Almost ska-like little repetition of snare roll followed by crash. That's a recurrent element for a little while, anyway. Riff now seems less punky- has it changed, or am I just hearing differently? Weird effects on the guitar toward the end- the overdubbed parts, that is. Another little snare-roll stampede. Another sudden ending.
7. "Friends"
A little stuttering makes up the second part of the opening guitar licks. I think I hear bass-crash, bass-bass-crash patterns. Murph is depending a lot on fills that switch back and forth between tom and snare to this point on the album. Numerically, we are now at the middle of the album. The guitar seems to me to have some elements of rockabilly or country to it, but, of course, it is more amplified and hectic sounding than either of those genres. There really is a very odd counterpoint between Mascis's guitar and vocals- the one is frantic and heavy, the other is an unconcerned (or mildly concerned) drawl. This, of course, is a point that has been beaten to death by everyone who talks about the band. We now launch into a wild, yet melodic, solo. J. Mascis remains one of the few modern guitarists whose solos I truly enjoy. The guitar solo is largely a lost art- most are terrible, now, at least in mainstream bands. Solo continues through the fadeout- that seems like a classic rock trick to me.
8. "Said the People"
We start ponderously with some floor tom thunder to go with a bass like elephant footfalls and bluesy, deliberate guitar. "Save me," Mascis is saying and sounding, again, like Eddie Vedder. The way this recurrent riff ends reminds me, oddly, of Hendrix playing the blues. Only the final chord though- the articulation sounds similar to me. J. sounds depressed as he says over and over, "I can't help it" and "All the people, of all the people, why now? Save me, save me." Solo starts off with a high, quavering note- some bending involved. Solo takes on the feel of something repeatedly ascending and falling, gaining a little height each time. I like it, although one of the last elements seemed pretty mediocre to me. Overall, though, it's a good one. This is a longer one. "Can you tell me, can you tell me what went wrong? Guess I should've seen it coming all along. Gotta fight (find?) it, gotta be strong. Gotta be something, can't let it drag on and on. All the people, all the people, to let me down, all the people, of all the people, why now?" I'm never sure if Mascis is drawing on personal experience or just inventing people whose lives are awful. We've got another solo here- similar to, but minutely different from the first. A little less hopeful sounding, if that makes sense. This is a long track, over seven minutes. For a brief moment, the solo reminded me of "Walk On" by U2. Bizarre collision of highly disparate musical styles. We have that tom pattern again, from the intro. Combination of abrupt end and fadeout.
9. "There's No Here"
Starts off rapidly with a solo overdubbed over a riff. I get the impression that the rhythm section is leading this one, with guitar following. The bass is definitely more distinct here- I hear shades of Krist Novoselic (of Nirvana). A racing snare drum defines some of these sections, finishing with a very quick, stuttering fill. I keep hearing Vedder's voice echoing J. in my head. Another very, very abrupt ending.
10. "See You"
Starts off with a sweet feeling and some very high, twisty guitar. Interesting tricks by Mascis. That was weird- listen to this and I think you'll understand what I mean. This is a comparably relaxed track. Slacker vibes are just wafting out of my computer screen. All of the sudden we're dealing with some New Wave sixteenth notes on the hi-hats. We've reached the point where it goes riff, alteration, riff, alteration, but I don't mind it. It's still keeping me absorbed. "Hear me out, I'm about to fade. I've no doubt you meant that way(?)." This is basically a more advanced pop track- alt-pop, I suppose. Now we've got some heavy, lunging moments. We must be nearing the end. Here comes another solo. Yup, there's the ending. Predictable, but not necessarily in a bad way. I haven't heard a track I didn't like to this point.
11. "I Don't Wanna Go There"
Heavy drums to start. I could've sworn this was Pearl Jam for a few seconds. That continues to be true. A short but intense solo just burst out. We're dealing with an almost nine minute song. Huh. Took a left turn, there (3:00 or so). Melodic shredding solo at about 4:20. I'm normally opposed to shredding on principle, but that was pretty cool. Almost a Brian May feel to one part of it, as Mascis appeared to be following an ascending scale. I'd like to take this time to point out how utterly weird the album art is. It appears to be two sentient hills- that look like Gumby- kidnapping three (nude?) women from an industrial city. Very long solo. It's not done yet, but it's still pretty engaging. That's a good gift to have- if you can pull of an immensely long song (or solo, whatever) while retaining attention, that's a good thing. Think Allman Brothers Band and Zeppelin. Drums are doing some interesting things underneath this solo. Solo ends- heavy riff begins. Briefly. Song ends with fingers slipping on the guitar strings.
12. "Imagination Blind"
Last track. It appears that Lou Barlow is singing again. So far it has yet to grab me. Drums, for the first time, are largely monotonous and boring. At this point, I'm inclined to say that this song needs an absolutely hellacious solo to save it. If this is the solo, it's not enough- at least not so far. Oh- it ended. This was not, perhaps, the wisest choice to close out the album. Ah, well. I've never been inclined to judge albums based on the arrangement of the tracks, at least not to any great amount. At least 90% of an album's quality is, in my opinion, solely based on how good the songs are in and of themselves.
Final analysis: very quality, as good as Beyond. The primary attraction is the guitar work, but that is so undeniably cool and creative that it hardly matters if the other elements are sometimes overshadowed. I'd say this gets a solid A, which is a relief because my previous album of the year was the Dan Auerbach solo effort Keep It Hid, which, while a good album, was not deserving of that particular title.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Metaphysical Relationships to Bands
I've always thought this about The Black Keys: every song they write, even if it's not one I particularly like, gives me the feeling that it is executed perfectly- that is, given that they picked this particular song to write, they could not have done it better. They might have picked a better song to do, but this one is done perfectly.
Now, The Black Keys are not my favorite band- they fluctuate around the area from 2-5 on that list- but this is a completely unshakeable feeling that I have about them. For an example, the song "You're the One" (on Rubber Factory): I don't like this song. In fact, this is about the closest I come to actually disliking a Keys song. But I don't think there's anything they could have done to make it better without making it a different song.
My favorite band, though, is Led Zeppelin- something I bring up a lot, you may have noticed. My perception of them is very different. They represent, to me, a sort of Platonic method of music. It has always seemed to me that Zeppelin's music is completely organic (even when they use a Theremin), in the way that a tidal wave is "organic" (I guess "natural" would be more appropriate, since water is not an organism). Their music seems to just spontaneously come into being, as though the ideal form is reaching into the world to create an actual form. So, in a sense, even though both bands are blues-based riff-rock bands with awesome drummers, Zeppelin and The Black Keys represent a near complete conflict: the Keys manufacture an ideal, but Zeppelin merely emerges from or arises out of the preexisting ideal.
Put another way, I have the strange perception that Zeppelin's music must exist in some way or other, and that it would inevitably come into being (this is, of course, hyperbolic and over-analytic). The Keys, however, seem to be a completely superfluous, but totally awesome, development.
In a similar vein, Zeppelin seems to me to be cohesion- something that naturally comes together and sticks, like water, inevitably and without guile or choice- whereas the Keys are adhesion- a manufactured situation with parts being placed together with purpose and aforethought.
As a final summary: Zeppelin and the Keys have a remarkably similar sound (blues-based thump with unusual vocals and extensive riffing). Zeppelin, though, seems to have been almost an accident, even as far as their selection of personnel (look up the hiring of John Bonham), but an accident that had to happen eventually- i.e., I have the incredibly weird feeling that "When the Levee Breaks" would have been written and recorded at some point, or at least something remarkably close to it, whether or not Zeppelin as it was ever existed. The Keys, though, seem like a remarkably successful business model or science experiment. They seem manufactured, in the best possible sense. Despite their superficial roughness and crudity, they are in some ways more polished than the (comparably) smoother Zeppelin. But that ultimately is not enough to push them to the top of my personal list.
And no, I do not do drugs.
Now, The Black Keys are not my favorite band- they fluctuate around the area from 2-5 on that list- but this is a completely unshakeable feeling that I have about them. For an example, the song "You're the One" (on Rubber Factory): I don't like this song. In fact, this is about the closest I come to actually disliking a Keys song. But I don't think there's anything they could have done to make it better without making it a different song.
My favorite band, though, is Led Zeppelin- something I bring up a lot, you may have noticed. My perception of them is very different. They represent, to me, a sort of Platonic method of music. It has always seemed to me that Zeppelin's music is completely organic (even when they use a Theremin), in the way that a tidal wave is "organic" (I guess "natural" would be more appropriate, since water is not an organism). Their music seems to just spontaneously come into being, as though the ideal form is reaching into the world to create an actual form. So, in a sense, even though both bands are blues-based riff-rock bands with awesome drummers, Zeppelin and The Black Keys represent a near complete conflict: the Keys manufacture an ideal, but Zeppelin merely emerges from or arises out of the preexisting ideal.
Put another way, I have the strange perception that Zeppelin's music must exist in some way or other, and that it would inevitably come into being (this is, of course, hyperbolic and over-analytic). The Keys, however, seem to be a completely superfluous, but totally awesome, development.
In a similar vein, Zeppelin seems to me to be cohesion- something that naturally comes together and sticks, like water, inevitably and without guile or choice- whereas the Keys are adhesion- a manufactured situation with parts being placed together with purpose and aforethought.
As a final summary: Zeppelin and the Keys have a remarkably similar sound (blues-based thump with unusual vocals and extensive riffing). Zeppelin, though, seems to have been almost an accident, even as far as their selection of personnel (look up the hiring of John Bonham), but an accident that had to happen eventually- i.e., I have the incredibly weird feeling that "When the Levee Breaks" would have been written and recorded at some point, or at least something remarkably close to it, whether or not Zeppelin as it was ever existed. The Keys, though, seem like a remarkably successful business model or science experiment. They seem manufactured, in the best possible sense. Despite their superficial roughness and crudity, they are in some ways more polished than the (comparably) smoother Zeppelin. But that ultimately is not enough to push them to the top of my personal list.
And no, I do not do drugs.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
I've Probably Been Reading Too Much Chuck Klosterman
Because I'm going to write a weirdly metaphysical, or at least quasi-philosophical, post about music.
I've been thinking about how culture wars in general, but for some reason musical culture wars in particular, only apply to their own generation. For instance, Klosterman records- in Fargo Rock City- that he and his fellow metal fans felt obligated to support Motley Crue's Theatre of Pain despite believing it was something of a sellout album. Why? Because it was the "most metal" of all popular records that year.
Now, for me, the metal-vs.-non-metal war seems irrelevant: in general, I dislike metal, but there's some Sabbath, some Guns N' Roses, and some Metallica that I like. Whatever. I wouldn't say I'm a fan of these bands, but I can listen to them and enjoy some of their material. Similarly, I totally love Led Zeppelin in pretty much every way possible. I consider them to be a collision of very high-level musicianship, intensity, and a mythic air that is hard to define (and I don't buy into the Satanist rumors or anything like that). However, I also really really like The Clash, despite the fact that one of the members (Paul Simonon? Joe Strummer?) said that he didn't need to listen to Zeppelin to know he hated them because "just looking at the album covers makes me want to throw up." I recognize the fact that the early punk rockers hated Led Zeppelin and everything they represented: virtuosic guitar solos, the long haired look, commercial success, and lives of excess (and, to be honest, I don't like the hair or the excess, either). But the fact is, that dichotomy seems completely irrelevant to me. I go on loving Zeppelin and really liking The Clash just the same. I'm not much of a punk fan in a general sense, but I am definitely a Clash fan in specific.
That being said, I don't feel that way about current cultural conflicts. For instance, I hate emo in general, therefore I feel pressure to hate emo in specific (although some borderline emo bands- Coheed and Cambria, for instance- mildly appeal to me). I feel obligated to hate every specific emo band. And, for the sake of accuracy, I generally do hate every individual emo band (especially Fallout Boy). But the fact is, I am involved in this war between non-emo and emo. I feel the same way about goth- I feel obligated to hate it although I like The Cure's sound. I don't usually bring that up and I don't own much of their music, but I could see myself being into them. Part of that might be because they are an older goth-type band, and I can see them in a different context- i.e., 80s music. I believe that, in the future (say the early 2020s), this sort of conflict will seem irrelevant to most people listening to the music. I expect the teenagers of the 2020s to find it weird that I took a side on the emo issue, much as I think it strange that you had to declare yourself in the punk-vs.-hard rock/heavy metal war. I suppose the key is cultural distance, which can help you see beyond particular biases and simply pick and choose the sound you like most.
That said, emo freaking sucks.
I've been thinking about how culture wars in general, but for some reason musical culture wars in particular, only apply to their own generation. For instance, Klosterman records- in Fargo Rock City- that he and his fellow metal fans felt obligated to support Motley Crue's Theatre of Pain despite believing it was something of a sellout album. Why? Because it was the "most metal" of all popular records that year.
Now, for me, the metal-vs.-non-metal war seems irrelevant: in general, I dislike metal, but there's some Sabbath, some Guns N' Roses, and some Metallica that I like. Whatever. I wouldn't say I'm a fan of these bands, but I can listen to them and enjoy some of their material. Similarly, I totally love Led Zeppelin in pretty much every way possible. I consider them to be a collision of very high-level musicianship, intensity, and a mythic air that is hard to define (and I don't buy into the Satanist rumors or anything like that). However, I also really really like The Clash, despite the fact that one of the members (Paul Simonon? Joe Strummer?) said that he didn't need to listen to Zeppelin to know he hated them because "just looking at the album covers makes me want to throw up." I recognize the fact that the early punk rockers hated Led Zeppelin and everything they represented: virtuosic guitar solos, the long haired look, commercial success, and lives of excess (and, to be honest, I don't like the hair or the excess, either). But the fact is, that dichotomy seems completely irrelevant to me. I go on loving Zeppelin and really liking The Clash just the same. I'm not much of a punk fan in a general sense, but I am definitely a Clash fan in specific.
That being said, I don't feel that way about current cultural conflicts. For instance, I hate emo in general, therefore I feel pressure to hate emo in specific (although some borderline emo bands- Coheed and Cambria, for instance- mildly appeal to me). I feel obligated to hate every specific emo band. And, for the sake of accuracy, I generally do hate every individual emo band (especially Fallout Boy). But the fact is, I am involved in this war between non-emo and emo. I feel the same way about goth- I feel obligated to hate it although I like The Cure's sound. I don't usually bring that up and I don't own much of their music, but I could see myself being into them. Part of that might be because they are an older goth-type band, and I can see them in a different context- i.e., 80s music. I believe that, in the future (say the early 2020s), this sort of conflict will seem irrelevant to most people listening to the music. I expect the teenagers of the 2020s to find it weird that I took a side on the emo issue, much as I think it strange that you had to declare yourself in the punk-vs.-hard rock/heavy metal war. I suppose the key is cultural distance, which can help you see beyond particular biases and simply pick and choose the sound you like most.
That said, emo freaking sucks.
I Had to Mention It
I had not seen the Calzaghe-Lacy fight until a few days ago, when I watched it on Youtube. Quite simply, I don't think I've ever seen someone more dominated than Jeff Lacy, even though he kept his feet (mostly). I never realized exactly how quick Calzaghe could be, and he absolutely tagged Lacy a few times, especially with right hooks and left uppercuts. The fact is, Lacy looked like an amateur. I don't know if I'm really going anywhere with this, I just wanted to point it out.
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