The results are in. The votes have been counted... well, two weeks ago. But all the blurbs are finally in. I hope no one held their breath.
20.
The National - Alligator - swiateck
You get the feeling while listening to “Alligator” that National mastermind Matt Berninger has a soft spot in his world-weary heart for “American Beauty” dad Lester Burnham and every other sadsack who’s ever had their once ambitious dreams reduced to pining for a sliver of affirmation (“Baby, We’ll Be Fine”) or had them warped to the point of delusion (“City Middle”). Berninger shows a deft storytelling grasp with the cast on his band's third long player and doesn’t judge his (sometimes) characterless characters - which would get old in a hurry - often avoiding omniscient narration in favor of taking their perspectives and getting a ground-level view through their eyes. While his bandmates meander at Wilco-ish pace and add helpful flourishes where necessary, the musical backing here gets too samey in stretches. But that makes the times when Berninger does bring the noise that much more startling, giving album highlight “Abel” all the urgency needed of the tale of a biblical sibling asking his brother’s help while flirting with murderous thoughts, and making “My mind’s not right!” one of the best choruses of the year.
19.
Crooked Fingers - Dignity And Shame - Sketch
My first exposure to Crooked Fingers was back in 2001, when I listened to KVCU (Boulder, CO) on a regular basis. They were counting down their top albums of the week, playing a song from each. They announced the number # 2 album, played a song from it, and then continued with #1’s repesenative track. Upon hearing it, I said to myself “I didn’t realize Tom Waits had a new album out. Wow, his voice doesn’t sound too bad.” With no announcement afterward, I needed radio1190.org to tell me that the number one album was in fact, Bring on the Snakes. From there, I needed allmusic.com to tell me that the band was basically a vehicle for the “Archers of Loaf guy.” For the record, the song on KVCU was “Surrender Is Treason”, which I have revisited and noticed Eric Bachmann sounds nothing like latter-day Waits.
Since that initial taste, all well-meaning attempts to sample his collection failed until today: my first listen of Dignity & Shame. Sounds like I’ve been missing out. Bachmann’s influences reflect a lot of maturity, yet he uses them in such a way to maintain a proper indie aesthetic. Piano, acoustic and/or electric guitar, and the occasional horn create a soft backdrop to his tales of heartbreak and woe. When listening to it, a lot of recent newsmakers come to mind: Calexico, New Pornographers, and even Marc Cohn (dude almost died last year… recognize). This is essential listening for any aging ex-hippie relative (or old-school Waits fan) trying to join the 21st century.
18.
Antony And The Johnsons - I Am A Bird Now - cotton
This guy has a great melodramatic voice. And the instrumentation is warm but not overcrowded (though I'd have been happier with a bit more percussion). Even with those qualities, though, I can't recall an album that put so much effort into being so heartbreakingly boring. If I had only listened to this album once, I would be more than happy to write it off as the gayest album I've ever heard and leave it. But it isn't fair to write off what is obviously meant to be taken seriously. Needless to say it's easy to focus on the themes of androgyny and longing, but that actually makes it sound more exciting than it is. Most of the songs wallow in themselves and the 2 more upbeat tracks ("Today I am a Boy" and the sax squonk ending of "Fistful of Love") just feel out of place with the rest of the songs. The problem is that I just can't think of any possible use one might have for this album. I'd say it'd be a great soundtrack for the depressed, but it's just so goddamned ridiculous I can't imagine them being able to keep a straight face. The only markets I would assume for something like this are anyone who got tired of lip synching to Hedwig and maybe the type of person who would apply three layers of grease paint to their faces before jumping off a building. Though to provide backdrop for a
motorcycle tour of Chernobyl is starting to make the most sense to me.
17.
The White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan - paper
The duo's fifth lp does not totally abandon their usual guitar/drums formula but it does find them expanding their sound from previous efforts. Piano and Mirimba are two elements that stand out immediately. Different and surprising, and not always in the right ways, Get Behind Me Satan feels timid and almost intentionally sounds like a transition. While it contains a few of the Stripes better singles, the album is somewhat of an unfinished painting. You do have to give Jack and Meg credit for scoring that popularity within the mtv culture, they definately a distinct image and style that works for marketing the band.
16.
Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning – Senator LooGAR
I can't decide what exactly is annoying about Bright Eyes to most of Conor's detractors. I guess the same things that people say about Ryan Adams: too prolific, too young, but in reality I think its Too Good. The first run through of this album was met with sighs and eye rolls, thinking that he had tried on this country hat, and it didn't quite fit. Listening with the jaded ear of someone too hip for Omaha, I though that that "Old Soul Song" was his attempt at a protest song where the hippies were RIGHT and the old order was WRONG, like Buffalo Springfield's "Get Together."
Then I listened to it again, and then again, and I realized that all the Winona-banging, wine-drinking on ACL, Kerry-stumping, and his tragic haircut and fey image have not much to do with the music contained on this record, and the fact that they marketed it as his "Gram Parsons Country Roots Album" was all wrong. If you like "Lifted..." you will like this, its folk tinged rock that can make you think, make you smile, and make you laugh. And that makes it good in my book.
15.
LCD Soundsystem - LCD Soundsystem - robotboy
If the whole point of these blurbs were to assign albums to people who would potentially hate said album, well, mission accomplished, asshole. My original plan was to get stinking drunk off of whatever beer I had, or Bacardi limon, and review track by track. But I really didn’t want to resort to starting to drink Bacardi at 10:41 on Monday p.m., let alone at all, so I’m going off of a belly full of pistachios and water. The meal of kings. So I got the opportunity to review LCD Soundsystem’s self titled record. Hey look! Dancy rock! Synths!! LOOPS!! I’m sure there is a wide audience for this, and they all are posed in at least one faux homosexual pose on their myspace page. Look, I don’t dance and outside of that and/or tripping some major balls I can’t see why anyone would just put this on just to put this on. Let’s just go on the classic rating scale of 1-10.
“Daft Punk…” is instantly forgettable. And I mean that nothing stuck outside of remembering what the song title was. Rating: 2 I was actually starting to delete some of the crap I wrote before when this fantastic rockabilly song came on with gang vocals and thinking “holy shit, this is really great.” that’s about when I realized that I had my itunes on shuffle and it was just a Rev. Horton Heat song. A heavy sigh, depress shuffle, continue to push on through. “Too Much Love”: Off kilter vocal harmonies to slit your wrists to! Rating: 2 “Tribulations:” not awful. The chorus’ “ohhhh’s” were kinda catchy. Rating: 4 “Movement”: so, is this ‘electroclash?’ I really don’t know or appreciate the genre, as demonstrated in this half-assed review. Something like this I could see myself getting into more w/ its brash drums and freakout guitar solo. Review: 5. “Never as Tired….” This was a very surprising track. Nice, laid back falsetto vocals sound great and a nice departure from shakin dat ass. I’m giving this a banner rating of 7.4. “On Repeat.” Boy is that ever an encapsulation of the trend of the album. Giving me an 8 minute dance song to review is offensive to me and you. Rating: Fuck you. “Thrills”: why are you doing this to me. Rating: Unrateable. “Disco Infiltrator”: what, is this guy a funky American American homey now or something? FO SHO! I think Beck shit this track out after eating his burrito during the Midnite Vultures sessions. Rating: .5, solely for letting me appreciate Beck more. “Great Release”: I will take this opportunity to apply this song title, combined with an analogy from the old days. Having sloppy, drunken sex with the last possible option you saw at the bar at 4pm, ejaculating in the dark, and running far, far away, hoping all those Jagerbombs will erase any memory from this horrendous and embarrassing experience.
I’m sorry.
14.
Sleater-Kinney - The Woods - harry
The grungettes finally hook up with Sub Pop and release their version of American Idiot. Digging deep into their punkish/new wave roots, they expand the width and polish of their sound to reach new heights. And even though there is a familiar noisy gurgle from the guitars and voice from the first track “Fox”, it is clear that this is a new and improved S/K. Even the CD packaging is fashionably attractive, announcing that these are adult women with taste. Most longtime fans welcome this hard-won “maturity” because of the continued youthful sonic integrity. But in this cleaned aural world, Carrie sounds more like the artificially inseminated daughter of Martha Davis and Dale Bozzio than the usual Patti Smith, with an occasional dash of Grace Slick. In fact, with some of the boom in their guitars, and the extended looping solos, this new version of S/K have started to sound more like the San Francisco sound than the Puget. In fact some of their lyrics invoke California, though I think they have people jumping off the Golden Gate, not putting flowers in their hair. It seems like their chops have improved, which is a good thing since now the studio knob-turners let us hear everything, from fret buzzes to recognizable keyboards and synths. They use a guitar language that ranges from Ira Kaplanesque screeching to sprightly jazzy-cool extended soloing. In fact the last two cuts have what sounds like a lot authentic improvisation proving that grrls can jam too. So they’ve taken their garage band into a three-car garage and it still sounds like they are in worn flannel shirts. But ultimately, unless you really, really liked them before, this won’t make you like them now. Personally, I might like them better if they slept together.
13.
Animal Collective - Feels - Crack
The Search for Ticklebear, or, Why does everyone and everything from Brooklyn suck so bad? by That guy is holding crack, grade 11
Time and again we try to discern the line between music that expands our idea of pop music, that challenges our amorphous and individual conceptions of melody and catchiness, and music that exists only to entertain and amuse. I was under the impression that Animal Collective's Feels was a record in search of an answer to a question that wasn't posed, and thus I never listened to it. I didn't want to listen to it based upon my ideas of what was contained within. I would love to say that this record is the worst thing that I've ever listened to, but I cannot, in good conscience, bring that award to the table, as I have heard, and for that matter recorded on other people's answering machines, many, many more terrible things.
One of the more horrific and obviously glaring missteps of this album are the inclusion of vocal, a decision that I suspect will be regarded by history, as recorded by a blog this April, as a bad move. However, that regrettable calculation notwithstanding, the record has some promise in its amalgamation of the cultural touchstones of the post-Garden State, post-Volkswagen world of marketing and manufactured memories of emotions you didn't have. Somewhere in the immediate future, say late February, there's a great car commercial based upon the idea of a young man traversing a moonlit night listening to "Did you see the words", but there's also hints of the whimsy of the Shins, the fragmented thoughts of Fiery Furnaces, and the legacy of the Flaming Lips, bringing hallucinogenics to the indie rock kids in the pullovers. Sadly, the band also owes a debt of gratitude to the cloying and infinitely nauseas stylings of Rusted Root and their one hit, and this saccharine aftertaste is the lingering legacy of
Feels.
12.
Sigur Ros - Takk - Crack
When I was 23, I felt like Columbus did when he discovered that the cure for syphllus was slaying a heretofore unheard of number of "Indian" gashes when I heard Agaetis Byjurn for the first time. God, I was a dink at 23. Still, like most of us, I grew up. Sigur Ros didn't.
11.
Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene (it's a two-fer because I screwed up!) - cap'n
Like everyone, I hadn't heard my album yet, (with the exception of 7/4 (Shoreline), which made it on a mix disc someone sent me.) Unlike most everyone else, I hadn't been avoiding this because I already knew I wouldn't like it... I'm just lazy. Here are my thoughts, as they occurred to me over something like 10 listens, spanning approximately 7 days.
(First Thoughts) It sounds like a lot of people in the studio, and I don't mean just a few guys doing layers. It sounds like noise, sometimes. Clutter. Once in a while the din clears up a bit, a good narrative comes out, flirts with being catchy, and then gets dog-piled by layers of horns, hand claps, 6 background singers, and people talking.
(Second Thoughts) It grows on you a little, but then hits a wall. It begins to remind me of an overgrown version of Stars at this point, and I assume this is because, in my limited library of recent shit, that's the closest thing I can associate them with... then I look the band up and see that some members of Stars are here, as well as the fact that some 15 people can claim membership in this band. This explains the first impression of a crowded studio.
(Final Thoughts) I understand why people like this band. I also understand why I will not ever truly be among them, though I certainly respect what they put together here. I like a story. I like a cohesive narrative, insomuch as this: If I'm going to sit and listen to you, then you should be telling me something. It could be a silly story about whales and revenge (decemberists), or it could be 18 songs about love and drinking (ryan adams), but it had better be Something. Broken Social Scene strikes me as a band where someone has a decent song in their head, or at least the makings for one, and then a sort of crapshoot ensues, and sometimes the song survives in recognizeable form, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes all those people milling about in the studio manage to stay out of the song's way (or maybe even make it a little better) and sometimes they just bury it, dispite their good intentions. Why is it that Tweedy or Neil Young can sit on a stool with nothing but an acoustic and a mic and absolutely stop traffic? Because they're telling you something. It's a discourse. It's a dialog, and in their cases a very clear one, usually. The danger of having 15 people talking at once is, well, probably kinda obvious. If it's well orchestrated, or if you're very lucky, you get something better than the sum of its parts, but if you just sorta roll tape, you can wind up diluting the good thing you started off with, and for my taste, BSS veered towards the latter on more of this album than not. The good moments make it worth it for the fans, I'm sure. But I for one would be very interested in hearing some of these same ideas expressed by about 4 people instead of 15.
"A committee is a cul-de-sac down which ideas are lured and then quietly strangled." -Sir Barnett Cocks
Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene - Chuck D
This album is unabashedly fodder for the intellectual indie kid. That's right, brush the lint off of your sweater-vest, sit back (with yr stereo loud), and listen to the wash of multilayered harmony, a little guitar skronk, or one hundred filigrees of acoustic pluck, one thousand miles of weird percussion – perhaps as if Brian Wilson had snorted a drum circle. As much as I am aware of how manufactured this album's delicacies are, repeated listens reward. You find licks that are actually loops, and drum riffs that aren't. What's been chopped, redone, flipped, manipulated, massaged? It's hard to tell, as BSS's own show would be entitled "Pimp My Joint". Buyer beware, though – Broken Social Scene sounds like Broken Social Scene, and I'm pretty sure that tracks like "Fire Eye'd Boy" have been on every album, merely retitled & remixed. But watch out – you put it on shuffle for an evening, as I did last night, and by the end of the night you might find yourself drinking the Kool-Aid.
10.
The Decemberists - Picaresque - Ish
The Decemberists, and this album, would be many times better if Colin Meloy quieted down a lot and traded his band for A Hawk And A Hacksaw. Instead, his Morrisey whine is left unchecked, ruining any semblance of sentimentality that might save the sound of this record for me. (Colin Meloy would seem as comfortable barking a turn afront The New Pornographers as he does here.) All moments of repose are interrupted by his too-sharp inflection, and the signficance of his downcast lyrics are then further lost on me: for I expect it is they that comprise much of the Top 20 appeal of "Picaresque". Or perhaps it's that their Atlantic folk is diluted enough to be considered pop that tickles the Obner majority's chin. The instrumentation and composition is safe at best, and sounds its most hollow when it wanders from a simple, jangly acoustic guitar base unto ideas better actualized by Great Big Sea even.
9.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Yail Bloor
What the....? With the music world apparently having run the well of "The" names dry, we are now faced with a future full of bands with eighteen word names full of indiscriminate punctuation and shaky grammar. And so it is with Brooklyn New York's Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Or are they from Canada? Is this the band that Issac Brock produced? No? Oh, ok this is the band that self produced this debut album and then promoted themselves to semi-success and critical acclaim by using this new promotional vehicle known as the internet.... I see.
Musically, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah employ a sound that could almost be called at this point "Mainstream Indie". Lots of push/pull dynamics, lots of big crescendos. Occasionally an odd instrument will pop up to keep things suitably off kilter. The bass lines are crisp and oftentimes power the melody, leaving plenty of space for the tinkling of a keyboard or a single note guitar line. For a band of rookies, one gets the impression that they know exactly what they want to sound like. Every song seems to be written as if its potentially the next big sing-a-long anthem, heart firmly emblazoned on sleeve.
But how to sing along with vocalist Alec Ounsworth? For many, this is certainly the dealbreaker for an appreciation of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah . Just what the hell is going on with Ounsworth, who at times sounds like he channeling the best of David Byrne and at others just sounds like spastic nine year old with a taste for White Crosses and warm beer? While its certainly an acquired taste, I think that Ounsworth's vocals match the confidence displayed in the music. This is a band that offers up its everything and lets the listener be the ultimate judge.
Add that to their rabid self promotion and it is something to at least be respected even if the music doesn't grab you by the balls.
8.
Okkervil River - Black Sheep Boy - timmyjoe42
This album has quiet, soothing guitar playing, but is accompanied by an abrasive screeching voice. Most of the disc has this shrill voice on it, yet he sings most of it softly enough that it might not bother you too much.
'Black Sheep Boy' really doesn't have anything good until track 4 (Black), which seems oddly out of place on the album. I will say that it was well needed. Then it takes a morphine overdose on the duet 'Get Big'. I don't understand how this made it into the groups top 20 of the year. It must say something about the year in music.
This is painfully not for me, but it may be just the thing you are looking for. Imagine Arcade Fire vocals mixed with Iron and Wine's intimacy.
7.
Bloc Party - Silent Alarm - thisotherkingdom
Bloc Party's Silent Alarm is a passable debut at best. Kele Okereke's tendency to repeat phrases throughout songs, and half-spoken, half sung vocals can be irritating. The album's strength lies within the first four tracks, the highlight being Banquet. Blue Light seems Cure-inspired, containing a vocal impersonation of Robert Smith. Their few attempts at political songs, such as Price of Gas, Pioneers and Helicopter are trite and lacking substance lyrically. The latter including an off the wall comparison between Bush and James Dean. The flow of the album is disrupted by tracks such as So Here We Are and Compliments, which seem to wander aimlessly. The skill of the musicians is unquestionable as the album is ripe with catchy riffs and standout drumming by Matt Tong. Overall, Silent Alarm lacks anything that will stand the test of time.
6.
Wolf Parade - Apologies to the Queen Mary - Max
It would be hard to live up to the hype which surrounded the Montreal four-piece Wolf Parade’s first full-length album, Apologies to the Queen Mary. Their close affiliation with the Arcade Fire, last year’s indie-überkinds, and the fact that the album was produced by the recent OC darling Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse, all contributed to the conflagration of pre-release publicity. Wolf Parade, however, soon proved to be its own animal. With a sparse, crisp sound which nevertheless begs replay, Apologies to the Queen Mary evokes roots as diverse as Eno, the Talking Heads, Franz Ferdinand and Interpol. And yes, the Arcade Fire and Modest Mouse are obvious influences -but you can’t expect miracles from a first album, can you?
5.
Sufjan Stevens - Illinois - saved
Ambition can be a dangerous thing. We need look no further than our current President for evidence of this. Sufjan Stevens is ambitious. He's suggested that he will release an album to honor or recognize, at least, each of our fifty states. Based upon Illinoize, I suggest that he rethink this. Whereas Seven Swans soared across the musical landscape with thematic cohesiveness, heartfelt lyrics, and touching melodies, Illinoize seems to just sit there. Sit there like a lump of Kryptonite in the hands of the Superman on the albums cover, stifling his strength. Stevens' creativity seems to have been likewise stifled. Maybe he used it all up in coming up with clever titles for the album's songs. In any case, Illinoize feels like a hodgepodge of unrealized and unfinished ideas, tired instrumentation, and pressure. Pressure to realize ambition. Greetings from Michigan brought the light of human hope into an area of cultural and urban decay. And it did it beautifully and effectively. Illinoize just brings, well, the noize. The album is not without some redeeming qualities, as a few of the songs catch the ear. However they don't hold it long enough for me to even remember their names. Slow down, Sufjan. Ambition can be a dangerous thing.
4.
Andrew Bird - The Mysterious Production of Eggs - shiv
[img][650:488]http://www.blackmetalpizza.com/blurb.jpg[/img]
Not my fancy cup'o tea.
3.
My Morning Jacket - Z - Chuck D
In another life, Jim James would have made an excellent castrati. His voice soars, strains, and pulls in a weird echoey falsetto throughout this album (“You’ve got a purty mouth”). James’ warble shimmers over atmospheric synths, backed by fuzzed-up and reverbed out guitars, turning what could be pretty traditional country rock into a full-blown acid test. Yeah, this is an album that is bound to be appreciated by the dread-headed wookies and the trucker-capped belt-buckled bespectacled boys with the ironic mustaches alike. In a lot of ways, if you coaxed the Flaming Lips off of the ceiling (“come down, Wayne, we’ll feed you and bathe you and help you through this trip, it’ll be okay”) and stripped away a little bit of their carnivalesque antics, then gave them a home-cooked dinner (beans ‘n greens, hush puppies, something deep-fried), and then gave them a few more hits of the good stuff & put them back on stage, they could look a lot like MMJ. At this point, though you can draw comparisons, My Morning Jacket are making a unique and tasty kind of down-home psychedelia, making this reviewer wish for the moment that he still had a few more doses lying around the house.
2.
The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema - splates
This is the New Pornographers worst album to date. Even AC Newman’s solo album was better. The New Pornographers are consistently inconsistent, to the point of frustration – they are certainly talented, but half the time I listen I want to punch them. This album continues their inconsistency – just when you’re about to turn the album off, a good song pops up. Power-pop gems like the title track, “Jackie, Dressed in Cobras” and “Sing Me Spanish Techno” (the “Letter from an Occupant” of this album) are countered by whiney bullshit like “Streets of Fire” and “The Bones of an Idol”. It’s almost as if they structured this album to keep me listening but at the same time piss me off. Some of these songs are just begging for cover versions by a band with more balls. Still, the album is worth a listen to for the salvageable tracks, just don’t expect it to be entirely listenable, unless you’ve suffered head trauma.
1.
Spoon - Gimme Fiction - mugwumps
Unlike most of you, I'd never heard Spoon before last week. Please forgive me, but I just haven't had the time to keep up with all of the latest and greatest music out there today. That said, I think I approach this album with a different perspective from many on this board.
On first listen, I found this album to be unapproachable and sterile. My biggest complaint with it is that they sound like they are trying too hard. Each song on the album seems to offer tribute to different styles; "The Beast and Dragon" evokes early 70's progressive rock, "I Turn my Camera On" references 78-81 period of the Rolling Stones, Wilco can be heard in "The Delicate Place", and so on. And although the songs are all well-done and well-produced on a technical level, it seems like they are missing something--a sense of fun, or genuine emotion, perhaps.
After several more listens, I found the album to be better, and even catchy in places. One thing I noticed is that this is an album to be listened to on a home stereo. It does not hold up well over headphones, or in a car stereo. The sound needs some space to breathe. With space, they hold up much better, though I still find them to be much more about technique than substance. Sorry Obner, it’s an interesting album, but not one that I would come back to years from now.
