Day 259: Arctic Monkeys – Suck It and See

14 Nov


Don’t Sit Down ‘Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair

Okay, you got me—I’m a bad fan.  It’s flashback time.

Way back in late 2008, this guy had just started getting into music.  A hatred of the Chicago Top-40 stations that remained permanently tuned in during every early-morning commute to school propelled me to search for something better.  With an IQ just a tad too high for the “Alternative” station, I thought I was out of luck.  Fortunately, I stumbled upon the Pandora Internet Radio iPhone App, and my life was forever changed.  I set up a station using The White Stripes and Franz Ferdinand as my guidelines (a little strange in retrospect, but they were all I knew), and was able to spend car rides in beautiful, antisocial, indie bliss.  A band that kept coming up on my station was this weird little English group called Arctic Monkeys.  I loved the raw, angst-fueled energy that poured out of both of their full-lengths at the time, and was thrilled to hear that a new record was in the works.

Then, Humbug came out.  It was okay.  The band had lost a bunch of their energy, but I let the album grow on me.  Their shows were still tight, and frontman Alex Turner still looked like this.

Then, about a year ago, the cycle for this newest record began.  Right from the start, its title annoyed the hell out of me—it’s like they’re trying to show that they haven’t lost that teenage attitude, when every fan had already accepted that it was long gone.  I figured that I’d give the album a listen when it came out anyway, until I saw a picture of the new Alex Turner.  Arctic Monkeys were as good as dead to me at that point.

But, when you maintain a blog that requires a new record every day, sometimes you’ve got to throw your principles out the window in order to get things done.

Don’t let its childish name fool you—Suck It and See is clearly a record devoid of any teenage influence whatsoever.  Is it good?  I don’t really know.  It’s by no means bad, but it is very low on energy.  There’s absolutely no reason to ever listen to this album over Whatever People Say I Am or even Favorite Worst Nightmare.  Suck It may be a little more polished and pretty than previous Arctic Monkey releases, but is that really what anyone wants out of these guys?

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Day 258: Childish Gambino – Camp

13 Nov

Fire Fly

If there are any fans of the formerly-hilarious-but-now-just-kind-of-bad-but-with-a-good-episode-every-now-and-then-so-I-feel-obligated-to-continue-watching Community on NBC, you know that Donald Glover is one funny dude.  A former writer for The Daily Show and 30 Rock, I was expecting a whole lot of funny on Camp, his first studio hip-hop record.  Instead, while there are funny rhymes worked in every now and then, I got something better.

Camp is a surprisingly insightful work about a misfit who ended up making it big.  A bunch of Glover’s raps revolve around his outcast status as a kid, and how it still sticks with him today. While this could be seen as just another rich and successful dude finding a bunch of stuff to complain about (Kanye), I’m looking at it a bit differently.  Perhaps it’s because I’m intrigued by the roles that race—Glover’s topic of choice—plays in society today, but there’s plenty of stuff worth mulling over to be found in this record.

Raised in the predominantly white Stone Mountain, Georgia (30 Rock fans should recognize that town), it’s clear that Glover’s music wouldn’t be the same if it weren’t for his search for an identity—a search that appears to continue even today. Never “black enough” to fit in with the black kids, and never fully accepted by the white kids, Glover’s got raps on raps about a childhood filled with chants of “oreo” and much worse.  While he’s usually able to turn these around by pointing out that he’s doing fine now, it’s clear that Glover has a whole lot of deep-seated anger, frustration, and confusion that won’t be leaving him anytime soon.

I’m glad that Glover uses rap as an outlet; he’s got some good stories to tell.  They’re not all about race, either—plenty of these songs are about life and its tendency to suck.  Fortunately, Glover is not above turning that into a pun. His sense of humor is still there, it’s just much less prominent than when he’s on TV.

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Day 257: Holy Ghost! – Holy Ghost!

12 Nov

Do It Again

Anyone who says that they don’t have guilty pleasure music is lying through their teeth.  As great of a person as I’m sure you are, there’s no way that there is nothing in your eclectic and electric library of music that you don’t feel a tad embarrassed about.  I write all of this because the type of people that claim to have no guilty pleasure music are also the type that listen to Holy Ghost!  And Holy Ghost! is guilty pleasure music defined.

Now, I’m not saying that Holy Ghost!’s self titled LP should not be listened to or enjoyed—it’s far to catchy to be altogether ignored.  But I am saying that it is perfectly reasonable to feel like an idiot for listening to and enjoying this music.

With an ’80s-on-steroids sound, and some of the most cringe-inducing lyrics that have ever been written, I spent a good portion of this album trying to convince myself that this music is actually awful.   About halfway through, my subconscious finally decided to admit that it might have been enjoying itself just a bit.  As bad as I feel about this, I was bobbing my head along with the solid beats and catchy synths for the duration of this record.

At just under 50 minutes in length, perhaps there’s a little more Holy Ghost! than necessary packed into a single release, but that’s just another flaw on this album’s long list of miscues. Still, I ended up overlooking all of those, throwing my standards out the window, and actually enjoying this record.  It’s weird…I’m hating, but at the same time, I’m not.

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Day 256: The Beautiful South – Welcome to the Beautiful South

11 Nov

From Under the Covers

Looking at a band’s discography and attempting to decide where to start is often a challenge—this is especially true if the band has a large number of releases spanning multiple decades.  The Beautiful South appears to be one of those bands at first, with ten albums over the course of close to twenty years.  However, a quick glance at the very first item of that list, and the decision is automatically made.  There’s obviously no better place to start with a band called The Beautiful South than on a record called Welcome to the Beautiful South.  Now that’s some foresight on their part.

Anyway, all boring insights into the Swole Ear record selection process aside, Welcome is an interesting record, and would probably hold more of my attention if I didn’t have to write this post.  This is clearly a lyric-centric band—Gareth of Los Campesinos! often points to frontman Paul Heaton as a major influence—and the lyrics that I actually heard were pretty good.  Whether thanking the various (presumably) ex-lovers that inspire his songwriting in Song for Whoever, or telling a grim murder story in the vein of The Tell-Tale Heart with Woman in the Wall, it’s clear that Heaton has a way with words.  It may be a fairly depressing and bleak way with words (just look at that cover), but a way nonetheless.

Unfortunately, I missed most of the lyrics while writing this entry, but I’m sure that this record will be getting another spin out of me in the near future.

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Day 255: Wavves – King of the Beach

10 Nov

Take on the World

By now, y’all know that I am not one to beat around the bush. Let us address the elephant in the room:  the cat on the cover of this record is, in fact, holding a joint, and does appear to have a pot leaf as a halo.  Anyone who keeps up with the hipster garbage music scene knows all about Wavves’ frontman Nathan Williams’ obsession with mary-juh-wanah.  I mean the dude sells Wavves-branded rolling papers and grinders from the group’s merch site.  All of this reeks of very clever marketing on the band’s part—supporting something so clearly illegal, taboo, and cancer-inducing can only generate buzz.

This ploy worked pretty well.  When King of the Beach was released during the summer of 2010, all anyone could talk about was this band of blatant potheads, and I avoided this album for that very reason.  However, all the buzz has died down by now, I need things to listen to, and this website would get pretty boring if I didn’t listen to bands with morals different than my own.

As much as I hate to admit it, this record sounds pretty good. It’s catchy as hell and contains quite a few tracks that will most definitely remain in your head for a while, but King of the Beach really does have its own sound.  A strange combination of surf and lo-fi indie rock, the crunchy beats, fuzzy guitars, and off-key vocals come together to form a cool, relaxed-but-in-your-face sound.  While I don’t agree with the band’s stance on the consumption of some banned substances, it is hard to deny that these guys make some good music.

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Day 254: Johnny Foreigner – Johnny Foreigner vs Everything

9 Nov

Electricity vs The Dead

Back in March, when this project was in its infancy, I began listening to every band that Gareth Campesinos! had ever tweeted about, and I liked most of what I heard. From Sky Larkin to Slow Club, and Abe Vigoda to Dananananaykroyd, I was loving all of the over-the-top indie pop that I was finally getting to hear. But there was one band stood above the rest.  Johnny Foreigner and their Waited Up Til it was Light blew me away, with a sound reminiscent of old Los Campesinos!, but still completely their own.

Well, my preorder of their newest release, Johnny Foreigner vs. Everything, came in today.  The title alone tells you all you need to know about the melodrama and angst engraved in this record—that heart-on-sleeve nature of this band is just one of the things I love about them, though.  Split into three different parts and seventeen different songs, this album could have very easily been a train wreck. But JoFo have once again found the perfect balance between insightful introspection and just plain self-indulgence.

Coming just days after I made the realization that Los Campesinos! will never again be that spunky, youthful, tweexcore band that I fell in love with, this record fell through my mail slot at the perfect time. There’s still a band out there with a sound that I consider spot-on at this time in my life.

No, I don’t really understand why this album was split into three parts.  Yes, the song names are often ridiculous.  Okay, the use of “yr” instead of “your” is a tad middle school-esque (could someone explain that one to me?  Titus Andronicus does it too).  All of these little quirks and eccentricities are what give this record its personality.  Well that, and the huge lyric book that came along with my copy.  This record has heart, and this band kicks ass.

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Day 253: The Kinks – Kinks

8 Nov

You Really Got Me

It’s Dad Rock Tuesday (well, Wednesday I guess, but never you mind) once again, and this week, I’m fairly impressed.  I’ll be honest, The Kinks’ self-titled debut kind of rocks.  For an album that was released during the same year as my father (1964), this album still has a fair bit of magic.  It’s also clear that The Kinks’ sound serves as an inspiration for a few of today’s rock bands.

Many Dad Rock Tuesdays find me hating on an album that no longer sounds modern, and has lost most (or all) of its relevance.  Surprisingly, while this near-ancient record could never be referred to as relevant, it’s The Kinks’ old-school rock ‘n roll sound that draws me to it.  Perhaps it’s because this is a style of music that I really enjoy, or because many current buzzbands are emulating its sound.  I’d say that it’s a mixture of both that makes this record appealing to a jaded fan of modern rock music.

The Kinks also have something that most up-and-coming rock bands are missing.  Crazy-good harmonica riffs are all over this album, and I can’t get enough.  More bands really should start using this wonderful instrument, but only if they’re good.  Nothing can ruin a song like some obnoxious harmonica playing.  But there’s none of that to be found on this album, as every song featuring a bit of harmonica gets yet another layer of awesome added to it.

I wasn’t expecting to enjoy this record, but The Kinks’ debut has managed to age fairly well in its four-plus decades of existence.

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Day 252: Los Campesinos! – Hello Sadness

7 Nov

 By Your Hand

This particular post has been a long time in the making.  When a band earns the title of “favorite,” a fan may become a bit obsessive.  When that fan is me, this obsession can turn unhealthy.

In the past two-plus years that I’ve loved the music of Los Campesinos!, I’ve put them on quite a pedestal.  I’ve bought all of the exclusive shirts, subscribed to the failed zine, and read every single one of frontman and lyrical mastermind Gareth’s tweets.  The buzz around this album has been building for more than half a year now, and I had extremely high, and admittedly, quite unfair expectations for this record.

The first two LC! albums are among the most played in my library.  The quick pace and blindingly optimistic instrumentation meshed with melodramatic and pessimistic lyrics makes for some entertaining, brilliant, and unique music. When Romance is Boring—the band’s third record—was released early last year, I was a little surprised with the content.  Amongst the usual upbeat, glockenspiel-filled songs populated by lyrics that sound as if they were pulled from a diary, was a fair bit of artsy fuzz and static.  I kind of liked it, though; these sections were nice breaks from the usual frantic pace of a Los Campesinos! album.  If anything, I expected this fourth record to follow in that trend, maybe with an even higher focus on the abstract sections.  Instead, Hello Sadness is a record of ten radio-unready pop songs, and I’m not entirely sure what I think.  There’s no doubt that the two singles so far—the title track and By Your Hand—are solid examples of this new LC! sound—they represent the feeling cultivated throughout the album fairly well.  It’s not that this album is bad, it’s just that it’s different.  This isn’t the same band that I fell in love with, and I’m going to need to give Hello Sadness a few more listens before a decision can be made about my favorite band.

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Day 251: Miike Snow – Miike Snow

6 Nov

Animal

All I know about Miike Snow is that during Lollapalooza a few years back, the three members all donned creepy white masks during their performance.  Gimmicky stuff like that usually causes me to steer clear of a band.  Shouldn’t the music speak for itself?  If you’ve got to have a gimmick to gain attention, how good can you really be?

Well, in what has become a (rather unfortunate) trend for Swole Ear, I was, once again, wrong about something.  Miike Snow’s self-titled LP is pretty freakin’ good.

Andrew Wyatt really has things figured out.  Miike Snow’s American frontman knows that all of the best electropop comes from Sweden.  He didn’t resign himself to fate and just form a guitar-plentiful indie rock band, though. Instead, he started a band with two Swedish producers, and gets to play some sparkly indie pop under the genre’s honorary national flag.

If you think I’m making this up, do a little research.  All of the best, catchiest, happiest electronic pop music comes from Sweden.  Both jj and The Radio Department speak to that assertion, as this country’s ability to so regularly produce citizens capable of making this awesome music always amazes me.

So, as I freeze my ass off in some godforsaken wood of an equally godforsaken northwestern Illinois, check out Miike Snow.  Yeah, they have two “i’s” in their name, and yeah, they do wear masks while on stage, but these are things that can most definitely be overlooked.  These guys have the music to back up the gimmicks.

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Day 250: Real Estate – Days

5 Nov

It’s Real

As you read this post, please think of me.  Currently, I am most likely coming close to freezing to death in a crude, handmade wikiup with 10 other high school seniors.  My Adventure Ed II camping trip is this weekend.  And we go hard.  This isn’t your “let’s sleep in a tent with sleeping bags” camping trip, as it is very possible that, as you read this, I am making a pillow of a rock or some small animal that I caught with my teeth earlier in the day.

Anyway, as mentioned previously, there’s a very high probability that I’m freezing my ass off at this very moment in time. (Due to the power of the internet, I was able to delay this entry from being posted until today. The same thing goes for tomorrow’s).  I’m sure that I am in desperate need of some warmth, and I’m going to do my best to channel the good vibes found in Real Estate’s Days.

What we have here is some solid, beach-ready surf rock.  It’s not the particularly fast-paced kind.  Real Estate elects to keep things fairly slow and smooth, but makes up for what it lacks in tempo with plenty of energy and some solid instrumentation.  Dreamy, reverb-laden vocals dominate this album, and provide for a fairly relaxing listening experience.  Days instantly calls warmer times to mind, and if I can keep this record in mind for the next few days, my journey of all-around bad-assery will be a tad more manageable.  Even if it includes sleeping on a rock.

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