Not mentioning the past when reviewing this EP is impossible, so I’ll just out-and-out say it: this EP is like having an old college roommate visit you years after you lived together. Blake Schwarzenbach is back in a 3-piece punk band. It could be that simple for me. I could easily end my review there and a lot of people would understand exactly what I am talking about. So, for those of you that understand, I’m cool with you stopping here and taking this for the fan-obsessed review it should be.
As for the rest of you– the non-Jawbreaker fans or those not in the know entirely– this is a four-song EP. And it’s great. Really great. The rest of my rambling aside, know that I think this EP is exactly the kind of jumpstart I needed to get back in the grind of reviewing albums. Power chords, simple drumming and basslines, and bitter but not overly angry lyrics make this a worthy listen 10 times over. These four songs are an embodiment of failure and understanding. To prove it, let’s break it open song by song. Continue reading ‘Forgetters: Forgetters EP’
In this new series, 10 Listens will publish two writers’ takes on a given record, artist, or concept. The exchange will be given as a series of brief essays, with each subsequent one a response to the previous. Today, Brad Nelson responds to yesterday’s post.
There is nothing I do better than revenge.
Taylor Swift is mean.
Taylor Swift is also nice, especially when nice things happen to her. Or when more obscure pleasures, perhaps unrealized, announce themselves—the exact chemistry of a night light or a green eye, or what tethers 2 a.m. to anxiety.
Continue reading ‘Disagree to Agree: Taylor Swift’s Speak Now, Pt. 2′
In this new series, 10 Listens will publish two writers’ takes on a given record, artist, or concept. The exchange will be given as a series of brief essays, with each subsequent one a response to the previous. Today, B Michael Payne leads off with his initial take on Taylor Swift’s Speak Now.
It’s the sort of thing we might not ever agree on, so I’ll lead with the fact that I don’t really care for how Taylor Swift’s Speak Now sounds. If I had to elaborate, or if you wanted me to “say more,” I would say that I somewhat dislike the music. But it’s more like I just don’t deign to notice it.
It’s much more interesting to me, what she says and what she says means. Continue reading ‘Disagree to Agree: Taylor Swift’s Speak Now, Pt. 1′
The voice that stars in Cotton Jones’ lovely Tall Hours In The Glowstream sounds like he was born in a small American town about 60 years ago. He was raised there until he turned 18, when he and his high school sweetheart moved out to a cabin at the edge of the Western Pennsylvania wilderness. They lived happily for a few years, but then his young wife died after a brief and mysterious illness. He never remarried. He just kept living alone in that cabin- hunting, fishing, chopping wood, praying, listening to the AM radio, driving his truck 20 miles to the nearest town once a week to buy whatever goods that nature couldn’t provide. He was happy to live the rest of his days as a hermit, not like some crazy Luddite Unabomber or anything, just an old-fashioned guy who savored his solitude.
Continue reading ‘Cotton Jones: Tall Hours In The Glowstream’
Making something absolutely new, something purely next-level is a classic struggle for every sort of artist. Accordingly, much of the world of indie rock is currently in part of a cycle that every artistic medium eventually gets hit with: an eager embrasure and fetishization of all things weird and exotic. What may start as a well-intentioned foray into an entirely foreign sonic set often ends up sounding alienating to many (assuming that wasn’t the original intention). These artists are actually hailed as geniuses by the critical community on a daily basis while I, confused, retreat to the familiar, human tropes of garage rock.
So what about me? I like lots of different things! I want to appreciate the exotic and the psychedelic! Just give me something concrete to hang on to – tell me you’re a human being and I promise I’ll listen. I think Suckers heard my distress call. Continue reading ‘Suckers: Wild Smile’
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.
As Epic begins, a simple minor-key acoustic guitar riff mopes along while the singer sighs: “To say the things I want to say to you would be a crime/ to admit I’m still in love with you after all this time.” Sure, the melody flows nicely, and her voice has an unmistakable allure- bold and confident but not showy, with a subtle cutting edge. But in spite of these attributes, it’s hard to hear those first few bars without thinking Christ, not another humorless, heartsick, self-pitying folk singer.
Then at the end of that first verse, the singer pulls off a neat trick. She tells her ex that, instead of admitting her shameful, lingering feelings, she’d rather let that old flame “seduce me with your charms until I’m drunk on them/ go home and drink in bed/ and never let myself be in love like that again.” It’s not so much the lyrics that get me, but the way she sings them. That line goes on much longer than the previous phrases, to the point that she practically sounds out of breath by the end, and all the while the melody sinks lower and lower until it seems to hit rock bottom. In other words, she takes a cliched sentiment but finds a clever way to mimic the seemingly endless downward spiral of an unhealthy on-again/off-again romance. As a whole, the song is not extraordinary, but that aforementioned moment, along with that gorgeous voice, convinced me to give the rest of Epic a chance. And I’m glad I did.
Continue reading ‘Sharon Van Etten: Epic’
Glasser have made an accessible and often fantastic album. Ring often undulates and flourishes simultaneously. The songs are full, lush and vocal heavy with methodical repetition. They also wear on me after awhile. If it’s possible to hear an album and be subliminally confident in how good it is without wanting to hear it, this is that album. This is accomplished songwriting, beautifully really, yet I am kind of happy to set it aside for awhile.
In fact, if I could write a letter to Ring, it would be business-like, short and tight.
Dear Glasser’s Ring,
Thanks for accidentally ending up in my hands. I can’t tell you how excited I am to hear a new, creative voice within your electronic/dream-pop genre. I hope you continue to strive for excellence.
Yours Truly,
Jeff Laughlin/10Listens.com
It’s not often I want to write a letter to a band, and it is even less often I am left speechless when trying to write about one. So, Glasser, this is a Pyrrhic victory. I can’t figure out a way to talk about you, and it’s not your fault I’m so disinterested. You wrote a damn fine album and I hope a bunch of people hear it and review it way better than this cop-out.
Damn, now that’s two letters to Glasser. I’ll stop here, but only because I am starting to feel like maybe I shouldn’t write about an album I can’t grasp anyway. THIS REVIEW DOES NOT EXIST. THIS REVIEW WILL SELF DESTRUCT. SWIRLS OF VOCAL NOISE, OFF-KILTER AFRICAN-STYLE BEATS, PRETTY DISSONANT INSTRUMENTATION. EXPLOSION IMMINENT.
Ed. note: This post first appeared in 2006 in a rougher form for an older project.
When Bluetip’s Join Us came out in 1998, I had no idea who they were. In fact, I had only limited knowledge of their contemporaries. All I knew was Dischord Records had provided some other fantastic taste-altering selections in my young life: Minor Threat, Fugazi, Rites of Spring, Jawbox, Government Issue, etc. I was mostly juggling upbeat pop-punk (Promise Ring, Get-up Kids, etc.) and downtrodden rock (Jawbreaker, Sunny Day Real Estate). The former was a by-product of three years removed from society—a jaunt in military school that was as much fueled by jock-rock than any discernable tastes, i.e. I took what I could get and that was accessible pop—and the latter a notation of my life in a pit stop on the way to the North Carolina beaches. Jawbreaker (et al) and the occasional hardcore band were the outlets of choice for lifelong friends.
Bluetip’s importance, personally, ranged from a straightforward lyrical mentality. There was no referential “you” or lovelorn scenarios unexplained. There were no frills—no metaphors that didn’t fit or unwarranted emotional outbursts. The streamlined approach explained more without a victim mentality. This lack of showiness is, however big a downfall with modern audiences, a cat-call to the angry male. This includes alternate takes on break-ups, the pursuit of happiness—including paring down one’s acquaintances while noting one’s loneliness—work-related problems and a general awareness of one’s actions and consequences. From the first chord to the last, every phrasing complete thought, fragmented curse, and impartial judgment of character remains important to the ideas behind Join Us. Continue reading ‘Classic and Unappreciated: Bluetip’s Join Us’
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.