I'm not sure if I've already done a second one of these, but I've got some things on my mind and should be writing a paper on Aristotle, so I hadn't much time.
With that in mind, I've returned to Pascal which I haven't read in some time (4 years, already?), but I think it's shaped my thinking greatly despite going into it intentionally skeptical. What I expected to dismiss as religious drivel I've since actually appropriated for myself. Anyway:
- A lot of people (Pascal and Aristotle, as well as Confucius included) think moderation is the way to go. Being an anarchist, I suppose I disagree with them
- Pascal, upon rereading him, seems to be a lot like Zeno of Elea in his approach, namely in his obsession with paradox and his general belief in the limits of human knowledge. I'm not sure people interpret him in the same way, however. I've seen far too many people taking Pascal's Wager seriously to think it the predominant reading of The Pensées, though academics probably do take the less literal approach
- I've been talking to people about agnosticism recently, and I still don't understand it. Perhaps it's just me, but I can't think of any subject I don't have at least a gut feeling about, regardless of evidence. I suppose, again, reading Pascal sort of made me skeptical of basing any belief on raw statistical probability, perhaps making me more susceptible to use faith instead of scientific reasoning.
- For me, the greatest challenge would be to unite faith and religion. Pascal attempts this through citing miracles (which he himself believed he had experienced first hand), but generally I find it difficult to unite my belief in God to any particular religion, having grown up an atheist with no natural predisposition. Logically speaking, I'd likely be a Muslim, because I find it more likely that God should continue to have made prophets after the last Hebrew prophets and after Jesus, but stopping at Mohammed doesn't logically make much sense either. Also, a just God, in my opinion, would not require rituals in His name, and would leave it up to each person to recognize Him as he or she pleased. This is generally incompatible with organized religion. As I see it, consistent personal behavior will always override ritual induced piety on its own
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Idlewild and Post-Britpop
Perhaps what has made Idlewild so much less heralded than other indie acts that seem, to me at least, to be of lesser similar quality is their nebulous nature. Not only have they changed greatly over time, much to the chagrin of fans like myself, but they were never very easy to categorize in the first place.
Some [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-Britpop], however, have attempted to categorize them as Post-Britpop, which to me seemed initially inaccurate considering Britpop really didn't play much into their sound as far as I can tell. The more I think about it, however, it seems to make sense.
First of all, however, what is Post-Britpop? The term sounds like something rather obscure, but in reality it's perhaps one of the most popular musical genres of the past 10 years, including bands like Snow Patrol, Keane, Doves, and the titanically famous Coldplay and Radiohead. These bands all share a universal sentimentality of lyrical themes as well as often light and ambient instrumentation, both of which derive themselves from the Britpop era. The latter is pretty clear, as the music of Coldplay and the softer Post-Britpop bands is very clearly a more sanitized interpretation of Oasis and Blur's more typical rock sound, while Radiohead seems to follow more the edgier sound of Suede as well as the grunge movement that preceded Britpop in the musical consciousness. The sound is more standardized and more melodic, in general, than Britpop, which tended to be more idiosyncratic while also re-appropriating older themes and styles in a new aesthetic setting.
The lyrical themes, however, diverge greatly from those of Britpop, being, as stated previously, far more sentimental in nature than even a greater part of the prior movement. Consider for examples Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know", Coldplay's "Yellow" or "Viva la Vida", and Radiohead's "High and Dry". Now, sentimentality was indeed well represented in Britpop - Pulp's most popular songs thrive on being sympathetic in the same sense, and Blur and Oasis, who are perhaps the greatest influence on Post-Britpop, participating in it themselves after Be Here Now, also went in this direction - as an inheritance from the '80's Post-Punk of The Smiths and Joy Division as well as Britpop predecessors such as The Stone Roses and The La's. What differed in Britpop was that this sentimentality was used for an almost political message, to display the existential problems of the Thatcher and post-Thatcher Era working class. In Pulp, we see sentimentality primarily in a sexual context, with "Do You Remember the First Time?", "Pink Glove", "Disco 2000", and "Sylvia" being primary examples. Class conflict also plays a role, most notably on Different Class, with songs like "Mis-Shapes" and "Common People" pointing out the disconnect caused by economic stratification. Suede also uses sentimentality, though is decidedly edgier in general. Nonetheless, the less intense songs on Suede (easily identified when listening to the album) as well as songs like "The Chemistry Between Us", "The Wild Ones", and "The 2 of Us" similarly present the singer in a sympathetic state of inferiority. Once again, Suede tends to treat themes of sexuality and class, with an even greater honesty than Pulp and great melodrama besides. Blur also treats issues of class with sentimental tact, juxtaposing this with crass pop and rock cliches. Thus, we see in "Country House" a bouncy chorus balanced with falsetto moanings in the background, and "Parklife" juxtaposes musings on droll routines with a chorus that unites all of humanity in recognition of the inanity of life. Finally, there are Oasis, who, being very proudly of the lower class themselves, do not treat the same issues as their fellows. Noel Gallagher's song-writing goal was instead to provide an upbeat and positive counter to grunge, while songs like "She's Electric", "Digsy's Dinner", and "Cigarette's and Alcohol" also treat the routine of daily life.
How does Idlewild fit into this? Certainly, it's understandably that they should, at first glance, fall into the same category as post-Britpop artists. Taking alone The Remote Part, Idlewild's most popular album, released at the height of this movement, the similarities do exist. "American English" could easily be a Coldplay song, while "You Held the World In Your Arms" and "A Modern Way of Letting Go" could be perceived as deriving from the heavier moments of Oasis. Such a perception is only coincidentally feasible, since Idlewild's placement in Post-Britpop is really only possible for the sole moment of The Remote Part, taking all of Idlewild's oeuvre in context (with a healthy dose of hindsight), it's very easy to understand it not as a reflection of Britpop or even Post-Britpop sensibilities, but rather as a transition from Punk to Folk, as is clear in comparing the progression of Idlewild's albums from Hope is Important to Post-Electric Blues. Thus, The Remote Part has a very moderate sound because it is, even in every way, a very moderate album on the route from loud punk to withdrawn folk.
Then if the sounds is thus explained, where does the sentimentality come from? To be clear, Idlewild has always been sentimental and honest. Even on Captain and Hope is Important, tracks like "Self Healer" and "You Don't Have the Heart" have been offset by "Annihilate Now!" (a less brash song than the title would imply), "I'm Happy to be Here Tonight", and "Safe and Sound". My hypothesis is that, leaving all personal sentimentality aside, the aesthetic reflected here comes not from Britpop or the introverted post-Punk that preceded and inspired it, but rather from Punk itself, especially, as I see it, from Superchunk and, in albums like The Remote Part, R.E.M. To me, Superchunk seems like a clear forerunner to the ideas espoused in albums like Hope is Important and 100 Broken Windows. It's edgy, but with feeling - lines like "I'll be the stick in your spokes, so you better laugh at my jokes" display a youthful sarcasm that also expresses a sense of inferiority very similar to that of Idlewild's music, in general, with lines such as "listen to what you've got (I'm what you've got), until you realize that it's nothing" and "I have to stop saying, 'to be honest'. It's not a real defeat to have to stop saying, 'to be honest'". This conflict of appearances and reality, of sensitivity and a facade of inner fortitude, is not dissimilar to that of Britpop in general, and Idlewild's inclination toward folk - something that unfortunately happens to many bands that I like, including Slowdive and Teenage Fanclub as well - served to temper this Superchunk-esque sentimentality to something more akin to that of the Post-Britpop balladeers.
In conclusion, then, the similar aesthetics found in Idlewild's transitionary work and that of the Post-Britpop artists is likely a mere coincidence: a coincidence that implies first an interesting message about the confluence of musical styles and influences and their varying effects and secondly a need for caution when attempting to identify such influences.
Some [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-Britpop], however, have attempted to categorize them as Post-Britpop, which to me seemed initially inaccurate considering Britpop really didn't play much into their sound as far as I can tell. The more I think about it, however, it seems to make sense.
First of all, however, what is Post-Britpop? The term sounds like something rather obscure, but in reality it's perhaps one of the most popular musical genres of the past 10 years, including bands like Snow Patrol, Keane, Doves, and the titanically famous Coldplay and Radiohead. These bands all share a universal sentimentality of lyrical themes as well as often light and ambient instrumentation, both of which derive themselves from the Britpop era. The latter is pretty clear, as the music of Coldplay and the softer Post-Britpop bands is very clearly a more sanitized interpretation of Oasis and Blur's more typical rock sound, while Radiohead seems to follow more the edgier sound of Suede as well as the grunge movement that preceded Britpop in the musical consciousness. The sound is more standardized and more melodic, in general, than Britpop, which tended to be more idiosyncratic while also re-appropriating older themes and styles in a new aesthetic setting.
The lyrical themes, however, diverge greatly from those of Britpop, being, as stated previously, far more sentimental in nature than even a greater part of the prior movement. Consider for examples Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know", Coldplay's "Yellow" or "Viva la Vida", and Radiohead's "High and Dry". Now, sentimentality was indeed well represented in Britpop - Pulp's most popular songs thrive on being sympathetic in the same sense, and Blur and Oasis, who are perhaps the greatest influence on Post-Britpop, participating in it themselves after Be Here Now, also went in this direction - as an inheritance from the '80's Post-Punk of The Smiths and Joy Division as well as Britpop predecessors such as The Stone Roses and The La's. What differed in Britpop was that this sentimentality was used for an almost political message, to display the existential problems of the Thatcher and post-Thatcher Era working class. In Pulp, we see sentimentality primarily in a sexual context, with "Do You Remember the First Time?", "Pink Glove", "Disco 2000", and "Sylvia" being primary examples. Class conflict also plays a role, most notably on Different Class, with songs like "Mis-Shapes" and "Common People" pointing out the disconnect caused by economic stratification. Suede also uses sentimentality, though is decidedly edgier in general. Nonetheless, the less intense songs on Suede (easily identified when listening to the album) as well as songs like "The Chemistry Between Us", "The Wild Ones", and "The 2 of Us" similarly present the singer in a sympathetic state of inferiority. Once again, Suede tends to treat themes of sexuality and class, with an even greater honesty than Pulp and great melodrama besides. Blur also treats issues of class with sentimental tact, juxtaposing this with crass pop and rock cliches. Thus, we see in "Country House" a bouncy chorus balanced with falsetto moanings in the background, and "Parklife" juxtaposes musings on droll routines with a chorus that unites all of humanity in recognition of the inanity of life. Finally, there are Oasis, who, being very proudly of the lower class themselves, do not treat the same issues as their fellows. Noel Gallagher's song-writing goal was instead to provide an upbeat and positive counter to grunge, while songs like "She's Electric", "Digsy's Dinner", and "Cigarette's and Alcohol" also treat the routine of daily life.
How does Idlewild fit into this? Certainly, it's understandably that they should, at first glance, fall into the same category as post-Britpop artists. Taking alone The Remote Part, Idlewild's most popular album, released at the height of this movement, the similarities do exist. "American English" could easily be a Coldplay song, while "You Held the World In Your Arms" and "A Modern Way of Letting Go" could be perceived as deriving from the heavier moments of Oasis. Such a perception is only coincidentally feasible, since Idlewild's placement in Post-Britpop is really only possible for the sole moment of The Remote Part, taking all of Idlewild's oeuvre in context (with a healthy dose of hindsight), it's very easy to understand it not as a reflection of Britpop or even Post-Britpop sensibilities, but rather as a transition from Punk to Folk, as is clear in comparing the progression of Idlewild's albums from Hope is Important to Post-Electric Blues. Thus, The Remote Part has a very moderate sound because it is, even in every way, a very moderate album on the route from loud punk to withdrawn folk.
Then if the sounds is thus explained, where does the sentimentality come from? To be clear, Idlewild has always been sentimental and honest. Even on Captain and Hope is Important, tracks like "Self Healer" and "You Don't Have the Heart" have been offset by "Annihilate Now!" (a less brash song than the title would imply), "I'm Happy to be Here Tonight", and "Safe and Sound". My hypothesis is that, leaving all personal sentimentality aside, the aesthetic reflected here comes not from Britpop or the introverted post-Punk that preceded and inspired it, but rather from Punk itself, especially, as I see it, from Superchunk and, in albums like The Remote Part, R.E.M. To me, Superchunk seems like a clear forerunner to the ideas espoused in albums like Hope is Important and 100 Broken Windows. It's edgy, but with feeling - lines like "I'll be the stick in your spokes, so you better laugh at my jokes" display a youthful sarcasm that also expresses a sense of inferiority very similar to that of Idlewild's music, in general, with lines such as "listen to what you've got (I'm what you've got), until you realize that it's nothing" and "I have to stop saying, 'to be honest'. It's not a real defeat to have to stop saying, 'to be honest'". This conflict of appearances and reality, of sensitivity and a facade of inner fortitude, is not dissimilar to that of Britpop in general, and Idlewild's inclination toward folk - something that unfortunately happens to many bands that I like, including Slowdive and Teenage Fanclub as well - served to temper this Superchunk-esque sentimentality to something more akin to that of the Post-Britpop balladeers.
In conclusion, then, the similar aesthetics found in Idlewild's transitionary work and that of the Post-Britpop artists is likely a mere coincidence: a coincidence that implies first an interesting message about the confluence of musical styles and influences and their varying effects and secondly a need for caution when attempting to identify such influences.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
New MBV Album Due
First off, what? To me, this is an incredible surprise that came absolutely out of nowhere. Plenty of shoegaze bands have reissued their old albums in the past 5-10 years, Slowdive, Chapterhouse, Swervedriver, and Ride among them, but none of them have gone about recording new material, so obviously this is almost a dream come true that I would not have expected (though it does appear that Kevin Shields & Co. put a ton of effort into their remasterings, while the bands named above haven't really gotten together recently for anything, so maybe this isn't such a surprise).
There's one interesting caveat though: http://www.nme.com/news/my-bloody-valentine/64118. "The new My Bloody Valentine album was influenced by the Beach Boys". For someone as pedantic as myself, this isn't exactly welcome news. When bands start working with out-of-left-field pop influences, some odd things happen - consider Idlewild's post-Remote Part output and Suede's A New Morning for examples.
There is some hope, however. In the news section of the My Bloody Valentine website, there's a quote from Kevin Shields where he says, "The songs on Loveless had more in common with folk-blues music to me." If Loveless was inspired by generally bland folk and blues, I'm not too worried about a Beach Boys inspired MBV album.
There's one interesting caveat though: http://www.nme.com/news/my-bloody-valentine/64118. "The new My Bloody Valentine album was influenced by the Beach Boys". For someone as pedantic as myself, this isn't exactly welcome news. When bands start working with out-of-left-field pop influences, some odd things happen - consider Idlewild's post-Remote Part output and Suede's A New Morning for examples.
There is some hope, however. In the news section of the My Bloody Valentine website, there's a quote from Kevin Shields where he says, "The songs on Loveless had more in common with folk-blues music to me." If Loveless was inspired by generally bland folk and blues, I'm not too worried about a Beach Boys inspired MBV album.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Album Reviews - not fitting for Halloween edition
PORTASTATIC - I HOPE YOUR HEART IS NOT BRITTLE - 8.5/10
This is the first of two Mac McCaughan involving records that I will be reviewing today, and it is certainly the more unexpected of the two. Where Superchunk is frequently brash and energetic, Mac McCaughan's more or less solo debut with the Portastatic moniker is very nearly anything but, with only "Tree Killer" really expressive of the sort of fast paced kineticism typical of McCaughan's regular gig. The change involved in I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle is not unwelcome, however. In place of the rowdy teen punk wannabe sound that Superchunk seems to eternally encompass, even as the band members surpass 40 years of age, this Portastatic debut is remarkably laid back. Rather than surging, it meanders slowly through melody after melody, with a disinterestedness that is every bit as endearing as Superchunk's anxiously zooming nerves. Where Superchunk tries to be '80's punk but is too nice to do it all the way, Portastatic, at least on this record, seems to want to show some post-rock atmosphere but is again to sunny to pull it off. I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle has the same fireside warmth of Rachel's or sedate Mogwai and infuses it with a sort of lo-fi folkiness. What emerges is a sort of Americana that is not entirely surprising. Just as Superchunk practically embodies American indie rock with its fusion of pointedly American punk and hardcore with American good kid attitude (the sort of attitude Suede or Blur could never pull off), Portastatic brings out a sort of American backcountry relaxation and laziness (as opposed to the frenetic pace I associate with the American cityscape) and infuses it with the earnest sensitivity that it deserves but rarely gets in a way that's neither proud nor showy. This is not really a folk-record, though. It's far too self-aware and creative for that. It is, however, perhaps the ideal autumn record. Highlights include "Polaroid", "Creeping Around", and "Naked Pilseners".
SUPERCHUNK - ON THE MOUTH - 8/10
It's clear from the first note that this album is nothing like I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle, if one were to compare the two - a prospect which immediately seems silly. On the Mouth is pumped full of angst, energy, and determination. Opener "Precision Auto" declares as much, as McCaughan sings, "do not pass me just to slow down: I have precision auto." I'm not sure what the words mean, but the sense in which he sings it makes it clear that Superchunk has somewhere to go, they work hard to get there in this album. In many ways, On the Mouth is the paragon of Superchunk albums. Where No Pocky for Kitty was harsh and moody, On the Mouth takes this energy and infuses it with a happy-go-lucky angst that has become Superchunk's identity. For this reason, it would probably make a great intro to the band for someone who wanted to sum it up in 45 minutes. In general, it's also pretty solid and very consistent - maybe too consistent. To be sure, I prefer the layout of this album to that of Here's Where the Strings Come In, which started out brilliantly but fell off by the end, but there is less variety here than in No Pocky for Kitty, Come Pick Me Up, or the more recent Majesty Shredding - all undeniably spectacular albums. Taken individually, all of the songs on On the Mouth are pretty spectacular, and though Superchunk does well to slow things down every so often here, to great effect on "Mower" and "Swallow That", it in general starts to feel like they're sometimes just going through the motions at times, though, I should clarify, it's not as if this album lacks passion. Altogether, it's a solid album, and a very Superchunk album. Perhaps because of this, it doesn't feel as new or different as Come Pick Me Up does. Highlights include "For Tension", "Package Thief", and "Swallow That".
SWERVEDRIVER - RAISE - 8.5/10
Swervedriver has always seemed like the best of all possible bands to me. They're a little bit shoegaze, a little bit grunge; a little bit indie, a little bit rock 'n' roll (I'm sorry: I hate that term and I promise I meant to use it ironically). Raise is just a very, very good album, but one that's hard to describe because it's got a bit of everything in it. I'm not really sure why it gets the shoegaze categorization - there's a good deal of texture here, at least as much as you would find in Ride, for instance, but this isn't sweeping, elegant music. It's loud and punchy. It's even good driving music, because this band is called Swervedriver and there are songs called "Song of Mustang Ford", "Pile Up", and "Deep Seat" on it. It doesn't come off as crass, though. This somehow manages to be a cool kid's album with some awareness, and despite "Pile Up" sounding like arcade driving game music, the rest of it is heavy in a way that imparts a pensive atmosphere. Rather than being loud and noisy like a souped up Camry, Raise is sleek and thought provoking like an Alfa Romeo. This aspect of introspection is really necessary here, and Swervedriver do a great job of it. With a bit more consistency on this, their debut, Swervedriver would have hit it out of the park on the first try, but as it stands they would have to wait for their next two albums to do that. Highlights include "Rave Down", "Sandblasted", and "Deep Seat".
SUEDE - COMING UP - 9/10
Suede's first two albums are consensus classics, yet Coming Up isn't. To be honest, having bought and listened to it, I'm not quite sure why. It's undoubtedly poppier, but it's poppy in a novel and entertaining way. Album opener "Trash" isn't just a hit single - it's a hit single with a message about superficiality and all those other Brett Anderson lyrical obsessions and a bittersweet guitar riff that soars above the rest of the music. What does this tell us? First of all, Richard Oakes may not be Bernard Butler, but he's no slouch. Of course the anecdote is that Brett thought his tape was a Butler demo, but he really does bring a great deal to the table. The atmospheric's on Coming Up are certainly different than those of Suede's first two albums, but that doesn't mean they're bad. Previously, Suede's sound was consumed in darkness, and Butler provided a veritable cornucopia of sounds to back up Anderson's high and angsty voice. Here, the production tends toward the high end, giving it a "cellophane sound", as Anderson intones in "Trash", that evokes the superficiality of music as a whole. Some have also poked fun at Anderson's self-derivitive lexicon. For instance, he uses the probably meaningless phrase "heavy metal stutter" in "Starcrazy" as well as Dog Man Star era B-side "Killing of a Flashboy". I will agree that this does nothing for me, and I don't like the phrase in either song. In the end, this challenge is meaningless, however. Anderson is working toward a new, ultra-modern vocabulary that has been missing from poetic discourse. He's not trying to talk about things in the accepted vocabulary of Romantic poetry and Realist novels, he's trying to invent a new lingo that properly explains contemporary society, and if he has to use eminently modern words with no real long tested connotations, there's no fault in that. In fact, it adds a valuable lyrical imagery to an album whose sound aesthetic already tends toward the ultramodern. Coming Up may be a bright and sugary album, in contrast to its dark and depraved predecessors, but its sparkly exterior is a but a showy facade that works because it's self-aware. Closer "Saturday Night" and the melancholic "Starcrazy" remind us that the happy go lucky attitude that seems to pervade "Trash", "Beautiful Ones", and "Lazy" are by no means meant to be taken seriously, and the almost Blur-esque sarcasm of "Picnic by the Motorway", with an emptily echoing chorus reminiscent of such Blur tunes as "Yuko and Hiro" and "The Universal", backs this up. Coming Up, like every Suede album, has its inconsistencies. "Filmstar" and "She" fall well short of the rest of the album, just as "Introducing the Band" and "The Power" lacked the subtlety of the remainder of Dog Man Star and "Moving" and "Animal Lover" lacked the depth of the rest of Suede. All in all, however, Coming Up is every bit as good anything else Suede ever did, fusing Anderson's dark wit with an ironic bubblegum texture that confuses our expectations and thus makes for an interesting shift from the previously established Suede aesthetic. It seems they weren't able to continue their high quality output afterward, but this first release without Bernard Butler should have served to secure Brett Anderson's status as one of the great musicians of recent times. Highlights include "Trash", "Beautiful Ones", and "Starcrazy".
This is the first of two Mac McCaughan involving records that I will be reviewing today, and it is certainly the more unexpected of the two. Where Superchunk is frequently brash and energetic, Mac McCaughan's more or less solo debut with the Portastatic moniker is very nearly anything but, with only "Tree Killer" really expressive of the sort of fast paced kineticism typical of McCaughan's regular gig. The change involved in I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle is not unwelcome, however. In place of the rowdy teen punk wannabe sound that Superchunk seems to eternally encompass, even as the band members surpass 40 years of age, this Portastatic debut is remarkably laid back. Rather than surging, it meanders slowly through melody after melody, with a disinterestedness that is every bit as endearing as Superchunk's anxiously zooming nerves. Where Superchunk tries to be '80's punk but is too nice to do it all the way, Portastatic, at least on this record, seems to want to show some post-rock atmosphere but is again to sunny to pull it off. I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle has the same fireside warmth of Rachel's or sedate Mogwai and infuses it with a sort of lo-fi folkiness. What emerges is a sort of Americana that is not entirely surprising. Just as Superchunk practically embodies American indie rock with its fusion of pointedly American punk and hardcore with American good kid attitude (the sort of attitude Suede or Blur could never pull off), Portastatic brings out a sort of American backcountry relaxation and laziness (as opposed to the frenetic pace I associate with the American cityscape) and infuses it with the earnest sensitivity that it deserves but rarely gets in a way that's neither proud nor showy. This is not really a folk-record, though. It's far too self-aware and creative for that. It is, however, perhaps the ideal autumn record. Highlights include "Polaroid", "Creeping Around", and "Naked Pilseners".
SUPERCHUNK - ON THE MOUTH - 8/10
It's clear from the first note that this album is nothing like I Hope Your Heart is not Brittle, if one were to compare the two - a prospect which immediately seems silly. On the Mouth is pumped full of angst, energy, and determination. Opener "Precision Auto" declares as much, as McCaughan sings, "do not pass me just to slow down: I have precision auto." I'm not sure what the words mean, but the sense in which he sings it makes it clear that Superchunk has somewhere to go, they work hard to get there in this album. In many ways, On the Mouth is the paragon of Superchunk albums. Where No Pocky for Kitty was harsh and moody, On the Mouth takes this energy and infuses it with a happy-go-lucky angst that has become Superchunk's identity. For this reason, it would probably make a great intro to the band for someone who wanted to sum it up in 45 minutes. In general, it's also pretty solid and very consistent - maybe too consistent. To be sure, I prefer the layout of this album to that of Here's Where the Strings Come In, which started out brilliantly but fell off by the end, but there is less variety here than in No Pocky for Kitty, Come Pick Me Up, or the more recent Majesty Shredding - all undeniably spectacular albums. Taken individually, all of the songs on On the Mouth are pretty spectacular, and though Superchunk does well to slow things down every so often here, to great effect on "Mower" and "Swallow That", it in general starts to feel like they're sometimes just going through the motions at times, though, I should clarify, it's not as if this album lacks passion. Altogether, it's a solid album, and a very Superchunk album. Perhaps because of this, it doesn't feel as new or different as Come Pick Me Up does. Highlights include "For Tension", "Package Thief", and "Swallow That".
SWERVEDRIVER - RAISE - 8.5/10
Swervedriver has always seemed like the best of all possible bands to me. They're a little bit shoegaze, a little bit grunge; a little bit indie, a little bit rock 'n' roll (I'm sorry: I hate that term and I promise I meant to use it ironically). Raise is just a very, very good album, but one that's hard to describe because it's got a bit of everything in it. I'm not really sure why it gets the shoegaze categorization - there's a good deal of texture here, at least as much as you would find in Ride, for instance, but this isn't sweeping, elegant music. It's loud and punchy. It's even good driving music, because this band is called Swervedriver and there are songs called "Song of Mustang Ford", "Pile Up", and "Deep Seat" on it. It doesn't come off as crass, though. This somehow manages to be a cool kid's album with some awareness, and despite "Pile Up" sounding like arcade driving game music, the rest of it is heavy in a way that imparts a pensive atmosphere. Rather than being loud and noisy like a souped up Camry, Raise is sleek and thought provoking like an Alfa Romeo. This aspect of introspection is really necessary here, and Swervedriver do a great job of it. With a bit more consistency on this, their debut, Swervedriver would have hit it out of the park on the first try, but as it stands they would have to wait for their next two albums to do that. Highlights include "Rave Down", "Sandblasted", and "Deep Seat".
SUEDE - COMING UP - 9/10
Suede's first two albums are consensus classics, yet Coming Up isn't. To be honest, having bought and listened to it, I'm not quite sure why. It's undoubtedly poppier, but it's poppy in a novel and entertaining way. Album opener "Trash" isn't just a hit single - it's a hit single with a message about superficiality and all those other Brett Anderson lyrical obsessions and a bittersweet guitar riff that soars above the rest of the music. What does this tell us? First of all, Richard Oakes may not be Bernard Butler, but he's no slouch. Of course the anecdote is that Brett thought his tape was a Butler demo, but he really does bring a great deal to the table. The atmospheric's on Coming Up are certainly different than those of Suede's first two albums, but that doesn't mean they're bad. Previously, Suede's sound was consumed in darkness, and Butler provided a veritable cornucopia of sounds to back up Anderson's high and angsty voice. Here, the production tends toward the high end, giving it a "cellophane sound", as Anderson intones in "Trash", that evokes the superficiality of music as a whole. Some have also poked fun at Anderson's self-derivitive lexicon. For instance, he uses the probably meaningless phrase "heavy metal stutter" in "Starcrazy" as well as Dog Man Star era B-side "Killing of a Flashboy". I will agree that this does nothing for me, and I don't like the phrase in either song. In the end, this challenge is meaningless, however. Anderson is working toward a new, ultra-modern vocabulary that has been missing from poetic discourse. He's not trying to talk about things in the accepted vocabulary of Romantic poetry and Realist novels, he's trying to invent a new lingo that properly explains contemporary society, and if he has to use eminently modern words with no real long tested connotations, there's no fault in that. In fact, it adds a valuable lyrical imagery to an album whose sound aesthetic already tends toward the ultramodern. Coming Up may be a bright and sugary album, in contrast to its dark and depraved predecessors, but its sparkly exterior is a but a showy facade that works because it's self-aware. Closer "Saturday Night" and the melancholic "Starcrazy" remind us that the happy go lucky attitude that seems to pervade "Trash", "Beautiful Ones", and "Lazy" are by no means meant to be taken seriously, and the almost Blur-esque sarcasm of "Picnic by the Motorway", with an emptily echoing chorus reminiscent of such Blur tunes as "Yuko and Hiro" and "The Universal", backs this up. Coming Up, like every Suede album, has its inconsistencies. "Filmstar" and "She" fall well short of the rest of the album, just as "Introducing the Band" and "The Power" lacked the subtlety of the remainder of Dog Man Star and "Moving" and "Animal Lover" lacked the depth of the rest of Suede. All in all, however, Coming Up is every bit as good anything else Suede ever did, fusing Anderson's dark wit with an ironic bubblegum texture that confuses our expectations and thus makes for an interesting shift from the previously established Suede aesthetic. It seems they weren't able to continue their high quality output afterward, but this first release without Bernard Butler should have served to secure Brett Anderson's status as one of the great musicians of recent times. Highlights include "Trash", "Beautiful Ones", and "Starcrazy".
Thursday, October 25, 2012
In Defense of Oasis
Quite the arduous task, isn't it? But despite being frequently brilliant, though at times merely good, Oasis has never been a critic's darling. Even their successes are swept under the rug: check out this brief comment on "Live Forever" if you don't believe me [http://pitchfork.com/features/staff-lists/7852-the-top-200-tracks-of-the-1990s-50-21/]. It's all their own fault, really, and it wasn't just their in your face attitude - Blur never gets half the posthumous dissing even though Damon Albarn has every bit of the attitude that the brothers Gallagher have, but if you start acting like The Beatles, suddenly people think you think you are The Beatles. The fact that Oasis never were about reinventing the wheel brings about challenges of plagiarism that are in some cases accurate. That Oasis seemed to want to be their idols just makes them more susceptible - in 1993 Liam was wearing Ian Brown's hair, in 2003 he was wearing John Lennon's glasses. That post-Be Here Now Oasis was a mere shadow of their former selves makes them fruit ripe for the picking, when the transition between pop stardom and indie quaintness is seen as the ultimate sin, even as bonafide indie stardom becomes more and more real, and Bon Iver and Arcade Fire take home Grammies.
Oasis don't come off to me as just a bunch of wannabe rock star copycats, though. Sure, they didn't make much of an effort to differentiate themselves from their influences, but the music they recorded was so much more than The Beatles, 1990 Edition. The Beatles never had the power or the passion that reveals itself in Oasis, and for that reason, we can at the very least thank Oasis for bringing The Beatles to the sensitive chap. In this sense, Oasis is the ultimate fusion of popular music. The older styles can't be missed, and I won't try to pretend they aren't there, but Oasis takes them to infinitely more dizzying heights. "Don't Look Back In Anger" may take some of the piano bit from "Imagine", but it then does what Lennon never could, which was write a boy meets girl song with some reality and some emotion in it. This realism is the real core of Oasis' music. The images they present are intense and powerful, yet they're grounded in reality, and Liam's vocals and Noel's guitar have the power and passion to match these forces.
Definitely Maybe, being Oasis' first album, is able to avoid a great deal of criticism. Where it's heavy, this gravity is palpable - "Live Forever" and "Slide Away" display a passion that many would deny Oasis ever had. These songs not only have a desperate energy that can't be missed by the listener, but treat subjects very real to our own life: the unachievability of lasting life and love. The difference on Definitely Maybe, when it comes to the critic's perspective, is that when Oasis doesn't try to be weighty, they don't end up being straight pop. In a sense, perhaps the critics are too generous to Oasis' debut. "Rock 'n' Roll Star", "Supersonic", and "Shakermaker" cover subjects of no greater intellectual and emotional vitality than the banal moneymaking songs of Bon Jovi or Aerosmith. On Definitely Maybe, however, this comes off as a sort of innocence that I don't think is at all absent. "Rock 'n' Roll Star" may be the sole song about wanting to be a rock star that is actually genuine. The realism of Oasis' early music is that they're true working class Mancunians, and therein lay much of their charm for the Britpop fanatics of the '90's. When Liam says it, he really means it. This is what makes "Digsy's Dinner" and "Married with Children" such timeless works of art. The former is an endlessly charming song about the lightest of romantic interactions and the permanence they can achieve, and the earnestness in Liam's voice is an instant winner. The latter is almost the opposite: an unashamed yet not gloating break-up litany, yet it manages to be this without either complaining or ranting. It's character assassination is so gentle as to be non existent, and this makes it seem so real. Definitely Maybe is an album of blue collar urbanites showing their softer side, and maybe not quite knowing how to do it, making it an absolutely likable album.
What's the Story (Morning Glory)? is a step toward the Oasis everybody knows, and many don't love. There is indeed a sense of self-importance here that was missing in their debut, but this is not a hindrance. Instead, it enables the true flowering of Oasis' musical genius. How so? This sense of self-importance does have the drawback of making any flaws not only apparent, but painful. On Definitely Maybe, the band could get away with a pointless or pedestrian lyric, or an inaccurate observation, because it had an aura of carefree innocence, like it was just a practice round that shouldn't be judged too seriously, and any "Live Forever" type triumphs become a sort of spontaneous burst of musical genius, the sort of thing Blake, Byron, or Pushkin would be proud of. On What's the Story, this safety net is gone, and the stakes are much higher, because this is a serious album, not playful stuff. Nonetheless, they hit it out of the park more often than not. It starts slowly, "Hello" sputtering at times, and "Roll with It" alternating bland pop with touching sincerity, but it soon hits its stride. Though not the biggest "Wonderwall" fan, I must admit the popularity it has gained for being the sort of serious song of which I speak, and the album only goes up from there. "Don't Look Back in Anger" takes the predictable, and flips it, taking optimistic and wide-eyed imagery and crafting from it a song about failure as well as success, a song about people being people, warts and all, just trying to get ahead. Listen to it again: it's more real than it would seem. "Hey Now!" goes past this mark, mixing not joviality into it. It is very much a patchwork of dark and moody symbols, whose refrain brings us to think about our connections to the past as individuals. After a brief instrumental that is like a 40 second slice of the '90's as I remember it, "Some Might Say" ensues, with its intense guitar riff turning into a message of secular faith and hope, reminding us that our daily lives may indeed have a purpose. "Cast No Shadow", perhaps the deepest song of the album, is a comment on the essence of the songwriter, a modern poet taking up the labor of that the imagists left undone. "She's Electric" is a bit of neo-Digsy's nostalgia that is to some extent repeated in "Champagne Supernova" with the added question, "how many special people change?", while the title track is the most intense song on the album, raising more questions than it answers. What's the Story (Morning Glory)? is a serious work of songwriting, and perhaps it was too serious. For Be Here Now and it's successors, Oasis adopted the soul of What's the Story (Morning Glory)? and took it farther than it could perhaps ever go. It's philosophical soul was lost for the Oasis creed of optimism in the face of ever darkening times, while its fragile seriousness was preserved even when the material didn't match this atmosphere. Thus the decline of Oasis, which for many became a caricature of rock stardom, the very essence of taking one's self too seriously. Oasis' first two albums, however, show that this seriousness was very justified.
Oasis don't come off to me as just a bunch of wannabe rock star copycats, though. Sure, they didn't make much of an effort to differentiate themselves from their influences, but the music they recorded was so much more than The Beatles, 1990 Edition. The Beatles never had the power or the passion that reveals itself in Oasis, and for that reason, we can at the very least thank Oasis for bringing The Beatles to the sensitive chap. In this sense, Oasis is the ultimate fusion of popular music. The older styles can't be missed, and I won't try to pretend they aren't there, but Oasis takes them to infinitely more dizzying heights. "Don't Look Back In Anger" may take some of the piano bit from "Imagine", but it then does what Lennon never could, which was write a boy meets girl song with some reality and some emotion in it. This realism is the real core of Oasis' music. The images they present are intense and powerful, yet they're grounded in reality, and Liam's vocals and Noel's guitar have the power and passion to match these forces.
Definitely Maybe, being Oasis' first album, is able to avoid a great deal of criticism. Where it's heavy, this gravity is palpable - "Live Forever" and "Slide Away" display a passion that many would deny Oasis ever had. These songs not only have a desperate energy that can't be missed by the listener, but treat subjects very real to our own life: the unachievability of lasting life and love. The difference on Definitely Maybe, when it comes to the critic's perspective, is that when Oasis doesn't try to be weighty, they don't end up being straight pop. In a sense, perhaps the critics are too generous to Oasis' debut. "Rock 'n' Roll Star", "Supersonic", and "Shakermaker" cover subjects of no greater intellectual and emotional vitality than the banal moneymaking songs of Bon Jovi or Aerosmith. On Definitely Maybe, however, this comes off as a sort of innocence that I don't think is at all absent. "Rock 'n' Roll Star" may be the sole song about wanting to be a rock star that is actually genuine. The realism of Oasis' early music is that they're true working class Mancunians, and therein lay much of their charm for the Britpop fanatics of the '90's. When Liam says it, he really means it. This is what makes "Digsy's Dinner" and "Married with Children" such timeless works of art. The former is an endlessly charming song about the lightest of romantic interactions and the permanence they can achieve, and the earnestness in Liam's voice is an instant winner. The latter is almost the opposite: an unashamed yet not gloating break-up litany, yet it manages to be this without either complaining or ranting. It's character assassination is so gentle as to be non existent, and this makes it seem so real. Definitely Maybe is an album of blue collar urbanites showing their softer side, and maybe not quite knowing how to do it, making it an absolutely likable album.
What's the Story (Morning Glory)? is a step toward the Oasis everybody knows, and many don't love. There is indeed a sense of self-importance here that was missing in their debut, but this is not a hindrance. Instead, it enables the true flowering of Oasis' musical genius. How so? This sense of self-importance does have the drawback of making any flaws not only apparent, but painful. On Definitely Maybe, the band could get away with a pointless or pedestrian lyric, or an inaccurate observation, because it had an aura of carefree innocence, like it was just a practice round that shouldn't be judged too seriously, and any "Live Forever" type triumphs become a sort of spontaneous burst of musical genius, the sort of thing Blake, Byron, or Pushkin would be proud of. On What's the Story, this safety net is gone, and the stakes are much higher, because this is a serious album, not playful stuff. Nonetheless, they hit it out of the park more often than not. It starts slowly, "Hello" sputtering at times, and "Roll with It" alternating bland pop with touching sincerity, but it soon hits its stride. Though not the biggest "Wonderwall" fan, I must admit the popularity it has gained for being the sort of serious song of which I speak, and the album only goes up from there. "Don't Look Back in Anger" takes the predictable, and flips it, taking optimistic and wide-eyed imagery and crafting from it a song about failure as well as success, a song about people being people, warts and all, just trying to get ahead. Listen to it again: it's more real than it would seem. "Hey Now!" goes past this mark, mixing not joviality into it. It is very much a patchwork of dark and moody symbols, whose refrain brings us to think about our connections to the past as individuals. After a brief instrumental that is like a 40 second slice of the '90's as I remember it, "Some Might Say" ensues, with its intense guitar riff turning into a message of secular faith and hope, reminding us that our daily lives may indeed have a purpose. "Cast No Shadow", perhaps the deepest song of the album, is a comment on the essence of the songwriter, a modern poet taking up the labor of that the imagists left undone. "She's Electric" is a bit of neo-Digsy's nostalgia that is to some extent repeated in "Champagne Supernova" with the added question, "how many special people change?", while the title track is the most intense song on the album, raising more questions than it answers. What's the Story (Morning Glory)? is a serious work of songwriting, and perhaps it was too serious. For Be Here Now and it's successors, Oasis adopted the soul of What's the Story (Morning Glory)? and took it farther than it could perhaps ever go. It's philosophical soul was lost for the Oasis creed of optimism in the face of ever darkening times, while its fragile seriousness was preserved even when the material didn't match this atmosphere. Thus the decline of Oasis, which for many became a caricature of rock stardom, the very essence of taking one's self too seriously. Oasis' first two albums, however, show that this seriousness was very justified.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Rereviews, plus an all time favorite
GUIDED BY VOICES - UNDER THE BUSHES, UNDER THE STARS
I've been meaning to do this for awhile, and have now time and inclination to get around to it. In my original review, I called it "good, but not great", giving it the same score as Eric's Trip's Forever Again at a 7/10 (for anyone looking to get into Eric's Trip, I recommend the superior Love Tara), one of the issues being that in comparison to Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes, it was hardly experimental. This may have been correct, but I think Under the Bushes offers more of something for everyone even than their prior two albums, while also, in my opinion, having more awesome songs than more palatable later works like Isolation Drills. First off, this album is almost as experimental as Alien Lanes: to a non-GBV fan, "Man Called Aerodynamics" sounds just as out there as "Ex-Supermodel". Robert Pollard just approaches things so differently, you sort of have to forgive all of his foibles. Admittedly, the first half is weak by Guided by Voices standards (which is to say, admitting the odd piece of crap for a few gems). "Rhine Jive Click" and "Lord of Overstock" are eminently forgettable despite the brilliance of the aforementioned opening track and the should-be classic, "The Official Ironman Rally Song". The second half, basically beginning with "Your Name is Wild", however, is as good as anything they've ever released, if more traditional. "Ghosts of a Different Dream" is a terrific song in tune and content that wouldn't be out of place alongside the best Post-punk of the '90's. The album shifts into even another gear, however, starting with "Underwater Explosions", a Pollard pop song with class and introspection - both intelligent and unavoidably catchy. "Atom Eyes", "Don't Stop Now" and "Office of Hearts" are just as good as well, the latter beginning with some tasty GBV darkness before bubbling into a chorus that's so good, I can't believe it took until 1995 for it to exist. Then "Drag Days" emerges with, shockingly again, an incredibly display of sensitivity (though for all his affectation, Pollard always could relate to the everyteen - "Game of Pricks" even says as much), and "Redmen and Their Wives" is like a sparse and tasteful ode to Americana. This album deserves to be up there with it's two more famous predecessors, just like "Ghosts of Different Dream" and "Drag Days" deserve comparison with "Echos Myron" and "My Valuable Hunting Knife". This album marks a transition to being a normal band, but there aren't many growing pains here.
PULP - THIS IS HARDCORE
I give this a deservedly high rating before, but I'd be remiss if I didn't add that this was in part due to Jarvis Cocker becoming my idol this summer. Now, I know exactly why this album deserves to be well received, to the extent that, having ordered Different Class which should arrive sooner or later, I'm not sure how it can live up to the Pulp album I already have. What makes This is Hardcore so great is that it manages to be a concept album - overused language or no - without being ostentatious about it. It is meant to be a single work, and succeeds fabulously. "The Fear" establishes the premise, general malaise. This malaise can be brought about by anything - old age, drug abuse, what have you. Thereafter, the album attempts to conquer it, and as I mentioned before, whether it does remains in question, which may or may not be kind of the point. Anyway, in "The Dishes", Jarvis compares his own aging to Jesus' crucifixion and ... wait for this ... then depicts his own rebirth and journey to redemption. "Party Hard", "Help the Aged", "This is Hardcore", and the rest of the songs between this point travel slowly through increasingly effectual attempts at redemption, shifting from attempting to continue hedonism in the near future to remembering and accepting the past, finally emerging from "Glory Days" with the realization that what's done is done. In "The Day After the Revolution", the album finally comes to its resolution, Jarvis clearly stating "the fear is over". Not only is this an album that tells a story, it's a good album that tells a story. It doesn't get with most people on being a redemptive album with a powerful message (unlike, in my opinion, Tommy, which is more or less superficial as I see it), it only gets recognition for being good music. All in all, though, This is Hardcore may be one of the most therapeutic albums ever recorded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ and now for one of my personal favorites ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IDLEWILD - 100 BROKEN WINDOWS
This is probably my personal favorite album, for a number of reasons. First of all, it helped me get through fall of freshman year, so it's very near and dear to my heart. In general, however, I think 100 Broken Windows is a legitimately great album, even if basically everyone has either never heard of it or doesn't see it that way. 100 Broken Windows is, first of all, supremely emotive, utilizing both post-hardcore energy and power pop sensitivity. The album quickly shows its potency in opener "Little Discourage", amping it up yet again in "I Don't Have the Map" with its commentary on trust and individualism in its chorus of "you can't cope without the contract". "These Wooden Ideas" and "Roseability" continue this energy, adding their commentary on philosophy in a way that actually makes sense. It's one thing to name drop Gertrude Stein in a song. That's cool, but meaningless in the end. It's another to provide an interpretation of Gertrude Stein into everyday life in song form - the basic idea being that images are meaningless, pairing well with the credo "don't be real, be postmodern" - a statement with a glib sarcasm typical of Idlewild (or perhaps more properly Roddy Woomble) even in their more sedate works. "Idea Track" takes this philosophizing to its maximum, creating an entire aesthetic around interpretations of modernity with it's mathematical and powerful guitars and it's invocation of modern technology with fin de seicle worry, finishing with poetry and a violin chord that brings us back to the very basis of music. "Let Me Sleep (Next to the Mirror)" may be one of the most beautiful and sensitive yet potent songs ever recorded and provides a new hope in the face of the ultra-current wave of sound that preceded it. "Listen to What You've Got" basically starts the album anew, calling for a return to simplicity, saying "you might as well be talking backwards" and "you might as well be talking to yourself". "Actually It's Darkness", perhaps the cleverest song ever written, begins with a deliberately cheesy and derivative riff and builds it into a commentary on 21st Century cynicism and trust, begging the question, if we doubt this, why do we believe that. "Rusty", about whose title I wonder whether it came from producer Bob Weston, math rockers Rodan's lone full-length, or elsewhere, once again calls for a return to simplicity, breaking down the listener for the last time on the album before it finally and once-and-for-all turns to sensitivity. "Mistake Pageant"'s chorus of "you've had bad luck, and I know what it feels like to have bad luck" preaches understanding, while "Quiet Crown", another song that should be an indie classic, inspires nostalgia like no other song, perhaps especially so because my home state of Maine is like the Scotland of America (Scotland presumably being the subject of the song). Finally, the sedate but persistent "Bronze Medal" closes out the album, reminding the listener that no matter how hopeless we are, we always have the little victories.
I've been meaning to do this for awhile, and have now time and inclination to get around to it. In my original review, I called it "good, but not great", giving it the same score as Eric's Trip's Forever Again at a 7/10 (for anyone looking to get into Eric's Trip, I recommend the superior Love Tara), one of the issues being that in comparison to Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes, it was hardly experimental. This may have been correct, but I think Under the Bushes offers more of something for everyone even than their prior two albums, while also, in my opinion, having more awesome songs than more palatable later works like Isolation Drills. First off, this album is almost as experimental as Alien Lanes: to a non-GBV fan, "Man Called Aerodynamics" sounds just as out there as "Ex-Supermodel". Robert Pollard just approaches things so differently, you sort of have to forgive all of his foibles. Admittedly, the first half is weak by Guided by Voices standards (which is to say, admitting the odd piece of crap for a few gems). "Rhine Jive Click" and "Lord of Overstock" are eminently forgettable despite the brilliance of the aforementioned opening track and the should-be classic, "The Official Ironman Rally Song". The second half, basically beginning with "Your Name is Wild", however, is as good as anything they've ever released, if more traditional. "Ghosts of a Different Dream" is a terrific song in tune and content that wouldn't be out of place alongside the best Post-punk of the '90's. The album shifts into even another gear, however, starting with "Underwater Explosions", a Pollard pop song with class and introspection - both intelligent and unavoidably catchy. "Atom Eyes", "Don't Stop Now" and "Office of Hearts" are just as good as well, the latter beginning with some tasty GBV darkness before bubbling into a chorus that's so good, I can't believe it took until 1995 for it to exist. Then "Drag Days" emerges with, shockingly again, an incredibly display of sensitivity (though for all his affectation, Pollard always could relate to the everyteen - "Game of Pricks" even says as much), and "Redmen and Their Wives" is like a sparse and tasteful ode to Americana. This album deserves to be up there with it's two more famous predecessors, just like "Ghosts of Different Dream" and "Drag Days" deserve comparison with "Echos Myron" and "My Valuable Hunting Knife". This album marks a transition to being a normal band, but there aren't many growing pains here.
PULP - THIS IS HARDCORE
I give this a deservedly high rating before, but I'd be remiss if I didn't add that this was in part due to Jarvis Cocker becoming my idol this summer. Now, I know exactly why this album deserves to be well received, to the extent that, having ordered Different Class which should arrive sooner or later, I'm not sure how it can live up to the Pulp album I already have. What makes This is Hardcore so great is that it manages to be a concept album - overused language or no - without being ostentatious about it. It is meant to be a single work, and succeeds fabulously. "The Fear" establishes the premise, general malaise. This malaise can be brought about by anything - old age, drug abuse, what have you. Thereafter, the album attempts to conquer it, and as I mentioned before, whether it does remains in question, which may or may not be kind of the point. Anyway, in "The Dishes", Jarvis compares his own aging to Jesus' crucifixion and ... wait for this ... then depicts his own rebirth and journey to redemption. "Party Hard", "Help the Aged", "This is Hardcore", and the rest of the songs between this point travel slowly through increasingly effectual attempts at redemption, shifting from attempting to continue hedonism in the near future to remembering and accepting the past, finally emerging from "Glory Days" with the realization that what's done is done. In "The Day After the Revolution", the album finally comes to its resolution, Jarvis clearly stating "the fear is over". Not only is this an album that tells a story, it's a good album that tells a story. It doesn't get with most people on being a redemptive album with a powerful message (unlike, in my opinion, Tommy, which is more or less superficial as I see it), it only gets recognition for being good music. All in all, though, This is Hardcore may be one of the most therapeutic albums ever recorded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ and now for one of my personal favorites ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IDLEWILD - 100 BROKEN WINDOWS
This is probably my personal favorite album, for a number of reasons. First of all, it helped me get through fall of freshman year, so it's very near and dear to my heart. In general, however, I think 100 Broken Windows is a legitimately great album, even if basically everyone has either never heard of it or doesn't see it that way. 100 Broken Windows is, first of all, supremely emotive, utilizing both post-hardcore energy and power pop sensitivity. The album quickly shows its potency in opener "Little Discourage", amping it up yet again in "I Don't Have the Map" with its commentary on trust and individualism in its chorus of "you can't cope without the contract". "These Wooden Ideas" and "Roseability" continue this energy, adding their commentary on philosophy in a way that actually makes sense. It's one thing to name drop Gertrude Stein in a song. That's cool, but meaningless in the end. It's another to provide an interpretation of Gertrude Stein into everyday life in song form - the basic idea being that images are meaningless, pairing well with the credo "don't be real, be postmodern" - a statement with a glib sarcasm typical of Idlewild (or perhaps more properly Roddy Woomble) even in their more sedate works. "Idea Track" takes this philosophizing to its maximum, creating an entire aesthetic around interpretations of modernity with it's mathematical and powerful guitars and it's invocation of modern technology with fin de seicle worry, finishing with poetry and a violin chord that brings us back to the very basis of music. "Let Me Sleep (Next to the Mirror)" may be one of the most beautiful and sensitive yet potent songs ever recorded and provides a new hope in the face of the ultra-current wave of sound that preceded it. "Listen to What You've Got" basically starts the album anew, calling for a return to simplicity, saying "you might as well be talking backwards" and "you might as well be talking to yourself". "Actually It's Darkness", perhaps the cleverest song ever written, begins with a deliberately cheesy and derivative riff and builds it into a commentary on 21st Century cynicism and trust, begging the question, if we doubt this, why do we believe that. "Rusty", about whose title I wonder whether it came from producer Bob Weston, math rockers Rodan's lone full-length, or elsewhere, once again calls for a return to simplicity, breaking down the listener for the last time on the album before it finally and once-and-for-all turns to sensitivity. "Mistake Pageant"'s chorus of "you've had bad luck, and I know what it feels like to have bad luck" preaches understanding, while "Quiet Crown", another song that should be an indie classic, inspires nostalgia like no other song, perhaps especially so because my home state of Maine is like the Scotland of America (Scotland presumably being the subject of the song). Finally, the sedate but persistent "Bronze Medal" closes out the album, reminding the listener that no matter how hopeless we are, we always have the little victories.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Album Queue for the New School Year
I intend to write some new reviews on Superchunk, Portastatic, and maybe some Pulp, Suede, and/or mystery artist. Furthermore, I'm going to revise some of my ratings and maybe add a review for some of my all time favorites. For the time being, however, I've got my new queue:
1. Be Here Now - Oasis
2. Coming Up - Suede
3. Unfun - Jawbreaker
4. Return of the Frog Queen - Jeremy Enigk
5. Warnings/Promises - Idlewild
6. Mezcal Head - Swervedriver
7. His 'n' Hers - Pulp
8. Dig Out Your Soul - Oasis
9. No P or D - Ms. John Soda
10. Indoor Living - Superchunk
11. Isn't Anything - My Bloody Valentine
12. Going Blank Again - Ride (ironically, I go blank again whenever I try to remember what that album with the clown face and "Leave Them All Behind" on it is called)
13. A Northern Soul - The Verve
14. Earthquake Glue - Guided by Voices15. First Edition - The Fruit Tree Foundation
16. Heaven or Las Vegas - Cocteau Twins
17. Future Perfect - Autolux
18. Four Great Points - June of 44
19. Fantastic Planet - Failure
20. Parklife - Blur
1. Be Here Now - Oasis
2. Coming Up - Suede
3. Unfun - Jawbreaker
4. Return of the Frog Queen - Jeremy Enigk
5. Warnings/Promises - Idlewild
6. Mezcal Head - Swervedriver
7. His 'n' Hers - Pulp
8. Dig Out Your Soul - Oasis
9. No P or D - Ms. John Soda
10. Indoor Living - Superchunk
11. Isn't Anything - My Bloody Valentine
12. Going Blank Again - Ride (ironically, I go blank again whenever I try to remember what that album with the clown face and "Leave Them All Behind" on it is called)
13. A Northern Soul - The Verve
14. Earthquake Glue - Guided by Voices15. First Edition - The Fruit Tree Foundation
16. Heaven or Las Vegas - Cocteau Twins
17. Future Perfect - Autolux
18. Four Great Points - June of 44
19. Fantastic Planet - Failure
20. Parklife - Blur
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