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.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Save your Sunkist, Joe Purdy Has the Beach Blues.
Every now and then a voice will just grab you. I remember it with Tracy Chapman and “Fast Car,” and Joe Purdy is the same way. At risk of ruining it I must mention the first time I heard the man was on Grey’s Anatomy. Purdy’s vocal jumped off the screen. His sound is in the genre of Chapman, Ben Harper, Amos Lee, and Jack Johnson. Purdy delivers Otis Redding dock music right sized for the iPod world.
But unlike Jack Johnson’s sun soaked good vibrations, Purdy’s brand of water music is moodier. “Skinny Dippin’ girl” sounds like swimming at night. Whereas Johnson uses the water to catch a wave, Purdy seems to use it to wash himself off.
Purdy’s voice evokes heaviness, a sadness. For some this will be a welcome thing like watching a sad movie, as they’ll enjoy cutting to the core with Purdy. For others it will grow tiring especially as most of the songs tend to sound similar when dominated by such a distinct vocal.
Julie Blue is a record from 2006 and according to the liner notes was recorded raw in one week at a lake home. The album is filled with frayed edges in the form of audible breaths; fret slides, and waves crashing against the shore.
At his best Purdy snaps off a song like “Far Away Blues.” The sand is still in your toes, but it’s a heavy track. There is a simple brilliance here. The lyrics are spare and the song lasts just over two minutes, but it’s really a wonderful little long distance love song. A surf sonnet of sorts.
On “Whiskey & Fish” Purdy takes things up a notch rocking his guitar hard and bringing a smile to his beach blues. The pace is fantastic and the arch top guitar and mandolin create a tapestry of sound with as much life as a cabin full of people.
In some ways Julie Blue reminds me a lot of the Into the Wild Soundtrack. It’s music inspired by something. In this case it’s a singer’s trip to Board Island in upstate New York. In Vedder’s case it was Sean Penn’s film. It’s difficult to judge either as an album when they’re really closer to works of art. In Purdy’s case I feel like I’ve found his journal. I feel like I should be walking around a museum looking at black and white photos when I listen to Julie Blue. There is a story here and it’s a heavy one. Joe Purdy wants to tell us something. I’m not sure he gets it all out here, but it sure if fun listening to him try.
For those that haven’t heard it, “I Love the Rain the Most” is far and away the standout track on the record. Purdy delivers simple magic with lyrics like “I like the rain the most when it stops.” As we listen to him plead, “no more rain today” Purdy has an almost Marley-like ability to create timeless music around simple structures. In the case of “I Love the Rain the Most” he tells the story of summer coming to an end with a white cap vocal alongside some sun shower guitar picking.
That’s the blessing and the curse of Joe Purdy. His music is intoxicating, but like any good depressant carries with it a sadness. Julie Blue is the sort of soundtrack you’d put on an iMovie slideshow of your kids because it would sound great and has the melancholy of growing up.
I was already familiar with “Wash Away,” “Far Away Blues,” and “ I Love the Rain the Most” prior to picking up the CD. Beyond those TV drama tracks I can’t say I discovered much else here. Of the new bits my favorites would be “Whisky & Fish,” “Skinny Dippin Girl” and “Abbie’s Song.” The bar hall bustle of “Whisky and Fish” with lyrics like “They fed me fish and whisky and I went to sleep again” would rank best of the rest.
But unlike Jack Johnson’s sun soaked good vibrations, Purdy’s brand of water music is moodier. “Skinny Dippin’ girl” sounds like swimming at night. Whereas Johnson uses the water to catch a wave, Purdy seems to use it to wash himself off.
Purdy’s voice evokes heaviness, a sadness. For some this will be a welcome thing like watching a sad movie, as they’ll enjoy cutting to the core with Purdy. For others it will grow tiring especially as most of the songs tend to sound similar when dominated by such a distinct vocal.
Julie Blue is a record from 2006 and according to the liner notes was recorded raw in one week at a lake home. The album is filled with frayed edges in the form of audible breaths; fret slides, and waves crashing against the shore.
At his best Purdy snaps off a song like “Far Away Blues.” The sand is still in your toes, but it’s a heavy track. There is a simple brilliance here. The lyrics are spare and the song lasts just over two minutes, but it’s really a wonderful little long distance love song. A surf sonnet of sorts.
On “Whiskey & Fish” Purdy takes things up a notch rocking his guitar hard and bringing a smile to his beach blues. The pace is fantastic and the arch top guitar and mandolin create a tapestry of sound with as much life as a cabin full of people.
In some ways Julie Blue reminds me a lot of the Into the Wild Soundtrack. It’s music inspired by something. In this case it’s a singer’s trip to Board Island in upstate New York. In Vedder’s case it was Sean Penn’s film. It’s difficult to judge either as an album when they’re really closer to works of art. In Purdy’s case I feel like I’ve found his journal. I feel like I should be walking around a museum looking at black and white photos when I listen to Julie Blue. There is a story here and it’s a heavy one. Joe Purdy wants to tell us something. I’m not sure he gets it all out here, but it sure if fun listening to him try.
For those that haven’t heard it, “I Love the Rain the Most” is far and away the standout track on the record. Purdy delivers simple magic with lyrics like “I like the rain the most when it stops.” As we listen to him plead, “no more rain today” Purdy has an almost Marley-like ability to create timeless music around simple structures. In the case of “I Love the Rain the Most” he tells the story of summer coming to an end with a white cap vocal alongside some sun shower guitar picking.
That’s the blessing and the curse of Joe Purdy. His music is intoxicating, but like any good depressant carries with it a sadness. Julie Blue is the sort of soundtrack you’d put on an iMovie slideshow of your kids because it would sound great and has the melancholy of growing up.
I was already familiar with “Wash Away,” “Far Away Blues,” and “ I Love the Rain the Most” prior to picking up the CD. Beyond those TV drama tracks I can’t say I discovered much else here. Of the new bits my favorites would be “Whisky & Fish,” “Skinny Dippin Girl” and “Abbie’s Song.” The bar hall bustle of “Whisky and Fish” with lyrics like “They fed me fish and whisky and I went to sleep again” would rank best of the rest.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Now Batting for the Rochester Red Wings Mason Jennings!
Mason Jennings is one of these guys who seem to have been on the verge of breaking big for around a decade. Jennings has been a fixture on the local scene in Minneapolis and has put out 7 proper records since 1997. A lyric from the opening track on his new record “I’ve been lovin’ you forever but I never knew your name” could just as easily describe his career. Recently Jack Johnson took Jennings under his long board and signed him to Brushfire Records. Like Johnson, Jennings was also born in Hawaii and I’m sure fans of Jack have taken Mason in as their own.
In the Ever is a nice little folk record. Trouble is only two tracks really rise to the occasion here resulting in an another uneven offering from journeyman Jennings. Opener “Never Knew Your Name” is bar hall meets Alice in Wonderland. While it has elements of sing-a-long, it’s just dark enough to make you want to sleep with the lights on.
Jennings is like the over thirty career minor leaguer having a nice season. While impressive, it’s also a bit sad because you know he missed his chance. Clearly Jennings has the talent, I’m just afraid the train has already left the station.
Tracks at the start of In the Ever have a haunted rocking chair feel to them. The music has a folksy front porch vibe to it but something is off kilter. Jennings voice will appeal to Jack Johnson fans, as he’s capable of sounding exactly like him. The difference is Johnson sounds like a sunset, and Jennings sounds like a BxW photo . . .of a crime scene. There’s more sadness and darkness to Jennings’ overall vibe.
There’s something very Vaudeville and experimental about this disc from Jennings. It’s as if he’s at peace and he’s finally doing it the way he wants to. Jennings has the sound of a free man, someone who is no longer trying to appease someone or get somewhere. And there’s something admirable about that. There are moments on In the Ever where that spirit turns into nice music. “I Love You and Buddha Too” is both hysterical and fun to listen to.
Jennings finally turns up the lights and gets out of his shell on “Fighter Girl.” He sounds like Jack Johnson’s cooler, older brother on this one. The voice is deeper and ready for the campfire especially the “yeah yeah yeah a yeah” chorus. “Fighter Girl” is barefoot white t-shirt rock that will put a smile on your face and one of the standout tracks on the record.
Jennings mixes in some folksy, borderline silly live tracks like “Your New Man” where he sings about cookies and getting too drunk at the Christmas party. You can tell by the audience enthusiasm that Jennings the showman is truly adored. He seems to be cut from the cloth of the old folk singers as he’s comfortable with the harmonica, commanding a room, and doling out anecdotes as songs. Yes Jennings is quite at home singing about god, rivers, and cities he might never have been to. It all sounds very natural. There’s a little Zen here and I can see the fit with Johnson.
The only mixes signal is a track like “Going Back to New Orleans” where Jennings seems to want to make a political statement, trouble is the message is lost in two minutes that are more mumble than music.
Like a true folk rock, songs like “How Deep Is That River” paint an amazing picture with lyrics like “God saw that man was just a little too rough so he gave him a heart and filled it with love.” Trouble is most here won’t have you tapping your foot.
The best of In the Ever are the power couple of “Fighter Girl” and “Soldier Boy.” “Soldier Boy” would sound fantastic on HBO’s miniseries Generation Kill this summer with lyrics like, “I was born on the railroad tracks with the weight of the world on my back.” “Soldier Boy” is sure to have the bodies bobbing at the summer festivals with its “bang a bang” chorus. This is another one to pay attention to.
So two more nice hits for Jennings on In the Ever, but I’m afraid it’s still not enough to take him to the big leagues.
In the Ever is a nice little folk record. Trouble is only two tracks really rise to the occasion here resulting in an another uneven offering from journeyman Jennings. Opener “Never Knew Your Name” is bar hall meets Alice in Wonderland. While it has elements of sing-a-long, it’s just dark enough to make you want to sleep with the lights on.
Jennings is like the over thirty career minor leaguer having a nice season. While impressive, it’s also a bit sad because you know he missed his chance. Clearly Jennings has the talent, I’m just afraid the train has already left the station.
Tracks at the start of In the Ever have a haunted rocking chair feel to them. The music has a folksy front porch vibe to it but something is off kilter. Jennings voice will appeal to Jack Johnson fans, as he’s capable of sounding exactly like him. The difference is Johnson sounds like a sunset, and Jennings sounds like a BxW photo . . .of a crime scene. There’s more sadness and darkness to Jennings’ overall vibe.
There’s something very Vaudeville and experimental about this disc from Jennings. It’s as if he’s at peace and he’s finally doing it the way he wants to. Jennings has the sound of a free man, someone who is no longer trying to appease someone or get somewhere. And there’s something admirable about that. There are moments on In the Ever where that spirit turns into nice music. “I Love You and Buddha Too” is both hysterical and fun to listen to.
Jennings finally turns up the lights and gets out of his shell on “Fighter Girl.” He sounds like Jack Johnson’s cooler, older brother on this one. The voice is deeper and ready for the campfire especially the “yeah yeah yeah a yeah” chorus. “Fighter Girl” is barefoot white t-shirt rock that will put a smile on your face and one of the standout tracks on the record.
Jennings mixes in some folksy, borderline silly live tracks like “Your New Man” where he sings about cookies and getting too drunk at the Christmas party. You can tell by the audience enthusiasm that Jennings the showman is truly adored. He seems to be cut from the cloth of the old folk singers as he’s comfortable with the harmonica, commanding a room, and doling out anecdotes as songs. Yes Jennings is quite at home singing about god, rivers, and cities he might never have been to. It all sounds very natural. There’s a little Zen here and I can see the fit with Johnson.
The only mixes signal is a track like “Going Back to New Orleans” where Jennings seems to want to make a political statement, trouble is the message is lost in two minutes that are more mumble than music.
Like a true folk rock, songs like “How Deep Is That River” paint an amazing picture with lyrics like “God saw that man was just a little too rough so he gave him a heart and filled it with love.” Trouble is most here won’t have you tapping your foot.
The best of In the Ever are the power couple of “Fighter Girl” and “Soldier Boy.” “Soldier Boy” would sound fantastic on HBO’s miniseries Generation Kill this summer with lyrics like, “I was born on the railroad tracks with the weight of the world on my back.” “Soldier Boy” is sure to have the bodies bobbing at the summer festivals with its “bang a bang” chorus. This is another one to pay attention to.
So two more nice hits for Jennings on In the Ever, but I’m afraid it’s still not enough to take him to the big leagues.
Looking For a Little Magic? Pull Frightened Rabbit Out Of A Hat
Every now and then you run into a little batch of songs that are truly unbreakable. The Fray did this for us last year, and as much as I hate to admit it I’m fairly certain I will never ever get sick of “Stop & Stare” from One Republic despite the fact that it’s playing every time I walk through the lobby at work.
“The Modern Leper” is track one on the Midnight Organ Fight record from Frightened Rabbit. Simply put it truly explodes off the page. “The Modern Leper” is pure magic. It gets you to lean in from the start with the awkward and picturesque lyric, “cripple walks amongst you, all you tired human beings. He’s got all the things a cripple has not working arms and legs.” Lead singer Scott Hutchison sounds like Adam Duritz if no one broke his heart. “The Modern Leper” is a steady crescendo working towards the heights of a cinematic swell by the one-minute mark. If you make compilation CDs for your friends, look no further as this should be your first track on the annual music mix. The prairie guitar strum combined with grinding of the gears will have you out of your seat by the time they hit the “is that you in front of me” bridge, white capping their way through lyrics like “you must be a masochist.” But the real beauty of “The Modern Leper” is you can keep winding it up because this song will pop off for you time and time again like Old Faithful. Wow. The full-bodied sound of “The Modern Leper” is not to be appreciated by everyone, but will be truly savored by the music lover.
And it doesn’t stop there. “I Feel Better” features a great up-tempo intro. “I Feel Better” puts the throttle down and keeps chugging ahead with gusto. Frightened Rabbit remind me a bit of the band James in their heyday, as every song seems to have oversized ambition and heart. But like James there is a sense these guys won’t be discovered. From the way the album jacket looks to the complex dark beer rock they fill their second record with, I’m not sure MTV or radio would know what to make of Frightened Rabbit as they are truly neither hide or hare.
The long Os of Hutchison’s vocal made me wonder where Frightened Rabbit hail from, turns out they’re Scottish. British without the attitude I suppose. Songs like “Good Arms Vs. Bad Arms” don’t show much save for a little guitar flex from Hutchison towards the end as if he just wants us to know he can.
It’s not until “Old Old Fashioned” that we get another track worthy of being set next to “The Modern Leper.” On “Old Old Fashioned” Frightened Rabbit channel Snow Patrol with a bit more country bend. The message is a good one as Hutchison encourages his lover to turn off the television because they never talk asking her to kick it old school, “If I get old old fashioned, would you get old fashioned with me?” A nice combination of message and music coming together right here.
Frightened Rabbit remind me a lot of the spring of 2004. I was living in England with my family and every time I turned on Virgin radio it seemed they were opening another fresh can of crisp guitar rock. Snow Patrol and Keane were burning up the airwaves back then, and Frightened Rabbit appear to be on their front foot like those bands from nearly five years ago.
“The Twist” sounds like the single, but for my money it’s trying a bit too hard. Unlike the rest of the record that has a nice head on it, “The Twist” is a bit too art directed and contained. I tend to prefer the passion from earlier on. Frightened Rabbit sound best when they’re slightly off the rails.
Even on a one-minute instrumental like “Bright Pink Bookmark,” Frightened Rabbit show they’re more than capable of creating anticipation for what is to come. The squeaks of the orchestra here sound like a band stretching out their hamstrings before a long run.
Hutchison really has a great vocal and the occasional haunting lyric. Mixed with the big guitars Frightened Rabbit are a force to be reckoning with. You can see what the band is capable of in glimpses on songs like “My Backwards Walk” that don’t go all the way but seem to indicate creative range.
The last of the gems on their second record is “Keep Yourself Warm” with its spoken like a sailor lyrics, “It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm.” “Keep Yourself Warm” is a torrid encounter between two medicated individuals. But the sloppy mess here sounds good enough to call her the next morning. “Keep Yourself Warm” builds all the way to Bellagio fountain blasts towards the end and the memorable shout-out, “see in the dark.”
The strength of Frightened Rabbit is that nearly ever track is completely listenable. But it’s songs like “The Modern Leper,” “Old Old Fashioned,” and “Keep Yourself Warm” that truly demonstrate the boys from Scotland have a few tricks up their sleeve.
“The Modern Leper” is track one on the Midnight Organ Fight record from Frightened Rabbit. Simply put it truly explodes off the page. “The Modern Leper” is pure magic. It gets you to lean in from the start with the awkward and picturesque lyric, “cripple walks amongst you, all you tired human beings. He’s got all the things a cripple has not working arms and legs.” Lead singer Scott Hutchison sounds like Adam Duritz if no one broke his heart. “The Modern Leper” is a steady crescendo working towards the heights of a cinematic swell by the one-minute mark. If you make compilation CDs for your friends, look no further as this should be your first track on the annual music mix. The prairie guitar strum combined with grinding of the gears will have you out of your seat by the time they hit the “is that you in front of me” bridge, white capping their way through lyrics like “you must be a masochist.” But the real beauty of “The Modern Leper” is you can keep winding it up because this song will pop off for you time and time again like Old Faithful. Wow. The full-bodied sound of “The Modern Leper” is not to be appreciated by everyone, but will be truly savored by the music lover.
And it doesn’t stop there. “I Feel Better” features a great up-tempo intro. “I Feel Better” puts the throttle down and keeps chugging ahead with gusto. Frightened Rabbit remind me a bit of the band James in their heyday, as every song seems to have oversized ambition and heart. But like James there is a sense these guys won’t be discovered. From the way the album jacket looks to the complex dark beer rock they fill their second record with, I’m not sure MTV or radio would know what to make of Frightened Rabbit as they are truly neither hide or hare.
The long Os of Hutchison’s vocal made me wonder where Frightened Rabbit hail from, turns out they’re Scottish. British without the attitude I suppose. Songs like “Good Arms Vs. Bad Arms” don’t show much save for a little guitar flex from Hutchison towards the end as if he just wants us to know he can.
It’s not until “Old Old Fashioned” that we get another track worthy of being set next to “The Modern Leper.” On “Old Old Fashioned” Frightened Rabbit channel Snow Patrol with a bit more country bend. The message is a good one as Hutchison encourages his lover to turn off the television because they never talk asking her to kick it old school, “If I get old old fashioned, would you get old fashioned with me?” A nice combination of message and music coming together right here.
Frightened Rabbit remind me a lot of the spring of 2004. I was living in England with my family and every time I turned on Virgin radio it seemed they were opening another fresh can of crisp guitar rock. Snow Patrol and Keane were burning up the airwaves back then, and Frightened Rabbit appear to be on their front foot like those bands from nearly five years ago.
“The Twist” sounds like the single, but for my money it’s trying a bit too hard. Unlike the rest of the record that has a nice head on it, “The Twist” is a bit too art directed and contained. I tend to prefer the passion from earlier on. Frightened Rabbit sound best when they’re slightly off the rails.
Even on a one-minute instrumental like “Bright Pink Bookmark,” Frightened Rabbit show they’re more than capable of creating anticipation for what is to come. The squeaks of the orchestra here sound like a band stretching out their hamstrings before a long run.
Hutchison really has a great vocal and the occasional haunting lyric. Mixed with the big guitars Frightened Rabbit are a force to be reckoning with. You can see what the band is capable of in glimpses on songs like “My Backwards Walk” that don’t go all the way but seem to indicate creative range.
The last of the gems on their second record is “Keep Yourself Warm” with its spoken like a sailor lyrics, “It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm.” “Keep Yourself Warm” is a torrid encounter between two medicated individuals. But the sloppy mess here sounds good enough to call her the next morning. “Keep Yourself Warm” builds all the way to Bellagio fountain blasts towards the end and the memorable shout-out, “see in the dark.”
The strength of Frightened Rabbit is that nearly ever track is completely listenable. But it’s songs like “The Modern Leper,” “Old Old Fashioned,” and “Keep Yourself Warm” that truly demonstrate the boys from Scotland have a few tricks up their sleeve.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Anyone know the Spanish word for “TORTURE?”
Let the record show I had high hopes for Manu Chao. The sticker on the outside of the CD read, “Manu Chao is the ringmaster of a multicultural, cross-generational, genre-busting circus that can whip tens of thousands of people into a frenzy even if they don’t speak the same language.”
Holy shit. After reading that I half expected to put the CD in and hear some sort of pied piper. And to immediately be overtaken by an irresistible sound only to wake up on a beach in a crowd of 250,000 wearing a glow stick around my neck. Sadly, I found nothing of the sort.
At first blush I was surprised how central guitar was to the sound of La Radiolina. This had me quite pleased initially as the idea of strong, rhythm guitar with some magnificent sounds and Spanish vocal could have been interesting.
The main problem with Manu Chao’s La Radiolina is you go in expecting this exotic cocktail, and you leave with beer in a plastic cup. And the only standout track on the entire disc is “Besoin De La Lune.”
Maybe I need to go back and listen to his previous work to understand the glowing praise on the sticker, and the recommendation from my good pal (lets call her Carol). Because after listening to La Radiolina a few times through it may just be the worst of the 52 discs I’ve reviewed this year.
I’ll admit when you first press the play button there is a curiosity. A heavy pickin’ guitar starts off the country rumble “13 Dias” which sounds like The Dukes of Hazzard, on Telemundo.
The first few tracks were interesting with real guitar complete with a little Brad Paisley bend to it. Despite the language barrier, I could tell Manu Chao had something to say. On “Tristeza Maleza” he takes on George Bush, while “Politik Kills” is a reggae romp through the issues. Chao seemed to have his own brand of United Nations pop.
But La Radiolina quickly turns to gonzo noise.
Lot of the songs here contain the same basic elements of a fast plucking guitar, layered voices and ambient noises in the background.
“Mondoreves” is standard Spanish fare before bringing in the horns on “El Hoyo” along with police sirens and effects.
I’m convinced if you were to listen to La Radiolina long enough it would result in a multiple personality disorder. Nearly every song on the record prominently features the sound of rolling tongues, people screaming, laughing, video game effects and babies crying in the background. Good times!
Even when a glimpse of piano soothes you strange effects, buzzing sounds and the like, interrupt it. Towards the end Chao does deliver a couplet of sanity with “La Vida Tombola” and “Mala Fama.” But most of La Radiolina is water torture.
“Panik Panik” is a cluttered song in a hurry to get nowhere featuring sirens. “Sone Otro Mundo” can’t even make it one minute and nineteen seconds without space invaders.
As a whole La Radiolina is very redundant. There are only a couple sounds here and they’re pasted together in different ways across twenty-one tracks of varying length.
So I’ve deduced that the same person who authored the CD sticker for La Radiolina does the PR for Kim Jong-Il. (The "Great Leader" routinely shoots three or four holes-in-one per round, the government-controlled media reported.)
“Besoin De La Lune” may be the only thing on here that isn’t a complete Frankenstein. Seems like this track was the original chassis, trouble is Chao stretches it into an album of scrap metal.
Holy shit. After reading that I half expected to put the CD in and hear some sort of pied piper. And to immediately be overtaken by an irresistible sound only to wake up on a beach in a crowd of 250,000 wearing a glow stick around my neck. Sadly, I found nothing of the sort.
At first blush I was surprised how central guitar was to the sound of La Radiolina. This had me quite pleased initially as the idea of strong, rhythm guitar with some magnificent sounds and Spanish vocal could have been interesting.
The main problem with Manu Chao’s La Radiolina is you go in expecting this exotic cocktail, and you leave with beer in a plastic cup. And the only standout track on the entire disc is “Besoin De La Lune.”
Maybe I need to go back and listen to his previous work to understand the glowing praise on the sticker, and the recommendation from my good pal (lets call her Carol). Because after listening to La Radiolina a few times through it may just be the worst of the 52 discs I’ve reviewed this year.
I’ll admit when you first press the play button there is a curiosity. A heavy pickin’ guitar starts off the country rumble “13 Dias” which sounds like The Dukes of Hazzard, on Telemundo.
The first few tracks were interesting with real guitar complete with a little Brad Paisley bend to it. Despite the language barrier, I could tell Manu Chao had something to say. On “Tristeza Maleza” he takes on George Bush, while “Politik Kills” is a reggae romp through the issues. Chao seemed to have his own brand of United Nations pop.
But La Radiolina quickly turns to gonzo noise.
Lot of the songs here contain the same basic elements of a fast plucking guitar, layered voices and ambient noises in the background.
“Mondoreves” is standard Spanish fare before bringing in the horns on “El Hoyo” along with police sirens and effects.
I’m convinced if you were to listen to La Radiolina long enough it would result in a multiple personality disorder. Nearly every song on the record prominently features the sound of rolling tongues, people screaming, laughing, video game effects and babies crying in the background. Good times!
Even when a glimpse of piano soothes you strange effects, buzzing sounds and the like, interrupt it. Towards the end Chao does deliver a couplet of sanity with “La Vida Tombola” and “Mala Fama.” But most of La Radiolina is water torture.
“Panik Panik” is a cluttered song in a hurry to get nowhere featuring sirens. “Sone Otro Mundo” can’t even make it one minute and nineteen seconds without space invaders.
As a whole La Radiolina is very redundant. There are only a couple sounds here and they’re pasted together in different ways across twenty-one tracks of varying length.
So I’ve deduced that the same person who authored the CD sticker for La Radiolina does the PR for Kim Jong-Il. (The "Great Leader" routinely shoots three or four holes-in-one per round, the government-controlled media reported.)
“Besoin De La Lune” may be the only thing on here that isn’t a complete Frankenstein. Seems like this track was the original chassis, trouble is Chao stretches it into an album of scrap metal.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Clive Davis Must be Pissed.
Clive Davis is a smart gent. If he thinks something is going to blow up, he’s usually right. A few years back Mr. Davis proclaimed a young unknown, Gavin DeGraw, the next big thing in music. It was said that DeGraw had the cross generational appeal to write big bonfire songs in the vein of Billy Joel.
To his credit, DeGraw’s ambitious first record Chariot, featuring both a studio and a stripped (acoustic) version, was loaded with promise not to mention a bouquet of great tracks.
Fast-forward to DeGraw’s self titled second record where we find him smack dab in the middle of a sophomore slump. Which is a real shame because I tend to agree with Davis that DeGraw is capable of crafting the part-the-sea-chorus and songs big enough for both you and your mom to sit under. But if his second record is any indication it appears DeGraw is content leaving these duties to Rob Thomas and John Mayer.
DeGraw’s second record begins with the first single “In Love With a Girl.” The track starts with some warpath guitar reminiscent of early Tim McGraw (when he still had the mustache). It’s an all right song, it sounds like a single, but it’s not special in any way. That same sentence could describe “Cheated on Me,” “I Have You to Thank,” and a handful of other songs on the record. That’s because most of Gavin DeGraw is comprised of slightly above average bland pop.
And that’s the real problem here. Only once, yes once does DeGraw provide a glimpse of what made him a white-hot prospect in the first place. Only once does DeGraw sound like the phenom that could make music infectious enough to make a 34-year old dad consider buying a short brim army hat.
Yes “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister” is the only song on DeGraw’s record you need pay full attention to, and it’s a dandy. “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” is such syrupy pop you won’t stop singing in the car even if someone catches you in the act. That’s right, you’ll finish—it’s that good. With the wind chime guitar and the up-tempo vocal, “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” will sound great on your next burned compilation CD.
After “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” there are a couple tracks that come close. “Young Love” flirts with it, if only for a moment. “Young Love” will get your attention with crisp guitar and compelling storytelling lyrics about “young lovers taking the hill. One plants a flag while the other is killed.” We hear the tale of “Young Love” told by narrators drinking their wine and reflecting. It’s this distance that prevents “Young Love” from going all the way. On “Young Love” DeGraw sounds like he’s playing the part of war photographer instead of joining the battle himself leaving the song a couple muskets short of the passion it needs.
“She Holds a Key” is the second best track on the record; it’s a nice churchy love song complete with backing vocals. This slow to build ballad will grow on you and is a rare example of a song where DeGraw sounds completely at ease. On “She Holds a Key” DeGraw sings like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. He sings like the young man Clive Davis discovered.
Other than that the only track worth mentioning is “We Belong Together,” which like almost anything DeGraw sings sounds like you could have already heard it on the radio. “We Belong Together” should light up state fair band shells this summer especially the stripped down one minute ending. DeGraw is more than capable of ripping a “tell me are you a Christian child? I am tonight!” It’s a shame most of his second record is buried in the production and only provides one irresistible track in “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” and a glimmer of hope in “She Holds a Key.”
To his credit, DeGraw’s ambitious first record Chariot, featuring both a studio and a stripped (acoustic) version, was loaded with promise not to mention a bouquet of great tracks.
Fast-forward to DeGraw’s self titled second record where we find him smack dab in the middle of a sophomore slump. Which is a real shame because I tend to agree with Davis that DeGraw is capable of crafting the part-the-sea-chorus and songs big enough for both you and your mom to sit under. But if his second record is any indication it appears DeGraw is content leaving these duties to Rob Thomas and John Mayer.
DeGraw’s second record begins with the first single “In Love With a Girl.” The track starts with some warpath guitar reminiscent of early Tim McGraw (when he still had the mustache). It’s an all right song, it sounds like a single, but it’s not special in any way. That same sentence could describe “Cheated on Me,” “I Have You to Thank,” and a handful of other songs on the record. That’s because most of Gavin DeGraw is comprised of slightly above average bland pop.
And that’s the real problem here. Only once, yes once does DeGraw provide a glimpse of what made him a white-hot prospect in the first place. Only once does DeGraw sound like the phenom that could make music infectious enough to make a 34-year old dad consider buying a short brim army hat.
Yes “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister” is the only song on DeGraw’s record you need pay full attention to, and it’s a dandy. “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” is such syrupy pop you won’t stop singing in the car even if someone catches you in the act. That’s right, you’ll finish—it’s that good. With the wind chime guitar and the up-tempo vocal, “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” will sound great on your next burned compilation CD.
After “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” there are a couple tracks that come close. “Young Love” flirts with it, if only for a moment. “Young Love” will get your attention with crisp guitar and compelling storytelling lyrics about “young lovers taking the hill. One plants a flag while the other is killed.” We hear the tale of “Young Love” told by narrators drinking their wine and reflecting. It’s this distance that prevents “Young Love” from going all the way. On “Young Love” DeGraw sounds like he’s playing the part of war photographer instead of joining the battle himself leaving the song a couple muskets short of the passion it needs.
“She Holds a Key” is the second best track on the record; it’s a nice churchy love song complete with backing vocals. This slow to build ballad will grow on you and is a rare example of a song where DeGraw sounds completely at ease. On “She Holds a Key” DeGraw sings like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. He sings like the young man Clive Davis discovered.
Other than that the only track worth mentioning is “We Belong Together,” which like almost anything DeGraw sings sounds like you could have already heard it on the radio. “We Belong Together” should light up state fair band shells this summer especially the stripped down one minute ending. DeGraw is more than capable of ripping a “tell me are you a Christian child? I am tonight!” It’s a shame most of his second record is buried in the production and only provides one irresistible track in “Next to Me (Wait a Minute Sister)” and a glimmer of hope in “She Holds a Key.”
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Can Counting Crows Party Like It’s 1994? Not on Saturday Night.
It’s easy to get your head around a 1970s or 1980s theme party, but a 1990s theme party is a bit weird. What would you wear? A zipper shirt? Rock the Clooney Caesar? Add some cranberry to your Zima?
Arguably you could go dressed as Adam Duritz. The Counting Crows lead singer was so 1990s I think he actually slept his way through the entire cast of Friends (not sure about Ross). How awesome is that?
Those of us who did some college or at least some growing up in the 1990s have a soft spot for the Sideshow Bob cartoon that is Adam Duritz. We feel this bond mostly because of a tight little record called August and Everything After. That record was a fixture for me in my mini fridge dormitory years. August and Everything After spawned hits like “Mr. Jones” and “Rain King” but what we all really loved were the unreleased gems like “Anna Begins.” That was the real honey. Not to mention Duritz remains one of the better writers in rock & roll.
If you’ve thought about buying Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings you’re probably trying to recapture the moody rock that sold 7 million copies of their debut disc. You’re probably looking for the next “Anna Begins,” and you’re probably hoping to hear Duritz turn a phrase.
So do they deliver? That’s a tricky question. Duritz sings about a “blanket of starlight” in “Washington Square,” a lyric that could just as easily sum up the Counting Crows sound when they’re at their moody best. With its harmonica and piano twinkle “Washington Square” best delivers the lonely feeling we love about the Counting Crows.
Trouble is for at least half of the new record the Counting Crows seem preoccupied with becoming some sort of dreadlocked version of the Foo Fighters. While not a complete Frankenstein, starting with “1492” much of the front half of Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is just too loud, too rock, and too roadhouse. It’s a lot of noise, and a more classic rock sound that leaves you missing the melancholy you expect from the Crows.
This contrast in tone appears to be all by design as the album title Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings appears to explain the two sides to this latest offering from the Counting Crows. The toothier first 6 songs are for going out, and the last 8 songs put the raindrops back on the evening window.
Of the harder stuff “Hanging Tree” is the best rock & roll single. Guitarist David Bryson takes it up a notch as this one is harder than your standard Counting Crows but maintains the medley we expect from Duritz. If the first single “You Can’t Count on Me” caught your attention, you’ll like this one even better.
“Cowboys” is the fork in the road. It’s a journey that starts on E Street building towards a vintage Counting Crows refrain of “come on! come on!” But a funny thing happens about a minute in. Duritz brings the words, “this is a list of what I should have been but I’m not, this is a list of the things I should have seen but I’m not seeing” —and presto back comes the rainy day twinkle. “Cowboys” turns the corner to Sunday morning and hints of the atmospheric soft rock that worked in the first place.
“Washington Square” is probably the closest thing to a song that could have been on August and Everything After. And lets face it, that’s what we’re all looking for. Lines like “Sold my piano, couldn’t come with me” allow Duritz to paint a picture like only he can. “Washington Square” will put the glow stars back on your dorm room ceiling.
The Sunday Morning side of the record has a few nice ones. “Le Ballet D’Or” is an indulgent Duritz showpiece that sounds like something he would have done if he went solo. It’s a cool little western ballad and sounds a bit like the Young Guns II soundtrack would have if Duritz did it instead of Jon Bon Jovi. There’s more like this here, and the words are there too. Simple lyrics like “time is a number that rests on a wall” make for a much more cinematic back half. Not to mention Duritz repeatedly gives shout outs to both Dublin and Berkeley, which is never wrong.
“When I Dream of Michelangelo” is a big satellite ballad and “Anyone But You” rubs into Snow Patrol. The best offerings from Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings sound like outtakes from August & Everything After.
I used to fall asleep to August and Everything After. And it’s the Sunday Morning side of the disc that feels more natural for the band.
Arguably you could go dressed as Adam Duritz. The Counting Crows lead singer was so 1990s I think he actually slept his way through the entire cast of Friends (not sure about Ross). How awesome is that?
Those of us who did some college or at least some growing up in the 1990s have a soft spot for the Sideshow Bob cartoon that is Adam Duritz. We feel this bond mostly because of a tight little record called August and Everything After. That record was a fixture for me in my mini fridge dormitory years. August and Everything After spawned hits like “Mr. Jones” and “Rain King” but what we all really loved were the unreleased gems like “Anna Begins.” That was the real honey. Not to mention Duritz remains one of the better writers in rock & roll.
If you’ve thought about buying Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings you’re probably trying to recapture the moody rock that sold 7 million copies of their debut disc. You’re probably looking for the next “Anna Begins,” and you’re probably hoping to hear Duritz turn a phrase.
So do they deliver? That’s a tricky question. Duritz sings about a “blanket of starlight” in “Washington Square,” a lyric that could just as easily sum up the Counting Crows sound when they’re at their moody best. With its harmonica and piano twinkle “Washington Square” best delivers the lonely feeling we love about the Counting Crows.
Trouble is for at least half of the new record the Counting Crows seem preoccupied with becoming some sort of dreadlocked version of the Foo Fighters. While not a complete Frankenstein, starting with “1492” much of the front half of Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is just too loud, too rock, and too roadhouse. It’s a lot of noise, and a more classic rock sound that leaves you missing the melancholy you expect from the Crows.
This contrast in tone appears to be all by design as the album title Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings appears to explain the two sides to this latest offering from the Counting Crows. The toothier first 6 songs are for going out, and the last 8 songs put the raindrops back on the evening window.
Of the harder stuff “Hanging Tree” is the best rock & roll single. Guitarist David Bryson takes it up a notch as this one is harder than your standard Counting Crows but maintains the medley we expect from Duritz. If the first single “You Can’t Count on Me” caught your attention, you’ll like this one even better.
“Cowboys” is the fork in the road. It’s a journey that starts on E Street building towards a vintage Counting Crows refrain of “come on! come on!” But a funny thing happens about a minute in. Duritz brings the words, “this is a list of what I should have been but I’m not, this is a list of the things I should have seen but I’m not seeing” —and presto back comes the rainy day twinkle. “Cowboys” turns the corner to Sunday morning and hints of the atmospheric soft rock that worked in the first place.
“Washington Square” is probably the closest thing to a song that could have been on August and Everything After. And lets face it, that’s what we’re all looking for. Lines like “Sold my piano, couldn’t come with me” allow Duritz to paint a picture like only he can. “Washington Square” will put the glow stars back on your dorm room ceiling.
The Sunday Morning side of the record has a few nice ones. “Le Ballet D’Or” is an indulgent Duritz showpiece that sounds like something he would have done if he went solo. It’s a cool little western ballad and sounds a bit like the Young Guns II soundtrack would have if Duritz did it instead of Jon Bon Jovi. There’s more like this here, and the words are there too. Simple lyrics like “time is a number that rests on a wall” make for a much more cinematic back half. Not to mention Duritz repeatedly gives shout outs to both Dublin and Berkeley, which is never wrong.
“When I Dream of Michelangelo” is a big satellite ballad and “Anyone But You” rubs into Snow Patrol. The best offerings from Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings sound like outtakes from August & Everything After.
I used to fall asleep to August and Everything After. And it’s the Sunday Morning side of the disc that feels more natural for the band.
Red Light Knights Play Followill The Leader
I love the Kings of Leon. I love Caleb Followill’s sick hound vocal. I love the road-trip guitar. I love their Shiner Bock roots rock. I love that they misbehave and seem to relish being rock stars. Alongside the Rockfather Mr. White, the Kings of Leon inhabit my musical Mt. Rushmore. Their last record Because of the Times has been in my Jeep’s 6-disc changer for the balance of the year.
I’ve been accused of having a one-track mind; it’s always been this way. When I collected baseball cards I very quickly worked my way up to over 900 Rickey Henderson cards. When I had a crush on Kim Cattrall in the movie Mannequin I actually went to the public library and looked at articles about her on the microfiche machine. How creepy is that?
With Carlos Gomez fast becoming the new Rickey Henderson for the Twins, and Cattrall on the red carpet as Sex in the City hits the big screen it seemed an apropos time to share my latest discovery as a result of having a one-track mind.
It’s hard to dig too deep into the Kings of Leon. The brothers from Tennessee only have 3 albums, and they don’t toss a lot of scraps to the fan base to keep you interested. Even their website will go through big stretches of inactivity. But a few months ago I did manage to find a thread on a Kings of Leon discussion board about a Followill cousin who also had a band—Red Light Knights.
ALAS! A ROGUE COUSIN! For a major Kings of Leon fan this was huge, huge news.
At the time all I could find was a very shoddy Red Light Knight’s MySpace page with a few tracks and a description of their sound as “slappin dicks on cabinets.” But recently when I looked again the Red Light Knights’ self-titled debut popped up on iTunes. Best I can tell the band (from Bethany, OK) has yet to press a physical album, so much to my chagrin I did the download.
In a nutshell, if you like Kings of Leon you’ll like Red Light Knights. And if you love Kings of Leon (like me), you’ll like Red Light Knights.
Red Light Knights do little to expand the genre. Lead singer Tyson Followill is a dead ringer for first cousin Caleb Followill’s howl. The plodding guitar is there as well courtesy of Bee Jay. But the Red Light Knights lack the melodic appeal of Kings of Leon. Nothing here is stadium ready like say “Ragoo” or “Fans.” A song like “Razor” is eerily reminiscent of “Molly’s Chambers” but the hook won’t get stuck in your mouth.
The closest Red Light Knights get to their own open air single is “3 Way Highway.” This one builds slowly to a nice swirling chorus and would be the song I would play if trying to convince you to give the Red Light Knights a chance. “3 Way Highway” sounds like a Kings of Leon rarity you stole from a movie soundtrack or B-side import single. At their best the Kings of Leon have a healthy does of “the woods” in their sound, and this gem sounds like the song you’d want playing as you pulled a choice girl away from the parking lot keg party to someplace dark. It’s very rock & roll and Tyson Followill works the vocal like the heavy bag grinding through as the track ebbs and flows. Really good stuff here.
While only eight tracks, the Red Light Knights debut has already started to grow on me. “But Maybe for Me” has more get-up and melody than most, and some off the leash guitar work towards the end. I find myself filling in the off “tee oh tee oh” chant vocal on “When the Crazy Attacks” and I can only imagine the more aggressive “Pearl” would kill live. Even the song titles like “Rodeo Clown” and “Show Girl” remind of Kings of Leon, and in the case of “Show Girl,” the familiar groove is there too.
The entire Red Light Knights record will sound great driving around with hair in your eyes and sunflower seeds in your cheek, but it mostly sounds good because it reminds you of Kings of Leon not because of anything Red Light Knights have added.
Unlike the emo and singer-songwriter genres, Kings of Leon’s brand of southern rock is far from a crowded affair. There’s ample room for another band that sounds like them—in the case of the Red Light Knights precisely like them. In a weird way it makes sense that blood runs thick on this distinct sound. For Kings of Leon fans, Red Light Knights will be a genetic match for a cupboard you’re still trying to fill.
I’ve been accused of having a one-track mind; it’s always been this way. When I collected baseball cards I very quickly worked my way up to over 900 Rickey Henderson cards. When I had a crush on Kim Cattrall in the movie Mannequin I actually went to the public library and looked at articles about her on the microfiche machine. How creepy is that?
With Carlos Gomez fast becoming the new Rickey Henderson for the Twins, and Cattrall on the red carpet as Sex in the City hits the big screen it seemed an apropos time to share my latest discovery as a result of having a one-track mind.
It’s hard to dig too deep into the Kings of Leon. The brothers from Tennessee only have 3 albums, and they don’t toss a lot of scraps to the fan base to keep you interested. Even their website will go through big stretches of inactivity. But a few months ago I did manage to find a thread on a Kings of Leon discussion board about a Followill cousin who also had a band—Red Light Knights.
ALAS! A ROGUE COUSIN! For a major Kings of Leon fan this was huge, huge news.
At the time all I could find was a very shoddy Red Light Knight’s MySpace page with a few tracks and a description of their sound as “slappin dicks on cabinets.” But recently when I looked again the Red Light Knights’ self-titled debut popped up on iTunes. Best I can tell the band (from Bethany, OK) has yet to press a physical album, so much to my chagrin I did the download.
In a nutshell, if you like Kings of Leon you’ll like Red Light Knights. And if you love Kings of Leon (like me), you’ll like Red Light Knights.
Red Light Knights do little to expand the genre. Lead singer Tyson Followill is a dead ringer for first cousin Caleb Followill’s howl. The plodding guitar is there as well courtesy of Bee Jay. But the Red Light Knights lack the melodic appeal of Kings of Leon. Nothing here is stadium ready like say “Ragoo” or “Fans.” A song like “Razor” is eerily reminiscent of “Molly’s Chambers” but the hook won’t get stuck in your mouth.
The closest Red Light Knights get to their own open air single is “3 Way Highway.” This one builds slowly to a nice swirling chorus and would be the song I would play if trying to convince you to give the Red Light Knights a chance. “3 Way Highway” sounds like a Kings of Leon rarity you stole from a movie soundtrack or B-side import single. At their best the Kings of Leon have a healthy does of “the woods” in their sound, and this gem sounds like the song you’d want playing as you pulled a choice girl away from the parking lot keg party to someplace dark. It’s very rock & roll and Tyson Followill works the vocal like the heavy bag grinding through as the track ebbs and flows. Really good stuff here.
While only eight tracks, the Red Light Knights debut has already started to grow on me. “But Maybe for Me” has more get-up and melody than most, and some off the leash guitar work towards the end. I find myself filling in the off “tee oh tee oh” chant vocal on “When the Crazy Attacks” and I can only imagine the more aggressive “Pearl” would kill live. Even the song titles like “Rodeo Clown” and “Show Girl” remind of Kings of Leon, and in the case of “Show Girl,” the familiar groove is there too.
The entire Red Light Knights record will sound great driving around with hair in your eyes and sunflower seeds in your cheek, but it mostly sounds good because it reminds you of Kings of Leon not because of anything Red Light Knights have added.
Unlike the emo and singer-songwriter genres, Kings of Leon’s brand of southern rock is far from a crowded affair. There’s ample room for another band that sounds like them—in the case of the Red Light Knights precisely like them. In a weird way it makes sense that blood runs thick on this distinct sound. For Kings of Leon fans, Red Light Knights will be a genetic match for a cupboard you’re still trying to fill.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
All Hail the Rockfather!
There can be only one.
Jack White is the Rockfather. Yes, capital letters are necessary. The Rockfather is the one living person most responsible with moving the genre forward. So go ahead and print the 8x10, hang it in your garage, and salute it every time you walk by because Jack White is the most important living person to rock & roll.
What does that mean? It means you need to pay attention to everything he does including side action like The Raconteurs? Why? Because Jack White with The Raconteurs is like Kobe Bryant playing hoops in Europe—it doesn’t matter what 4 guys you stick with him, they’re always a threat to win the game and you need to watch because something special just might happen.
Consolers of the Lonely starts with the familiar spaghetti western rock that White has been favoring with the Stripes. Track one “Consoler of the Lonely” is like a shootout between Brendan Benson and White. Benson plays the straight Wyatt Earp role, allowing White to stagger in around the one fifteen minute mark slinging his drill bit guitar, manic vocal, as if to say “I’m your Huckleberry” Doc Holiday style. You don’t get to hear many showdown songs and “Consoler of the Lonely” is a great starter as the pace shifts between characters while allowing White to eventually win the draw with a sick solo towards the end.
“Salute Your Solution” starts with a massive riff that would be at home on everything from classic rock to ESPN’s Ultimate Highlight. White keeps speaking in tongues holding his hands in the air as if to say, “I can’t help myself.” “Salute your Solution” sounds like an Icky Thump outtake and is sure to excite Stripes fans as they lean into what is fast becoming the signature guitar sound of this decade.
I don’t mean to short shift Benson. Cleary White spends time with him because he too is a bona fide freak with tremendous vocal range capable of sounding like everyone from Robert Plant to Bono to Freddy Mercury. Benson even puts together a rock piano solo on “You Don’t Understand Me.” But I can’t help but wonder if White is speaking to Benson (and the rest of rock & roll for that matter) when he taunts on “Top Yourself” asking, “How you gonna top yourself when there is nobody else? How you gonna do it by yourself because I’m not going to be here to help you?” It’s as if White is acknowledging The Raconteurs experiment might soon dry up as he has bigger fish to fry. What’s clear on Consolers of the Lonely is the songs that place White front and center are where the good stuff happens.
What’s great about The Racanteurs record is there is so much in here. It’s clear this side project is all about liberation and the result is most tracks contain a little glimmer of something special. It’s things like the steamy Almond-Brother-from-another-Mother guitar riff towards the end of “Old Enough,” the trash talk of “Top Yourself,” the breakneck pace of “Five on the Five,” and the new distortion pedal of “Attention” that make The Raconteurs a must buy every time they kick something out. Said another way it’s perfectly fine to eat stuff out of the trash as long as it’s Jack White’s garbage your digging in.
Overall there aren’t a ton of singles or mix tape worthy songs on Consolers of the Lonely. “Consoler of the Lonely” might be the best track just for its swinging saloon door drama. The standout tracks on Consolers of the Lonely sound like the less memorable songs on Icky Thump (a high bar by the way). But Jack White is to rock & roll right now as Tiger Woods is to golf. Until someone steps up to push him, we can only hope he challenges himself making extracurriculars like The Raconteurs worth purchase just to see where The Rockfather plans to take us next.
Jack White is the Rockfather. Yes, capital letters are necessary. The Rockfather is the one living person most responsible with moving the genre forward. So go ahead and print the 8x10, hang it in your garage, and salute it every time you walk by because Jack White is the most important living person to rock & roll.
What does that mean? It means you need to pay attention to everything he does including side action like The Raconteurs? Why? Because Jack White with The Raconteurs is like Kobe Bryant playing hoops in Europe—it doesn’t matter what 4 guys you stick with him, they’re always a threat to win the game and you need to watch because something special just might happen.
Consolers of the Lonely starts with the familiar spaghetti western rock that White has been favoring with the Stripes. Track one “Consoler of the Lonely” is like a shootout between Brendan Benson and White. Benson plays the straight Wyatt Earp role, allowing White to stagger in around the one fifteen minute mark slinging his drill bit guitar, manic vocal, as if to say “I’m your Huckleberry” Doc Holiday style. You don’t get to hear many showdown songs and “Consoler of the Lonely” is a great starter as the pace shifts between characters while allowing White to eventually win the draw with a sick solo towards the end.
“Salute Your Solution” starts with a massive riff that would be at home on everything from classic rock to ESPN’s Ultimate Highlight. White keeps speaking in tongues holding his hands in the air as if to say, “I can’t help myself.” “Salute your Solution” sounds like an Icky Thump outtake and is sure to excite Stripes fans as they lean into what is fast becoming the signature guitar sound of this decade.
I don’t mean to short shift Benson. Cleary White spends time with him because he too is a bona fide freak with tremendous vocal range capable of sounding like everyone from Robert Plant to Bono to Freddy Mercury. Benson even puts together a rock piano solo on “You Don’t Understand Me.” But I can’t help but wonder if White is speaking to Benson (and the rest of rock & roll for that matter) when he taunts on “Top Yourself” asking, “How you gonna top yourself when there is nobody else? How you gonna do it by yourself because I’m not going to be here to help you?” It’s as if White is acknowledging The Raconteurs experiment might soon dry up as he has bigger fish to fry. What’s clear on Consolers of the Lonely is the songs that place White front and center are where the good stuff happens.
What’s great about The Racanteurs record is there is so much in here. It’s clear this side project is all about liberation and the result is most tracks contain a little glimmer of something special. It’s things like the steamy Almond-Brother-from-another-Mother guitar riff towards the end of “Old Enough,” the trash talk of “Top Yourself,” the breakneck pace of “Five on the Five,” and the new distortion pedal of “Attention” that make The Raconteurs a must buy every time they kick something out. Said another way it’s perfectly fine to eat stuff out of the trash as long as it’s Jack White’s garbage your digging in.
Overall there aren’t a ton of singles or mix tape worthy songs on Consolers of the Lonely. “Consoler of the Lonely” might be the best track just for its swinging saloon door drama. The standout tracks on Consolers of the Lonely sound like the less memorable songs on Icky Thump (a high bar by the way). But Jack White is to rock & roll right now as Tiger Woods is to golf. Until someone steps up to push him, we can only hope he challenges himself making extracurriculars like The Raconteurs worth purchase just to see where The Rockfather plans to take us next.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Music for the Junoverse
There is a lyric from the Kings of Leon track “Day Old Blues” that goes:
girls are gonna love the way i toss my hair
boys are gonna hate the way i seem
Funny, I used to think it was “boys are gonna hate the way I sing.” Which would have made sense given lead singer Caleb Followill’s dog howl of a voice.
People fall in love with voices. I’m attracted to big, interesting, voices with sharp edges and a distinct sound. All of my favorites vocalists would be easily identifiable if given the “We are the World” cameo. My attraction to the odd voice is the reason I love Caleb’s hair and his voice, it’s the reason I’m attracted to the creaky country of Gary Allan and the optimism of Jenny Lewis. And now I’m in love with the hula-hoop rockabilly of Thao & The Get Down Stay Down.
I was first introduced to Thao & The Get Down Stay Down when a guy here at the agency had them come do a brief live set over the lunch hour. Before I even walked over to see them I made a comment to a guy sitting next to me that the music had started. I could hear this intoxicating voice, but my co-worker gave me a knowing glance and said, “I know, I can’t stand the sound of this guy’s voice either.” Turns out Thao was a woman. Specifically she’s the lead vocalist of Thao & The Get Down Stay Down an alternative folk rock band from San Francisco.
Lead vocalist Thao Nguyen has a real indie sound. It’s like Edie Brickell in cowboy boots with spurs. There’s just enough twang on top of a haunting Mazzy Star, almost Cranberries like vocal.
Typically when you’re drinking beers and you end up buying the band’s CD, it doesn’t hold up the next day. If anything it’s a painful reminder you had too much to drink—the music lovers’ equivalent of having to go back to the bar and pick up your credit card.
But there was no walk of shame with Thao & The Get Down Stay Down. If anything, it got better. Their record We Brave Bee Stings And All is the sort of music you play loud from your computer and someone will ask you what it is either because they want to buy it, or they want you to turn it off.
And I guess that’s a compliment. Thao & The Get Down Stay Down is not for everyone, but the people it is for won’t like it, they’ll love it. Even the album title We Brave Bee Stings And All sounds like it’s been ripped off the marquee of an exclusive art house cinema. When we first hear Thao on “Beat (Health, Life, and Fire)” it’s clear she likes the drama. Nearly every song on We Brave Bee Stings and All is a series of peaks and valleys.
“Bag of Hammers” is the single and it starts detox with just Thao’s haunting voice before letting drummer Willis Thompson play hero and groove us the rest of the way. Although I must say this particular song is even fuller live. But I suspect these guys are a soundtrack or TV appearance away from bigger production values that bring even more of their live girth to disc. “Bag of Hammers” in particular is recorded a bit quiet on the record which is a shame because it really does want to make you shout. That one needs to be played at eleven.
It’s really the combination that’s special. As a band Thao & The Get Down Stay Down is truly the sum of their parts. The Get Down Stay Down with their banjos, horns, organs and beat of the drums have a sound that makes you want to just jump in the car and drive. And then you add that voice and presto a weird family taking a road trip turns into Little Miss Sunshine. Thao makes it whole.
Playing since age 12, Thao also seems to be a talent with the lyrics. She does a lot of rhyming, and has simple lines like “love large enough to want to shrink” and “it was brave to play, an honor to lose” that will sneak up on you.
I can’t say anything bad about We Brave Bee Stings and All. I truly love this little record. This doesn’t happen very often, I’m smitten for a band. Even the filler music on We Brave Bee Stings And All is way fresh. It sounds like music you’d want playing when you walk into your room in one of those hotels that is nice enough to have music playing when you walk into the rooms.
So if you fancy your music tastes to be eclectic, if you’ve ever owned the soundtrack to a Tarrantino film, if you listen to the indie radio station in town, if you like the music in the Apple commercials, do yourself a favor and pick this one up. I know you people, and I know you will like it. And please buy the whole damn album. I won’t even give you a choice song to sample because when it comes to Thao & The Get Down Stay Down I want you to bump into the whole thing, it’s that good.
girls are gonna love the way i toss my hair
boys are gonna hate the way i seem
Funny, I used to think it was “boys are gonna hate the way I sing.” Which would have made sense given lead singer Caleb Followill’s dog howl of a voice.
People fall in love with voices. I’m attracted to big, interesting, voices with sharp edges and a distinct sound. All of my favorites vocalists would be easily identifiable if given the “We are the World” cameo. My attraction to the odd voice is the reason I love Caleb’s hair and his voice, it’s the reason I’m attracted to the creaky country of Gary Allan and the optimism of Jenny Lewis. And now I’m in love with the hula-hoop rockabilly of Thao & The Get Down Stay Down.
I was first introduced to Thao & The Get Down Stay Down when a guy here at the agency had them come do a brief live set over the lunch hour. Before I even walked over to see them I made a comment to a guy sitting next to me that the music had started. I could hear this intoxicating voice, but my co-worker gave me a knowing glance and said, “I know, I can’t stand the sound of this guy’s voice either.” Turns out Thao was a woman. Specifically she’s the lead vocalist of Thao & The Get Down Stay Down an alternative folk rock band from San Francisco.
Lead vocalist Thao Nguyen has a real indie sound. It’s like Edie Brickell in cowboy boots with spurs. There’s just enough twang on top of a haunting Mazzy Star, almost Cranberries like vocal.
Typically when you’re drinking beers and you end up buying the band’s CD, it doesn’t hold up the next day. If anything it’s a painful reminder you had too much to drink—the music lovers’ equivalent of having to go back to the bar and pick up your credit card.
But there was no walk of shame with Thao & The Get Down Stay Down. If anything, it got better. Their record We Brave Bee Stings And All is the sort of music you play loud from your computer and someone will ask you what it is either because they want to buy it, or they want you to turn it off.
And I guess that’s a compliment. Thao & The Get Down Stay Down is not for everyone, but the people it is for won’t like it, they’ll love it. Even the album title We Brave Bee Stings And All sounds like it’s been ripped off the marquee of an exclusive art house cinema. When we first hear Thao on “Beat (Health, Life, and Fire)” it’s clear she likes the drama. Nearly every song on We Brave Bee Stings and All is a series of peaks and valleys.
“Bag of Hammers” is the single and it starts detox with just Thao’s haunting voice before letting drummer Willis Thompson play hero and groove us the rest of the way. Although I must say this particular song is even fuller live. But I suspect these guys are a soundtrack or TV appearance away from bigger production values that bring even more of their live girth to disc. “Bag of Hammers” in particular is recorded a bit quiet on the record which is a shame because it really does want to make you shout. That one needs to be played at eleven.
It’s really the combination that’s special. As a band Thao & The Get Down Stay Down is truly the sum of their parts. The Get Down Stay Down with their banjos, horns, organs and beat of the drums have a sound that makes you want to just jump in the car and drive. And then you add that voice and presto a weird family taking a road trip turns into Little Miss Sunshine. Thao makes it whole.
Playing since age 12, Thao also seems to be a talent with the lyrics. She does a lot of rhyming, and has simple lines like “love large enough to want to shrink” and “it was brave to play, an honor to lose” that will sneak up on you.
I can’t say anything bad about We Brave Bee Stings and All. I truly love this little record. This doesn’t happen very often, I’m smitten for a band. Even the filler music on We Brave Bee Stings And All is way fresh. It sounds like music you’d want playing when you walk into your room in one of those hotels that is nice enough to have music playing when you walk into the rooms.
So if you fancy your music tastes to be eclectic, if you’ve ever owned the soundtrack to a Tarrantino film, if you listen to the indie radio station in town, if you like the music in the Apple commercials, do yourself a favor and pick this one up. I know you people, and I know you will like it. And please buy the whole damn album. I won’t even give you a choice song to sample because when it comes to Thao & The Get Down Stay Down I want you to bump into the whole thing, it’s that good.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
You Had Me At New 'N' Sounds Like AC/DC
I’m a sucker for bands like Airbourne. About every 18 months I hear or read about some band making music that sounds a lot like AC/DC. These words are not to be taken lightly, so nine times out of ten the combination of “new band” and “sounds like AC/DC” will place me at the cash register holding out a twenty.
I’ve trotted the globe searching for the next AC/DC. First it was The Darkness from England, then The Hellacopters from Sweden—to name a few. While the bands were usually hit or miss it still seems worth it to punch the music passport for any new band capable of winding up the fuzz guitars and making open-road rock for another generation. And occasionally you are rewarded for the journey when you bring back something really special like The White Stripes or Wolfmother.
A recent issue of Rolling Stone magazine referenced AC/DC in a review of Australian rock band Airbourne’s new album Runnin’ Wild. The picture in the magazine showed the boys looking very rock & roll, I think they may have had a bottle of Jack in their hands. The Runnin’ Wild album cover had the rock font going on and the album featured Beavis song titles like “Cheap Wine & Cheaper Women” and “Hellfire.” Now if I could just locate the album. Still an import I was forced to make only my second (and first since week 1) virtual music purchase using iTunes since the start of the blog.
The ominous storm cloud brewing on the opening track “Stand Up for Rock ‘N’ Roll” instantly calls to mind “Thunderstruck.” Lead vocalist Joel O’Keeffe has the perfect scream for Velcro high top, black t-shirt rock. Reminiscent of Brian Johnson for certain, O’Keeffe actually sounds more like a mix of fellow Aussie Jimmy Barnes and Tom Keifer from Cinderella. Airbourne delivers the sort of music Frank the Tank would play as he works on his car in the driveway.
The risk with bands like Airbourne is in some cases the album cover, the song titles; even the lyric choices are just a bit much. It’s almost as if the band is playing dress up. The issue I have with a lot of bands like this (see The Darkness) is they tend to do their rock “with a wink.” There is a hint that it’s not serious. And ladies and gentleman rock & roll is a lot of things, but it’s not a joke.
It’s always tough to judge a band’s intentions and the Web makes authenticity more difficult, but if I sense the band is delivering the goods “with a wink,” I’m out.
Sorry for the speech, now I feel like the protective mother in law asking every suitor, “and what are your intentions?” As a whole Runnin’ Wild does deliver, when O’Keeffe yells “Stand up for Rock “N” Roll!” at the end of the opener he’ll have you runnin’ to the attic for your jean jacket. On a side note how rock & roll is it to write the word “and” as simply “’N’” —any punctuation started by G ‘N’ R has to be good, maybe I should change my name to Joh’N’. More awesome.
At a recent Minnesota Wild hockey game the PA was blasting title track “Runnin’ Wild” to great effect during a stoppage. Probably the closest thing to a single, “Runnin Wild” sounds like a vintage Cinderella track only with more motor.
“Too much, Too Young, Too Fast” is like one long Jagermeister toast to the best Behind the Music episodes ever put together for VH1. It’s an honest this-is-all-wrong acknowledgment and the music is an unapologetic “drink it up while it lasts, tear it up so fill my glass” ride.
“Fat City” tries to recreate “Who Made Who” but never quite gets there despite some handy ax work from David Roads (has to be a fake name right?). “Blackjack” finds O’Keeffe reading the AC/DC dictionary out loud shouting, “kill!” “thrill!” alongside a waterfall riff from Roads that Angus Young could appreciate.
“What’s Eatin’ You” is a top track with a cleaner guitar edge. Lyrics like “one in the hand and two in the bush!” take us towards liftoff as O’Keeffe explains, “What’s eatin’ you is eatin me!” It’s an Obama message of togetherness only O’Keeffe is running for president of Hair Nation.
If you’re looking for the second coming of AC/DC, more often than not you’ll be disappointed. Airbourne is about the same. It smells and tastes like the stuff you love, but struggles to break off the chain. So instead of being the music of your summer, Airbourne will probably end up on ESPN Ultimate Highlight and X Games montages as well as your kids’ video games.
That said the quartet of “Runnin’ Wild,” “Stand Up For Rock ‘N’ Roll,” “Too Much, Too Young, Too Fast” and “What’s Eatin’ You” will sound great at a sports stadium or driveway near you. Overall Runnin’ Wild is a good time, and that can’t be bad no matter their intentions.
I’ve trotted the globe searching for the next AC/DC. First it was The Darkness from England, then The Hellacopters from Sweden—to name a few. While the bands were usually hit or miss it still seems worth it to punch the music passport for any new band capable of winding up the fuzz guitars and making open-road rock for another generation. And occasionally you are rewarded for the journey when you bring back something really special like The White Stripes or Wolfmother.
A recent issue of Rolling Stone magazine referenced AC/DC in a review of Australian rock band Airbourne’s new album Runnin’ Wild. The picture in the magazine showed the boys looking very rock & roll, I think they may have had a bottle of Jack in their hands. The Runnin’ Wild album cover had the rock font going on and the album featured Beavis song titles like “Cheap Wine & Cheaper Women” and “Hellfire.” Now if I could just locate the album. Still an import I was forced to make only my second (and first since week 1) virtual music purchase using iTunes since the start of the blog.
The ominous storm cloud brewing on the opening track “Stand Up for Rock ‘N’ Roll” instantly calls to mind “Thunderstruck.” Lead vocalist Joel O’Keeffe has the perfect scream for Velcro high top, black t-shirt rock. Reminiscent of Brian Johnson for certain, O’Keeffe actually sounds more like a mix of fellow Aussie Jimmy Barnes and Tom Keifer from Cinderella. Airbourne delivers the sort of music Frank the Tank would play as he works on his car in the driveway.
The risk with bands like Airbourne is in some cases the album cover, the song titles; even the lyric choices are just a bit much. It’s almost as if the band is playing dress up. The issue I have with a lot of bands like this (see The Darkness) is they tend to do their rock “with a wink.” There is a hint that it’s not serious. And ladies and gentleman rock & roll is a lot of things, but it’s not a joke.
It’s always tough to judge a band’s intentions and the Web makes authenticity more difficult, but if I sense the band is delivering the goods “with a wink,” I’m out.
Sorry for the speech, now I feel like the protective mother in law asking every suitor, “and what are your intentions?” As a whole Runnin’ Wild does deliver, when O’Keeffe yells “Stand up for Rock “N” Roll!” at the end of the opener he’ll have you runnin’ to the attic for your jean jacket. On a side note how rock & roll is it to write the word “and” as simply “’N’” —any punctuation started by G ‘N’ R has to be good, maybe I should change my name to Joh’N’. More awesome.
At a recent Minnesota Wild hockey game the PA was blasting title track “Runnin’ Wild” to great effect during a stoppage. Probably the closest thing to a single, “Runnin Wild” sounds like a vintage Cinderella track only with more motor.
“Too much, Too Young, Too Fast” is like one long Jagermeister toast to the best Behind the Music episodes ever put together for VH1. It’s an honest this-is-all-wrong acknowledgment and the music is an unapologetic “drink it up while it lasts, tear it up so fill my glass” ride.
“Fat City” tries to recreate “Who Made Who” but never quite gets there despite some handy ax work from David Roads (has to be a fake name right?). “Blackjack” finds O’Keeffe reading the AC/DC dictionary out loud shouting, “kill!” “thrill!” alongside a waterfall riff from Roads that Angus Young could appreciate.
“What’s Eatin’ You” is a top track with a cleaner guitar edge. Lyrics like “one in the hand and two in the bush!” take us towards liftoff as O’Keeffe explains, “What’s eatin’ you is eatin me!” It’s an Obama message of togetherness only O’Keeffe is running for president of Hair Nation.
If you’re looking for the second coming of AC/DC, more often than not you’ll be disappointed. Airbourne is about the same. It smells and tastes like the stuff you love, but struggles to break off the chain. So instead of being the music of your summer, Airbourne will probably end up on ESPN Ultimate Highlight and X Games montages as well as your kids’ video games.
That said the quartet of “Runnin’ Wild,” “Stand Up For Rock ‘N’ Roll,” “Too Much, Too Young, Too Fast” and “What’s Eatin’ You” will sound great at a sports stadium or driveway near you. Overall Runnin’ Wild is a good time, and that can’t be bad no matter their intentions.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Editors Should Have Left Lead Singer on Cutting Room Floor
An End Has A Start by Editors is a tough album to review. On one hand, the chassis of the music is superb. Guitarist Chris Urbanowicz and drummer Ed Lay have put together a tapestry of epic sound. The problem is singer Tom Smith’s Goth-voice makes the end result sound like the Phantom of the Opera, or worse James Lipton from Inside the Actor’s Studio singing on top of an old U2 sound.
Is there something here, sure there is. The first three tracks “Smokers Outside the Hospital,” “An End Has a Start,” and notably “The Weight of the World” get the record off to a hot start. The disappointment comes because Editors are a nice band despite the lead singer not because of the lead singer. If you put a different front man on this much sound you would turn an indie into an outie real quick. Said another way: with a different singer, a lot more people would already be familiar with Editors.
With Smith in place the glass ceiling for Editors are key tracks like “The Weight of the World” and “The Racing Rats.” At their best Editors have a nice rock vibe that can rub against everything from The Killers to Simple Minds “Don’t You Forget About Me.” And I suppose that’s the highest compliment I can give to Editors. A song like “The Weight of the World” has a non-chalant sense of drama to it. “The Weight of the World” takes its time getting there, and the result is as cool as John Bender in the backseat of the bus and easily the highlight of the record.
The trouble I have with vocalists like Smith (see Paul Banks from Interpol as well) is they seem to be trying way too hard to sing in a voice that’s not their natural pitch. It’s all just too self aware for me. The result is the music ends up having a Frankenstein effect to it. It’s still a good sound, but you know the whole time you’re listening to it that it could have been great. And that’s a real shame.
Tom Smith does provide rhythm guitar, and nice lyrics like “in the end all you can hope for is the love you felt to equal the pain you’ve gone through” on tracks like “Bones.” Smith is clearly capable of taking the band to a certain altitude as Editors have already experienced commercial and critical acclaim. A song like “The Racing Rats” feels natural for the band and is good up-tempo indie rock in the spirit of “Monster” by The Automatic. But to hear the wind chime of the guitar and the pulse of the drums it just seems like Editors have another gear, and one they won’t likely see with Smith at the helm.
The problem I have with the Goth-voice Smith seems to favor is it puts a turtle neck on your rock & roll band. It clowns out the music to a certain degree. Can it work sometimes in a quirky way, sure Brandon Flowers managed to convert the turtleneck into a bolo tie pulling it off with a wink on Sam’s Town. In many ways I think Smith is probably enamored by The Killers. The fact that both Editors and Killers had a track titled “Bones,” and The Killers record came out a year earlier makes me think this fixation may have become a distraction. Smith’s vocal will be a governor for Editors moving forward not allowing them to reach top speed as a band.
There’s good stuff on An End Has a Start, specifically “The Weight of the World” is a true original. The music is high art, but with Smith at the microphone it’s hard for me to listen to because I feel like someone just added a cleft palette to the Mona Lisa. The music is rich and familiar, but the vocal is surprisingly out of place.
Is there something here, sure there is. The first three tracks “Smokers Outside the Hospital,” “An End Has a Start,” and notably “The Weight of the World” get the record off to a hot start. The disappointment comes because Editors are a nice band despite the lead singer not because of the lead singer. If you put a different front man on this much sound you would turn an indie into an outie real quick. Said another way: with a different singer, a lot more people would already be familiar with Editors.
With Smith in place the glass ceiling for Editors are key tracks like “The Weight of the World” and “The Racing Rats.” At their best Editors have a nice rock vibe that can rub against everything from The Killers to Simple Minds “Don’t You Forget About Me.” And I suppose that’s the highest compliment I can give to Editors. A song like “The Weight of the World” has a non-chalant sense of drama to it. “The Weight of the World” takes its time getting there, and the result is as cool as John Bender in the backseat of the bus and easily the highlight of the record.
The trouble I have with vocalists like Smith (see Paul Banks from Interpol as well) is they seem to be trying way too hard to sing in a voice that’s not their natural pitch. It’s all just too self aware for me. The result is the music ends up having a Frankenstein effect to it. It’s still a good sound, but you know the whole time you’re listening to it that it could have been great. And that’s a real shame.
Tom Smith does provide rhythm guitar, and nice lyrics like “in the end all you can hope for is the love you felt to equal the pain you’ve gone through” on tracks like “Bones.” Smith is clearly capable of taking the band to a certain altitude as Editors have already experienced commercial and critical acclaim. A song like “The Racing Rats” feels natural for the band and is good up-tempo indie rock in the spirit of “Monster” by The Automatic. But to hear the wind chime of the guitar and the pulse of the drums it just seems like Editors have another gear, and one they won’t likely see with Smith at the helm.
The problem I have with the Goth-voice Smith seems to favor is it puts a turtle neck on your rock & roll band. It clowns out the music to a certain degree. Can it work sometimes in a quirky way, sure Brandon Flowers managed to convert the turtleneck into a bolo tie pulling it off with a wink on Sam’s Town. In many ways I think Smith is probably enamored by The Killers. The fact that both Editors and Killers had a track titled “Bones,” and The Killers record came out a year earlier makes me think this fixation may have become a distraction. Smith’s vocal will be a governor for Editors moving forward not allowing them to reach top speed as a band.
There’s good stuff on An End Has a Start, specifically “The Weight of the World” is a true original. The music is high art, but with Smith at the microphone it’s hard for me to listen to because I feel like someone just added a cleft palette to the Mona Lisa. The music is rich and familiar, but the vocal is surprisingly out of place.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Music for TV Dramas and Men Who Use Product
Matt Nathanson has been banging around for a while. Tastemakers Aware Records had him pegged to be a star a couple times over. Well, Nathanson finally put it all together on his latest record Some Mad Hope.
If you like Dave Matthews, the Fray, Goo Goo Dolls, Matt Kearney, Train and the like—odds are you’ll dig Matt Nathanson. To quote one of his own lyrics, Nathanson’s specialty is “cheap radio songs.” His pedicure pop would have fit perfectly playing in the background of the prom episode of Grey’s Anatomy. The music has a touch of cheese, but it feels good. Some Mad Hope would sound great next to slow motion montages shot in the rain, or as the credits roll when you stand up to leave the theater. And I love that type of music.
Almost every track on Some Mad Hope is radio friendly. The opener “Car Crash” gets us started with Nathanson’s cotton vocal and a nice wavy guitar pulling it forward. “Come on Get Higher” is the signature song on the record. Nathanson takes a Dave Matthews (“Crash”) riff and replaces some of the melancholy with hope. It’s a killer track. Like a great single, “Come on Get Higher” will sound familiar the first time you hear it. Not only does Nathanson have the vocal of a platinum recording artist in the making, he even shows some lyrical prowess with simple prose like “I taste the sparks on your tongue.”
The hits just keep coming on Some Mad Hope. “Heartbreak World” and “Gone” are ballads an Enchanted soundtrack away from making it into your living room. To listen to Some Mad Hope just makes you shake your head as to why this kid hasn’t been properly discovered. The music has monster crossover appeal and Nathanson’s lyric is head and shoulders above the screamo voice presently dominating the marketplace. “All We Are” finishes the album on an epic note, and will get the neck hairs up one more time.
“Wedding Dress” is one of those songs the first time you hear it will make you cringe a bit. It’s more on the Goo Goo Dolls side of the spectrum. We’ve gone from using hair product to maybe frosting your hair as Nathanson sings “in your wedding dress to have and to hold.” It’s all a bit too Hallmark, but the pop is irresistible. Before you know it you’ll be singing along to this one too. Bad wedding Powerpoints are being scored to this one as we speak.
Make no mistake Matt Nathanson is nothing new. He makes “cheap radio songs,” but sometimes that’s all you need. Sometimes that hits the spot. Sometimes that even stands up and separates from the crowd (see Hootie and the Blowfish 1994). The closest Nathanson gets to showing his original side is the stripped down ballad “Bulletproof Weeks.” Leaning on his voice and great lyrics, “Bulletproof Weeks” is an unplugged gem. On “Sooner Surrender” he attempts to shake Jeff Buckley from the grave and comes close. Clearly Nathanson is a vocal talent waiting to be discovered.
There is the rare on Some Mad Hope like the overly up-tempo “To the Beat of Our Noisy Hearts, “ but as a whole it’s a superb record. On “Bulletproof Weeks” Nathanson asks the question, “what happened to feeling cheap radio songs?” Hearing Some Mad Hope makes me beg the same question. Pick this one up; it will sound great as you put together the slow motion sequences of your own life.
If you like Dave Matthews, the Fray, Goo Goo Dolls, Matt Kearney, Train and the like—odds are you’ll dig Matt Nathanson. To quote one of his own lyrics, Nathanson’s specialty is “cheap radio songs.” His pedicure pop would have fit perfectly playing in the background of the prom episode of Grey’s Anatomy. The music has a touch of cheese, but it feels good. Some Mad Hope would sound great next to slow motion montages shot in the rain, or as the credits roll when you stand up to leave the theater. And I love that type of music.
Almost every track on Some Mad Hope is radio friendly. The opener “Car Crash” gets us started with Nathanson’s cotton vocal and a nice wavy guitar pulling it forward. “Come on Get Higher” is the signature song on the record. Nathanson takes a Dave Matthews (“Crash”) riff and replaces some of the melancholy with hope. It’s a killer track. Like a great single, “Come on Get Higher” will sound familiar the first time you hear it. Not only does Nathanson have the vocal of a platinum recording artist in the making, he even shows some lyrical prowess with simple prose like “I taste the sparks on your tongue.”
The hits just keep coming on Some Mad Hope. “Heartbreak World” and “Gone” are ballads an Enchanted soundtrack away from making it into your living room. To listen to Some Mad Hope just makes you shake your head as to why this kid hasn’t been properly discovered. The music has monster crossover appeal and Nathanson’s lyric is head and shoulders above the screamo voice presently dominating the marketplace. “All We Are” finishes the album on an epic note, and will get the neck hairs up one more time.
“Wedding Dress” is one of those songs the first time you hear it will make you cringe a bit. It’s more on the Goo Goo Dolls side of the spectrum. We’ve gone from using hair product to maybe frosting your hair as Nathanson sings “in your wedding dress to have and to hold.” It’s all a bit too Hallmark, but the pop is irresistible. Before you know it you’ll be singing along to this one too. Bad wedding Powerpoints are being scored to this one as we speak.
Make no mistake Matt Nathanson is nothing new. He makes “cheap radio songs,” but sometimes that’s all you need. Sometimes that hits the spot. Sometimes that even stands up and separates from the crowd (see Hootie and the Blowfish 1994). The closest Nathanson gets to showing his original side is the stripped down ballad “Bulletproof Weeks.” Leaning on his voice and great lyrics, “Bulletproof Weeks” is an unplugged gem. On “Sooner Surrender” he attempts to shake Jeff Buckley from the grave and comes close. Clearly Nathanson is a vocal talent waiting to be discovered.
There is the rare on Some Mad Hope like the overly up-tempo “To the Beat of Our Noisy Hearts, “ but as a whole it’s a superb record. On “Bulletproof Weeks” Nathanson asks the question, “what happened to feeling cheap radio songs?” Hearing Some Mad Hope makes me beg the same question. Pick this one up; it will sound great as you put together the slow motion sequences of your own life.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Yo tengo catorce anos. Juanes es bien. Adios.
While working in Europe, my family and I spent a few days in Barcelona on Las Ramblas. I remember even in a tourist trap like Las Ramblas just how spacious and laid back the overall vibe was. I also remember opening the hotel windows and playing an Alejandro Sanz CD on the hotel CD player. It sounded perfect.
While in Europe I had projects in both the Netherlands and Spain. In the Netherlands they speak Flemish, a language about as attractive as a farmer’s blow. Flemish sounds like one long series of people trying to hack the snot out of their chests. It’s likely the contrast between the two languages solidified my love of Spanish.
I’ve always had a thing for Spanish language, especially when it comes to music. Spanish just sounds better as it rolls off the tongue. When Spanish is sung, the letters are rounded off. There’s a reason they call it a romance language. Throughout middle school, high school, and college I managed to log about 14 years of intermediate Spanish. This allowed me to master important basics like, “Yo tengo catorce anos ( I am 14 years old).” As well as personal favorite “tu chupas (you suck, or more precisely, and way better, you are sucking).” Even my karaoke song is Spanish. Throughout the years, I’ve brutalized “La Bamba” a variety of ways but always get bonus points for the bi-lingual effort.
I’ve remained intrigued by Spanish language. One day I’ll get my act together and pick up one of those audio book series and learn “la lengua” in my Jeep on the long commute from White Bear. Specific to popular music I’ve always been intrigued by the Spanish “sensation” of the moment. There always seems to be some massive Spanish language performer you hear about who sells billions of records and is rumored to have played concerts to hundreds of thousands. The latest hype is around Juanes. His album La Vida . . .Es Un Ratico showed up on a lot of year-end lists. Juanes even presented at the Grammys looking like Colin Farrell’s bizarre Spanish brother.
The challenge with reviewing a Spanish language album is setting aside the lyrics. While I may know “fuerte” is strong, “amor” is love and “corazon” is “heart” I’m unable to grasp the overall story.
So I’m left to review how the music feels. If music is the universal language there will always be songs that just crossover based on how they grab you. I’ve had this happen before. I used to run the Thames in London listening to David Bisbal’s “Ave Maria” and it doesn’t get any more solid than Alejandro Sanz’s “No Es Lo Mismo.”
The cross over song here is clearly “Hoy Me Voy” as Juanes pours out his heart, and takes us on a bilingual magic carpet ride. I played this one in the Jeep for my nine-year-old daughter the other day, and she loved it. Even without the benefit of story, Juanes gets his twinkle on, bangs the drums, and mixes Santana with Pop Rocks. Awesome. This one will kill at the margarita party.
That’s what I love about the power of music to cut through. Songs like “Hoy Me Voy” are closer to a classical song. The music just feels right. Everything is in the right place. You know what you want to happen next, and then it does.
Another song sure to find a spot in your corazon is the upbeat opener “No Creo En El Jamas” featuring a tidal wave of a chorus even Celine would envy. That’s how to start a record.
Spanish music has a way of getting cheesy in a hurry with the Casio keyboard effects and the drum machines, but Juanes goes to great lengths to avoid this focusing on musicianship and some nice ax work on guitar. It’s clear Juanes wants to be taken seriously. There is a craft to La Vida. . .Es Un Ratico as songs like “Me Enamora” feature significant guitar chop. Juanes clearly has some jam, and the guitar riffs have an Eddie Money/Journey like nostalgia to them. The record has a real live sound to it.
There are more catchy choruses and some nice ballads here as well, but the grab you by the short hair on the back of the head despite the language barrier is clearly “Hoy Me Voy.”
Do I suggest you buy Juanes latest CD? Maybe not, as it’s a lot of work to sort music without benefit of the words. But if you’re a true music fan I absolutely suggest picking up a single or two from a different country and just letting the music punch your passport. It’s no different than trying ethnic foods or watching a foreign film. For starters, “Hoy Me Voy” won’t disappoint.
While in Europe I had projects in both the Netherlands and Spain. In the Netherlands they speak Flemish, a language about as attractive as a farmer’s blow. Flemish sounds like one long series of people trying to hack the snot out of their chests. It’s likely the contrast between the two languages solidified my love of Spanish.
I’ve always had a thing for Spanish language, especially when it comes to music. Spanish just sounds better as it rolls off the tongue. When Spanish is sung, the letters are rounded off. There’s a reason they call it a romance language. Throughout middle school, high school, and college I managed to log about 14 years of intermediate Spanish. This allowed me to master important basics like, “Yo tengo catorce anos ( I am 14 years old).” As well as personal favorite “tu chupas (you suck, or more precisely, and way better, you are sucking).” Even my karaoke song is Spanish. Throughout the years, I’ve brutalized “La Bamba” a variety of ways but always get bonus points for the bi-lingual effort.
I’ve remained intrigued by Spanish language. One day I’ll get my act together and pick up one of those audio book series and learn “la lengua” in my Jeep on the long commute from White Bear. Specific to popular music I’ve always been intrigued by the Spanish “sensation” of the moment. There always seems to be some massive Spanish language performer you hear about who sells billions of records and is rumored to have played concerts to hundreds of thousands. The latest hype is around Juanes. His album La Vida . . .Es Un Ratico showed up on a lot of year-end lists. Juanes even presented at the Grammys looking like Colin Farrell’s bizarre Spanish brother.
The challenge with reviewing a Spanish language album is setting aside the lyrics. While I may know “fuerte” is strong, “amor” is love and “corazon” is “heart” I’m unable to grasp the overall story.
So I’m left to review how the music feels. If music is the universal language there will always be songs that just crossover based on how they grab you. I’ve had this happen before. I used to run the Thames in London listening to David Bisbal’s “Ave Maria” and it doesn’t get any more solid than Alejandro Sanz’s “No Es Lo Mismo.”
The cross over song here is clearly “Hoy Me Voy” as Juanes pours out his heart, and takes us on a bilingual magic carpet ride. I played this one in the Jeep for my nine-year-old daughter the other day, and she loved it. Even without the benefit of story, Juanes gets his twinkle on, bangs the drums, and mixes Santana with Pop Rocks. Awesome. This one will kill at the margarita party.
That’s what I love about the power of music to cut through. Songs like “Hoy Me Voy” are closer to a classical song. The music just feels right. Everything is in the right place. You know what you want to happen next, and then it does.
Another song sure to find a spot in your corazon is the upbeat opener “No Creo En El Jamas” featuring a tidal wave of a chorus even Celine would envy. That’s how to start a record.
Spanish music has a way of getting cheesy in a hurry with the Casio keyboard effects and the drum machines, but Juanes goes to great lengths to avoid this focusing on musicianship and some nice ax work on guitar. It’s clear Juanes wants to be taken seriously. There is a craft to La Vida. . .Es Un Ratico as songs like “Me Enamora” feature significant guitar chop. Juanes clearly has some jam, and the guitar riffs have an Eddie Money/Journey like nostalgia to them. The record has a real live sound to it.
There are more catchy choruses and some nice ballads here as well, but the grab you by the short hair on the back of the head despite the language barrier is clearly “Hoy Me Voy.”
Do I suggest you buy Juanes latest CD? Maybe not, as it’s a lot of work to sort music without benefit of the words. But if you’re a true music fan I absolutely suggest picking up a single or two from a different country and just letting the music punch your passport. It’s no different than trying ethnic foods or watching a foreign film. For starters, “Hoy Me Voy” won’t disappoint.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Surf’s Down
The other day I sat in my kitchen on the computer with my daughter. Together on the Web we went through one of those calculators where you answer the questions and it tells you the presidential candidate with the most similar views to your own.
It was awesome to go through that process with a nine-year-old. And to have to sit there, explain the issues and ask, “do you think we should drill for oil in national parks?” and have a kid look you square in the eye like you just proposed wearing a dress to her birthday, “No!”
Kids see things clearly and in black & white. For my nine-year-old daughter global warming is real (and scary), war is bad, and people should be nice. Period.
I’ve always considered Jack Johnson as one of those rarified men up in the attic of coolness. Like the eternal bachelor McConaughey, guys’ guy Clooney and his pet pig, Andy Garcia and his 9 handicap –Jack Johnson is livin’ the dream. He played the surf house party circuit for years a relative unknown except to big wave riders like Kelly Slater before finally being persuaded to record. Now Johnson’s music rides the waves of the pop charts on nearly every continent. Jack Johnson music is like a sunset –simple, universal, and optimistic.
With McConaughey having a kid, Clooney throwing out his back, and now surf bum Johnson releasing what can only be described as a bum-out CD I’m pretty certain the world is about to end. And that seems to be precisely what was on Johnson’s mind. Sleep Through the Static starts with “All at Once” a global warming tale where Johnson pins the environmental crisis on “so many things that we got too proud of.” Along the way he provides the alibi for this rainy day disc from our favorite sunset singer, “Sometimes it feels like a heart is no place to be singing from at all.” Like the clown with the sad face, Johnson seems to acknowledge his responsibility as an artist to speak up.
Johnson hits his stride as he shifts the topic to Iraq. Again successfully wrapping a heavy message into simple verse. Johnson explains the complexity of Iraq by stating, “we went beyond where we should have gone” alongside a sing-a-long chorus “who needs keys when we’ve got clubs, who needs please when we’ve got guns, who needs peace when we’ve gone above.” Johnson paints many, many vivid images on the title track from stomping war down a shower drain for someone else to deal with to a Dodge driving, camouflage wearing, hog of the feast. The beauty of “Sleep Through the Static” is it’s a great track too. Not since Everclear have we had this toxic a message wrapped up in sweet verse. I’d pay good money to hear Johnson play this wolf in sheep’s clothing with Dubyah and Cheney in the audience oblivious and tapping their feet to the beat. It’s not that often a message song is also a sing-a-long song. “Sleep Through the Static” succeeds at both.
I have to compliment Johnson for getting his board shorts in a bunch and kicking out an album with stern warnings as well as an Obama (hope is in no short supply here)-like vision of the future. The issue I have is with the first single. Anyone who buys this album after hearing “If I had Eyes” is sure to be deeply disappointed. While Sleep Through the Static is likely an album that will improve with each listen, there isn’t another burst of Sunkist like the first single. “If I Had Eyes” is one giant tease. Not only is “If I Had Eyes” the standard sunny Johnson fare, but he appears to have actually invested in a distortion pedal taking his sound to new heights. Trouble is the rest of the record never comes close to the upbeat single.
I see a lot of parallels in Sleep Through the Static to Dr. Seuss’ little known environmental novel The Lorax. Because of subject matter and tone it’s sure to under whelm the masses, but his true fans will love him more for it.
The closest we get to the groove of “If I Had Eyes” would probably be the hum and groove of “What You Thought You Need,” a nice little ditty complete with enough fret squeaks for a shirts and skins basketball game. I love that. There are a couple other hazy summer afternoon tracks towards the end including "Losing Keys" which has an Otis Redding vibe to it. But after the first single, it's mostly rain the rest of the way.
You know it’s bad when a guy who doesn’t even own a pair of shoes besides flip-flops is furrowing his brow. With any luck Johnson is right, and hope is on the way.
It was awesome to go through that process with a nine-year-old. And to have to sit there, explain the issues and ask, “do you think we should drill for oil in national parks?” and have a kid look you square in the eye like you just proposed wearing a dress to her birthday, “No!”
Kids see things clearly and in black & white. For my nine-year-old daughter global warming is real (and scary), war is bad, and people should be nice. Period.
I’ve always considered Jack Johnson as one of those rarified men up in the attic of coolness. Like the eternal bachelor McConaughey, guys’ guy Clooney and his pet pig, Andy Garcia and his 9 handicap –Jack Johnson is livin’ the dream. He played the surf house party circuit for years a relative unknown except to big wave riders like Kelly Slater before finally being persuaded to record. Now Johnson’s music rides the waves of the pop charts on nearly every continent. Jack Johnson music is like a sunset –simple, universal, and optimistic.
With McConaughey having a kid, Clooney throwing out his back, and now surf bum Johnson releasing what can only be described as a bum-out CD I’m pretty certain the world is about to end. And that seems to be precisely what was on Johnson’s mind. Sleep Through the Static starts with “All at Once” a global warming tale where Johnson pins the environmental crisis on “so many things that we got too proud of.” Along the way he provides the alibi for this rainy day disc from our favorite sunset singer, “Sometimes it feels like a heart is no place to be singing from at all.” Like the clown with the sad face, Johnson seems to acknowledge his responsibility as an artist to speak up.
Johnson hits his stride as he shifts the topic to Iraq. Again successfully wrapping a heavy message into simple verse. Johnson explains the complexity of Iraq by stating, “we went beyond where we should have gone” alongside a sing-a-long chorus “who needs keys when we’ve got clubs, who needs please when we’ve got guns, who needs peace when we’ve gone above.” Johnson paints many, many vivid images on the title track from stomping war down a shower drain for someone else to deal with to a Dodge driving, camouflage wearing, hog of the feast. The beauty of “Sleep Through the Static” is it’s a great track too. Not since Everclear have we had this toxic a message wrapped up in sweet verse. I’d pay good money to hear Johnson play this wolf in sheep’s clothing with Dubyah and Cheney in the audience oblivious and tapping their feet to the beat. It’s not that often a message song is also a sing-a-long song. “Sleep Through the Static” succeeds at both.
I have to compliment Johnson for getting his board shorts in a bunch and kicking out an album with stern warnings as well as an Obama (hope is in no short supply here)-like vision of the future. The issue I have is with the first single. Anyone who buys this album after hearing “If I had Eyes” is sure to be deeply disappointed. While Sleep Through the Static is likely an album that will improve with each listen, there isn’t another burst of Sunkist like the first single. “If I Had Eyes” is one giant tease. Not only is “If I Had Eyes” the standard sunny Johnson fare, but he appears to have actually invested in a distortion pedal taking his sound to new heights. Trouble is the rest of the record never comes close to the upbeat single.
I see a lot of parallels in Sleep Through the Static to Dr. Seuss’ little known environmental novel The Lorax. Because of subject matter and tone it’s sure to under whelm the masses, but his true fans will love him more for it.
The closest we get to the groove of “If I Had Eyes” would probably be the hum and groove of “What You Thought You Need,” a nice little ditty complete with enough fret squeaks for a shirts and skins basketball game. I love that. There are a couple other hazy summer afternoon tracks towards the end including "Losing Keys" which has an Otis Redding vibe to it. But after the first single, it's mostly rain the rest of the way.
You know it’s bad when a guy who doesn’t even own a pair of shoes besides flip-flops is furrowing his brow. With any luck Johnson is right, and hope is on the way.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
You should have yourself a Vampire Weekend
When you review (or try to) one record per week, fatigue has a way of setting in. I’ll admit to staring at a new CD with the same dread with which I look at the second treadmill from the right as I step on board each morning for another monotonous sweat. It’s really pretty sad. In general music and sweating should never be boring.
That’s why it’s wonderful when once in a while you pull something completely fresh. You pull something sharp. It hits you like a menthol breeze, and instead of another 30 on the same old treadmill it feels like jumping into the pool for the first time all over again.
Vampire Weekend is that perky little record I needed to keep me going. Really good stuff I must say. Worth purchase for certain. With a name like Vampire Weekend and a single called “A-Punk” I must say I was expecting something pretty rock & roll. I was thinking Lost Boys black leather jacket. When a colleague described their sound as “Paul Simon-like,” I was immediately curious.
It’s not that often that one lyric can suffice as an entire record review, but that’s the case with Vampire Weekend’s self titled debut. On “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” lead singer Ezra Koenig croons, “But this feels so unnatural Peter Gabriel too.” And that’s pretty much it. The magic of Vampire Weekend is their unexpected cocktail of sound. The instruments have a very world music, African vibe going. But Koenig’s vocal is as milky white as Ferris Bueller singing in the parade. The result is an odd pairing of world music with a prep-school vocal. Could Vampire Weekend be a Paul Simon Graceland cover band, sure? But in 2008 this is a very fresh sound, and I think it’s super cool the kids are digging it on their MTV.
In short the Vampire Weekend record kicks major ass. It’s the sort of record that bums me out because I live in Minnesota and it’s still February. When I hear it I want to have people over and have this pumping through the outdoor speakers (note to self: get outdoor speakers). And the joy is there from the start. The very first bump of “Mansford Roof” takes us to Koenig’s original vocal to drums and hand drums that keep the pace.
The Vampire Weekend record does boast songs that rise to the top. “A-Punk” is the two minute party single burning up MTV. “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” is the closest to a Paul Simon joyride. Koenig somehow turns simple lyrics like “is your bed made? Is your sweater on?” into little packets of Nutra Sweet. The Vampire Weekend boys met up at Columbia University so it makes sense there are real smarts behind the lyrics. “Oxford Comma” is a street smart flip of the bird to the heavy starch of the class system, “who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma . . .his accent sounded fine to me.” And it’s also a great tune. “The Kids don’t stand a Chance” is the story of a hippie kid forced to set his alarm and go to work everyday. If there is a dip on the record it comes somewhere after a very hot start including instrumental juggernaut “M79” and Vampire Weekend’s own “Don’t Stand so Close to Me” tale “Campus.” The first seven tracks are superb, only on a brief section starting with “I Stand Corrected” does Vampire Weekend sound like they’re coloring inside the lines. The magic of this new band is the contrast, surprise and delight.
There aren’t many dips on Vampire Weekend. Overall their preppy world music sounds goes down like cream in your coffee. The strange contrast in sound has been described as “Upper West Side Soweto” —how great is that?! The Vampire Weekend is like the soundtrack of “The God’s must be Crazy” only instead of finding a Coke bottle it’s an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog that lands in the Kalahari Desert. The sound is part Police, part Paul Simon, and yes part Peter Gabriel – mixed with a whole lot of the rest of the world. Unnatural . . .maybe. But it sure sounds right.
That’s why it’s wonderful when once in a while you pull something completely fresh. You pull something sharp. It hits you like a menthol breeze, and instead of another 30 on the same old treadmill it feels like jumping into the pool for the first time all over again.
Vampire Weekend is that perky little record I needed to keep me going. Really good stuff I must say. Worth purchase for certain. With a name like Vampire Weekend and a single called “A-Punk” I must say I was expecting something pretty rock & roll. I was thinking Lost Boys black leather jacket. When a colleague described their sound as “Paul Simon-like,” I was immediately curious.
It’s not that often that one lyric can suffice as an entire record review, but that’s the case with Vampire Weekend’s self titled debut. On “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” lead singer Ezra Koenig croons, “But this feels so unnatural Peter Gabriel too.” And that’s pretty much it. The magic of Vampire Weekend is their unexpected cocktail of sound. The instruments have a very world music, African vibe going. But Koenig’s vocal is as milky white as Ferris Bueller singing in the parade. The result is an odd pairing of world music with a prep-school vocal. Could Vampire Weekend be a Paul Simon Graceland cover band, sure? But in 2008 this is a very fresh sound, and I think it’s super cool the kids are digging it on their MTV.
In short the Vampire Weekend record kicks major ass. It’s the sort of record that bums me out because I live in Minnesota and it’s still February. When I hear it I want to have people over and have this pumping through the outdoor speakers (note to self: get outdoor speakers). And the joy is there from the start. The very first bump of “Mansford Roof” takes us to Koenig’s original vocal to drums and hand drums that keep the pace.
The Vampire Weekend record does boast songs that rise to the top. “A-Punk” is the two minute party single burning up MTV. “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” is the closest to a Paul Simon joyride. Koenig somehow turns simple lyrics like “is your bed made? Is your sweater on?” into little packets of Nutra Sweet. The Vampire Weekend boys met up at Columbia University so it makes sense there are real smarts behind the lyrics. “Oxford Comma” is a street smart flip of the bird to the heavy starch of the class system, “who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma . . .his accent sounded fine to me.” And it’s also a great tune. “The Kids don’t stand a Chance” is the story of a hippie kid forced to set his alarm and go to work everyday. If there is a dip on the record it comes somewhere after a very hot start including instrumental juggernaut “M79” and Vampire Weekend’s own “Don’t Stand so Close to Me” tale “Campus.” The first seven tracks are superb, only on a brief section starting with “I Stand Corrected” does Vampire Weekend sound like they’re coloring inside the lines. The magic of this new band is the contrast, surprise and delight.
There aren’t many dips on Vampire Weekend. Overall their preppy world music sounds goes down like cream in your coffee. The strange contrast in sound has been described as “Upper West Side Soweto” —how great is that?! The Vampire Weekend is like the soundtrack of “The God’s must be Crazy” only instead of finding a Coke bottle it’s an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog that lands in the Kalahari Desert. The sound is part Police, part Paul Simon, and yes part Peter Gabriel – mixed with a whole lot of the rest of the world. Unnatural . . .maybe. But it sure sounds right.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
What was Tony Romo Thinking?
I’m a big Carrie Underwood fan. There I said it.
For starters, Underwood has the same nose as Elvis. Check it out, it’s true. Underwood grew on me while watching American Idol a few years back when she saved us all by preventing “rock” clowns Bo and Constantine from winning. Not only was that good for rock & roll, it was great for Underwood. Like a lot of people, I fell for Underwood as I watched her struggle to be more than a stand in the same place country western singer before finally winning because she embraced being just that. From the start there has always been an easy approachability to Underwood and her music. Sure over the years they’ve fixed her hair and made her more glamorous but even today Underwood remains more Barbara Mandrell then Jessica Simpson. There’s a chambray shirt wholesome-ness to Underwood, you’d hire her to be your summer girl. It sets my mind at ease that my nine year old has Carrie Underwood on the top of the performers she would most like to see in concert.
From the moment the banjo kicks in on “Flat on the Floor” Carnival Ride is a classic country album. It’s filled with stories about love, leaving, and yes, dogs. A perfect example is the radio friendly narrative of “All-American Girl” about the dad who pined for a son before getting wrapped firmly wrapped around his new daughter’s finger.
Carnival Ride is truck tailgate music, wheelbarrow music, and watery beer music. If you’re a fan of new country icons like Tim McGraw, Keith Urban, and Kenny Chesney—you’ll like the Underwood record. I give Underwood a lot of credit on Carnival Ride as she really pushes her vocal. At times it feels like a stretch, but it’s clear she wants to let out her inner Janis. From a voice standpoint this works as Underwood is able to put up the big top vocal on songs like “Flat on the Floor.” What doesn’t’ work as well is when Underwood tries to be anything more than a sweet All-American Girl herself. On “Last Name” she does her best Gretchen Wilson impression trying to convince us she’s had too many Cuervos and woke up hitched in Vegas. The trouble is Underwood is more Barbie than Bratz so just like playing dress-up on Idol a few years back it doesn’t’ work for her. That said, “Last Name” is an extremely catchy little tune that will have you singing along and will likely be a single. It just doesn’t feel real coming from Underwood.
Underwood sounds a lot more comfortable out of the honky-tonk and out on the green grass or dusty open road. Songs like “You Won’t Find This” are big, optimistic ballads that showcase her hearty sound. “So Small” is the defining song on the album. A big breath ballad that leans spiritual, “So Small” is sure to be embraced by country radio with its universal message about time and priorities with lyrics like “when you figure out love is all that matters after all it sure makes everything else seem so small.” “Get Out of this Town,” is another great ride as Underwood is a one woman Dixie Chicks. Other songs like “I Know You Won’t” and “I Told You So” showcase Underwood’s dare I say Celine-like vocal chops but never materialize into infectious songs.
“The More Boys I Meet” is a great track that perfectly casts Underwood as Cinderella with its “close my eyes as I kiss that frog” narrative. The only thing that holds it back is the line in the chorus, “the more boys I meet the more I love my dog.” The lyric is so damn corny it makes me wince like when I see a grown adult bringing a stuffed animal on an airplane ride.
Most of us Midwesterners have a soft spot for country music. It sounds good in big trucks on flat roads. Make no mistake Carrie Underwood’s Carnival Ride is not a great country record. Michelob Golden Light isn’t a great beer either. But both will do the trick on your next sunny day in the backyard.
For starters, Underwood has the same nose as Elvis. Check it out, it’s true. Underwood grew on me while watching American Idol a few years back when she saved us all by preventing “rock” clowns Bo and Constantine from winning. Not only was that good for rock & roll, it was great for Underwood. Like a lot of people, I fell for Underwood as I watched her struggle to be more than a stand in the same place country western singer before finally winning because she embraced being just that. From the start there has always been an easy approachability to Underwood and her music. Sure over the years they’ve fixed her hair and made her more glamorous but even today Underwood remains more Barbara Mandrell then Jessica Simpson. There’s a chambray shirt wholesome-ness to Underwood, you’d hire her to be your summer girl. It sets my mind at ease that my nine year old has Carrie Underwood on the top of the performers she would most like to see in concert.
From the moment the banjo kicks in on “Flat on the Floor” Carnival Ride is a classic country album. It’s filled with stories about love, leaving, and yes, dogs. A perfect example is the radio friendly narrative of “All-American Girl” about the dad who pined for a son before getting wrapped firmly wrapped around his new daughter’s finger.
Carnival Ride is truck tailgate music, wheelbarrow music, and watery beer music. If you’re a fan of new country icons like Tim McGraw, Keith Urban, and Kenny Chesney—you’ll like the Underwood record. I give Underwood a lot of credit on Carnival Ride as she really pushes her vocal. At times it feels like a stretch, but it’s clear she wants to let out her inner Janis. From a voice standpoint this works as Underwood is able to put up the big top vocal on songs like “Flat on the Floor.” What doesn’t’ work as well is when Underwood tries to be anything more than a sweet All-American Girl herself. On “Last Name” she does her best Gretchen Wilson impression trying to convince us she’s had too many Cuervos and woke up hitched in Vegas. The trouble is Underwood is more Barbie than Bratz so just like playing dress-up on Idol a few years back it doesn’t’ work for her. That said, “Last Name” is an extremely catchy little tune that will have you singing along and will likely be a single. It just doesn’t feel real coming from Underwood.
Underwood sounds a lot more comfortable out of the honky-tonk and out on the green grass or dusty open road. Songs like “You Won’t Find This” are big, optimistic ballads that showcase her hearty sound. “So Small” is the defining song on the album. A big breath ballad that leans spiritual, “So Small” is sure to be embraced by country radio with its universal message about time and priorities with lyrics like “when you figure out love is all that matters after all it sure makes everything else seem so small.” “Get Out of this Town,” is another great ride as Underwood is a one woman Dixie Chicks. Other songs like “I Know You Won’t” and “I Told You So” showcase Underwood’s dare I say Celine-like vocal chops but never materialize into infectious songs.
“The More Boys I Meet” is a great track that perfectly casts Underwood as Cinderella with its “close my eyes as I kiss that frog” narrative. The only thing that holds it back is the line in the chorus, “the more boys I meet the more I love my dog.” The lyric is so damn corny it makes me wince like when I see a grown adult bringing a stuffed animal on an airplane ride.
Most of us Midwesterners have a soft spot for country music. It sounds good in big trucks on flat roads. Make no mistake Carrie Underwood’s Carnival Ride is not a great country record. Michelob Golden Light isn’t a great beer either. But both will do the trick on your next sunny day in the backyard.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Once Soundtrack Explores What Love Sounds Like.
I was strongly advised against reviewing the Once soundtrack until after I had watched the film. Apparently the film is more of a musical so instead of the soundtrack being a collection of songs played in the background of the movie the music is more like the script or the story itself.
But that’s not how I work here. We start with the music, period. And it has to stand on its own. Speaking from experience, I reviewed the Into the Wild soundtrack without seeing the film or reading the book. I recently watched the film in a hotel and was no worse off for being familiar with the soundtrack first. By the way the Into the Wild soundtrack really has some open-air ideas on there if you’re looking for a new disc.
Once is a love story and the soundtrack tells that story with The Frames lead singer Glen Hansard working alongside Marja Tuhkanen. The pair also star in the film. At his best Hansard will remind you of true vocalists like Van Morrison, Damien Rice, and Jeff Buckley. Hansard makes the sort of music that would sound most at home in a bar hall busting at the seams where your black leather boots stick to the floor and the cheeks are all rosy. Hansard delivers the sort of passionate scruffy vocal capable of having you screaming in your car as you drive around alone. I know I did.
The song that’s getting all the acclaim on the record is the first one. “Slowly falling” was nominated for an Oscar this week, and it’s obvious why. While great on its own, I imagine “Slowly Falling” is even better alongside the pictures. “Slowly falling” reminds me a lot of Damien Rice’s song “Blower’s Daughter” which was forever transformed by the movie Closer. If “Slowly Falling” is placed anywhere near the apex of the film it will be burned in your memory even more than it is when it jumps off the CD.
The parallels between Damien Rice and Hansard are significant. If you like one you’ll probably like the other. While Rice’s music is a bit more accessible, Hansard does have some songs that lean pop. “Leave” for instance reminds a bit of Rice’s “Woman Like a Man.” It’ has some sand paper to it as the heartbroken Hansard goes from singing to straight up screaming. This is an epic breakup song. If you know anyone sitting down in the shower these days, one listen to this should have them back on their feet and back out to the bars. “Leave” drips with passion and has some great lyrics including “won’t disappoint me I can do that myself” and “the truth has a habit of falling out of your mouth.” A good Irishman, Hansard even thanks Rice in the liner notes alongside people with last names like Guinness and Flanagan.
Hansard’s partner in this love story is Marja Tuhkanen. I must say I didn’t find as much to like in her stuff, maybe I’ll change my mind after I see the movie and put all the pieces together There was a little too much piano and melancholy to the Tuhkanen led tracks. She tends to sound like a rainy day librarian next to our hero, Hansard, with his guitar strapped across his chest.
Once is a good ride. It’s more of a film score than a typical soundtrack. Because of that you do run into some moments where you’ll feel like a 55 year old woman listening to show tunes on her way to Talbot’s. This is not ideal, but it happens mostly at the start of the disc where Tuhkanen is on display and the music is a bit too moody. It’s really pretty stuff, but gets almost into that Andrew Lloyd Webber side of things. I was much more comfortable staying in the pub with Hansard.
There’s enough on here to satisfy your purchase, and the CD gets better in the second half. “Gold” by Interference has a nice little Dave Matthews vibe to it complete with crafty guitar work and wind instruments. Crying on someone’s shoulder has never felt as good as it does on “Fallen from the Sky,” a very unique (and catchy) little squeeze box of a track. “Trying to Pull Myself Away” sounds like standard radio friendly soundtrack rock. While not out of place, the production gloss is a nice surprise. We get more passion throwing rocks at your window with “Say It To Me Now” as well as some nice duets including “When Your Mind’s Made Up.”
Restoring my faith in the world, the Once soundtrack sits at #4 on the iTunes chart. Not bad for a movie that was shot for only $160,000. Even without the benefit of the pictures in my head I must say the sound was cinematic and plenty dramatic. I suspect once I watch the film it will rise to new heights. I’d advise you to stop in the pub and check out the Once soundtrack especially “Leave” and “Say it to Me Now.” This is what love sounds like.
But that’s not how I work here. We start with the music, period. And it has to stand on its own. Speaking from experience, I reviewed the Into the Wild soundtrack without seeing the film or reading the book. I recently watched the film in a hotel and was no worse off for being familiar with the soundtrack first. By the way the Into the Wild soundtrack really has some open-air ideas on there if you’re looking for a new disc.
Once is a love story and the soundtrack tells that story with The Frames lead singer Glen Hansard working alongside Marja Tuhkanen. The pair also star in the film. At his best Hansard will remind you of true vocalists like Van Morrison, Damien Rice, and Jeff Buckley. Hansard makes the sort of music that would sound most at home in a bar hall busting at the seams where your black leather boots stick to the floor and the cheeks are all rosy. Hansard delivers the sort of passionate scruffy vocal capable of having you screaming in your car as you drive around alone. I know I did.
The song that’s getting all the acclaim on the record is the first one. “Slowly falling” was nominated for an Oscar this week, and it’s obvious why. While great on its own, I imagine “Slowly Falling” is even better alongside the pictures. “Slowly falling” reminds me a lot of Damien Rice’s song “Blower’s Daughter” which was forever transformed by the movie Closer. If “Slowly Falling” is placed anywhere near the apex of the film it will be burned in your memory even more than it is when it jumps off the CD.
The parallels between Damien Rice and Hansard are significant. If you like one you’ll probably like the other. While Rice’s music is a bit more accessible, Hansard does have some songs that lean pop. “Leave” for instance reminds a bit of Rice’s “Woman Like a Man.” It’ has some sand paper to it as the heartbroken Hansard goes from singing to straight up screaming. This is an epic breakup song. If you know anyone sitting down in the shower these days, one listen to this should have them back on their feet and back out to the bars. “Leave” drips with passion and has some great lyrics including “won’t disappoint me I can do that myself” and “the truth has a habit of falling out of your mouth.” A good Irishman, Hansard even thanks Rice in the liner notes alongside people with last names like Guinness and Flanagan.
Hansard’s partner in this love story is Marja Tuhkanen. I must say I didn’t find as much to like in her stuff, maybe I’ll change my mind after I see the movie and put all the pieces together There was a little too much piano and melancholy to the Tuhkanen led tracks. She tends to sound like a rainy day librarian next to our hero, Hansard, with his guitar strapped across his chest.
Once is a good ride. It’s more of a film score than a typical soundtrack. Because of that you do run into some moments where you’ll feel like a 55 year old woman listening to show tunes on her way to Talbot’s. This is not ideal, but it happens mostly at the start of the disc where Tuhkanen is on display and the music is a bit too moody. It’s really pretty stuff, but gets almost into that Andrew Lloyd Webber side of things. I was much more comfortable staying in the pub with Hansard.
There’s enough on here to satisfy your purchase, and the CD gets better in the second half. “Gold” by Interference has a nice little Dave Matthews vibe to it complete with crafty guitar work and wind instruments. Crying on someone’s shoulder has never felt as good as it does on “Fallen from the Sky,” a very unique (and catchy) little squeeze box of a track. “Trying to Pull Myself Away” sounds like standard radio friendly soundtrack rock. While not out of place, the production gloss is a nice surprise. We get more passion throwing rocks at your window with “Say It To Me Now” as well as some nice duets including “When Your Mind’s Made Up.”
Restoring my faith in the world, the Once soundtrack sits at #4 on the iTunes chart. Not bad for a movie that was shot for only $160,000. Even without the benefit of the pictures in my head I must say the sound was cinematic and plenty dramatic. I suspect once I watch the film it will rise to new heights. I’d advise you to stop in the pub and check out the Once soundtrack especially “Leave” and “Say it to Me Now.” This is what love sounds like.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
I want Robert Plant to Record My Voicemail Message
The collaboration between Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, Raising Sand, is good for you. It’s like watching PBS, reading a book, eating your vegetables, or hanging out with that family friend once a year. It’s good for you, but it feels a bit like work along the way. It’s not very sweet to the taste.
Raising Sand is in many ways precisely why I engaged in the Music Martes project in the first place. It’s an album, but more than that it’s an experiment with two different artists crawling around inside the same idea. It’s interesting, and that’s why I picked it. And the part that’s cool for me is I wouldn’t have bought it if I weren’t doing this. I now look at the record rack with a “that’s interesting” sense of curiosity I hope I keep after these 52 weeks.
Raising Sand didn’t disappoint. I’ll caveat this review by saying Raising Sand won’t fit neatly on radio. The Plant Krauss record is a bit like the Into the Wild soundtrack. It’s the sort of record music lovers will checkout from the library. It’s not going to have you screaming from the backseat, “turn this up!”
From the start of Raising Sand we know we’re going on an adventure. The first track “Rich Girl” sounds like something straight out of O Brother, Where Art Thou. Makes sense as producer T Bone Burnett (Wallflowers) was responsible for that soundtrack and he wastes no time putting his stamp on the record. The next thing you notice about the record is the virtuoso vocal performance, mainly by Plant. I've heard it said that Led Zeppelin came together because one of the members wanted to assemble true virtuosos on vocal, guitar, bass, and drum—and only the best would do.
Even in his later Johnny-Depp-looking-pirate-days it’s clear Robert Plant remains a master on the mic. He’s capable of sounding like a half dozen different people delivering half dozen styles, and to be honest he completely overwhelms Krauss for most of the record.
On Raising Sand Plant shifts between haunting vocals on “Killing the Blues” and “Polly Come Home” where his voice alone delivers a chill on the neck as if a spirit just walked into the room. I would encourage everyone to click on samples from these two just to see how the late stages Plant can still hold court for a track and create an entire mood using largely just his voice. Trouble is next to Plant most of the Krauss led songs are forgettable on Raising Sand. An interesting point of note is because the record is a series of covers Krauss often sings from a male perspective calling out to her “little darling” and fretting “to know that another man’s holding you tight.” The gender POV creates an interesting and fresh result and another example why Raising Sand is a record for music lovers.
Some standouts tracks include the Everly Brothers cover “Gone Baby Gone” which sounds like something Quentin Tarantino would dig up for one of his soundtracks. You can imagine one of his skinny tied killers turning on the blood sprinkler after listening to this one. It’s got a nice “Little Green Bag” vibe to it. It has to be nice to do anything with Plant because if he cuts loose even a little bit and starts making some noises and starts getting excited –all of sudden it’s Zeppelin II all over again—and friends that is a good thing. Plant “gets the Led out” towards the end of “Gone Baby Gone” and especially in “Please Read the Letter.” “Please Read the Letter” is a great ride as Plant keeps it together until the end shifting from a polite ask to rising up to a more impatient “read the damn letter already” level of intensity. It makes sense that Jimmy Page co-wrote "Please Read the Letter" as it’s the most rock & roll thing on the album. It’s one of the best on Raising Sand offering a nice little lyric towards the end, “there’s nothing here that’s left for you check with lost and found,” a fiddle solo, and some well placed screams and moans from the master. This is the one they’d play on a late show as it has the most energy to it.
Another upbeat gypsy groove that will grow on you is “Fortune Teller.” It has a nice bluesy feel to it with pirate Plant holding the big wheel.
The high point on Raising Sand is easily “Stick With Me Baby,” a lovely ballad that is the perfect cocktail of Plant and Krauss and sounds like some of my favorite new Springsteen ballads. “Stick With Me Baby” is the first and only time we get equal parts Plant and Krauss and the result is 1+1=3. It’s just a simple love song, but with these two singing it’s a whole lot more than that. Pay the .99 and bring it home for your gal, it sounds as nice as fresh cut flowers from the farmers market.
Any vocal collaboration with Robert Plant is like putting A1 on a steak –it’s not necessary. But Raising Sand is a successful experiment in that the result is a genuine album. The spotlight is clearly on the vocals and it works—you don’t miss the band as these two are more than capable of commanding your full attention. Raising Sand is a couple artists with nothing to prove trying something new and getting to a few really nice tracks in “Please Read the Letter,” “Gone Baby Gone,” “Stick With Me Baby,” and “Fortune Teller.” With four nice tunes, the album passes my purchase test or at least a checkout from the library.
Raising Sand is in many ways precisely why I engaged in the Music Martes project in the first place. It’s an album, but more than that it’s an experiment with two different artists crawling around inside the same idea. It’s interesting, and that’s why I picked it. And the part that’s cool for me is I wouldn’t have bought it if I weren’t doing this. I now look at the record rack with a “that’s interesting” sense of curiosity I hope I keep after these 52 weeks.
Raising Sand didn’t disappoint. I’ll caveat this review by saying Raising Sand won’t fit neatly on radio. The Plant Krauss record is a bit like the Into the Wild soundtrack. It’s the sort of record music lovers will checkout from the library. It’s not going to have you screaming from the backseat, “turn this up!”
From the start of Raising Sand we know we’re going on an adventure. The first track “Rich Girl” sounds like something straight out of O Brother, Where Art Thou. Makes sense as producer T Bone Burnett (Wallflowers) was responsible for that soundtrack and he wastes no time putting his stamp on the record. The next thing you notice about the record is the virtuoso vocal performance, mainly by Plant. I've heard it said that Led Zeppelin came together because one of the members wanted to assemble true virtuosos on vocal, guitar, bass, and drum—and only the best would do.
Even in his later Johnny-Depp-looking-pirate-days it’s clear Robert Plant remains a master on the mic. He’s capable of sounding like a half dozen different people delivering half dozen styles, and to be honest he completely overwhelms Krauss for most of the record.
On Raising Sand Plant shifts between haunting vocals on “Killing the Blues” and “Polly Come Home” where his voice alone delivers a chill on the neck as if a spirit just walked into the room. I would encourage everyone to click on samples from these two just to see how the late stages Plant can still hold court for a track and create an entire mood using largely just his voice. Trouble is next to Plant most of the Krauss led songs are forgettable on Raising Sand. An interesting point of note is because the record is a series of covers Krauss often sings from a male perspective calling out to her “little darling” and fretting “to know that another man’s holding you tight.” The gender POV creates an interesting and fresh result and another example why Raising Sand is a record for music lovers.
Some standouts tracks include the Everly Brothers cover “Gone Baby Gone” which sounds like something Quentin Tarantino would dig up for one of his soundtracks. You can imagine one of his skinny tied killers turning on the blood sprinkler after listening to this one. It’s got a nice “Little Green Bag” vibe to it. It has to be nice to do anything with Plant because if he cuts loose even a little bit and starts making some noises and starts getting excited –all of sudden it’s Zeppelin II all over again—and friends that is a good thing. Plant “gets the Led out” towards the end of “Gone Baby Gone” and especially in “Please Read the Letter.” “Please Read the Letter” is a great ride as Plant keeps it together until the end shifting from a polite ask to rising up to a more impatient “read the damn letter already” level of intensity. It makes sense that Jimmy Page co-wrote "Please Read the Letter" as it’s the most rock & roll thing on the album. It’s one of the best on Raising Sand offering a nice little lyric towards the end, “there’s nothing here that’s left for you check with lost and found,” a fiddle solo, and some well placed screams and moans from the master. This is the one they’d play on a late show as it has the most energy to it.
Another upbeat gypsy groove that will grow on you is “Fortune Teller.” It has a nice bluesy feel to it with pirate Plant holding the big wheel.
The high point on Raising Sand is easily “Stick With Me Baby,” a lovely ballad that is the perfect cocktail of Plant and Krauss and sounds like some of my favorite new Springsteen ballads. “Stick With Me Baby” is the first and only time we get equal parts Plant and Krauss and the result is 1+1=3. It’s just a simple love song, but with these two singing it’s a whole lot more than that. Pay the .99 and bring it home for your gal, it sounds as nice as fresh cut flowers from the farmers market.
Any vocal collaboration with Robert Plant is like putting A1 on a steak –it’s not necessary. But Raising Sand is a successful experiment in that the result is a genuine album. The spotlight is clearly on the vocals and it works—you don’t miss the band as these two are more than capable of commanding your full attention. Raising Sand is a couple artists with nothing to prove trying something new and getting to a few really nice tracks in “Please Read the Letter,” “Gone Baby Gone,” “Stick With Me Baby,” and “Fortune Teller.” With four nice tunes, the album passes my purchase test or at least a checkout from the library.
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