This has been coming for some time. There were enough quotes from the band to suggest the Kings of Leon’s stadium-sized fame had left them staring at the crowd and seeing people they never intended to invite to the party. “Use Somebody” changed everything. Suddenly the band who was used to being big in the UK (and maybe KU) – was rockin’ the BK, DQ, and Circle K. “Use Somebody” was one of those once in a career infectious rock gems that simply wouldn’t wear out. Bands have been built off tracks like this (see The Fray, Matchbox 20, even Journey). But after giving their new record, Come Around Sundown, a few spins it seems the boys from Tennessee have charted a different course. Dare I say they’ve stopped believin’?
That’s not to say they’ve made an unpopular record on purpose. It’s just that Come Around Sundown lacks the pop shimmer of its predecessor Only by The Night. If you’re looking for your next “Fans,” “Sex on Fire,” or “Use Somebody” – you won’t find it here. In fact the closest KOL gets to an accessible pop track is the first single “Radioactive.” The sing-along chorus, “it’s in the water, it’s where you came from” is further evidence that KOL’s intent was to return to their roots for their fifth studio album.
A buddy of mine suggested what Come Around Sundown was lacking was production value. Turns out the album was produced by KOL’s trusted team of Angelo Petraglia and Jacquire King. But to give it a listen you’d almost think the boys produced it themselves. It has that feel to it. While it’s clear they know their sound, the record is missing the fit and finish to make it jump off the shelves. And perhaps that’s by design.
Some will say stadium-sized success has changed KOL. Yes they’ve launched their own fashion label and demanded private bathrooms on the summer festival circuit. And Come Around Sundown was recorded in New York not Nashville, and you can tell. But at their core the Kings of Leon still make musket music. There’s always going to be a civil war vibe about the three preacher’s sons and a cousin from Tennessee. For this reason the standout track on Come Around Sundown is hands down “Back Down South.” That’s not to say it will be the biggest hit because “Back Down South” is just country enough to lose some people. “Back Down South” is rock & roll with a gun rack and a dip in its lip. It’s a single with its spurs on, and the sort of song that college kids and city workers can agree on. Think Allman Brothers, Skynyrd, even “Fishin’ in the Dark.” It’s a song built for the wide-open road. If you had to buy just one track, spend your dollar here.
The difference with Come Around Sundown is there is a lot more filler here. The record basically falls off a cliff on tracks 8 through 12. The last track “Pickup Truck” provides the only kickstand to keep the back half of the album from collapsing completely. If you’re sitting in your car trying to play your favorites off Come Around Sundown for a friend you’ll probably find yourself hitting the single “Radioactive,” “Back Down South” and maybe “Mary” and “Pickup Truck.” Three or four tracks in total. Come Around Sundown is a fine record for core fans or just let play in the background; it’s just not a string of hits. It’s a grower, and it comes at you in waves. It’s a bit like a Pearl Jam record, another band that never set its sights on winning the popularity contest.
“Mary” is another fun one and the closest to living up to the press release which proclaimed Come Around Sundown as “yet another bold and expansive statement.” On “Mary” we find the Followills putting on letter sweaters and heading into the malt shop. Caleb’s signature drawl is laid on a ‘50s style track that Dion would have loved. The boys sing about the disco and Cameron even busts out a Chuck Berry style guitar solo. It’s a surprising twist on the record and would make a hell of a music video with the southern boys crashing the sock hop. I’m not sure it stands the test of time because Caleb’s voice is a bit too scruffy for the soda fountain. But I’m glad they tried it. Brave.
More than half of Come Around Sundown tends to blend together. It sounds good, and it sounds like Kings of Leon (something many of us have decided are the same thing). But very few of the tracks jump off the record and introduce themselves to you. There are a lot of face-in-the-crowd songs here. They’re fine but forgettable. If one track had to speak for this group and rises up from the bunch it would be track three “Pyro.” It’s a beauty. Trust me and invest here. Keep hitting this one and you’ll find yourself singing along. And at about the 3-minute mark where the brothers deconstruct the track into simpler sections it simmers to a slow cooked perfection. When Caleb screams “Can you feel it” over and over – you’ll find yourself giving a knowing nod and saying “yes indeed.”
Yes there are moments of magic on Come Around Sundown like the intro of “The Face” where Caleb moans of a long distance relationship, “If you give up New York, I’ll give you Tennessee” before rhyming “the only place to be.” And if there is a central narrative to Come Around Sundown, that’s it. The band is at a point in its career and fame that where they’re going (New York) is in direct conflict with where they’re from (Tennessee). These themes exist all over the record including ironically placing track “The End” first on the record.
The trouble with Come Around Sundown is it never really commits to New York or Tennessee – and where does that leave you – somewhere in Maryland? I think a lot of us actually wish the boys went all the ways back into the woods like on the first couple records. While they don’t do that here, they certainly aren’t shaving every day. Some of it’s by design and some of it just appears to be not as well crafted taking a step back toward the level of Because of the Times. Come Around Sundown feels like one of those in between records bands kick out when they’ve been spending a ton of time on the road and buying their own hype a bit. And there are misfires. “Pony Up” picks up where “I Want You” left off on the last record. Clearly the guys love that canteen boogie sound because they keep coming back to it, but unfortunately it just doesn’t translate. On “No Money” Caleb continues to play out his Aladdin fantasy of being the dirty, broke, street kid who falls in love with the princess. On the back half of the record he seems to be struggling to settle down, tame the rooster, and grow up while still being the “one who gives them all a whirl.” Unfortunately the music feels just as conflicted.
But it doesn’t really matter now does it? I smile when I say the Kings of Leon are, yes, out of the woods. At this stage it’s no longer necessary for us to grade each of their albums pass or fail. All the band really needs to do is put two or three killer songs into their set list as they continue their ascension as a band. And with “Back Down South” and “Radioactive” they’ve probably achieved this goal. Everyone in the band has greatly improved on their instruments with Jared and Nathan forming a rhythm section to be envied, Cameron becoming a mini-me of the Edge, and Caleb’s voice becoming one of the most recognizable in modern rock.
So while Come Around Sundown may leave some listeners stuck somewhere between Manhattan and Nashville, it also provides insight to where Kings of Leon are at this stage of their career. Clearly Kings of Leon were more comfortable in the “here’s the church, and here’s the steeple” stage early in their career than they have been during the “open the door and see all the people” phase brought on by the runaway hit “Use Somebody.”
On “The Face” Caleb urges us over and over again to simply “ride out the wave.” That’s what KOL are doing on this record, and that’s what their real fans will do with them. Come Around Sundown does come at you in waves, and true fans will find this record is a grower and will likely get stronger once you’ve seen the new songs played live. So the only message I’d have for the guys for the next album is to stick out the hitchhiker thumb, grab a Sharpie and make a NASHVILLE OR BUST sign, and “come home” for an entire record. Both “Back Down South” and “Radioactive” show this is where the band’s real magic is.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
80. The Perfect Score for Living Hard.
This week George Steinbrenner died at the ripe old age of 80. This reminded me of an exercise I went through a few years back. As grim as it sounds, at one point I gave a bit of thought to how long I’d like to live. At one point even turning it into a math problem of sorts.
At the time I concluded that I wanted the ideal balance of living hard and living long. I don’t want to turn in the car at the Hertz counter of life and have the gas topped off and nary a dent. I also don’t want to run out of gas on the side of the road. Rather I’d like to coast in on fumes with CDs on the seats and beef jerky on the breath.
Now it’s difficult to find an entire country or tribe who as a group lives hard. The best example I could find was the Rat Pack. In Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford, and Joey Bishop we had 5 guys who lettered in living hard. Guys who drank, ate, smoked, and wore colored sport coats. Guys who put salt on their food before they tasted it. Guys who slapped your face a bit too hard when they said hello and goodbye. Guys who chased women. Guys who called a spade a spade. Guys who handed out nicknames and hundreds to everyone they passed by. Guys who soaked up beauty, music, and humor.
So I looked it up. How long did each member of the Rat Pack live?
Frank lived to 82.
Dean lived to 78
Sammy lived to be 64
Peter Lawford lived to be 61
Joey Bishop lived to be 89
Divided by 5 that equals 74.8. But I was mostly focused on Dean and Frank and 80 is right between them. So that was it. If you live the right way, you should only live to be about 80. Maybe a touch less.
And I’m OK with that, because I think that’s the right amount. The human body is a pretty amazing vessel being able to endure what we put it through. If you live to 80 you’re getting 20-25 years of the golden grandparent time, yet it’s still short enough to leave them wanting more.
In a lot of the reports on Steinbrenner’s death they refer to his “animal spirit,” one reporter calling him equal parts boor and buccaneer. I’d take that as a compliment. I once had a psychic tell me that I shouldn’t let go of my “leopard side of life.” She was referring to the realization that we’re only on this earth for a short time and we should devour it. We should live hard.
Before I studied abroad in Australia my junior year of college I’ll never forget an older student (who had just returned from Australia) stumbling up to me at a party drunk and with wild eyes. He grabbed me by the shirt and said simply, “Do Everything.”
The difference with people like Steinbrenner and the Rat Pack is they took that “Do Everything” approach to their entire life not just a Saturday or a semester abroad. They lived hard. And while they may have only made it to about 80, their obituaries aren’t about regular guys named Frank and George – rather they’re about larger-than-life characters named The Chairman and The Boss. Rest in Peace.
At the time I concluded that I wanted the ideal balance of living hard and living long. I don’t want to turn in the car at the Hertz counter of life and have the gas topped off and nary a dent. I also don’t want to run out of gas on the side of the road. Rather I’d like to coast in on fumes with CDs on the seats and beef jerky on the breath.
Now it’s difficult to find an entire country or tribe who as a group lives hard. The best example I could find was the Rat Pack. In Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford, and Joey Bishop we had 5 guys who lettered in living hard. Guys who drank, ate, smoked, and wore colored sport coats. Guys who put salt on their food before they tasted it. Guys who slapped your face a bit too hard when they said hello and goodbye. Guys who chased women. Guys who called a spade a spade. Guys who handed out nicknames and hundreds to everyone they passed by. Guys who soaked up beauty, music, and humor.
So I looked it up. How long did each member of the Rat Pack live?
Frank lived to 82.
Dean lived to 78
Sammy lived to be 64
Peter Lawford lived to be 61
Joey Bishop lived to be 89
Divided by 5 that equals 74.8. But I was mostly focused on Dean and Frank and 80 is right between them. So that was it. If you live the right way, you should only live to be about 80. Maybe a touch less.
And I’m OK with that, because I think that’s the right amount. The human body is a pretty amazing vessel being able to endure what we put it through. If you live to 80 you’re getting 20-25 years of the golden grandparent time, yet it’s still short enough to leave them wanting more.
In a lot of the reports on Steinbrenner’s death they refer to his “animal spirit,” one reporter calling him equal parts boor and buccaneer. I’d take that as a compliment. I once had a psychic tell me that I shouldn’t let go of my “leopard side of life.” She was referring to the realization that we’re only on this earth for a short time and we should devour it. We should live hard.
Before I studied abroad in Australia my junior year of college I’ll never forget an older student (who had just returned from Australia) stumbling up to me at a party drunk and with wild eyes. He grabbed me by the shirt and said simply, “Do Everything.”
The difference with people like Steinbrenner and the Rat Pack is they took that “Do Everything” approach to their entire life not just a Saturday or a semester abroad. They lived hard. And while they may have only made it to about 80, their obituaries aren’t about regular guys named Frank and George – rather they’re about larger-than-life characters named The Chairman and The Boss. Rest in Peace.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Soda Fountain of Youth
I’m 35. I live in White Bear and work in downtown Minneapolis. One of the highlights of my day is going out of the office to grab some lunch. My wife has had trouble grasping the importance of “eating out” for lunch. And I’ll confess that a few of the brown bags she’s packed me may still be sitting in our office refrigerator waiting for the quarterly purge from the cleaning crew. Eating lunch out of the office is almost like “recess” for grown ups. It’s amazing how a brisk walk around the skyways or sidewalks (especially when the Thursday Farmers’ Market is in season) can reset your day out of the doldrums.
When I do treat myself to grown up recess, one Minneapolis lunch place I love is Ginelli’s for some good old fashioned styrofoam plate and plastic utensils pizza. On a recent trip to Ginelli’s I was surprised to find a little wisdom at of all places, the soda fountain. Before you suggest the aspartame has gone to my head, consider that it’s possible to accurately describe the stage of life you’re in based on your approach at the soda fountain.
Take me for example. That’s right the same 35 year old who has to rationalize eating lunch out or risk the risk the adult detention consequence of the brown bag. What phase of life am I in? That’s easy. I’m in the fill the cup mostly full with Diet Coke before splashing a little regular Coke or Cherry Coke on top years. This mix allows me to feel like I’m drinking pop without actually drinking pop. What does that say about me? Well clearly I’m in the “it’s not about me” phase of life. OK sure, I’ll allow myself a little splash of the real thing on top, but mostly I’m focused on holding it all together. That’s what happens when you have an eight year old and a twelve year old both in sports. We’re the parents who actually buy those oversized calendars where each day has its own square big enough to fit a regular sized calendar in it. And once we fill in all of the kids activities the only blank squares left each year are December 24 and 25 – unless God forbid someone at the new rink in Vadnais comes up with a Santa’s Slapshot Tournament. And we are not alone. In general it’s safe to call age 30 to about age 50 the 7/8ths Diet cola with 1/8th splash of the real thing so you feel like you’re living years. The 1/8th splash might come in the form on an annual guys trip, date night, or letting loose at your summer party. Any way it comes enjoy it, it’s all you’re getting.
Compare that to ages 0 to 29 when the approach at the soda fountain is to take a cup and fill it with a little bit of everything. The kids call this drink a “suicide,” but I think it’s far more optimistic time of your life. There was a great headline in a recent airline advertisement which asked a simple but haunting question, “When was the last time you did something for the first time?” That question is a beautiful reminder of our formative years growing up when the oversized calendar squares are all about you, and every experience is a new experience. Your job is to drink up life and keep pressing levers. Sample, mix, burp and repeat. If adults are set in their ways and see the world in black and white – anyone under 30 is growing up way to fast if they don’t see the world through Technicolor glasses.
While the suicide days of my youth have passed, don’t feel sorry for me. I still have one soda fountain stage to look forward to. Look in anyone’s refridgerator over the age of 50 (or certainly 60) and you’ll likely find whole milk and not a drop of diet soda. That’s because when we become empty nesters and our kids go to college it’s time to get a bit selfish again and rediscover ourselves at the soda fountain. Our later years are about replacing experimentation with experience. After 50 years you should have been paying enough attention to know what you like. And you reach a point in your life where it makes more sense to count blessings than calories. It’s time to once again fill the glass with Coke Classic and crushed ice, not compromise.
I read a great quote from Jack Nicholson that captured the honesty of the golden years, “With my sunglasses on I'm Jack Nicholson. Without them, I'm fat and 60.” I love that. From age 50 on it’s no longer about cutting corners or holding your breath. You know what you like, you know the trade offs and you make decisions accordingly. And there’s something cool in the confidence that can only come from age and experience. I remember asking my grandmother once why she drank whole milk when the whole world was switching to 2% or skim. She didn’t stutter, “Whole milk is better, and it’s what I like” she said.
So the next time you find yourself searching in vein for the fountain of youth, remember you can learn more from the soda fountain. Namely sometimes it’s about you, and sometimes it’s not. But either way life is all about pushing new levers and filling your cup. And if we’re lucky, free refills.
When I do treat myself to grown up recess, one Minneapolis lunch place I love is Ginelli’s for some good old fashioned styrofoam plate and plastic utensils pizza. On a recent trip to Ginelli’s I was surprised to find a little wisdom at of all places, the soda fountain. Before you suggest the aspartame has gone to my head, consider that it’s possible to accurately describe the stage of life you’re in based on your approach at the soda fountain.
Take me for example. That’s right the same 35 year old who has to rationalize eating lunch out or risk the risk the adult detention consequence of the brown bag. What phase of life am I in? That’s easy. I’m in the fill the cup mostly full with Diet Coke before splashing a little regular Coke or Cherry Coke on top years. This mix allows me to feel like I’m drinking pop without actually drinking pop. What does that say about me? Well clearly I’m in the “it’s not about me” phase of life. OK sure, I’ll allow myself a little splash of the real thing on top, but mostly I’m focused on holding it all together. That’s what happens when you have an eight year old and a twelve year old both in sports. We’re the parents who actually buy those oversized calendars where each day has its own square big enough to fit a regular sized calendar in it. And once we fill in all of the kids activities the only blank squares left each year are December 24 and 25 – unless God forbid someone at the new rink in Vadnais comes up with a Santa’s Slapshot Tournament. And we are not alone. In general it’s safe to call age 30 to about age 50 the 7/8ths Diet cola with 1/8th splash of the real thing so you feel like you’re living years. The 1/8th splash might come in the form on an annual guys trip, date night, or letting loose at your summer party. Any way it comes enjoy it, it’s all you’re getting.
Compare that to ages 0 to 29 when the approach at the soda fountain is to take a cup and fill it with a little bit of everything. The kids call this drink a “suicide,” but I think it’s far more optimistic time of your life. There was a great headline in a recent airline advertisement which asked a simple but haunting question, “When was the last time you did something for the first time?” That question is a beautiful reminder of our formative years growing up when the oversized calendar squares are all about you, and every experience is a new experience. Your job is to drink up life and keep pressing levers. Sample, mix, burp and repeat. If adults are set in their ways and see the world in black and white – anyone under 30 is growing up way to fast if they don’t see the world through Technicolor glasses.
While the suicide days of my youth have passed, don’t feel sorry for me. I still have one soda fountain stage to look forward to. Look in anyone’s refridgerator over the age of 50 (or certainly 60) and you’ll likely find whole milk and not a drop of diet soda. That’s because when we become empty nesters and our kids go to college it’s time to get a bit selfish again and rediscover ourselves at the soda fountain. Our later years are about replacing experimentation with experience. After 50 years you should have been paying enough attention to know what you like. And you reach a point in your life where it makes more sense to count blessings than calories. It’s time to once again fill the glass with Coke Classic and crushed ice, not compromise.
I read a great quote from Jack Nicholson that captured the honesty of the golden years, “With my sunglasses on I'm Jack Nicholson. Without them, I'm fat and 60.” I love that. From age 50 on it’s no longer about cutting corners or holding your breath. You know what you like, you know the trade offs and you make decisions accordingly. And there’s something cool in the confidence that can only come from age and experience. I remember asking my grandmother once why she drank whole milk when the whole world was switching to 2% or skim. She didn’t stutter, “Whole milk is better, and it’s what I like” she said.
So the next time you find yourself searching in vein for the fountain of youth, remember you can learn more from the soda fountain. Namely sometimes it’s about you, and sometimes it’s not. But either way life is all about pushing new levers and filling your cup. And if we’re lucky, free refills.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
“40 Dogs” Set to Expand the Church of Bob
We’ve all heard the story about how a glass of red wine a day helps you live longer. Personally, I’m convinced the same is true about live music.
I’m certain a scientific study that took a group of people and exposed them to one live music event each month would prove that group would live longer than those who had not experienced as much live music over the same time period.
That’s part of the reason I make it a point to see at least one live show per month. This discipline has kept my rock & roll incisors sharp and allowed me to see firsthand the pageantry of everyone from Michael Jackson to Tim McGraw. I’m such a live music veteran now that I proudly wear the totally uncool neon earplugs. Go ahead and laugh, but next time you’re at First Avenue check the tall roadie dude covered in ink carrying away the empties – and you’ll see he’s wearing them too.
Over the years I’ve assembled a sacred group, which I refer to as my Live Top 5. It’s a group I can count on one hand who for various reasons have been enshrined in my personal live music hall of fame.
Most of the names you would expect.
The Boss is there because no one, absolutely no one works harder than Bruce Springsteen. The older he gets, the more he upholds the ethos of one of his tracks, “Prove it all Night.” Going to see Bruce Springsteen live is a bit masochistic, like signing up for a session with the personal trainer you heard was “psycho” to at the health club. Because make no mistake you (and the rest of his aging audience) will give up before Bruce does.
Prince makes the Live Top 5 and not just because he’s from Minnesota and can do the splits on top of a piano in heels. No Prince makes the list because of his medley style playlist when he’s in concert. When you see a Prince show it’s like he’s done a scientific study of the high points of every one of his songs and he’s put it all in a blender to serve you up only the best bits. It’s like he’s run a concert optimizer, and you’ll never come down.
Of course the Irish lads make the list. While U2 can be inconsistent live depending on how ready they were to tour or how many clove cigarettes Bono is smoking, when they’re on their game it’s something to witness. Bono isn’t my favorite singer in the world, but he is my favorite front man – and there’s a difference. And to see a U2 show is to understand the importance of that distinction. Edge’s wind chime guitars and Bono’s ideas are stadium sized indeed.
If anyone is ready to take U2’s live torch as they slowly move past the exit, it’s probably three punks from Oakland. If you haven’t seen Green Day live yet, you need to before they get knocked back down to size. Green Day’s current rock opera phrase has this trio transforming from the snot and bloody lip of their punk roots to the pyrotechnics and stadium spectacle of big time rock & roll. No one is having more fun out on tour right now, whether they’re mocking the King of Pop or starting their sets with a drunk guy in a pink bunny suit--Green Day are indeed in their prime.
But there is one surprising name that rounds out my Live Top 5. And that name is Bob Schneider, a singer songwriter from Austin, Texas.
The live music experience with Bob is difficult to describe. There are certain performers that when you see them it’s almost spiritual, like going to music church. Martin Sexton has that, Springsteen, etc. I remember the first time I went to a Bob show and saw the huge line snaking around the Fine Line Music Café in Minneapolis, I knew there was real credibility to Bob’s live reputation.
To put it in a sentence, the biggest compliment I can give Bob Schneider and perhaps the most accurate description of his live experience are the 6 words my wife said when I took her to see her first Bob show this summer at the Double Door in Chicago:
“This is weird. I like it” she said.
That about sums it up. The son of an opera singer who used to entertain at his parent parties, Bob has basically been marinating in Austin’s melting pot of a music scene for decades. Over this time Bob has morphed into a real version of someone Matt McConaughey would play in a movie. He’s a larger than life sloppy rock god that can put together a live show that’s equal parts Copacabana, G Love’s special sauce, romantic comedy, with a pirate’s eye patch tossed in for good measure.
Bob’s genre bending live spectacle is the stuff of legend. Like the city of Austin itself, Bob is indeed weird, but good. For a taste check this live link from YouTube:
Saxon Pub
This clip gives you a glimpse of the genuine love between artist and audience Bob evokes. Personally I think the first comment from KillMeNow1990 below the clip nails it, “Quite simply, the coolest fucker on Earth. And I would assume the universe.”
So if I’m carving Bob Schneider’s comic book hero jaw line into my live music Mt. Rushmore alongside The Boss, Bono, and Billy Joe – one has to wonder why most of you you’ve never heard of the man.
And that’s a good question, besides a cup of coffee of success more directly linked to Bob dating actress Sandra Bullock then his live music prowess, he does remain relatively under the radar. And while Bob followers range from 35-year old women to University of Texas co-eds, and David Wooderson wannabes – mainstream success has yet to arrive.
All of that may be about to change with the release of Bob’s latest studio album, Lovely Creatures.
Lovely Creatures is a different album for Bob fans. It’s a romantic record composed of ten pretty songs and two greatest hits. The closest thing from Bob’s back catalogue to resemble this record is probably “Flowerparts” linked here:
Flowerparts
Yes Bob has tucked in his shirt for this album. The result is a handsome little record, and one giant song.
“40 Dogs (Like Romeo and Juliet)” is the song that just might get Bob on a few more Live Top 5 lists. It’s also everything you should love about Bob rolled into four minutes and thirteen seconds of undeniable soft rock. To give it a listen and get a glimpse of a more recent live experience from Bob click here:
40 Dogs
And there it is. “40 Dogs” is a track romantic enough to bring to mind a young John Cusack. A song you, your buddy, your wife, and mom can agree on. And of course the brilliant lyric, including the following:
Come out tonight, come out with me baby
We’ll throw the careful into the crazy
Turn the sky black into a sky blue
Turn a closed shade into a Hoo Hoo!
At its core “40 Dogs” is pure Bob. From the sloppy combination of Shakespeare and malt liquor, to the naughtiness, and the grit. But it’s also a thing of beauty. If Bob’s intent was, as it seems to write and record a lovely record, then “40 Dogs” has emerged the super model track of the bunch. “40 Dogs” has all the excitement of the perfumed air at the beginning of a relationship; locking eyes at a bar, and the high cheekbones and ample lips only a songwriter of Bob’s pedigree could possibly deliver. “40 Dogs” is the song that should get more people to visit the church of Bob.
There are other gems on Lovely Creatures from the tortured soul of “Changing my Mind” with Patty Griffin which proves art loves heartbreak. “Changing my Mind” is an exceedingly sad song that still feels good to listen to. “Bicycle vs. Car” is a gorgeous gawker slowdown of a ballad as we pan across the lopsided collision of head vs. heart.
Lovely Creatures also includes two tracks that have been fan favorites at Bob’s live shows for years in “Bombonanza” and “Tarantula.” A musician marinated in the Austin, Texas music scene like Bob is bound to become the musical equivalent of a rink or gym rat. To reach tracks like “Tarantula” and “Bombonanza” requires the experience and flavor of a dirty barbecue grill. That’s been Austin’s gift to Bob, and he’s returned the favor to us with songs like these two live escapades. While less than four minutes here trust that both are much meatier in person. When Bob does “Bombonanza” it’s “Copacabana” only you’ve swapped Barry Manilow for Don Draper. And “Tarantula” features another ridiculous yet perfect Dr. Schneider sing-a-long chorus in “There she goes! There in the moonlight! Under the stars! Tarantula!”
As a whole Lovely Creatures offers a more tapered and romantic sound than Schneider fans may be used to hearing. But even though Bob may have added a spoonful of sugar on his latest record, the live favorites “Bombonanza” and “Tarantula” finally delivered to a studio record and the first kiss boom of “40 Dogs” should result in a few new faces at the church of Schneider on Sunday. And to that I say, “Amen.”
I’m certain a scientific study that took a group of people and exposed them to one live music event each month would prove that group would live longer than those who had not experienced as much live music over the same time period.
That’s part of the reason I make it a point to see at least one live show per month. This discipline has kept my rock & roll incisors sharp and allowed me to see firsthand the pageantry of everyone from Michael Jackson to Tim McGraw. I’m such a live music veteran now that I proudly wear the totally uncool neon earplugs. Go ahead and laugh, but next time you’re at First Avenue check the tall roadie dude covered in ink carrying away the empties – and you’ll see he’s wearing them too.
Over the years I’ve assembled a sacred group, which I refer to as my Live Top 5. It’s a group I can count on one hand who for various reasons have been enshrined in my personal live music hall of fame.
Most of the names you would expect.
The Boss is there because no one, absolutely no one works harder than Bruce Springsteen. The older he gets, the more he upholds the ethos of one of his tracks, “Prove it all Night.” Going to see Bruce Springsteen live is a bit masochistic, like signing up for a session with the personal trainer you heard was “psycho” to at the health club. Because make no mistake you (and the rest of his aging audience) will give up before Bruce does.
Prince makes the Live Top 5 and not just because he’s from Minnesota and can do the splits on top of a piano in heels. No Prince makes the list because of his medley style playlist when he’s in concert. When you see a Prince show it’s like he’s done a scientific study of the high points of every one of his songs and he’s put it all in a blender to serve you up only the best bits. It’s like he’s run a concert optimizer, and you’ll never come down.
Of course the Irish lads make the list. While U2 can be inconsistent live depending on how ready they were to tour or how many clove cigarettes Bono is smoking, when they’re on their game it’s something to witness. Bono isn’t my favorite singer in the world, but he is my favorite front man – and there’s a difference. And to see a U2 show is to understand the importance of that distinction. Edge’s wind chime guitars and Bono’s ideas are stadium sized indeed.
If anyone is ready to take U2’s live torch as they slowly move past the exit, it’s probably three punks from Oakland. If you haven’t seen Green Day live yet, you need to before they get knocked back down to size. Green Day’s current rock opera phrase has this trio transforming from the snot and bloody lip of their punk roots to the pyrotechnics and stadium spectacle of big time rock & roll. No one is having more fun out on tour right now, whether they’re mocking the King of Pop or starting their sets with a drunk guy in a pink bunny suit--Green Day are indeed in their prime.
But there is one surprising name that rounds out my Live Top 5. And that name is Bob Schneider, a singer songwriter from Austin, Texas.
The live music experience with Bob is difficult to describe. There are certain performers that when you see them it’s almost spiritual, like going to music church. Martin Sexton has that, Springsteen, etc. I remember the first time I went to a Bob show and saw the huge line snaking around the Fine Line Music Café in Minneapolis, I knew there was real credibility to Bob’s live reputation.
To put it in a sentence, the biggest compliment I can give Bob Schneider and perhaps the most accurate description of his live experience are the 6 words my wife said when I took her to see her first Bob show this summer at the Double Door in Chicago:
“This is weird. I like it” she said.
That about sums it up. The son of an opera singer who used to entertain at his parent parties, Bob has basically been marinating in Austin’s melting pot of a music scene for decades. Over this time Bob has morphed into a real version of someone Matt McConaughey would play in a movie. He’s a larger than life sloppy rock god that can put together a live show that’s equal parts Copacabana, G Love’s special sauce, romantic comedy, with a pirate’s eye patch tossed in for good measure.
Bob’s genre bending live spectacle is the stuff of legend. Like the city of Austin itself, Bob is indeed weird, but good. For a taste check this live link from YouTube:
Saxon Pub
This clip gives you a glimpse of the genuine love between artist and audience Bob evokes. Personally I think the first comment from KillMeNow1990 below the clip nails it, “Quite simply, the coolest fucker on Earth. And I would assume the universe.”
So if I’m carving Bob Schneider’s comic book hero jaw line into my live music Mt. Rushmore alongside The Boss, Bono, and Billy Joe – one has to wonder why most of you you’ve never heard of the man.
And that’s a good question, besides a cup of coffee of success more directly linked to Bob dating actress Sandra Bullock then his live music prowess, he does remain relatively under the radar. And while Bob followers range from 35-year old women to University of Texas co-eds, and David Wooderson wannabes – mainstream success has yet to arrive.
All of that may be about to change with the release of Bob’s latest studio album, Lovely Creatures.
Lovely Creatures is a different album for Bob fans. It’s a romantic record composed of ten pretty songs and two greatest hits. The closest thing from Bob’s back catalogue to resemble this record is probably “Flowerparts” linked here:
Flowerparts
Yes Bob has tucked in his shirt for this album. The result is a handsome little record, and one giant song.
“40 Dogs (Like Romeo and Juliet)” is the song that just might get Bob on a few more Live Top 5 lists. It’s also everything you should love about Bob rolled into four minutes and thirteen seconds of undeniable soft rock. To give it a listen and get a glimpse of a more recent live experience from Bob click here:
40 Dogs
And there it is. “40 Dogs” is a track romantic enough to bring to mind a young John Cusack. A song you, your buddy, your wife, and mom can agree on. And of course the brilliant lyric, including the following:
Come out tonight, come out with me baby
We’ll throw the careful into the crazy
Turn the sky black into a sky blue
Turn a closed shade into a Hoo Hoo!
At its core “40 Dogs” is pure Bob. From the sloppy combination of Shakespeare and malt liquor, to the naughtiness, and the grit. But it’s also a thing of beauty. If Bob’s intent was, as it seems to write and record a lovely record, then “40 Dogs” has emerged the super model track of the bunch. “40 Dogs” has all the excitement of the perfumed air at the beginning of a relationship; locking eyes at a bar, and the high cheekbones and ample lips only a songwriter of Bob’s pedigree could possibly deliver. “40 Dogs” is the song that should get more people to visit the church of Bob.
There are other gems on Lovely Creatures from the tortured soul of “Changing my Mind” with Patty Griffin which proves art loves heartbreak. “Changing my Mind” is an exceedingly sad song that still feels good to listen to. “Bicycle vs. Car” is a gorgeous gawker slowdown of a ballad as we pan across the lopsided collision of head vs. heart.
Lovely Creatures also includes two tracks that have been fan favorites at Bob’s live shows for years in “Bombonanza” and “Tarantula.” A musician marinated in the Austin, Texas music scene like Bob is bound to become the musical equivalent of a rink or gym rat. To reach tracks like “Tarantula” and “Bombonanza” requires the experience and flavor of a dirty barbecue grill. That’s been Austin’s gift to Bob, and he’s returned the favor to us with songs like these two live escapades. While less than four minutes here trust that both are much meatier in person. When Bob does “Bombonanza” it’s “Copacabana” only you’ve swapped Barry Manilow for Don Draper. And “Tarantula” features another ridiculous yet perfect Dr. Schneider sing-a-long chorus in “There she goes! There in the moonlight! Under the stars! Tarantula!”
As a whole Lovely Creatures offers a more tapered and romantic sound than Schneider fans may be used to hearing. But even though Bob may have added a spoonful of sugar on his latest record, the live favorites “Bombonanza” and “Tarantula” finally delivered to a studio record and the first kiss boom of “40 Dogs” should result in a few new faces at the church of Schneider on Sunday. And to that I say, “Amen.”
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Green Day earn the yellow jersey
It finally happened. We have a new leader in the clubhouse. Green Day has stripped the yellow jersey off the Followill brothers delivering the best album of 2009 with 21st Century Breakdown. The yellow jersey earns you a lot of things not the least of which is pole position in the Wrangler’s six CD changer’s slot one. Not only is 21st Century Breakdown stronger then the guys 2004 rock opera, American Idiot, I believe it’s the record of the year for the following three reasons:
LONG LIVE THE ALBUM
Often my 8 year old will put on his shorts or shirt backwards. When I correct him and tell him his clothes are on backwards he usually just looks at me as if to say, “who cares? If it doesn’t bother me, what does it matter?” My static answer to his indifference is usually something about how the clothes are made to be worn a certain way and that’s why they put the tag in back, etc.
When I loaded 21st Century Breakdown into my computer and put it onto my Shuffle, I somehow put the songs in reverse order for my playlist. 21st Century Breakdown is just the sort of album where once you know the material having the songs backwards will drive you crazy and for that, I’m thankful. In a lot of ways I think digital music has allowed too many young people to begin looking at music the same way my son looks at his shorts and shirts. If the songs work for them in any order what difference does it make? Thankfully Billie Joe Armstrong and the gang still understand that the music makers put things in a certain order because they’re meant to be listened to that way. For this reason, 21st Century Breakdown should only be judged as an album. Of the few thousand people I’ve told to buy the new record, my marching orders have consistently been to listen to the entire thing (18 tracks, 1.1 hours) six times straight through before passing judgment. I challenge anyone to do that and not think Green Day have truly found higher ground as a band. The way the songs fade into each other is seamless, and the rock opera effect means most of the tracks are more sections than they are songs. In other words if you don’t like a song, wait 15 seconds and you just might. 21st Century Breakdown is true proof that Billie Joe is a world-class conductor with both the pen and the baton. Long live the album!
CREATIVE RANGE
For Green Day fans where 21st Century Breakdown separates itself from American Idiot is the band’s newfound range. Wow. Consider the following:
On track 7 “Last Night on Earth“ the band sounds like the Beach Boys slinging Sunkist.
Track 8 “East Jesus Nowhere” has all the steel-toed stomp of Marilyn Manson at his finest, and just as much ballistic blasphemy.
Track 9 “Peacemaker” sounds like Dick Dale on a long board or something Tarantino would have been listening to when he was still renting videos.
Track 14 “Horseshoes and Handgrenades” starts with the lyric “I’m not fuckin’ around!” and means it for the entire 3:14 all the way to the “G-L-O-R-I-A” shoutout to Van. This song will be the cause of some leatherneck running into his locker before practice and a few speeding tickets.
Track 15 “The Static Age” sounds like the Go-Gos if they were a punk band. This is the one for the convertibles and movie soundtracks this summer. Cue the music video in your head; this bubble gum punk will have even the bumpiest faces believing they can get the girl.
And through all this they still manage to dispense some undeniable Green Day in the three song arch between Track 3 and 5 with “Know Your Enemy,” “Viva La Gloria!” and “Before the Lobotomy.” These songs are filled with the machine gun guitars and cartoon violence we’ve come to expect from the boys as they hit their prime as a band. And for the record any chance to scream “Whisky shots and cheap cigarettes!” at the top of your lungs is a good thing in my book.
If that wasn’t enough, Green Day reinvent the rock ballad once again with Track 16 “21 Guns.” This thing is some damn infectious you won’t be able to get it out of your head. And you won’t want to. Should be a big song for them this summer.
THE AMBITION OF THE ARTIST
I love that somewhere in Oakland Billie Joe Armstrong still sits down and writes an album about Christian and Gloria. I love that he divides the record into three distinct acts. I love that he starts with the stories. I love that the band is working with an experimental theater group to bring parts of American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown to the stage. It’s all about the art with these guys, and in a world increasingly filled with suits and science we could all use a little more art.
So please go out and pick up the new Green Day, listen to it six times, and thank me later. You’ll be surprised how good it feels to listen to an album that still understands why the tag goes in the back. I’ve dressed Green Day up in yellow for the three reasons above, but whether you have them in front of your pack or not, rest assured you’ll enjoy the raucous ride that is 21st Century Breakdown.
LONG LIVE THE ALBUM
Often my 8 year old will put on his shorts or shirt backwards. When I correct him and tell him his clothes are on backwards he usually just looks at me as if to say, “who cares? If it doesn’t bother me, what does it matter?” My static answer to his indifference is usually something about how the clothes are made to be worn a certain way and that’s why they put the tag in back, etc.
When I loaded 21st Century Breakdown into my computer and put it onto my Shuffle, I somehow put the songs in reverse order for my playlist. 21st Century Breakdown is just the sort of album where once you know the material having the songs backwards will drive you crazy and for that, I’m thankful. In a lot of ways I think digital music has allowed too many young people to begin looking at music the same way my son looks at his shorts and shirts. If the songs work for them in any order what difference does it make? Thankfully Billie Joe Armstrong and the gang still understand that the music makers put things in a certain order because they’re meant to be listened to that way. For this reason, 21st Century Breakdown should only be judged as an album. Of the few thousand people I’ve told to buy the new record, my marching orders have consistently been to listen to the entire thing (18 tracks, 1.1 hours) six times straight through before passing judgment. I challenge anyone to do that and not think Green Day have truly found higher ground as a band. The way the songs fade into each other is seamless, and the rock opera effect means most of the tracks are more sections than they are songs. In other words if you don’t like a song, wait 15 seconds and you just might. 21st Century Breakdown is true proof that Billie Joe is a world-class conductor with both the pen and the baton. Long live the album!
CREATIVE RANGE
For Green Day fans where 21st Century Breakdown separates itself from American Idiot is the band’s newfound range. Wow. Consider the following:
On track 7 “Last Night on Earth“ the band sounds like the Beach Boys slinging Sunkist.
Track 8 “East Jesus Nowhere” has all the steel-toed stomp of Marilyn Manson at his finest, and just as much ballistic blasphemy.
Track 9 “Peacemaker” sounds like Dick Dale on a long board or something Tarantino would have been listening to when he was still renting videos.
Track 14 “Horseshoes and Handgrenades” starts with the lyric “I’m not fuckin’ around!” and means it for the entire 3:14 all the way to the “G-L-O-R-I-A” shoutout to Van. This song will be the cause of some leatherneck running into his locker before practice and a few speeding tickets.
Track 15 “The Static Age” sounds like the Go-Gos if they were a punk band. This is the one for the convertibles and movie soundtracks this summer. Cue the music video in your head; this bubble gum punk will have even the bumpiest faces believing they can get the girl.
And through all this they still manage to dispense some undeniable Green Day in the three song arch between Track 3 and 5 with “Know Your Enemy,” “Viva La Gloria!” and “Before the Lobotomy.” These songs are filled with the machine gun guitars and cartoon violence we’ve come to expect from the boys as they hit their prime as a band. And for the record any chance to scream “Whisky shots and cheap cigarettes!” at the top of your lungs is a good thing in my book.
If that wasn’t enough, Green Day reinvent the rock ballad once again with Track 16 “21 Guns.” This thing is some damn infectious you won’t be able to get it out of your head. And you won’t want to. Should be a big song for them this summer.
THE AMBITION OF THE ARTIST
I love that somewhere in Oakland Billie Joe Armstrong still sits down and writes an album about Christian and Gloria. I love that he divides the record into three distinct acts. I love that he starts with the stories. I love that the band is working with an experimental theater group to bring parts of American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown to the stage. It’s all about the art with these guys, and in a world increasingly filled with suits and science we could all use a little more art.
So please go out and pick up the new Green Day, listen to it six times, and thank me later. You’ll be surprised how good it feels to listen to an album that still understands why the tag goes in the back. I’ve dressed Green Day up in yellow for the three reasons above, but whether you have them in front of your pack or not, rest assured you’ll enjoy the raucous ride that is 21st Century Breakdown.
Friday, March 27, 2009
You Never Forget Your First
I had a great parenting moment the other day. My 7-year old son came frantically running down the stairs of our home and said five words I’ll not soon forget, “Dad, I like a song!” he exclaimed.
The best part of it was that for my son this was probably the first time he had ever experienced this. Sure he’d tolerated music riding around in my Jeep, maybe even liked some of it. But he had never found the music for himself; those songs had never been his own. And I loved the way he said it. “Dad, I like a song” was shouted with the same coming-of-age surprise of “Dad, I found a chest hair!” It was if he had never been surer about anything in his whole life.
I wasn’t about to let this moment pass me by. Determined to reinforce the behavior I sprinted upstairs to see what song he was listening to. I fully expected to hear some bubble gum pop or Auto-Tune hip-hop song to be playing; I was surprised to find the clock radio tuned to our local mullet rock station 93X. After giving my son a proud glance, I turned my attention to trying desperately to decipher enough of the lyrics to punch them into Google. A few seconds into this excellent track I had a revelation, “Holy crap, this is Eddie Vedder. And it’s new.” For the record, the revelation that the first song your son likes is Pearl Jam is just about as awesome as him bringing a beautiful girl home on a date.
Damn near hyperventilating I worked the lyrics (something about brothers and sisters) into Google and scoped the 93X site for their current play list. After a false start looking for the song which I learned was called “Brother” on the Pearl Jam rarities disc Lost Dogs, I learned the version of the song I was actually looking for (with lyrics) would be included on the Ten anniversary reissue, Pearl Jam Ten (Legacy Edition), out this week.
In some ways Pearl Jam Ten was also my first. Besides maybe Achtung Baby (out around the same time), Pearl Jam’s Ten was my first polarizing music experience. I vividly remember sitting in the backseat of cars in high school listening to Ten not knowing whether I should make fun of it or love it. A few of my buddies spent the summer at a church camp and I still remember them coming home with the same reaction. There was no doubt about it. Ten was different. You couldn’t ignore the sound. Unfortunately this classic album was at least partially to blame for all the coeds wearing flannel shirts and jeans my entire four years of college. But with a sound like this it might be worth the trade.
The Ten reissue comes in several flavors. The one I purchased had two discs. One is simply a remastered version of the original Ten, the second disc Ten Redux features a Brendan O’Brien remixed version of the record as well as six previously unreleased new tracks, including my son’s new favorite song “Brother.”
Overall I must say it was a treat to listen to the majesty of Ten once again and be reminded of Jameson shots in the dorms and driving to Tower Records in Boston for midnight album releases. To this day one of the coolest live music experiences I’ve had was when Pearl Jam used to open shows in complete darkness playing “Release.”
I’m not sure what to make of the Brendan O’Brien remixes, they end up feeling more remastered than remixed. It’s not until some extra backing vocals appear on “Jeremy” that we even see his hand. Sure he takes the butter knife blunt guitar grunge and gives it a little steak knife shimmer, but it’s damn subtle. It’s almost as if O’Brien was too scared to mess with a masterpiece. Which is a shame because everyone is going to get the original album as part of the dual disc set anyway. I really wish O’Brien would have thrown caution to the wind and had some fun messin’ with the record. Personally I’d love to hear what Ten would sound like in the vinyl bin at Rebel Rebel records completely remixed and ready for the Soho Grand lobby. It seems O’Brien felt more comfortable messing with the lesser known tracks as hits like “Alive” and Even Flow” remain relatively unchanged. He does tuck in the flannel and add some gloss on tracks like “Once” and “Garden.” But not enough to make a meaningful difference.
As for the new stuff, I must agree with my son that “Brother” is splendid. It just feels good to have some new Pearl Jam in the world, and “Brother” is vintage stuff from the band. Over the course of four minutes it prominently features circular guitar riffs and shredding solos that would sound great to amp up any pregame hockey skate, and it includes a syrupy Heart of Darkness sequence in the middle where Vedder slows it down only to restart it all up again a few moments later.
If I had to pick the voice to be in my personal super group it would be Ed Vedder. Note: he’s constantly referred to as Ed (not Eddie) Vedder in the liner notes and for some reason typing that just feels fantastic. It’s like calling Robert DeNiro “Bobby.” Vedder is carved into my musical Mt. Rushmore in large part due to slow down sequences like this one in “Brother.” He’s the master at providing that Martin Sheen in the hotel sense of total abandon. Part of it is his voice is big enough to throttle down like that and not lose your attention, and part of it is the big space emotion and imagination his voice immediately coveys. It’s the same reason he was the perfect choice to do the Into the Wild soundtrack. If anyone can put rock & roll back in the loincloth, it’s Ed Vedder because no voice sounds better under the expanse of the stars. The last song on Ten, “Release” manages to bridle this spirit horse for an entire nine minutes as like Jim Morrison with a surfboard, Vedder stares at you cross eyed and says, “I’ll ride the wave where it takes me!” somehow still convincing you to paddle out behind him.
“Just a Girl” desperately wants to be “Why Go,” but sadly stays on the leash. “Breath and a Scream” starts out sounding like a studio track, but very quickly gets raw with some drums.Vedder sings, “I suggest you step out on your porch and run away my son see it all, see the world” his voice cracking with passion. In some ways “Breath and a Scream” is three acts delivered across six minutes from studio, to tribal, and finishing with a wicked Mike McCready guitar solo at the end.
“State of Love and Trust” is a riff masquerading as a song, but the chops from McCready and Stone Gossard are so good it almost leaves you not caring. I’m sure “State of Love and Trust” sounds great played live with the steam coming off the crowd.
“2,000 Mile Blues” is just that, a bluesy little romp that ultimately doesn’t have the strength to defend itself against the distortion peddles leave it sounding more like noise than music. “Evil Little Goat” is more goofy stuff from the grab bag as the title might suggest. I’m guessing it’s somehow linked into the Chicago Cubs and the curse.
Truth is “Brother” is the best of the new bunch and the only thing worthy of being included in on Ten if they were to add a track to this famous album. The rest are mostly just scraps from the table and there’s not much to the remixes either. But I can honestly say it was worth the purchase for the memories and more importantly for my son to say I love you back to music for the first time. Thanks Ed Vedder for reminding me how easy it is for the sound of one big voice to remind you how big the world is out there. Now go see it.
The best part of it was that for my son this was probably the first time he had ever experienced this. Sure he’d tolerated music riding around in my Jeep, maybe even liked some of it. But he had never found the music for himself; those songs had never been his own. And I loved the way he said it. “Dad, I like a song” was shouted with the same coming-of-age surprise of “Dad, I found a chest hair!” It was if he had never been surer about anything in his whole life.
I wasn’t about to let this moment pass me by. Determined to reinforce the behavior I sprinted upstairs to see what song he was listening to. I fully expected to hear some bubble gum pop or Auto-Tune hip-hop song to be playing; I was surprised to find the clock radio tuned to our local mullet rock station 93X. After giving my son a proud glance, I turned my attention to trying desperately to decipher enough of the lyrics to punch them into Google. A few seconds into this excellent track I had a revelation, “Holy crap, this is Eddie Vedder. And it’s new.” For the record, the revelation that the first song your son likes is Pearl Jam is just about as awesome as him bringing a beautiful girl home on a date.
Damn near hyperventilating I worked the lyrics (something about brothers and sisters) into Google and scoped the 93X site for their current play list. After a false start looking for the song which I learned was called “Brother” on the Pearl Jam rarities disc Lost Dogs, I learned the version of the song I was actually looking for (with lyrics) would be included on the Ten anniversary reissue, Pearl Jam Ten (Legacy Edition), out this week.
In some ways Pearl Jam Ten was also my first. Besides maybe Achtung Baby (out around the same time), Pearl Jam’s Ten was my first polarizing music experience. I vividly remember sitting in the backseat of cars in high school listening to Ten not knowing whether I should make fun of it or love it. A few of my buddies spent the summer at a church camp and I still remember them coming home with the same reaction. There was no doubt about it. Ten was different. You couldn’t ignore the sound. Unfortunately this classic album was at least partially to blame for all the coeds wearing flannel shirts and jeans my entire four years of college. But with a sound like this it might be worth the trade.
The Ten reissue comes in several flavors. The one I purchased had two discs. One is simply a remastered version of the original Ten, the second disc Ten Redux features a Brendan O’Brien remixed version of the record as well as six previously unreleased new tracks, including my son’s new favorite song “Brother.”
Overall I must say it was a treat to listen to the majesty of Ten once again and be reminded of Jameson shots in the dorms and driving to Tower Records in Boston for midnight album releases. To this day one of the coolest live music experiences I’ve had was when Pearl Jam used to open shows in complete darkness playing “Release.”
I’m not sure what to make of the Brendan O’Brien remixes, they end up feeling more remastered than remixed. It’s not until some extra backing vocals appear on “Jeremy” that we even see his hand. Sure he takes the butter knife blunt guitar grunge and gives it a little steak knife shimmer, but it’s damn subtle. It’s almost as if O’Brien was too scared to mess with a masterpiece. Which is a shame because everyone is going to get the original album as part of the dual disc set anyway. I really wish O’Brien would have thrown caution to the wind and had some fun messin’ with the record. Personally I’d love to hear what Ten would sound like in the vinyl bin at Rebel Rebel records completely remixed and ready for the Soho Grand lobby. It seems O’Brien felt more comfortable messing with the lesser known tracks as hits like “Alive” and Even Flow” remain relatively unchanged. He does tuck in the flannel and add some gloss on tracks like “Once” and “Garden.” But not enough to make a meaningful difference.
As for the new stuff, I must agree with my son that “Brother” is splendid. It just feels good to have some new Pearl Jam in the world, and “Brother” is vintage stuff from the band. Over the course of four minutes it prominently features circular guitar riffs and shredding solos that would sound great to amp up any pregame hockey skate, and it includes a syrupy Heart of Darkness sequence in the middle where Vedder slows it down only to restart it all up again a few moments later.
If I had to pick the voice to be in my personal super group it would be Ed Vedder. Note: he’s constantly referred to as Ed (not Eddie) Vedder in the liner notes and for some reason typing that just feels fantastic. It’s like calling Robert DeNiro “Bobby.” Vedder is carved into my musical Mt. Rushmore in large part due to slow down sequences like this one in “Brother.” He’s the master at providing that Martin Sheen in the hotel sense of total abandon. Part of it is his voice is big enough to throttle down like that and not lose your attention, and part of it is the big space emotion and imagination his voice immediately coveys. It’s the same reason he was the perfect choice to do the Into the Wild soundtrack. If anyone can put rock & roll back in the loincloth, it’s Ed Vedder because no voice sounds better under the expanse of the stars. The last song on Ten, “Release” manages to bridle this spirit horse for an entire nine minutes as like Jim Morrison with a surfboard, Vedder stares at you cross eyed and says, “I’ll ride the wave where it takes me!” somehow still convincing you to paddle out behind him.
“Just a Girl” desperately wants to be “Why Go,” but sadly stays on the leash. “Breath and a Scream” starts out sounding like a studio track, but very quickly gets raw with some drums.Vedder sings, “I suggest you step out on your porch and run away my son see it all, see the world” his voice cracking with passion. In some ways “Breath and a Scream” is three acts delivered across six minutes from studio, to tribal, and finishing with a wicked Mike McCready guitar solo at the end.
“State of Love and Trust” is a riff masquerading as a song, but the chops from McCready and Stone Gossard are so good it almost leaves you not caring. I’m sure “State of Love and Trust” sounds great played live with the steam coming off the crowd.
“2,000 Mile Blues” is just that, a bluesy little romp that ultimately doesn’t have the strength to defend itself against the distortion peddles leave it sounding more like noise than music. “Evil Little Goat” is more goofy stuff from the grab bag as the title might suggest. I’m guessing it’s somehow linked into the Chicago Cubs and the curse.
Truth is “Brother” is the best of the new bunch and the only thing worthy of being included in on Ten if they were to add a track to this famous album. The rest are mostly just scraps from the table and there’s not much to the remixes either. But I can honestly say it was worth the purchase for the memories and more importantly for my son to say I love you back to music for the first time. Thanks Ed Vedder for reminding me how easy it is for the sound of one big voice to remind you how big the world is out there. Now go see it.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Kings of Leon Stagger to Greatness
If Jack White is The Rockfather, Kings of Leon are the first family of American rock. The latest record, Only By The Night, from the three southern brothers and a cousin is yet another sign rock & roll is alive and well in the United States.
Only By The Night starts with the haunting “Closer.” With no shortage of effects “Closer” is more Close Encounters and sounds like a pitch-black night with a prison spotlight panning over the ground. While far from a gem, “Closer” builds anticipation and is a serviceable table setter for the few of us who still listen to whole albums.
By song two it’s on. “Crawl” brings the fuzz guitars Wolfmother style while maintaining a sled dog pace by layering a cleaner guitar riff right over the top. It should be noted that “Crawl” was rumored to be the first single and video off the album before being eventually being replaced by “Sex on Fire.”
That’s what I love about Kings of Leon. They’re proper rock stars. The behavior, the egos, the chemicals. Rolling with the song title “Sex on Fire” as your first single is going to significantly limit your radio options. But that’s Kings of Leon, they don’t try to fix it. Just listen to how “Sex on Fire” ends with that last hard guitar jab. It’s the studio equivalent of throwing the mic down at the end of your set only without the feedback.
When the band appeared on Saturday Night Live this past weekend, they chose to play the single “Sex on Fire” and glossy ballad “Use Somebody.” I suspect “Use Somebody” will be a hot button song for Kings of Leon fans. While this power ballad still has some of the band’s signature rough edges including increasing the tempo midway through – it’s a long way from the Tennessee woods and whiskey where many of their core fans want Kings of Leon to stay. “Use Somebody” is Black Crows meets Bryan Adams. And I for one hope it pops for them as this is a band that needs to be as big as they sound.
If pressed to describe the Kings of Leon’s signature sound I’d call it jean shorts and wine rock. Like “Ragoo” off Because of the Times, “Manhattan” nails this rambling, open toed sound of rock & roll stuffed into a picnic basket. Really great stuff, and at the moment a sound only coming out of this band.
If there is a dip on Only By the Night it occurs with the four songs directly after “Manhattan.” I suspect this section of the record will grow on me and become more important in the days ahead but it doesn’t pop right away. There are nuggets here too though from the street fighter spirit of “Notion” to the soda pop swank of “I Want You” which wouldn’t sound out of place alongside Lucille washing the car in Cool Hand Luke.
Only By The Night’s second act begins with song ten “Be Somebody.” It’s another power ballad, but not quite as tucked in as “Use Somebody.” The similar song titles reminds me of the early ‘90s when seemingly every Pearl Jam track was called “Nothing Man,” “Better Man,” etc. The two songs are similar but the drums and epic sound of “Be Somebody” make it the one you’ll remember.
The big knock on Because of the Times, and likely Only By The Night is going to be that the music is too crisp and produced. People will be looking for the Larry, Daryl, and Daryl grit of the band’s first couple albums. To these people I proudly introduce the last track on the record and also the song that solidifies Only By The Night as a great album . . .it’s called ”Cold Desert.”
“Cold Desert” is a staggering ballad that would sound best with a bottle of bourbon under the wide-open sky. It’s sprit horse Indian reservation stuff, the musical equivalent of Martin Sheen in his hotel room in Apocalypse Now. It’s the song Kid Rock can only dream of one day making. If lyrics like “Jesus don’t love me” don’t get to you, this YouTube behind the scenes look at the making of “Cold Desert” certainly will:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EhBdPEaNj-g
In summary, I for one hope Only By The Night places Kings of Leon one step closer to stadiums. This music is too important not to be heard by more people. I hope the boys put a fist through the wall and get out of their critical, UK based niche and get more acclaim here in the States.
Which remind me, all the great music is coming out of Blackbird Studios in Nashville right now. Is there someway we can get homeland security protecting that place? I want barricades. I want an on-going red level warning. I’m willing to be frisked to and give up civil liberties. Anything to help Mr. White and the extended Followil family put their music into the world.
Only By The Night starts with the haunting “Closer.” With no shortage of effects “Closer” is more Close Encounters and sounds like a pitch-black night with a prison spotlight panning over the ground. While far from a gem, “Closer” builds anticipation and is a serviceable table setter for the few of us who still listen to whole albums.
By song two it’s on. “Crawl” brings the fuzz guitars Wolfmother style while maintaining a sled dog pace by layering a cleaner guitar riff right over the top. It should be noted that “Crawl” was rumored to be the first single and video off the album before being eventually being replaced by “Sex on Fire.”
That’s what I love about Kings of Leon. They’re proper rock stars. The behavior, the egos, the chemicals. Rolling with the song title “Sex on Fire” as your first single is going to significantly limit your radio options. But that’s Kings of Leon, they don’t try to fix it. Just listen to how “Sex on Fire” ends with that last hard guitar jab. It’s the studio equivalent of throwing the mic down at the end of your set only without the feedback.
When the band appeared on Saturday Night Live this past weekend, they chose to play the single “Sex on Fire” and glossy ballad “Use Somebody.” I suspect “Use Somebody” will be a hot button song for Kings of Leon fans. While this power ballad still has some of the band’s signature rough edges including increasing the tempo midway through – it’s a long way from the Tennessee woods and whiskey where many of their core fans want Kings of Leon to stay. “Use Somebody” is Black Crows meets Bryan Adams. And I for one hope it pops for them as this is a band that needs to be as big as they sound.
If pressed to describe the Kings of Leon’s signature sound I’d call it jean shorts and wine rock. Like “Ragoo” off Because of the Times, “Manhattan” nails this rambling, open toed sound of rock & roll stuffed into a picnic basket. Really great stuff, and at the moment a sound only coming out of this band.
If there is a dip on Only By the Night it occurs with the four songs directly after “Manhattan.” I suspect this section of the record will grow on me and become more important in the days ahead but it doesn’t pop right away. There are nuggets here too though from the street fighter spirit of “Notion” to the soda pop swank of “I Want You” which wouldn’t sound out of place alongside Lucille washing the car in Cool Hand Luke.
Only By The Night’s second act begins with song ten “Be Somebody.” It’s another power ballad, but not quite as tucked in as “Use Somebody.” The similar song titles reminds me of the early ‘90s when seemingly every Pearl Jam track was called “Nothing Man,” “Better Man,” etc. The two songs are similar but the drums and epic sound of “Be Somebody” make it the one you’ll remember.
The big knock on Because of the Times, and likely Only By The Night is going to be that the music is too crisp and produced. People will be looking for the Larry, Daryl, and Daryl grit of the band’s first couple albums. To these people I proudly introduce the last track on the record and also the song that solidifies Only By The Night as a great album . . .it’s called ”Cold Desert.”
“Cold Desert” is a staggering ballad that would sound best with a bottle of bourbon under the wide-open sky. It’s sprit horse Indian reservation stuff, the musical equivalent of Martin Sheen in his hotel room in Apocalypse Now. It’s the song Kid Rock can only dream of one day making. If lyrics like “Jesus don’t love me” don’t get to you, this YouTube behind the scenes look at the making of “Cold Desert” certainly will:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EhBdPEaNj-g
In summary, I for one hope Only By The Night places Kings of Leon one step closer to stadiums. This music is too important not to be heard by more people. I hope the boys put a fist through the wall and get out of their critical, UK based niche and get more acclaim here in the States.
Which remind me, all the great music is coming out of Blackbird Studios in Nashville right now. Is there someway we can get homeland security protecting that place? I want barricades. I want an on-going red level warning. I’m willing to be frisked to and give up civil liberties. Anything to help Mr. White and the extended Followil family put their music into the world.
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