For a minute there I thought Sharon Van Etten might be like dozens of other humorless, heartsick folk singers I’ve tuned out before, only with a better-than-average sense of melody. But by the end of the first verse of the first track of Epic (Van Etten’s 2nd release, but the first one I’ve ever heard), she made me think she’s a lot sharper than the average folk singer, too. By the end of track 3, I was hooked. After hearing all 7 tracks, I decided I’m going to obsess myself with this record for a week or two.
Author Archive for Joe O'Brien
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Judging strictly by the singing and the songwriting, Le Noise is so quintessentially Neil Young it’s almost self-parody. Almost, but not quite. I may laugh when I hear a riff that goes halfway toward ripping off “My My, Hey Hey;” I may laugh when I hear the familiar themes in “Peaceful Valley Boulevard,” with the California gold rushing and the superficial billboards and the idling cars and the poisoning of Mother Earth and the polar bears drifting on ice floes; I may laugh when, right in the middle of it all, there’s a meta-song that seems like it’s trying to sum up an entire career (”I sang songs about love/ I sang songs about war/ since the backstreets of Toronto/ I sang for justice/ and I hit a bad chord/ but I still try to sing about love and war”). I’m not laughing at Le Noise, though. I’m not laughing with it either, because I’m pretty sure it’s not trying to laugh very hard. I guess I’m just laughing because, as I said, it’s so quintessentially Neil Young, and quintessentially, Neil Young is great.
What sets Le Noise apart from your run-of-the-mill Neil Young greatness, however, is the way it sounds, thanks to producer Daniel Lanois. It’s just Neil, his guitars, a healthy amount of cavernous fuzz and occasional digital effects- and it demands to be heard. It’s quiet and loud, usually at the same time. The feedback permeates, yet it also sounds carefully contained. It rocks without a single drum. And a mere pluck of an acoustic guitar string can feel like a tower of wistful light.
I’m still not sure if I’ll go 10 listens with Le Noise, though. If I end up eagerly going the full 10, that might mean we have yet another Neil Young classic on our hands. Right now I can safely say I’ll give it at least 5 listens. The sounds of those guitars have guaranteed that much.
I’d be foolish to spend too much of this review explaining how Black Mountain’s Wilderness Heart doesn’t quite measure up to its predecessor, 2008’s In The Future, and yet I can’t help myself, so I’ll just get that part out of the way right now. In The Future is magical and monumental, and despite its title, feels like a gateway to a past dimension where the 1970s were actually a mass hallucination orchestrated by an ancient civilization (not unlike Philip K. Dick’s theory that the the present is a hallucination of 1st Century Romans in VALIS). Wilderness Heart, however, is “merely” a pretty good album that sounds like it was made by a retro-minded but forward-thinking rock n’ roll band from right here in plain old 2010.
Right away on opening track “The Hair Song,” Black Mountain announces that we’ll be spending much of the next 42 minutes in a relatively ordinary realm. The groove is jerky and pleasant enough to make your chin dance a little, and maybe your hips too, but probably not your feet- though it does prove how hard drummer Josh Wells can drive a song without seeming to break a sweat. Singers Stephen McBean and Amber Webber happily share lyrics like “Let the whole world turn you on” and “Bang bang the drums, children/ having their fun with the blues,” sounding like a barefoot Southern rock band kicking off a sunny afternoon set at Bonnaroo- more Black Crowes than Black Sabbath. “The Hair Song” is a bit jarring for a listener like me who fell in love with the band when they were ass-kicking neo-Pagan warlocks with only subtle traces of mellow hippie warmth…but I ain’t mad at it, either. Continue reading ‘Black Mountain: Wilderness Heart’
The Eels’ first 3 albums were as integral to my teenage years as my closest friends were. Though the electronic-tinged folk-rock tunes of bandleader Mark Oliver Everett were decidedly simple, their spirit resonated with me like few others have before or since. I often felt (feel) the way those songs sound- like you’re waking up hungover from whatever lousy hand life had dealt you the night before, and you’re wondering why you should even bother to get out of bed… but then you hear a bird singing a lovely song just outside your window, and you get up and look at it blissfully chilling on a tree branch, and somehow that’s enough for you to want to leave the house and face life again. Continue reading ‘First Listen: Eels’ Tomorrow Morning’
Black Mountain’s In The Future was one of my favorite records of 2008, so for over 2 years I’ve been eager to hear what this band would do next. And maybe I anticipated a little too much, because my first spin through Wilderness Heart was missing something. I still dig their uncannily ’70s lava lamp rock, which manages to feel mellow even when it drops Zeppelin and Sabbath-caliber riff-bombs. Only this time around it didn’t seize me as immediately. It seemed more generic and less adventurous. Yet because In The Future has continued to reward me long after 10 listens, I’m going to stick with Wilderness Heart a little more. Besides, I’m also partially to blame for my disappointing First Listen; I chose to do it in my apartment after midnight, which means I didn’t listen to it very loudly- which is rather unfair to a band that can rock as hard as Black Mountain can. I’ll get back to you guys after I’ve really had a chance to blast this thing.
I often wake up with songs already stuck in my head. However, this phenomenon rarely involves music I’ve been deliberately sticking into my head. Even when I’m ribs-deep in an album I’m reviewing- and even if it’s an album by a Top 40 hook machine like Lady Gaga- I don’t really wake up hearing its tracks inside my brain. Usually this just happens with random cheese from the ’80s and early ’90s that I haven’t heard since childhood.
But in the few weeks since I’ve started listening to Maps & Atlases’ Perch Patchwork, I’ve awoken nearly every morning with one of its tracks spinning in my mental stereo. And I don’t mean just one of its tracks. I mean most of the album’s songs have had at least one turn waking me up. This album is that absurdly catchy. Yet these melodies aren’t merely absurdly catchy. They’re nimble and sophisticated and precise, like Eastern European acrobats. Propelled by refreshingly unorthodox rhythms, intricate riffs, and singer Dave Davison’s tastefully poignant voice, the tunes frequently ascend toward heaven like fluttering moths before trickling back down to earth like misty rain.
I haven’t heard any of the 4 EPs Maps & Atlases have released, but I stumbled upon their full-length debut Perch Patchwork and was pleasantly surprised. Their sound is rich with peculiar, worldly rhythms and acrobatic melodies that feel more like hooks than exercises for music theory geeks. Sometimes it gets a little too breezy for my taste, but there’s no question that I’d like to spend some more time with this record. A full review should be up here within the next couple of weeks.
Is it possible to hear the sound of approaching doom? Does approaching doom sound kind of like room tone, but darker? Can we hear approaching doom squeezing a singer’s nerves tightly in its clutches? Can we physically sense the presence of approaching doom as it plays maestro to an ill-fated orchestra?
For instance, some people seem convinced that they could hear Kurt Cobain’s demons lurking in the shadows of Unplugged In New York. Yet how many of those claims come from keen human intuition, and how many are simply embellished memories revised by tragedy? Hard to tell. Continue reading ‘Classic and Unappreciated: Cambodian Rocks’
Let’s say you’re watching a horror movie where the villain is this Lovecraftian beast, as old as time itself. Despite its gargantuan size and blob-like physique, this beast can move with the force of a rhino and the agility of a mongoose. It has the insouciant attitude of a high school bully in his third senior year. It could maul an asthmatic little girl, then turn right around and high-five his beastly bros while they all chuckle like dumb stoners.
And just as this beast is lurching toward one of its victims, ready to strike- suddenly you see the zipper on the costume start to unzip. Then the dude inside the costume jumps out, looks right into the camera and plays 6 verses of “Oh Susanna” using armpit farts. Continue reading ‘The Melvins: The Bride Screamed Murder’
I’m only familiar with one previous Melvins album, 1994’s Stoner Witch, but that album is one of my favorites. More so than most other rock albums, I totally want Stoner Witch to think I’m cool. It would probably just make fun of me and beat me up and steal my woman if it ever met me, but I love it anyway. Stoner Witch is Todd, and I am Beavis & Butt-head.
The Bride Screamed Murder is The Melvins’ 18th album and their 8th for Ipecac Recordings, and while it may not be a Stoner Witch it does remind me that I ought to be listening to a lot more Melvins. Expect a full review on or around its June 1st release.