Changing music criticism.
People, this is it. We’ve all been looking for this record. And it is ours. The price of admission is to admit our love. And they even do that for us. Big, swelling, destructive, instrumental, brilliant, lovely, yes. Yes, yes, yes.
This record comes out on April 6th and the review will come soon. So, so soon. Expect me not to lose my gushing fandom before then.
The end result of frivolity is always negative in the movies and fables. It’s unfortunate, really. It’s almost as if an early lifetime of fun is a predestined journey: years of good times with a tragic fall from grace. I’m planning my fall from grace for 2017, if you must know. I’m actually pretty excited. Much more excited than I was before I heard this record.
See, I had assumed that Dr. Dog had begun their fall from grace long ago. I also assumed I was going to dislike this album. Thus, I again learn that assumptions are for suckers. Shame, Shame is a fun ride through a series of influential sounds of the 60s and 70s with hints of originality sprinkled into it. Marginal and terrifically recorded are often not complimentary to each other, but Dr. Dog is no ordinary band, apparently.
An ordinary band would have exhausted this sound long ago and fallen in love with the image side of rock records. Isn’t that what undid so many good bands? The idea that they were bigger than music; bigger than their previous ideals? It’s either that or exhaust their ideas in one, maybe one-and-a-half records. Dr. Dog has proven they are not out of ideas and willing to continue writing solid songs that are neither over-the-top/aggrandized or overtly keen on anything but their own multi-faceted abilities. Often, the explosion of instruments is enough to overpower awkwardly simple lyrics and well-tread song material.
In fact, they prove an old theory: it doesn’t matter how simple something is when made, so long as it is made passionately. For awhile, I thought Dr. Dog had lost that quality. Now, I realize I actually might have. I never would have given this a shot if not for writing for this site, and now I have more good music to hang out with while hungover for it. I can’t ask for much more than that. I get the feeling after hearing Shame, Shame Dr. Dog would have it no other way.
This album sounds like more of a celebration than a true Wu-Tang release. By shedding weight (i.e. the other members of Wu that aren’t prolific rappers anymore) and basking in their recent successes (tracks from OBFCL2 and the insanely brilliant “Yolanda’s House” from Ghost’s The Big Doe Rehab), the three have made a lo-fi return to their old-school styles. this sounds more like a throwback than a step forward, but that’s not necessarily a criticism. In fact, the franchise has needed a full reprisal for some time. It’s clear, too, that that cannot come from RZA’s beats alone.
All three drop nasty verses, silly lines and overall non-mechanical flows. They enjoy working together more than drifting apart, to be certain (yes, I know they recorded shit separately). This aura shines through the most: the energy and swagger is different than a normal recording session. Meth, Ghost and Rae have a fun and stirring chemistry that was missing on 8 Diagrams or solo albums. It’s all of them for all of us, and I’m excited to hear it more. Expect a full review within a week to ten days. The album drops today.
Equestrian’s debut album, Better Posture, is vexing. On the one hand, the band’s got the talent. They have an advanced understanding of pop impetus. They create building, layered music. Their sound is never obnoxious, and it’s set wide from pretentious. Better Posture’s songs are charmingly flawed in the way a thrift store t-shirt is: Comfortable, worn in, and threadbare. On the other hand, this is the album’s greatest flaw. It is undeniably threadbare. The album is less than twenty minutes long, and one of those (precious) minutes is comprised of two instrumentals.
It couldn’t be said that the band is aiming for a Guided By Voices-type brevity. The albums closing song, the bitcrushed waltz “Leave Me for Dead,” is more than five minutes long. The opening song, “Died in a Dream” is more than four minutes long. Sandwiched in between are some very brief songs, but the band more effectively pulls off the slow-churning crest of cathartic pop better than the brief expression of a static idea. That’s not to say the band fails at its brief songs. “Lights That Surround You” manages to cobble together in its 2:24 satisfyingly layered vocals, horn parts, twinkling guitar, and Simon/Garfunkle-esque acoustic breakdowns. The song’s simplistic lyrics belie its thoughtful, articulate sonic construction. On the “Sleep and Dark and Industry,” the band hangs a tearing story onto a hook of handclapping, bootstomping, spoon-clapping percussion. But the song is essentially over at a minute and a half. The final forty-five seconds is just some echoey loop pedal feedback.
The title of Better Posture leads you to consider whether it’s the work of a band looking to improve, or one that already has. Are they slouching? Do they know they need some better posture? Or is this it? Is this the actual, better posture? It is vexing. This is an album that reifies the old marketing advice, ‘Keep them wanting more.’ I want more! More, more, more! Ultimately, this album is kind of disappointing because the six proper songs on it are really, really good. Equestrian is a very talented band, but this is not the product of a band that’s ‘quite there, yet.’ The two albums that I listen to the most are Wire’s Pink Flag and Nas’ Illmatic. Neither of those albums is more than forty minutes long. I believe thirty-five to forty minutes is the Platonic ideal of album length. Most artists need to trim their albums to get there, but Equestrian has the opposite problem–they need to record more songs. And for a band so talented, it might not be a bad problem to have.
My first listen of Red Lanterns “Names” was totally blind. I know nothing of this band and the internet didn’t yield much information. From their myspace page, I did learn that they were from the Boston area. I would have picked that up anyway since they referenced Boston three times before the first four tracks were finished, however. I saw a picture. It appears three people are in the band. Seriously, that’s how little I have to go on here.
Already, upon my first listen, there are some bright spots. The lyric “Just fucking hit me” on the song ‘Johnny Gosh’ is brilliant and perfectly delivered. On Dear Dead Stars, there’s an edgy part that I had been waiting six songs to hear just to shake up the monotony. The line, “All I drink is gasoline, all you loved is dead in me” could have been my entire biography contained in one song lyric. It’s a great line. On a couple of the songs, vocal harmonies are used to great effect and it’s a nice diversion to what is mostly an album of a guy singing alone
My overall impression of “Names” is that it is an album of angst. Upon further listens, I hope to discover what all this angst is about, as I would consider myself an angst connoisseur. As for right now, it was a bit of a hike to get through it. I do think there’s something here worth exploring further. Parts of it are inspired, but mostly listening to all 12 tracks in a row was like swallowing a pill. I’ll down some beer, make someone drive me around and see if a change in location and my Toyota’s stereo system will change my mind.
Editors Note: The album is free (or best offer) here.
As an unabashed fan of Tallest Man On Earth’s first album, I was scared that this album would either be unimpressive or boring. Now, I fear nothing. I am enamored with the gravelly pitches and warbles of Kristian Matsson and continually impressed with his impenetrable lyricism. There is no watering down of his style or needless repetition on his second album, so far as I can tell early on anyway. In fact, I am happier with this output as a whole than the last album.
You can hear the single for the new album here. And don’t forget to check out The Gardener as well (one of my favorite tracks in years. No lie). The Wild Hunt comes out on April 13th, so expect a review shortly. Until then, it’s gonna be a sad, awesome ride.
“I just got through listening to Serena Maneesh’s S-M 2: Abyss in B-Minor and boy, are my ears tired.” – Buddy Hackett
Full disclosure right off the bat: I’m not the biggest fan of Nu Gaze (if there even is such a thing). Don’t get me wrong, I like Sigur Ros as much as the next guy, but this style of music is not well represented on my portable music device. Also, I’m still annoyed at how confusing it is to figure out the title of this album.
In other words, Serena Maneesh was kind of ice-skating uphill from the get go, even though that’s not really fair. I gave it a First Listen and was initially intrigued, but ended up forgetting about it for a while. But then I learned that the band recorded parts of this album in a cave. A straight-up, cavernous cave. Who does that? Naturally, I was on board again.
As I got back in to the album, I realized that despite the tidy run time of just 37 minutes, S-M 2: AIBM felt a lot longer. It’s big, intimidating, dark, and the more I paid attention to it, the longer the album got. Maybe there’s something to that title after all. But every listen took a lot of effort to make it through. Partly because of my initial stance, I’m sure. But moreso because it is just challenging, almost standoffish. And that is both a good thing and a bad thing.
The good thing is that S-M 2: AIBM demands to be listened to as an album. Something I wish there was more of. It’s an ambitious, full experience. The bad thing is that it wears you down after a while. That said, because of all the textural noise, you can throw on the album in the background and just zone out, not really paying attention to anything. Which I started to do around the 5th or 6th listen. It works both ways.
Since it never really got any easier to work through, I tried jumping around to tracks out of order and it didn’t work at all. There’s nary a single on this record. I suppose the airy, Volkswagen-esque “D.I.W.S.W.T.T.D.” or the surprising “I Just Want To See Your Face” are good stand-alone songs. Actually in fairness, they are. “Face” came out of nowhere and danced brightly in my head after the dark, seven-minute “Ayisha Abyss” opened the album and tricked me into thinking I was in for a long haul of fuzz and radio crackle. While “D.I.W.S.W.T.T.D.” is probably the closest this record came to getting something stuck in my head. But everything worked better in context. And I believe that’s just the way the band wants it.
To illustrate, imagine if “D.I.W.S.W.T.T.D.” really was in a car commercial (which it totally could be, minus the line about a “naked bone”):
- “Do you know that song in the new Volkswagen ad?”
- “Yeah man, I found it online and downloaded it.”
- “Cool, I want to get it too. What’s it called?”
- “Diewswatthededdtd.”
I have written out that song three times in this review so far and I still can’t remember the title, let alone pronounce it. It’s almost as if they are actively trying to make it a pain to recall individual songs. I wish, in the spirit of the classical music-influenced title, that Serena Maneesh just did away with the individual songs and released the album as a single track. It’s all meant to be one piece, anyway.
Presentation issues aside, the music production is very impressive. On “Blow Yr Brains In The Morning Rain” the guitars sound as if they are being slid over gravel as they morph into nasty hooks with a strangely familiar sound. On “Melody for Jaana” there are percussion hits in the background that have a haunting echo to them that makes the song feel open and damp and oh yeah, that’s right… these crazy Norweigans recorded this in a cave! I can’t get over that.
Listening to this album makes me want to find some parchment and write down formulas for potions. I can’t imagine what this would be like at a live show. If I wanted to check out a bunch of hot, super-cool Viking Girls, I might go and find out. In the meantime, I will just have this on in the background.
Dark Dark Dark is the band. Bright Bright Bright is their new 6-song EP. It’s is a cringe-worthy mouthful, for sure. Luckily the music is pleasing enough for me to look past those poor choices. Dark Dark Dark play “chamber pop,” and if that doesn’t make much sense to you, consider the fact that Bright Bright Bright was recorded in the echoing confines of a church-cum-studio and they go for a sultry baroque feel with piano, string arrangements, upright bass, and a small choir of voices.
After a play and a half, I’m amazed at how well Dark Dark Dark blend jazzy moods, eastern European, gypsy phrasings, and minor-key shifts with the cheerful qualities of most run-of-the-mill indie-pop. Bright Bright Bright contains that strange desired melancholy that makes you feel good, and “Something for Myself” is a perfect example. While it seems as if the entire band lends vocals for the choral components, the leads are sung by primarily one male and one female. And when I saw the band’s myspace page and couldn’t figure out who exactly they were out of a gaggle of well-groomed indie darlings, well, I just decided I’d sort out those details when it came time for the full review. I’m really looking forward to digging in a bit deeper with this one, mainly because of all the influences that rise and fall as the songs change.
Stream the EP from the band’s website here.
The Austerity Program’s Backsliders and Apostates Will Burn is a 4-song EP that has already rattled my brain and left me craving more. If there is one criticism I have after this first listen, it is that it’s too damn short, clocking in at just under 20 minutes. How has a band like The Austerity Program flown under my radar for so long? These dudes (there are just two of ‘em and a drum machine) do pain and sorrow via my preferred method: heavy, distortion-drenched low-frequency riffage and brutally direct lyrics. As a music fan who openly worships at the altar of Steve Albini, just stumbling upon The Austerity Program is like finding a rare unearthed jewel. They appear to have tapped into the same cosmic, creative energy that possessed Big Black, Rapeman and Shellac, but in a way that is completely unique and their own. I’m enamored by the quality of the recording. The low-end crunch that drives all four tracks is countered by the clarity of vocalist Justin Foley’s lyrical torrent. This is an EP for end times, my friends, and I fucking love it.
Given that the EP will not be released until May 4th, I will certainly well exceed the ten listen mark by the time this record hits shelves. Keep this one on your radar; you’ll be glad you did. In the meantime, if you’re in the NYC/MA/RI area, you can see The Austerity Program get ready for their new record release. Apparently they don’t play out that often, so jump on this one!
Friday, 4/29 – Unit 11 in Boston w/ Disappearer and Phantom Glue
Saturday, 5/1 – 17 Mules in Providence w/ Disappearer and Phantom Glue
Sunday, 5/2 – Union Pool in Brooklyn w/ Disappearer and Phantom Glue
Editor’s Note: This is not the album art, because there isn’t any yet. That’s how fresh to death we keep it. Very extrmemly fresh. Thanks, to Blue Collar Distro for the artwork. They are even fresher to deather than us.
You can’t fake talent. You are either born with the aptitude to learn a skill or not, but repetition is the mother of genius. This is a long-held belief of mine, so I was really excited to come across Jonathan Mann. (Watch him explain who he is here.) His creative career centers around his theory that if he writes a song a day some will suck, most will be in the ok to good category, and some will be great. He selected five of his best songs to include on his EP, “Barefoot in the Family Tree.” Intrigued, I jumped in to see if his EP would support his theory or if it would collapse under scrutiny.
After about five listens in, I was annoyed. This might just be personal preference, since the songs were incredibly diverse. I was pulled in one way, just to have the next track shove me in the opposite direction. If one is writing a song a day, I can see where playing with genre and style happens, if nothing else but to keep from being bored. I was jarred, however, and his style made me wonder what his true sound is. How does Jonathan Mann define himself as an artist? Does he know? The EP provides no clear picture. I understand, he has five songs to grab his audience. Most artists aren’t so stylistically fragmented.
Now that that is out of the way, each of these songs (with the exception of one) are pretty good. A couple I would describe as being great (true to his theory, he’ll be happy to hear). “Dance and Dance Again” is hands down the best song on the EP and the best one to open with. It’s really quirky. It starts out with handclaps, something that reminds me of 16 bit video game music played on guitar mixed with a Mexican/old-western theme. This interesting combination becomes infiltrated with a chorus of whoas and ohs and piano in the background. The more I listened to this song, the more I loved it. The breakdown was a great accent and bonus, the song mentions being caught in the rain, and upon my second listen, I was in my car, driving in the rain. Nature and music collided. It was cool. I was there.
“We Are Pattern Machines” has some interesting thoughts that are worth pondering. “I’m sick of seeing patterns everywhere” is a great lyric. Does the Universe have meaning, or is it just a collection of randomness? Either way, our brains are wired to make patterns to create meaning to help us understand the world around us. The song uses accordion, a marching drum beat, and vibraphone. Mann layers his own vocals on top of each other, and they are the highlight.
The third track, “Penguins Having a Party” was my least favorite song on the album. But, by listen seven? I was singing with it. Not sure if that was a reflection on the song itself, or more my being impressionable. The lyrics are nonsensical, the tune almost grating. This is the first track on the album where Mann utilizes other singers and it does add a nice layer to what would be a really annoying song otherwise. You go with it. You accept it. It’s a song about penguins. They are having a party. It’s a happy time. Stop thinking, unless you’re thinking about penguins having a party. Awwwww, wouldn’t that be cute?!
My second favorite song, “Bury Me Beneath the Ocean” is just a beautiful song. I couldn’t make out the lyrics, and I didn’t have to. The music spoke for itself. It is dominated by a female voice very heavy on the reverb. Mixed with surfer ballad style guitar, it transported me to an island surrounded by brilliant blue water. A tremolo effect on the guitar solo and Mann’s voice singing “bury me” over the female’s melodic phrasings lent to an underwater feel, which is what he was going for. Mission achieved.
The final song on the album gets credit for being the best lyrically. The style is typical folk music, just guitar and vocals for the majority of the song and harmonica added toward the end. The song has a nice melody, but were it not for the lyrics, it wouldn’t be worth mentioning. “Baby, It All Led To You” is incredibly clever writing. Mann chronicles the process of evolution starting with primordial ooze, continuing through the dawn of mammals, and ending with “a horny teenage couple.” All these events created his lover. If any of these steps had been omitted, baby, it wouldn’t have led to you. It’s an odd subject matter, juxtaposed with folk music, but it’s endearing. A repeated lyric of “And not one died,” shows the frailty all of us faced in our journey to be born.
I will listen to this EP again in the future. Will it become a staple in my listening collection? That’s harder to predict. Two or three songs are definitely playlist worthy. I do think Mann is on the right track with his song-a-day project. If he ever cobbles together a theme or genre that he commits to for the duration of a full length album, I’ll be here.
You can download the complete EP here.