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.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
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.
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