Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Many Drug Memories Ago...
...I was at an outlaw party in an abandoned warehouse in West Philly, whacked out of my mind on some really strong E and acid (a practice known as "candy flipping"). Everything was so epic to me. I felt as if the world was ending that moment, and it was beautiful. Suddenly, my hazy thoughts are interrupted by a burst of noise from the speakers: it's a thunderous boom of what sounded like horns used in battle. The sound was so powerful and strident, it enveloped everything in its path. Whatever the DJ (Scott Henry) was playing, it was simply magic stuff.
I tried for a few weeks after that to get a hold of that showstopping horn track. I scoured the new releases racks in the dance record shops, and asked around. Finally, it ended up on a Scott Henry mix tape that I bought, and I got to hear that magic track whenever I wanted. Only, the thing is, the track wasn't so magic after all. You may remember this one.
Yeah.
...Maybe a year later, I was in a club, again soaring high on some really good E. I was thoroughly enjoying the set, which was some pretty high energy dream house and trance (I can't recall the DJ though). Suddenly, the beats stopped, and everything was silent, save for some lovely synth washes. Eventually, I could hear an angelic voice emerging from the swathes of silken melody, kissing my ears with words that I could barely make out. Something about "a better one." Was it "Are you the better one?" Or "In a better world?" I had to know what this song was, it was so fucking beautiful to me. So fragile, almost sad. So special and majestic. And the fact that I had no idea what this mystery woman was saying to me was perhaps part of the appeal. I heard the track couple more times in clubs, again on drugs, and always I got this same feeling; that warm, inviting voice slowly emerging from the ether and tugging my heartstrings before the surging beat returned to carry the song to anthemic heights.
I also tried my darndest to find this track, and this one was more elusive than the first. A good deal later, my friend mentioned that she bought some new tracks and asked if I wanted to hear her spin them. We went to her place, and she pulled out her first record. She said she was ultra excited to get this, that this was a track that everyone loved, and that I'd know it right away when I heard it. And, lo and behold, as soon as I heard it, I realized that this was my cherished song! Only, this time, the magic was completely gone, and my angel-soft mystery anthem was replaced with this!
Pretty embarrassing.
So, yeah, I guess the moral of the story is:
Do drugs.
Do a lot of drugs. Because if drugs have the power to turn these pieces of shit into the glorious crescendos of feeling that I've experienced, into profound emotional moments, then there's no telling what other wonders they can do.
The End.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
"_______________"
A few years ago, I wrote a post for my brother in law’s music blog about the surge of “post-rock” bands that seemed to be growing at the time. Even a few weeks after writing that, I was unhappy with it. Looking back at it, it seems as if I was a trendy ass overeager to promote and identify with some new, cool musical movement.
The biggest problem is with that label, “post rock.” Like almost all well-known music labels, it generates unnecessary distinction, as well as a false sense of cohesion. Although Battles, A Silver Mt. Zion, Animal Collective, Liars, Xiu Xiu, Growing, and other bands of their time seemed to embrace a break from traditional pop and rock purism in favor of simply mixing together interesting sounds and textures—which does seem to fit the description of being Post-Rock, or at least Post-Rockism—it should be noted that, while some of these bands were friends and collaborators (like Animal Collective and Black Dice, for instance), there was no official Post Rock Movement among these bands, like the 60’s Flower Power movement, or the 80’s hardcore movement. If anything, there were hoards of stoned out scenesters enjoying a slew of pompous, lugubrious chamber-shoegaze bands that were also labeled post rock. These bands all seemed to sound the same (My Bloody Valentine meets the Kronos Quartet), and were anything but fresh, exciting alternatives to the same old clichés. Not to mention the fact that plenty of earlier bands have shared a philosophy and approach that could be considered to be "post-rock": Faust, The Residents, This Heat, John Zorn, and (later period) Talk Talk, to name a few.I would have been wiser to refrain from using the damn label in my post, freeing my excitement for certain new bands from unnecessary baggage.
But it’s not just post rock. It’s the same for “punk rock.” This term can be used to represent a general philosophy, a specific sound, or a member from a scene of a certain time and place. And a lot of confusion can result from this ambiguity. I was always drawn more to “Punk as Philosophy,” and so my collection of punk heroes came to include early outcast pioneers like Captain Beefheart and the Shaggs, but these are obviously not punk rock to most people.
How to distinguish the “punk” from the “new wave?” My, what a task! Was New Wave the original term for what later came to be known as punk rock (like Richard Hell or the Dead Boys), or was New Wave a cynical attempt by record execs to capitalize on the punk movement with a more marketable pop sound (like XTC and Oingo Boingo)? Who is more punk, the Talking Heads or the Exploited?
Were the krautrockers German proto-punks, or were they hippie jam bands, or prog-rockers? What does it even mean to be krautrock? Most people think of the minimalist, hypnotic rhythms of CAN and Neu! when they reference krautrock, but Faust, Amon Duul II, Cluster, and other 70’s German bands sounded nothing like that. Additionally, this prototypical krautrock sound can be found on Yoko Ono albums from the same time as CAN and Neu!. Is Yoko more krautrock than Faust?
Humans use labels. It’s part and parcel of our use of language, and it also helps us to simplify complex situations. But I often feel that, nowadays, our labels are no longer used to help us. These abstractions have taken a life of their own, not unlike Plato’s Forms. We are now bending over backwards to preserve the integrity of these Forms, and our communication suffers in the process. This is seen in other domains (“Is this film really novelle vague?” or “I can’t understand how one species can change into another”) but it’s gotten quite out of hand in the music world.
I don’t really care if something is Post-Punk rather than No Wave, or if something counts as Industrial, I simply want to use words to describe the sound, attitude, and maybe the affiliations of a band I'm talking about. I’ll use any word or combination of words to get my ideas across, as long as they work.
So, I must retract my past endorsement of so-called Post Rock bands. I retain, however, my admiration for Bands-Who-Make-Unique-and-Hard-to-Classify-Music-Usually-Fusing-Unlikely-Sounds-and-Moods-for-the-Sake-of-Self-Expression.
Check out some of these guys if you haven’t: Faust, This Heat, Pere Ubu, Mars, Animal Collective, OOIOO.
The biggest problem is with that label, “post rock.” Like almost all well-known music labels, it generates unnecessary distinction, as well as a false sense of cohesion. Although Battles, A Silver Mt. Zion, Animal Collective, Liars, Xiu Xiu, Growing, and other bands of their time seemed to embrace a break from traditional pop and rock purism in favor of simply mixing together interesting sounds and textures—which does seem to fit the description of being Post-Rock, or at least Post-Rockism—it should be noted that, while some of these bands were friends and collaborators (like Animal Collective and Black Dice, for instance), there was no official Post Rock Movement among these bands, like the 60’s Flower Power movement, or the 80’s hardcore movement. If anything, there were hoards of stoned out scenesters enjoying a slew of pompous, lugubrious chamber-shoegaze bands that were also labeled post rock. These bands all seemed to sound the same (My Bloody Valentine meets the Kronos Quartet), and were anything but fresh, exciting alternatives to the same old clichés. Not to mention the fact that plenty of earlier bands have shared a philosophy and approach that could be considered to be "post-rock": Faust, The Residents, This Heat, John Zorn, and (later period) Talk Talk, to name a few.I would have been wiser to refrain from using the damn label in my post, freeing my excitement for certain new bands from unnecessary baggage.
But it’s not just post rock. It’s the same for “punk rock.” This term can be used to represent a general philosophy, a specific sound, or a member from a scene of a certain time and place. And a lot of confusion can result from this ambiguity. I was always drawn more to “Punk as Philosophy,” and so my collection of punk heroes came to include early outcast pioneers like Captain Beefheart and the Shaggs, but these are obviously not punk rock to most people.
How to distinguish the “punk” from the “new wave?” My, what a task! Was New Wave the original term for what later came to be known as punk rock (like Richard Hell or the Dead Boys), or was New Wave a cynical attempt by record execs to capitalize on the punk movement with a more marketable pop sound (like XTC and Oingo Boingo)? Who is more punk, the Talking Heads or the Exploited?
Were the krautrockers German proto-punks, or were they hippie jam bands, or prog-rockers? What does it even mean to be krautrock? Most people think of the minimalist, hypnotic rhythms of CAN and Neu! when they reference krautrock, but Faust, Amon Duul II, Cluster, and other 70’s German bands sounded nothing like that. Additionally, this prototypical krautrock sound can be found on Yoko Ono albums from the same time as CAN and Neu!. Is Yoko more krautrock than Faust?
Humans use labels. It’s part and parcel of our use of language, and it also helps us to simplify complex situations. But I often feel that, nowadays, our labels are no longer used to help us. These abstractions have taken a life of their own, not unlike Plato’s Forms. We are now bending over backwards to preserve the integrity of these Forms, and our communication suffers in the process. This is seen in other domains (“Is this film really novelle vague?” or “I can’t understand how one species can change into another”) but it’s gotten quite out of hand in the music world.
I don’t really care if something is Post-Punk rather than No Wave, or if something counts as Industrial, I simply want to use words to describe the sound, attitude, and maybe the affiliations of a band I'm talking about. I’ll use any word or combination of words to get my ideas across, as long as they work.
So, I must retract my past endorsement of so-called Post Rock bands. I retain, however, my admiration for Bands-Who-Make-Unique-and-Hard-to-Classify-Music-Usually-Fusing-Unlikely-Sounds-and-Moods-for-the-Sake-of-Self-Expression.
Check out some of these guys if you haven’t: Faust, This Heat, Pere Ubu, Mars, Animal Collective, OOIOO.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Quick Thoughts on 2010
Just thought I'd give a quick run-down of notable albums released this year. There should probably be a lot more here, but hey, I'm only human.
The Knife - Tomorrow in a Year: What could have easily been a cheap gimmick (an electro-opera based on the life and works of Charles Darwin) turns out to be a haunting and beautiful extension of the Knife's sound, a work that feels both profound and personal. There are moments on here (such as the Variation of Birds) that drive me pretty close to tears. Not from sadness, but from a vicious, ecstatic beauty that colors the album's best songs.
Most fans of the synth pop anthems from Deep Cuts and Silent Shout are likely disappointed with this one, as only three tracks have anything resembling a beat, and none of it was made for the dance floor. But those of us who also look to the Knife for their moods and textures will have much to savor here. This isn't an album of warped pitch-shifted vocals, but it does have the same fascinating contradictions of Silent Shout: the raw humanity woven from synthetic programming; the warmth emanating from sounds of dark, icy cold. Quite possibly my favorite release of the year.
Crystal Castles- Crystal Castles: Their second eponymous release finds this synth duo refining their sound a bit. Almost like the Doolittle to the first album's Surfer Rosa. The extremes are more extreme (as on Doe Deer), but the band's more accessible sensibilities are also indulged (see: Suffocation), making for a follow-up that could be considered diluted by some and schizophrenic by others. Me, I think the best moments of the first album (my favorite: Love and Caring) can't be topped, but overall, the second one is more consistently satisfying. More variety, more ambition, more staying power.
Cocorosie - Grey Oceans: The production is full and crisp, the arrangements are more subdued, and yet this is undeniably a Cocorosie album. Animal noises, plucked arpeggios, hip hop beats, and creepy vocals chanting creepy lyrics. I'm not sure why tastemakers like Pitchfork have chosen these gals as targets of unrelenting mockery and condescension; this one, like all of their albums, is fairly easy to listen to. Some are arresting in their beauty (opener Trinity is Crying), and some are simply catchy, like Lemonade. It's not as much a progression from their standard sound as I would have hoped for, but it's still quality stuff.
Janelle Monae - The ArchAndroid: Having written a post about Janelle, I will simply say here that her album's got so much going on, I still haven't totally soaked it all up. Not everything here works (why is Of Montreal anywhere near these songs?), but there are oodles of strong moments to keep me anxious for more.
Jonsi - Go: I was a bit hesitant to pick up this solo release by Sigur Ros' frontman, as I feared a shameless foray into pop narcissism. His solo album's actually not that different from the last few Sigur Ros releases: direct, sunny, jubilant. His unearthly voice sounds just as (if not more) inviting singing joyous major key melodies as the more well known somber side of SR. Lead track Go Do is just a rush of pleasure all the way, as is Boi Lilikoi. What can I say, but "Go Jonsi Go!"
The Roots - How I Got Over: Having recently released two phenomenally direct expressions of anger and frustration (Game Theory and Rising Down), the Roots have decided to take things down a notch for their newest LP. The songs seem permeated by the troubles of recent times, each adding to a general feel of melancholy. Despite the gloom, hope perseveres through the album, and strong melodies throughout make "How I Got Over" a stately, if bittersweet, affair.
M.I.A. - MAYA: Another victim of overcritical press (due, at least to some extent, by this NYT piece, and Maya's overdramatic reaction to it), M.I.A. turned in a solid album that will probably get more praise as time passes. It's not as ambitious, not as diverse, and not as energetic as her past work, but its noisy, insular sound works well as a mood piece, albeit one that sounds great at high volumes. Oh well, Haters gonna hate.
Liars - Sisterworld: Their last album, Liars, was a bit disappointing to me. Sure, it had some great songs (and no bad ones), but it all felt a little too rock for Liars, a band known to be obnoxious, but never bland. Sisterworld seems to me to be the proper sequel to Drums Not Dead; this is an intense tribal experience that borrows from rock's sonic palette without conforming to its ideology. Check out: Proud Evolution, Drop Dead.
Joanna Newsom - Have One on Me: It's nice to hear our elven mistress of the harp allowing her sound to mature. I found her first album to be fine, but ultimately too cloyingly whimsical to truly enjoy. Her follow-up, Ys, is challenging and well worth repeated listens, but it too can be a bit stuffy sometimes. This new double-album reins in much of Newsom's more grating tendencies, and boasts a largely subdued, relaxed sound. Admittedly, I haven't fully absorbed this massive, sprawling opus, but Easy, Kingfisher, and No Provenance are my current favorites.
Xiu Xiu - Dear God, I Hate Myself: With each successive release, Xiu Xiu has grown a bit more user friendly in their approach. This is only relative to their past work, of course, and so their lead single (and extremely hard to watch video) is unlikely to top the charts. Jamie Stewart will always be a polarizing force in music. His vocals are like an unnerving fusion of Ian Curtis' ghost and an insufferable Valley queen (this being a compliment, to me at least). His band always loves to mix seemingly unmixable sounds and moods---synth pop & folk, melody & shrieking noise, terror & hilarity---and, despite some additional clarity, this one fits pretty well in their canon. Meaning, you'll either love it and hate it, or you'll fucking despise it and burn it from your memory.
Big Boi - Sir Lucious Leftfoot, Son of Chico Dusty: I just got this one last week, but I'm already in love. Big Boi gets a lot of flack, even from Outkast fans, who feel that Andre 3000 is the true source of the group's talent and charm. This release puts all that shit to rest. Dre isn't anywhere on "Leftfoot", and it's one of the best Outkast-related albums I've heard. From the intro to the end, it's just really tight, funky, fun pop music. While not as conceptually ambitious as his protege Janelle, Big Boi offers some powerful competition in his ability to bum rush you with weird and wonderful sounds that move you physically, if not emotionally.
The Arcade Fire - The Suburbs: The album can largely be summed up in six words: At Least It's Not Neon Bible. Arcade Fire's Funeral wasn't perfect, but at least 2/3s of it was a burst of raw, urgent feeling that was also damn good art rock. With Neon Bible, their sense of drama turned into melodrama, and their passion fizzled into world-weary introspection. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised to hear the levity in songs like Month of May and the Suburbs when they leaked. The rest of the album is about as good as these songs, it's pretty consistently listenable, although I can't decide if the lyrics to Rococo are ingeniously dippy or a complete embarrassment. The problem is, they never got that sense of urgency back. So while it's nice that they're no longer mopey arena rock, they do sound a bit like...conventional arena rock. I dig Springsteen and all, but even he had more intensity than this! Baby steps, I guess...
Sufjan Stevens - The Age of Adz (not yet released): I haven't heard the EP that he put out recently (what do I look like, a fan?), but this new cut from his upcoming LP shows some promise. It's nice that he's finally given up that damn Church Band Plays Vince Guaraldi style that makes his music almost sickeningly twee. He's gone back to electronic music, and some of the beats are pretty interesting. His voice remains the same, though, and in this context, he sounds like a more respectable version of Death Cab for Cutie. So that means that I'll probably like this stuff more than his cutesy folk and Death Cab, but I won't, you know, actually like it.
Panda Bear: Tomboy (not yet released): Panda Bear's first solo LP was a tender and life-affirming (not to mention underrated) modification of the Animal Collective sound. His follow-up was a pleasantly hazy, if homogeneous (not to mention overrated) affair. From the sound of his new single and its superior B-Side, his upcoming album is going to sound more like the latter than the former. A touch darker, perhaps, but the hypnotic swirl of Person Pitch is definitely still there. I guess at best, it'll be a modest improvement over his last effort, but at this point, I'm a little more curious as to how Avey Tare's solo release is going to sound.
Antony & the Johnsons - The Swanlights (not yet released): God Dammit, Antony! What the hell happened to you?? I know I only have this one song to go on, but it leaves much to be desired. First off, it's derivative. The off-kilter drums sound like those on Kiss My Name, and the chords sound like (the much, much better) Fistful of Love. It's nice that you're exploring moods outside of your typical negative ones, but what happened to your artistry? Your sense of danger? Please don't let me down on this one! You could be the new Scott Walker, but it's like you want to be the next Melissa Etheridge....
That's it for now. My opinions on these albums could change as I spend more time with them, and perhaps later they will require more extensive exegesis. If anyone has a recommendation (or warning) for me regarding new music, let me know!
The Knife - Tomorrow in a Year: What could have easily been a cheap gimmick (an electro-opera based on the life and works of Charles Darwin) turns out to be a haunting and beautiful extension of the Knife's sound, a work that feels both profound and personal. There are moments on here (such as the Variation of Birds) that drive me pretty close to tears. Not from sadness, but from a vicious, ecstatic beauty that colors the album's best songs.
Most fans of the synth pop anthems from Deep Cuts and Silent Shout are likely disappointed with this one, as only three tracks have anything resembling a beat, and none of it was made for the dance floor. But those of us who also look to the Knife for their moods and textures will have much to savor here. This isn't an album of warped pitch-shifted vocals, but it does have the same fascinating contradictions of Silent Shout: the raw humanity woven from synthetic programming; the warmth emanating from sounds of dark, icy cold. Quite possibly my favorite release of the year.
Crystal Castles- Crystal Castles: Their second eponymous release finds this synth duo refining their sound a bit. Almost like the Doolittle to the first album's Surfer Rosa. The extremes are more extreme (as on Doe Deer), but the band's more accessible sensibilities are also indulged (see: Suffocation), making for a follow-up that could be considered diluted by some and schizophrenic by others. Me, I think the best moments of the first album (my favorite: Love and Caring) can't be topped, but overall, the second one is more consistently satisfying. More variety, more ambition, more staying power.
Cocorosie - Grey Oceans: The production is full and crisp, the arrangements are more subdued, and yet this is undeniably a Cocorosie album. Animal noises, plucked arpeggios, hip hop beats, and creepy vocals chanting creepy lyrics. I'm not sure why tastemakers like Pitchfork have chosen these gals as targets of unrelenting mockery and condescension; this one, like all of their albums, is fairly easy to listen to. Some are arresting in their beauty (opener Trinity is Crying), and some are simply catchy, like Lemonade. It's not as much a progression from their standard sound as I would have hoped for, but it's still quality stuff.
Janelle Monae - The ArchAndroid: Having written a post about Janelle, I will simply say here that her album's got so much going on, I still haven't totally soaked it all up. Not everything here works (why is Of Montreal anywhere near these songs?), but there are oodles of strong moments to keep me anxious for more.
Jonsi - Go: I was a bit hesitant to pick up this solo release by Sigur Ros' frontman, as I feared a shameless foray into pop narcissism. His solo album's actually not that different from the last few Sigur Ros releases: direct, sunny, jubilant. His unearthly voice sounds just as (if not more) inviting singing joyous major key melodies as the more well known somber side of SR. Lead track Go Do is just a rush of pleasure all the way, as is Boi Lilikoi. What can I say, but "Go Jonsi Go!"
The Roots - How I Got Over: Having recently released two phenomenally direct expressions of anger and frustration (Game Theory and Rising Down), the Roots have decided to take things down a notch for their newest LP. The songs seem permeated by the troubles of recent times, each adding to a general feel of melancholy. Despite the gloom, hope perseveres through the album, and strong melodies throughout make "How I Got Over" a stately, if bittersweet, affair.
M.I.A. - MAYA: Another victim of overcritical press (due, at least to some extent, by this NYT piece, and Maya's overdramatic reaction to it), M.I.A. turned in a solid album that will probably get more praise as time passes. It's not as ambitious, not as diverse, and not as energetic as her past work, but its noisy, insular sound works well as a mood piece, albeit one that sounds great at high volumes. Oh well, Haters gonna hate.
Liars - Sisterworld: Their last album, Liars, was a bit disappointing to me. Sure, it had some great songs (and no bad ones), but it all felt a little too rock for Liars, a band known to be obnoxious, but never bland. Sisterworld seems to me to be the proper sequel to Drums Not Dead; this is an intense tribal experience that borrows from rock's sonic palette without conforming to its ideology. Check out: Proud Evolution, Drop Dead.
Joanna Newsom - Have One on Me: It's nice to hear our elven mistress of the harp allowing her sound to mature. I found her first album to be fine, but ultimately too cloyingly whimsical to truly enjoy. Her follow-up, Ys, is challenging and well worth repeated listens, but it too can be a bit stuffy sometimes. This new double-album reins in much of Newsom's more grating tendencies, and boasts a largely subdued, relaxed sound. Admittedly, I haven't fully absorbed this massive, sprawling opus, but Easy, Kingfisher, and No Provenance are my current favorites.
Xiu Xiu - Dear God, I Hate Myself: With each successive release, Xiu Xiu has grown a bit more user friendly in their approach. This is only relative to their past work, of course, and so their lead single (and extremely hard to watch video) is unlikely to top the charts. Jamie Stewart will always be a polarizing force in music. His vocals are like an unnerving fusion of Ian Curtis' ghost and an insufferable Valley queen (this being a compliment, to me at least). His band always loves to mix seemingly unmixable sounds and moods---synth pop & folk, melody & shrieking noise, terror & hilarity---and, despite some additional clarity, this one fits pretty well in their canon. Meaning, you'll either love it and hate it, or you'll fucking despise it and burn it from your memory.
Big Boi - Sir Lucious Leftfoot, Son of Chico Dusty: I just got this one last week, but I'm already in love. Big Boi gets a lot of flack, even from Outkast fans, who feel that Andre 3000 is the true source of the group's talent and charm. This release puts all that shit to rest. Dre isn't anywhere on "Leftfoot", and it's one of the best Outkast-related albums I've heard. From the intro to the end, it's just really tight, funky, fun pop music. While not as conceptually ambitious as his protege Janelle, Big Boi offers some powerful competition in his ability to bum rush you with weird and wonderful sounds that move you physically, if not emotionally.
The Arcade Fire - The Suburbs: The album can largely be summed up in six words: At Least It's Not Neon Bible. Arcade Fire's Funeral wasn't perfect, but at least 2/3s of it was a burst of raw, urgent feeling that was also damn good art rock. With Neon Bible, their sense of drama turned into melodrama, and their passion fizzled into world-weary introspection. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised to hear the levity in songs like Month of May and the Suburbs when they leaked. The rest of the album is about as good as these songs, it's pretty consistently listenable, although I can't decide if the lyrics to Rococo are ingeniously dippy or a complete embarrassment. The problem is, they never got that sense of urgency back. So while it's nice that they're no longer mopey arena rock, they do sound a bit like...conventional arena rock. I dig Springsteen and all, but even he had more intensity than this! Baby steps, I guess...
Sufjan Stevens - The Age of Adz (not yet released): I haven't heard the EP that he put out recently (what do I look like, a fan?), but this new cut from his upcoming LP shows some promise. It's nice that he's finally given up that damn Church Band Plays Vince Guaraldi style that makes his music almost sickeningly twee. He's gone back to electronic music, and some of the beats are pretty interesting. His voice remains the same, though, and in this context, he sounds like a more respectable version of Death Cab for Cutie. So that means that I'll probably like this stuff more than his cutesy folk and Death Cab, but I won't, you know, actually like it.
Panda Bear: Tomboy (not yet released): Panda Bear's first solo LP was a tender and life-affirming (not to mention underrated) modification of the Animal Collective sound. His follow-up was a pleasantly hazy, if homogeneous (not to mention overrated) affair. From the sound of his new single and its superior B-Side, his upcoming album is going to sound more like the latter than the former. A touch darker, perhaps, but the hypnotic swirl of Person Pitch is definitely still there. I guess at best, it'll be a modest improvement over his last effort, but at this point, I'm a little more curious as to how Avey Tare's solo release is going to sound.
Antony & the Johnsons - The Swanlights (not yet released): God Dammit, Antony! What the hell happened to you?? I know I only have this one song to go on, but it leaves much to be desired. First off, it's derivative. The off-kilter drums sound like those on Kiss My Name, and the chords sound like (the much, much better) Fistful of Love. It's nice that you're exploring moods outside of your typical negative ones, but what happened to your artistry? Your sense of danger? Please don't let me down on this one! You could be the new Scott Walker, but it's like you want to be the next Melissa Etheridge....
That's it for now. My opinions on these albums could change as I spend more time with them, and perhaps later they will require more extensive exegesis. If anyone has a recommendation (or warning) for me regarding new music, let me know!
Monday, September 6, 2010
E is for Energy
Okay, it’s not that surprising that I got into the music of the rave scene. There was, after all, the drugs, which I readily sought out and enjoyed. There was also the appeal of partaking in (admittedly, the dying gasps of) a cultural movement that, unlike punk or goth, was still around for the partaking. And, though I’d been loathe to admit it for most of my life, I’ve always had an affinity for dance music.
Strangely enough, my now open affection for dance and club numbers (even the trashy throwaway crap) is part of the reason why I’m reluctant to embrace my history as part of the rave scene. Trance, house, techno and such are all touted as gold standards of dance music. Their presence is now ubiquitous: you’ll hear this stuff in cartoons, in cosmetics stores, in restaurants, and countless club mixes of famous songs. But while the general phrase “dance music” will likely conjure the 4/4 stomp of TR-909 drum kits in most people’s heads, the truth is that I don’t find that style to be good dance music at all.
Dance music should, of course, make you want to dance. It should also sustain and replenish this urge, so that the dancing is relatively continuous. Trance and techno rarely made me want to dance, unless I was on some speedy E and would dance to pretty much anything. At best, the thunderous thumps of these tracks make me want to bob my head. But that’s it. My body is not called to action. Instead, I end up in a trancelike state, due to the relentless repetition of the sounds. Which was totally fine for me in my partying days, since “partying” often meant sitting slumped against a wall in a club or factory, deep in a K-hole. Breakbeats are a little better for body movement than the simple streamlined throb of standard rave fare, so they kind of make me want to dance. But they’re repetitive too, and my urge washes away after only a few minutes.
No, there’s so much more music out there that actually makes me want to get up and get down. I think the playlists from Studio 54 in the early 80’s (including Liquid Liquid and Yoko Ono, among many others), and the Madchester music of the Hacienda in the late 80’s had stuff that moved bodies, and offered much more variety than the endless boom shi boom shi boom shi of typical rave music. New Order made joyous dance anthems, and they featured a wide range of textures, tempos, rhythms, and beats. Even the Eurodance stuff (think Haddaway’s What Is Love), which all sounds pretty similar, makes for a better dance experience, due to the punctuation provided by distinct songs, rather than unleashing a seamless melding of indistinguishable tracks.
That variety is crucial for an optimum dancing experience. Variation within a song, and variation from song to song. It provides points of contrast that turn one’s time on a dancefloor into a dynamic journey, rather than movement in a vacuum. I don’t even think this is just my own personal preferences. If you’ve ever been to a rave, I’m sure you noticed that most of the kids who weren’t doped into oblivion were dancing in curious ways. Almost no hip or pelvis movement was present, it was almost always a stiff, treadmill-type hop that kids did to the propulsive stomps of techno and trance. Given the nature (and speed) of the beats, it seems like an appropriate way to move to the music. But unless you’re meth’d out of your mind, that shit is boring as hell. No fun at all.
Even if you go to a trashy Jersey Shore type club, you’ll see more variety of movement there. And it’s no surprise that, in addition to trance and house beats, the DJs often mix in high-energy rap and R&B cuts as well, not to mention the occasional 80’s club track. Yes, the dancing is raunchier and far less “cool,” but there’s a lot more hearty fun being had at these places, trashy though they may be. I’m convinced that the endless barrage of simple repetitive beats mixed by DJs at raves encouraged the use of harder drugs, since it induced a trancelike state in party goers that is quite far from dancing.
Maybe if they had thrown in a little ABBA or Gang of Four once in a while to provide some contrast, people would have concentrated on the dance floor, the drugs would have remained casual and fun, and the scene wouldn’t have turned so dark. Who knows?
All I know is that if they would have played shit like this more often, maybe I would have stuck around.
Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this.
Strangely enough, my now open affection for dance and club numbers (even the trashy throwaway crap) is part of the reason why I’m reluctant to embrace my history as part of the rave scene. Trance, house, techno and such are all touted as gold standards of dance music. Their presence is now ubiquitous: you’ll hear this stuff in cartoons, in cosmetics stores, in restaurants, and countless club mixes of famous songs. But while the general phrase “dance music” will likely conjure the 4/4 stomp of TR-909 drum kits in most people’s heads, the truth is that I don’t find that style to be good dance music at all.
Dance music should, of course, make you want to dance. It should also sustain and replenish this urge, so that the dancing is relatively continuous. Trance and techno rarely made me want to dance, unless I was on some speedy E and would dance to pretty much anything. At best, the thunderous thumps of these tracks make me want to bob my head. But that’s it. My body is not called to action. Instead, I end up in a trancelike state, due to the relentless repetition of the sounds. Which was totally fine for me in my partying days, since “partying” often meant sitting slumped against a wall in a club or factory, deep in a K-hole. Breakbeats are a little better for body movement than the simple streamlined throb of standard rave fare, so they kind of make me want to dance. But they’re repetitive too, and my urge washes away after only a few minutes.
No, there’s so much more music out there that actually makes me want to get up and get down. I think the playlists from Studio 54 in the early 80’s (including Liquid Liquid and Yoko Ono, among many others), and the Madchester music of the Hacienda in the late 80’s had stuff that moved bodies, and offered much more variety than the endless boom shi boom shi boom shi of typical rave music. New Order made joyous dance anthems, and they featured a wide range of textures, tempos, rhythms, and beats. Even the Eurodance stuff (think Haddaway’s What Is Love), which all sounds pretty similar, makes for a better dance experience, due to the punctuation provided by distinct songs, rather than unleashing a seamless melding of indistinguishable tracks.
That variety is crucial for an optimum dancing experience. Variation within a song, and variation from song to song. It provides points of contrast that turn one’s time on a dancefloor into a dynamic journey, rather than movement in a vacuum. I don’t even think this is just my own personal preferences. If you’ve ever been to a rave, I’m sure you noticed that most of the kids who weren’t doped into oblivion were dancing in curious ways. Almost no hip or pelvis movement was present, it was almost always a stiff, treadmill-type hop that kids did to the propulsive stomps of techno and trance. Given the nature (and speed) of the beats, it seems like an appropriate way to move to the music. But unless you’re meth’d out of your mind, that shit is boring as hell. No fun at all.
Even if you go to a trashy Jersey Shore type club, you’ll see more variety of movement there. And it’s no surprise that, in addition to trance and house beats, the DJs often mix in high-energy rap and R&B cuts as well, not to mention the occasional 80’s club track. Yes, the dancing is raunchier and far less “cool,” but there’s a lot more hearty fun being had at these places, trashy though they may be. I’m convinced that the endless barrage of simple repetitive beats mixed by DJs at raves encouraged the use of harder drugs, since it induced a trancelike state in party goers that is quite far from dancing.
Maybe if they had thrown in a little ABBA or Gang of Four once in a while to provide some contrast, people would have concentrated on the dance floor, the drugs would have remained casual and fun, and the scene wouldn’t have turned so dark. Who knows?
All I know is that if they would have played shit like this more often, maybe I would have stuck around.
Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
See No Evil, Listen to No Evil
The last post about Jane’s Addiction makes me think about my revisionist musical history in general. There are a good amount of bands or albums that I once loved, subsequently abandoned in shame, only to later to buck up and get back into those songs later down the road.
Of course, everyone wants to have a story like “I was in 5th grade when I hitched a ride to Manhattan and saw the Voidoids and Television at CBGB; I was changed forever!” to make themselves seem cool. And some people do have those kinds of stories. But most of us live boring lives, especially when we’re 12 or 13, and our introduction to cooler music isn’t nearly as pristine or heroic as we’d like it to be.
So I mentioned before that I first started to get into some respectable bands when I was 13. Before that, I had two musical “revelations.” In 5th grade, I decided that I was no longer interested in the tastes of my older sisters (rap and metal, respectively), and that I should seek a sound of my own. I was watching TV and came across one of those “Sounds of the 80’s” commercials (where all the song titles scroll up against a romantic fireplace), and decided that 80’s music would be my thing. But then later my sister suggested I check out a new radio station that played “weird” music. This was Y100, a new station that specialized in alternative rock. Comparatively, this was cooler stuff, but I was still very young, and couldn’t differentiate Nirvana from Collective Soul at this point. Then, in middle school was when my bro and I befriended some hip outsider kids, and we started to soak up music that wasn’t in heavy rotation. Here the seeds of my awakening were sown.
But it wasn’t that easy. It’s true that, in my freshman year of high school, my favorite band was Jane’s Addiction, and around this time I was first getting into punk bands like the Cramps and the Germs, as well as Sonic Youth and Siouxsie & the Banshees. But I was still listening to the radio. I still loved Metallica, especially the Black album. My two favorite new bands were Everclear and The Presidents of the United States of America. Even my transition to punk had a lot of skater pop-punk peppered in there. My first two shows I ever went to (other than Christian music) were the Queers and the Pansy Division, both on the pop-punk haven Lookout! Records. I really loved NOFX, as well as the Dead Milkmen. Plus, my hormones made me particularly susceptible to the angst of Nine Inch Nails, and Marilyn Manson was another charismatic figure who sucked me into his cult of personality, at least for his first album. I remember making one of my first mix tapes for myself, and it was a mess of styles! Jane’s Addiction, the Bloodhound Gang, Jim Carroll Band, the Roots, the Queers, My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult, the Sex Pistols, David Bowie (Hunky Dory), Type O Negative, the Cramps, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Violent Femmes, Bone Thugz n Harmony, and more. Yikes!
By Sophomore year, my tastes were further refined. My punk was getting purer, with the old ska-core and pop-punk bands ignored in favor of 2-tone ska, classic punk like X-Ray Spex, hardcore and riot grrl. I realized that Marilyn Manson was supremely uncool once he was all over the radio, and vehemently spoke out against him (though I secretly harbored a respect for him until at least one more year). As a replacement, I was being turned on to the more respectable goth and industrial bands like the Cure and Skinny Puppy. Nirvana and Metallica were definitely off limits, also supremely uncool. I eventually renounced hip hop a second time (the first being when I decided to get into 80’s pop), further chiseling down my preferences to suit some mad concept of sonic purity.
By 11th grade, it could probably be said that I was “cool.” I was hanging out with the slacker kids, doing drugs, and philosophizing on the merits or faults of various underground bands and styles. I guess I was happy, but looking back, that old self sure seems insecure and stuck up. It was all quite a rapid change of lifestyle though; from 1994-1997, I had gone through a dramatic transformation of environment, physique, hormones, cognition, culture, religion, morality, and identity. Perhaps this quest for musical purity was in some way a move toward a stability of sorts, a way to synthesize everything that I had absorbed into something coherent. But it was also because I wanted to seem cool.
Eventually, the importance of adhering to the underground began to wear off. Even as early as 12th grade, I began to take an interest in classic rock bands I had very recently dismissed as soulless dinosaur music. But still my progress was slow. A few years later, I realized that the Weezer album I had at age 13 was actually really damn good. I eventually made amends with Jane’s Addiction, and with hip hop music in general.
Not too long ago, I came across an old Dead Milkmen album I used to have, and I think it’s fucking brilliant. They may not have been authentic punks in their day, but they had a self-deprecating sense of humor that makes them a hell of a lot more appealing than the snide punk derision of Angry Samoans. I’ll listen to the Bosstones once in a while, though mostly for nostalgia. I can listen to early Metallica now without a flinch of embarrassment, and I’m actually really into Nirvana. I’ve grown to like some Nine Inch Nails (Downwward Spiral), but generally still find it and Marilyn Manson a bit hard to bear after puberty. Some other stuff I’ve revisited, and wish to hide away forever: Type O Negative and The Fucking Presidents! So embarrassingly bad...
The 90’s in general are a period that I’ve been revisiting for some time now. Part of the fun/challenge is immersing myself in sounds that I’ve been trained to be ashamed of, and seeing how those feelings hold up. I’m in the process of reevaluating early 90’s R&B, like Boyz II Men and En Vogue, and there’s some damn fine pop music here that is often reflexively scoffed at by folks trying to protect their credibility.
Which, of course, I understand. I may be getting better at not caring about seeming cool, but I’m not completely there. Which is why I’m not going to discuss my short-lived infatuation with trance and techno music… That shit Never happened, ya hear me??
Of course, everyone wants to have a story like “I was in 5th grade when I hitched a ride to Manhattan and saw the Voidoids and Television at CBGB; I was changed forever!” to make themselves seem cool. And some people do have those kinds of stories. But most of us live boring lives, especially when we’re 12 or 13, and our introduction to cooler music isn’t nearly as pristine or heroic as we’d like it to be.
So I mentioned before that I first started to get into some respectable bands when I was 13. Before that, I had two musical “revelations.” In 5th grade, I decided that I was no longer interested in the tastes of my older sisters (rap and metal, respectively), and that I should seek a sound of my own. I was watching TV and came across one of those “Sounds of the 80’s” commercials (where all the song titles scroll up against a romantic fireplace), and decided that 80’s music would be my thing. But then later my sister suggested I check out a new radio station that played “weird” music. This was Y100, a new station that specialized in alternative rock. Comparatively, this was cooler stuff, but I was still very young, and couldn’t differentiate Nirvana from Collective Soul at this point. Then, in middle school was when my bro and I befriended some hip outsider kids, and we started to soak up music that wasn’t in heavy rotation. Here the seeds of my awakening were sown.
But it wasn’t that easy. It’s true that, in my freshman year of high school, my favorite band was Jane’s Addiction, and around this time I was first getting into punk bands like the Cramps and the Germs, as well as Sonic Youth and Siouxsie & the Banshees. But I was still listening to the radio. I still loved Metallica, especially the Black album. My two favorite new bands were Everclear and The Presidents of the United States of America. Even my transition to punk had a lot of skater pop-punk peppered in there. My first two shows I ever went to (other than Christian music) were the Queers and the Pansy Division, both on the pop-punk haven Lookout! Records. I really loved NOFX, as well as the Dead Milkmen. Plus, my hormones made me particularly susceptible to the angst of Nine Inch Nails, and Marilyn Manson was another charismatic figure who sucked me into his cult of personality, at least for his first album. I remember making one of my first mix tapes for myself, and it was a mess of styles! Jane’s Addiction, the Bloodhound Gang, Jim Carroll Band, the Roots, the Queers, My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult, the Sex Pistols, David Bowie (Hunky Dory), Type O Negative, the Cramps, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Violent Femmes, Bone Thugz n Harmony, and more. Yikes!
By Sophomore year, my tastes were further refined. My punk was getting purer, with the old ska-core and pop-punk bands ignored in favor of 2-tone ska, classic punk like X-Ray Spex, hardcore and riot grrl. I realized that Marilyn Manson was supremely uncool once he was all over the radio, and vehemently spoke out against him (though I secretly harbored a respect for him until at least one more year). As a replacement, I was being turned on to the more respectable goth and industrial bands like the Cure and Skinny Puppy. Nirvana and Metallica were definitely off limits, also supremely uncool. I eventually renounced hip hop a second time (the first being when I decided to get into 80’s pop), further chiseling down my preferences to suit some mad concept of sonic purity.
By 11th grade, it could probably be said that I was “cool.” I was hanging out with the slacker kids, doing drugs, and philosophizing on the merits or faults of various underground bands and styles. I guess I was happy, but looking back, that old self sure seems insecure and stuck up. It was all quite a rapid change of lifestyle though; from 1994-1997, I had gone through a dramatic transformation of environment, physique, hormones, cognition, culture, religion, morality, and identity. Perhaps this quest for musical purity was in some way a move toward a stability of sorts, a way to synthesize everything that I had absorbed into something coherent. But it was also because I wanted to seem cool.
Eventually, the importance of adhering to the underground began to wear off. Even as early as 12th grade, I began to take an interest in classic rock bands I had very recently dismissed as soulless dinosaur music. But still my progress was slow. A few years later, I realized that the Weezer album I had at age 13 was actually really damn good. I eventually made amends with Jane’s Addiction, and with hip hop music in general.
Not too long ago, I came across an old Dead Milkmen album I used to have, and I think it’s fucking brilliant. They may not have been authentic punks in their day, but they had a self-deprecating sense of humor that makes them a hell of a lot more appealing than the snide punk derision of Angry Samoans. I’ll listen to the Bosstones once in a while, though mostly for nostalgia. I can listen to early Metallica now without a flinch of embarrassment, and I’m actually really into Nirvana. I’ve grown to like some Nine Inch Nails (Downwward Spiral), but generally still find it and Marilyn Manson a bit hard to bear after puberty. Some other stuff I’ve revisited, and wish to hide away forever: Type O Negative and The Fucking Presidents! So embarrassingly bad...
The 90’s in general are a period that I’ve been revisiting for some time now. Part of the fun/challenge is immersing myself in sounds that I’ve been trained to be ashamed of, and seeing how those feelings hold up. I’m in the process of reevaluating early 90’s R&B, like Boyz II Men and En Vogue, and there’s some damn fine pop music here that is often reflexively scoffed at by folks trying to protect their credibility.
Which, of course, I understand. I may be getting better at not caring about seeming cool, but I’m not completely there. Which is why I’m not going to discuss my short-lived infatuation with trance and techno music… That shit Never happened, ya hear me??
Wrestling With Addiction
I’ve lately been revisiting the albums of Jane’s Addiction, a band with whom I’ve had a tumultuous, tempestuous relationship.
They have the honor of being one of the first bands to get me into music outside of a radio DJ’s playlist. It was 1994: My brother and I were recent transfers from a culturally cloistered private Christian school, now attending a public school filled with kids who were shipped in from the tougher parts of town. Needless to say, we didn’t fit in. Our perfect bubble of social harmony had since burst, and people everywhere were looking at these two shy, preppy kids like the new meat in prison. It was our first taste of being outsiders, so it was appropriate that the three or so kids we eventually came to befriend happened to be into music and movies that actually celebrated outsider culture.
I knew that my one friend really liked Jane’s Addiction, but I myself had never heard them. One day, I noticed that my older sister had a copy of Ritual de lo Habitual, and so I got her to play some tracks for me. Coming from someone who, not long before, considered the 10,000 Maniacs’ cover of Because the Night to be “weird,” heavy qualification is necessary, but I was totally blown away when I heard “Been Caught Stealing.” It was just so…different…from everything I’d heard before. A bit later, I got my own copies of the albums, and a love affair had begun.
Jane’s was the first band that I really obsessed over. I was slowly getting into more authentically underground bands at this time, such as the Cramps and Siouxsie & the Banshees, but Jane’s Addiction had most of my attention for at least a year. In truth, I had fallen victim to the cult of personality of Perry Farrell, whom I regarded as equal parts audacious and profound. His lyrics opened me up to ideas of hedonism and bohemian decadence, and his quasi-philosophical navel-gazing was revelatory for an adolescent whose analytical faculties were just reaching their peak. The remaining chips of my childhood shell—unquestioning conformity, a morality shaped by belief in a Christian God—were beginning to fall away, and Jane’s Addiction had a significant part in this process.
But as I immersed myself deeper and deeper into the sights, sounds, and philosophy of outsider culture, I began to regard my once beloved band as not being radical enough. Their albums sounded too flashy and overproduced to someone now absorbing the Germs and John Waters. And Perry’s pontifications had helped to stir my own ruminations about the world, but at some point his lyrics began to seem vapid and narcissistic rather than profound. I eventually abandoned JA in favor of bands that were rawer, more direct, more extreme, and more underground than this prog-rock revival act from the LA Strip.
Time thankfully has softened my scenester elitism, though it wouldn’t be at least until 2000 or so that I would give my old favorite band another listen. And even then, I would only listen to their first LP, a live album, free from (most of) the production trickery that, in my eyes, marred their reputation as an underground band. Then I brought back Ritual, since it is relatively cleanly produced compared to Nothing’s Shocking--and then finally I just gave in and went back to all of their stuff.
I had been blinded by my expectations of the group for so long, but at long last, I saw them for what they were, and embraced them. Yes, Perry is indeed a hopeless narcissist, a spoiled trust fund wannabe posing as a bohemian street rat. Yes, Jane’s arrangements and solos can be ostentatious, and yes, their production really takes away the effect of a band playing live. But that’s okay.
All those years, I had been shocked and ashamed to realize that, despite their reputation as a punk fusion act, or an alternative legend, Jane’s Addiction had so many trappings of a metal band. Not punk at all!
But who the hell cares? They do have the grandiosity (and the egos) of progressive rock and metal musicians, but thankfully they temper that with beautiful, hypnotic melodies. And the production sure doesn’t fit a neo-punk band, but I’ve since stopped caring about what is punk or not, and instead appreciate the hazy, syrupy quality that the studio effects bring to their sound, adding to their feel of sensual mysticism. I still can’t really take most of Perry’s lyrics seriously anymore, but he does have some gems, usually when he sticks to being vague and poetic, as on Ocean Size and Three Days. The lyrics on No One’s Leaving still make me cringe, but, hell, I can still enjoy the music.
I never gave their reunion album “Strays” much of a chance, but given this quote from Porno for Pyros bassist Martyn LeNoble about the album’s producer:
‘Bob Ezrin didn't really understand Jane's Addiction musically. I remember arguing with him, "Like man, have you listened to Ritual?" He goes, "Frankly, I can't get through it. I think it sounds horrible. I'm going to make this a real rock band instead of an art rock band." Well, he succeeded. He took all the magic out of it. He made a rock record.’
I think my evaluation of the songs as neutered, contemporary rock dilutions of the Jane’s sound is probably accurate. I hear that the band has reunited once again, this time with original bassist Eric Avery, and that they’re working on a new album. Here’s hoping they make something worthy of their legacy. Over the years, I have come to appreciate just what they brought to the music world, and it would be great if they could bring it back just one more time.
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