Archive | January, 2012

Day 317: of Montreal – Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?

11 Jan

Gronlandic Edit

Now that is one terrible name for a record.  Seriously, what was of Montreal thinking?  There is absolutely no reason to ever give an album that ridiculous a title.  That’s about all the hating you’re going to get out of me today, though.  Hissing Fauna’s awesomeness is inversely proportional to the quality of its title.  And yeah, that sentence makes me sound like a pompous asshat, but, 317 days in, I’m a bit past caring.

Indie pop records don’t often come across as groovy.  I know that by using the g-word, I’m giving my dad every reason to force another funk record on me.  While the possibility of sitting through one more of those frightens me quite a bit, it’s a risk that I’m willing to take because of Montreal’s music on this record can be described in no other way.  Just listen to “Gronlandic Edit” if you doubt my assertion.  I can’t tell if it’s a bass or guitar playing that smooth little rhythm section throughout the song, but there’s no denying that it is pretty groove-tastic. Plus, it contains the lyric “physics makes us all its bitches,” one of the best lines in modern music history.

I’ve listened to of Montreal for The Swole before, and was fairly impressed with their ability to put a few really good songs together.  However, that last record was lacking as a whole piece of music.  Fortunately, that’s not the case this time around.  This thing works, as bad as its title is.

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Day 316: Black Flag – Damaged

10 Jan

Six Pack

Yeah, my dad is definitely setting me up with this one.  In case you didn’t know or haven’t guessed, I have a thing for band shirts.  My obsession is actually kind of a problem—I’d say that I have more than thirty, and that’s not including the ones that I’ve outgrown or that have been ripped to shreds at concerts. And as anyone who’s ever been to a show that involved at least a single guitar knows, Black Flag’s logo is one of the easiest to find on the shirts of punks, hipsters, and dads alike. Whether seeing Andrew Jackson Jihad or Matt & Kim perform, you’re guaranteed to spot at least one dude rockin’ that staggered stripe logo.

I find it kind of funny that such a key punk band (punk being a movement that’s all anti-establishment whatnot) has fans so willing to serve as walking billboards, but whatever.

I will admit, however, that it is a pretty cool logo, which goes along well with this angry and fast-paced music.  Henry Rollins is the definite centerpiece of this record.  He completely overshadows everything else that’s going on with his vocal-cord-shredding shouts and angsty lyrics.  For a 2012 listener checking this stuff out for the first time, it’s interesting to see just how important these guys were to punk rock.  I easily could have been listening to a Bomb the Music Industry! record for quite a few of these songs, minus the ska influence.

That being said, I don’t think I would willingly listen to Damaged again.  Popular logo or no, it offers nothing that my modern angry music can’t do better.  I must commend Black Flag’s ability to burn through 15 songs in 35 minutes, though—you’ve got to love that.

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Day 315: The Weeknd – House of Balloons

9 Jan

House Of Balloons / Glass Table Girl

I miss out on plenty of hyped albums—probably more so than I did before I started this thing, believe it or not.  You know things are getting bad when one of my not-so-musically-inclined friends suggests a noisemaker that I completely overlooked.

The Weeknd, along with his three mixtapes released in quick succession, have been getting a lot of attention over the past few months.  The first of those rapid-fire recordings, House of Balloons, is supposed to be the best of the three.  However, keep in mind that pick is coming from a guy who has posted a link to Toto’s “Hold the Line” on my Facebook wall.

I must give Andy some credit, though; he’s got things right this time around.  “House of Balloons” is a really cool record, with a sound unlike much that I’ve heard recently.  There have been comparisons made to Michael Jackson, and while I don’t think that really does The Weeknd’s music justice, I see where they’re coming from.  The dude indulges in plenty of soulful monologues on this record—singing in a really in-your-face manner about sex, love, drugs, and money.  My favorite part of this album is not the oft-cringe-worthy rhymes, though.  No, I’m willing to overlook a lot of pretty bad lyrics because the dynamic nature of everything going on the background is pretty sweet.  The beats are always changing, with plenty of dreamy synthy things going on, and some really cool vocal alterations.

It’s a unique sound — one that’s pretty hard to describe — as you can see from that travesty of a paragraph above.  Either way, I’ll definitely be looking into what else this guy has to offer.  It’s cool stuff.

Day π: Elliott Smith – Elliott Smith

8 Jan

Needle in the Hay

This is one of those records with a cover that you’ve seen a million times.  Maybe, like me, you’ve never gotten around to listening to this particular album, but I guarantee that you’ve seen that artwork before.  However, if you’re like me, that doesn’t mean that you’ve actually seen that artwork before.  I’ve never really looked at it until now—this is often the case with music that I haven’t listened to.  Is that cover bleak, or what?  It fits perfectly with the music inside, but, man, it sure feels devoid of hope.

Elliott Smith’s 1995 self-titled release makes even the most beautiful of days rainy.  It doesn’t matter what disposition you’re in—after you listen to this thing, you’re going to be depressed.  In a way, it kind of foreshadows the singer’s death (which was probably a suicide).  These are songs that only could have been recorded by a person with some major demons.

Sure, Smith’s lyrics are dark enough—on this album alone, he sings all about his problems with alcohol, drug addiction, and depression—but those aren’t what give this music it’s inescapable dark tinge.  This is the man who Conor Oberst emulates, but Oberst can’t touch the sincerity of Smith’s music.  The lyrics are dark enough, but it really is Smith’s delivery that pushes everything over the edge.  The man sounds like he’s pouring everything he’s got into every word, and he very well may have been.  That delicate voice over the dark-but-sweet guitar is one hell of a depressing combo.

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Day 313: Algernon Cadwallader – What It Is

7 Jan

Motivational Song / Spit Fountain 

Live albums are weird things.  They’ve got to be special—and I mean really special—if they’re going to work.  What’s “special” or not varies immensely from person to person, so like all music, it’s hard to discuss live albums without getting all emotional.  Fortunately, I abandoned objectivity on Day 1, so that shouldn’t be a problem.

I know for a fact that this particular live record won’t work for 90% of my audience.  Last time I checked, you lot don’t really embrace shouty emo tunes, so a live version of the stuff—recorded with mediocre equipment, no less—really won’t fly with y’all.

However, I love this music, and it doesn’t hurt that I’ve been to an Algernon Cadwallader show.  This is the type of band that plays in a basement (without proper ventilation), where crowd surfers are at serious risk of being impaled by some broken pipe sticking out of the ceiling.  There’s no stage, no monitors, no setlists, and no bullshit at these shows. The next band is setting up before the last band has cleared out, and everybody’s just happy to be there.  Including the drunk people, who are out in much smaller numbers than at your average concert. But still, the inebriated ones aren’t even ruining everything.  It’s just a completely different atmosphere than your typical $25-dollar-plus-convinence-fee show.

It’s an atmosphere that shines through on this record, in all of its sweaty glory.  Algernon has built up a dedicated and large fan base, considering the type of music that they put out, so no matter where they play, there are always quite a few people who know every word to every song.  Those fans dominate this album, and are heard through long stretches where you can’t even differentiate the lead singer from the elated masses.  Whether that’s due to the sheer volume, or to the fact that his mic stand was inadvertently knocked over, is up for speculation.  To quote the lead singer himself, “you guys are incredible.  Or retarded.  I can’t tell.”

If you want insight into what I think are some of the most fun rock shows around today, spend a few minutes on the internet, and download Algernon Cadwallader’s What It Is.  (Good luck finding a hard copy—there were only 500 released. All of which were  on cassette).  I’ve given you a starting point, though—none of the recordings from this record have made their way to The YouTubes yet, so I’ve linked to a clip of a performance by the band up top.

I can’t blame you if you don’t like the sound—it’s harsh, abrasive, and most of all, really low in quality. The crappy set up is only exacerbated by a bad camera mic.  Look at all that fun that’s being had, though.  You don’t see that at too many concerts with stages.

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Day 312: Spoon – Series of Sneaks

6 Jan

No You’re Not

I spend a lot of time on here complaining about indie rock records.  I listen to a lot of them, and have gotten pretty bored with the genre, specifically the “indie” part of it.  I figured that an album by Spoon—one of the biggest indie rock bands of the past ten years—would have me uninterested from the get-go.  However, Spoon has reminded me of what a great rock record sounds like.

That’s right, rock. No “indie” anywhere to be found.  This record isn’t whiney or sensitive, nor does it fuzz every instrument up beyond recognition.  It’s straight-up rock ‘n’ roll.

We need some straightforward, standard music every now and then.  Looking at what I’ve been listening to recently, I see why Series of Sneaks may have been especially pleasing.  There’s been a ton of weird music running through my headphones over the past few weeks—not that there’s anything wrong with that.  In fact, many would say that it’s my “weird” taste in music that prompted me to start this thing up.

While we’re on the subject of me, I just noticed that I’ve started like the past 50 posts with some variation on the “I was expecting [x], I was really happy when [y] happened” formula.  That’s just laziness on my part, and I’ll definitely look out for it in the coming days.

Anyway, I’m also going to try to stop beginning paragraphs with “anyway.”  Back to the music.  At the conclusion of this record, I found myself disappointed—not with the quality of the music, but actually with the fact that the album ended.  For some strange reason, I wanted some more of this middle-of-the-road rock.  If that’s not a sign of a good album, I don’t know what is.

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Day 311: Destroyer – Kaputt

5 Jan

Kaputt

Things were done a little differently tonight in the land of Swole Ear.   Remember that badass camping trip that I told you about back in November? Well, that trip was a part of my equally badass Adventure Ed II class.  While this past semester filled with hardcore adventuring has been the hardest I’ve ever had to work for a Physical Education credit, it’s also been a ton of fun.  Except for the knots. I can’t deal with knot tying.

Naturally, our final project is a Knot Board—a display filled with no less than 32 different, complicated knots.  For some reason, I’ve never been good with rope.  I just don’t have a mind made for visualizing these things, but, I’ve got to get this project done.  So tonight, I decided that I’d get to work on the Continuous Ring Hitch (this monstrosity), while listening to Kaputt by Destroyer.

I knew nothing about this album going in, and with a name like “Destroyer,” I naturally expected some fast-paced and angry rock music that would hopefully power me through what was sure to become known as the 2012 Ring Hitch Disaster.

Overall, things went better than expected.  Due to the extremely calm and relaxing nature of this record, my hitch is really taking shape.

What immediately comes to mind while listening to “Kaputt” is smooth jazz.  Bear with me though; it’s much better than that stuff.  I just had that thought because of all the brass that finds its way into the album.  Saxophones and trombones run rampant over really laid-back beats, and dreamy vocals.  It’s a unique sound, and definitely not for everybody.  While plenty would probably write off this stuff as really cheesy, I found myself getting into it.   Check it out, at least, and you may find yourself pleasantly surprised.  Regardless of what y’all think, it really is the perfect knot-tying music.

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Day 310: Apex Manor – The Year of Magical Drinking

4 Jan

Under the Gun

I’ve been on a big Wilco kick lately.  It is partly due to having witnessed three of the band’s awesome Chicago shows a few weeks ago, but also because I’m always kind of on a Wilco kick—they’re just that good.  So when I hear music with a sound similar to theirs, stuff that seems like it’s trying to emulate Jeff Tweedy and company, I get a little worried.

Fortunately, Los Angeles’ Ross Flournoy is able to do enough on this record to distinguish himself from the Tweedster.  After one listen to The Year of Magical Drinking, you’ll notice that the lyrics are pretty light and simple, unlike Wilco’s complicated and depressing words.  A record full of songs like “Heavy Metal Drummer” wouldn’t work in Wilco’s case, but Apex Manor pulls it off pretty well.

By no means is this record a masterpiece.  However, it does showcase a fairly young band with a lot of potential. Apex Manor won’t survive by putting out record after record like this, but they do have hope.  All of the key components are definitely evident—if they can manage to do something to distinguish themselves from a ton of other alt-leaning-country bands out there, then look out.

I really want these guys to stick around and put out another album, but I hope they do things a little differently next time around.  They really should try pushing themselves musically, lyrically, or in both respects. Personally, I’m a fan of simple lyrics, so it’d be cool to hear them try and do something a little more complicated with their instruments—whether that means expanding, or getting a little more advanced with the guitars.  Something exciting needs to happen.

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Day 309: The Cramps – Bad Music For Bad People

3 Jan

Garbageman

This is a compilation album.  I cannot stand compilation albums.  My father knows that I cannot stand compilation albums.  But here we are, on yet another Dad Rock Tuesday, and I’m writing a post about a compilation album.  I guess I could have told him that he assigned me a compilation album, or even picked a different record from the list he presented, but at this point, that’d be too much trouble—I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.

The truth is, I didn’t even notice that The Cramps’ Bad Music For Bad People was a comp album until I looked it up on Wikipedia.  Most records of this nature have absolutely no flow, and just pull the singles and songs considered especially “good” by some moron at the record label. For some reason, this record works.

From the (small amount of) reading that I’ve done, it appears that The Cramps were not involved in the compiling of this album; that it’s just a soulless moneymaker for the band and their label.  If I’m basing the decision of if I like Bad Music solely on the tunes within, though, than I don’t have any complaints.  It’s pretty solid, if fairly conventional, ’70s and ’80s punk rock.  It’s a sound that you can’t just wander into—I know that it took me a while to get interested in this stuff.  But once you do, it is really awesome.   Apparently, lots of the lyrics are based on the plots of old B Movies, which is actually pretty hilarious.  Maybe I need to check out more by these guys.

Day 308: The Jazz Butcher – Cult of the Basement

2 Jan

She’s on Drugs

With a band name like “The Jazz Butcher,” you have to expect some interesting music.  Going into this Chops-suggested album, I was counting on some kind of ridiculous intellectual jazz-core hybrid odyssey on which I would have to focus really hard only to end up with a kind-of understanding.  Fortunately for me, I was dead wrong.

This 1990 release (that was 22 years ago—are you feeling old yet?) does have some elements of jazz, but they are indeed butchered almost beyond recognition.  The occasional brass instrument finds a home in Cult of the Basement, along with their complicated (and seemingly random) sounds, but this really is a rock album at heart.

“The Basement,” this record’s opener, scared me a bit.  Composed using samples of what I think may be really old TV shows, including some foreign-language versions of The People’s Court, along with an accordion and a guitar-riff that wouldn’t be out of place in a ’60s spy film, led me to believe that this album was going to go way over my head.  Then, “She’s On Drugs” rolled around.  The opening lines “Good grief, fortune, look on the dance floor / she’s got to be American / she’s not from here” calmed me down pretty quickly.  Over a quick 3/4 beat and some catchy, trebly guitars, I didn’t feel stupid in comparison to what I was hearing, which is always nice.

The rest of the record is made primarily of tracks similar to the awesome “Drugs.”  Overall, it’s a lot catchier than I expected going in, with some really clever lyrics to boot.  I look forward to giving this album a few more listens, and really getting to dissect those words.

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