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.
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