In an attempt to hit the big-time, I’m gonna start writing for 10L again. In and of itself, that’s exciting, right?
Plus:
– A new Life and Times record is coming in a few days.
– Drake’s supposed comeback to Common might solidify him as my least favorite rapper in history.
– ATDI reunion.
– New Cloud Nothings in February.
– The Freeway/Jacka Collabo.
– THIS.
And, on top of it, REVIEWS of these things. I’m sorry I got depressed and laid around and watched basketball and stopped writing and left you cold and dead and without love and then started like nine reviews but never finished them. There will be some “Shit we missed in 2011″ reviews. And some just plain “blog” posts to keep the site going stronger than before. Best records of 2011? Storms “Lay Your Sea Coat Aside,” Cymbals Eat Guitars “Lenses Alien,” Jon Connor “Season 2 Mixtape,” Random Axe “Random Axe” and other shit I will get around to talking about. So, yeah, I’m sorry we left. But we are sort-of back. It’s somewhat on.
Small Craft On A Milk Sea feels like it drifts aimlessly for way, way, way too long toward the end. But for the first 40 minutes or so it’s glorious and vicious, a seductive dystopia with a mind of its own. Worthy of a full 10 Listens review for sure.
When I heard that The Old 97’s were releasing a 2-Volume album, I was secretly hoping it would be a more-epic-than-epic Use Your Illusion-style project, packed with 9-minute power ballads and maybe a couple of profanity-riddled rants against the jerk-offs in the music press. But basically, they just recorded a bunch of really good country-rock songs in a short period and wanted to spread them out over a few months. Not that I’m complaining, of course. This band is so great that listening to any given Old 97’s album means you’re guessing which tracks will end up on their next Greatest Hits compilation. On The Grand Theatre, Volume One, the Greatest Hits sound like “The Grand Theatre,” “Every Night Is Friday Night (Without You),” “Champaign, Illinois,” and “A State of Texas,” which I hope will make an appearance on the upcoming season of Friday Night Lights. The rest of the songs are still really good (except perhaps “Please Hold On While The Train Is Moving,” which is as silly as its title suggests). The Johnny Cash-like “You Were Born To Be In Battle,” sung by bassist Murry Hammond, really stands out. So does Rhett Miller’s whispering on “Let The Whiskey Take The Reins.” And the closer, the quietly dark “Beauty Marks,” is a fantastic teaser for Volume Two, seducing me and leaving me wanting so much more. I’m certainly going to listen to this album a bunch of times, but I feel like doing a full review is unnecessary. It’s an Old 97’s album. It’s great. Listen to it already.
I consider Clinic one of my favorite bands, and most of the songs they’ve ever recorded are on my iPod. Though to be perfectly honest, if I were to listen to all those Clinic songs on random shuffle, I’d only be able to identify maybe half of them. Their albums tend to have a few standout tracks surrounded by songs that sound awfully similar: minimally pulsating garage rock rhythms, pointy guitars, eerie organ and melodica riffs, and singer Ade Blackburn mumbling through his teeth like he’s either gonna wet his pants or slit your throat. But the thing about all those Clinic songs that sound like the same Clinic song is that it’s a really cool song. Sometimes I just want to hear that song for a half-hour straight.
The band’s 6th full-length album Bubblegum is a small but significant departure. The typical Clinic record sounds like a pleasant dream being swallowed whole by a vicious and sexy nightmare. With Bubblegum, the pleasant dream is generally in control…it’s just that every so often the demons pop back up and Bubblegum has to eat a few more Prozacs to even things out. I probably won’t give this record 10 listens anytime soon, but most of its tracks will make welcome additions to the ever-growing Clinic playlist on my iPod.
So much of this album is musical comfort food to me: the effortless, sing-along melodies; the swinging, laid-back, Music From Big Pink vibe; the sporadic flashes of religious carny spirit, like the ghost of Neutral Milk Hotel; the ample layers of nostalgic soft-focus reverb, to match the vacation slide cover art. That’s why I’m not quite sure: are these songs really the timeless gems they initially appear to be, or was I merely distracted by charms that will fade after a few more listens? I think I might examine this one a little more and find out…
For an album I was randomly recommended, Moondrifts is a winner. For a record I want to try and review anytime soon, Moondrifts might just be a loser. Not my normal cup of tea, this drifting, yet calculated sound of airiness is a fantastic background record. Unfortunately, I can’t imagine forming enough thoughts on it to make a review. Maybe a couple more runthroughs will change my mind. I hope so. This record has promise. Let’s hope it finds it way to the foreground soon enough. Until then, check them out here.
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.
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.
Stream the new EP for free. Or download it for cheap. Then disagree with this statement:
This EP is fucking good.
Maybe you’re not an “instrumental music” person. Maybe you’re having a bad day. Maybe your dog is eating toilet paper while you are asleep. Hell, I barely know you, but I want to believe you love this EP immediately. You see, I want to respect you: as a person, as a music lover. And Bells’ debut is one of those records where I draw lines. This is only the first listen and I am already drawing lines. LINES I TELL YOU LINES.
In any event, expect a full and glowing review quite soon. Then, maybe we can talk about my judgmental nature. But not now. I got some listening to do.
Every time Superchunk puts out an album, an angel gets his/her wings. “Water Wings” pun not intentional. Seriously, though, I am excited about this album. So excited, in fact, that I listened to it on my shitty computer speakers rather than putting it on my ipod (which was not nearby). I just had to have it, and it seems worth it. Superchunk’s umpteenth release sounds like a damned fine one and just in time for the annual fall angst. Get excited.