6. The Hold Steady - Boys and Girls in America
El Guapo:
The Hold Steady's last record, "Separation Sunday", was a great album in the true sense of the word. A kind of rock opera, with bleak tales of boys and girls from America all degenerate and wasted, being born again in storefront churches and along muddy riverbanks. "Boys and Girls In America" is different, a great collection of songs, rockers and ballads, each one a separate story or character sketch. These are tales that could very well be about you or someone you know. If you happen to be between the ages of 35 and 45, have ingested your share of chemicals and "powders" and spent some time at the bars and hardcore shows, you'll relate. If you also happen to dig The Boss, The Replacements, Husker Du, Thin Lizzy, or Ted Leo then you'll really love this. Make no mistake though these are just touchstones, this is a crack band fronted by one of our best songwriters that fully belongs in the league of the afforementioned bands.
When Craig Finn drops in the little references to Sabbath and Judas Priest, or warped tour shows, rec center dances, girls, drugs or some dive bar, he's winking at you and you get it because you were there. You're transported somewhere in your mind and you smile. Of course, judging by the reactions they provoke in on-line music boards The Hold Steady seems to be one of those love em' or hate em' bands that you can relate to or you can't. For some of us they are playing and singing a soundtrack to days fondly remembered and we love them for it.
Vanlandingham:
Maybe I'm just missing something here, but I've never quite understood exactly what the appeal was regarding the Hold Steady. Perhaps one of you fine folks out there can explain it to me, because I've been trying to figure it out for a long time now. To me, the Hold Steady is the kind of band that could be grouped metaphorically with a Snake Oil Salesman: they both put on pleasing facade and a nice smile to soften your defenses, then proceed to snooker you when you're not expecting it. Only after you've spent some time and money on it do you realize what steaming pile of dogcrap it really is.
Allmusic described frontman Craig Finn in the following manner: "The guy's not just a storyteller, he's a rock historian, a fan boy gone wild, telling stories of everything he says." If this isn't the biggest load of horseshit I've read in a long time, then I'm not exactly sure what would be. There aren't many lead singers who can ruin an album for me, but Finn falls clearly into that select group of vocalists. And the rest of the band, the coterie of ne’er-do-wells so to speak, who seem talented at first eventually reveal themselves for the phonies they are. One song after the next, this is just a record of bootleg Springsteen ripoffs that the Boss probably wouldn't approach if he had to. To me, this is the kind of garbage that can cause rock & roll to seem unpalatable.
5. M. Ward - Post-War
Sen. LooGAR:
I was late to the game on this album, probably turned off by misconceptions about the title, and the thought that it would be too mellow and folky for my current tastes. I am glad I overcame these misconceptions and gave it a whirl. Though the best song is a cover (Daniel Johnston's "To go Home") and the worst song is the title track, the man probably best known as "that other dude who plays with Conor from Bright Eyes and Jim James from MMJ" delivers one of the best albums of the year. At times mellow, but never falling into the gentle cooing of say, Iron and Wine, and with some subtle Spanish influences and nice backing vocals, fans of the genre, and fans of previous songs like "Vincent O'Brien," shan't be disappointed.
harry:
Street corner revivalism. I always thought M. Ward sounded a little like Leon Redbone… not necessarily in any good way. Here he sounds like Redbone (or Nick Cave, or that guy from Lambchop) covering lost My Morning Jacket songs. Throaty crooning, and classic Americana pop-rocks melodies and instrumentation. Foursquare Gospel music of the diminishing returns. Best when at its quietest and gloomiest, something that provokes an oppressive sadness about this music, swinging in the Southwest reverbs, or bending a Delta blue note. Falling down in the darkened Tin-Pan Alley (not unlike some of Dylan’s Modern Times). Musical soundtrack for shooting heroin in a depression-era Fresno hotel. Check out time approaching, oh what the hell, just one more.
Drinky:
One of the most immediately likable records I've heard in a long time, M. Ward makes it all sound so easy on
Post-War. It's like catchy, poignant songs just happen all by themselves, sliding effortlessly from his earthy voice. And perhaps that also makes this an easy record to take for granted. After all, a song as simple as "Chinese Translation" couldn't have been
that difficult to write, could it? On top of that, he
didn't write
To Go Home, perhaps the highlight of the album. And yet somehow, even though I had never heard the original, that song seemed instantly familiar and just incredibly right. Much of the album is like that, in fact. Sure, there are a few throwaways, but they're inconsequential enough. Vaguely nostalgic, warm and affecting, M. Ward creates a place so comfortable and inviting that you never want to leave, and you'll be coming back often.
4. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
alongwaltz:
Wait. An artist who writes twelve minute, hyper-literate songs filled with ten-dollar words actually made it into the top twenty? Who screwed up? I thought using fancy words automatically labeled you as a pretentious poseur. I thought writing long songs automatically meant you were just being arty for art’s sake. And it can’t simply be the vocals. Meloy’s no award winner. His nasally delivery coats this whole disc.
Criticisms aside, this disc is not bad. I do not like it as much as
Castaways And Cutouts but it is pretty decent. The second track goes on and on and does not seem to accomplish much but tracks like ‘The Crane Wife 3’ and ‘O Valencia’ are textbook Decemberists and as good as anything else they have done or (presumably) will do. I like this but I would not have placed it in the Obner top twenty at all.
tentoze:
A holdover from childhood, perhaps- I love stories. Well-told stories, even better. Tell me a story. What’s yer story, Ace? Colin Meloy and The Decemberists tell stories. With words. With music. With fervor. I came late in the year to this album, and caught up as quickly as I could.
The core of Decemberists’ music has always been the stories crafted by Meloy, brought to life in appropriate folkie-rockie-indie backdrops with the help of a very talented band. The Crane Wife takes the creaky stories of life’s lesser heroes from the early Decemberist offerings and drenches and distills them, wrings them damp, and presses them through a fractured glass, then reassembles them into steroid- enhanced versions of their former selves.
The musical direction that first emerged in The Tain ep find itself fully realized in the prog-infused 3 song Island set here, with the band stronger and more of a natural single entity than ever before.
I like everything about this album. The pacing is excellent, from the Island set through The Perfect Crime #2 (as close to a pop sing along as there is here) to When The War Came, on to Shankill Butchers, a down-tempo jig whose story is a dark shadow that scuds across one of those fitful, dreadful nights when no sleep can be found. The Crane Wife 1 and 2 end the album, starting out softly, the ocean heard in the distance, but building to a remarkable close, sustained and powerful, the band driving Meloy’s mannered vocals. Superb stories, told by a master storyteller. That’s my story.
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