Monday, December 31, 2007

My 2007

Around now, a lot of young people are reveling in the year-end best-of reviews of music and pop culture in general. Debating siblings and friends about what album was the best one released in a given year is a fun way to participate in the culture. It used to be for me, at least.

But at my advanced age, I can’t possibly keep up with all of the musical developments of the year. There are just too many artists to keep track of to be able to weed out the great from the merely worthwhile. And the term “worthwhile” takes on an added urgency when you realize that you don’t have many “whiles” left as you used to. So the things you spend it on – musical or otherwise – better be, well, worth it.

So I’ve left 2007 pretty much alone, letting the dust settle on it before jumping in. Instead, I’ve begun to dip into 2006, along with any other pretty colors that may have momentarily attracted my limited attention span.

So I have to define the musical year differently. My 2007 is not based on what was released this year. It’s based on what I either bought or was given. So it couldn’t be anything like yours.

Anyway, here’s mine:


Loved Them:

I’m not yet sure if either of these CDs is hall of fame material yet, but the Go-Betweens go deep and Polly Jean has a high on base average.

Oceans Apart-The Go Betweens (2006)
Beauty, pain, death, tears, and maybe forgiveness. Guitars, too. Never heard of them? Don’t get me started…

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Darlinghurst Nights
via FoxyTunes

Stories of the City, Stories of the Sea-PJ Harvey (2000)
I’ve gotten two of her earlier albums: “Rid of Me”, which is like knocking off a bottle of scotch on a Saturday night with a psychotic/nymphomaniac, and “To Bring You My Love”, which is like spending Sunday morning with her, after she’s found religion. Both can be bracing experiences, but aren’t my idea of fun. Here, you get hit with the chiming guitars right out of the gate, and she’s telling you how she’s got to get away from the violence. So she moves from England. To New York. Before 9/11. So her timing's not great, but the important thing is that she’s upped the tune factor, and cut back slightly on the histrionics. The result is bracing, but in a fun way.



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Now playing: PJ Harvey - You Said Something
via FoxyTunes


Really Good:

These are very entertaining records that might yet move up to Love over time.

Pink Moon - Nick Drake (1972)
This is sparer than “Five Leaves Left” – no strings, just Nick and his guitar - maybe because he’s closer to the end.

Solo Monk - Thelonius Monk (1964)
If you don’t know what a great composer he was, you could mistake him for a Scott Joplin for the 60s. You might even think he’s hitting the wrong notes, but he’s just re-writing things as he goes.


Still Getting My Ears Around:

Egypt - Youssou N’dour (2004)
This is the guy (yes, the guy) who sings at the end of “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. He’s a superstar in his native Senegal, and I quite liked his album “Nothing’s In Vain”, but I’m not even close to getting to the bottom of this very pleasant mixture of Middle Eastern and African music.

Fox Confessor Brings the Flood - Neko Case (2006)
This is pretty and spooky at the same time - like a country music soundtrack to “Twin Peaks”. And when spread out over a humongous playlist in Windows Media Player, each song stands out. I’m just not yet convinced that all the individual parts add up to a great CD.

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Now playing: Neko Case - Hold On, Hold On
via FoxyTunes


The Discount Bin, or Hey, at $6.99, how can you go wrong?

Aoxomoxoa - The Grateful Dead (1969)
The songwriting is beginning to strengthen, and they never sounded so muscular in the studio. Only one laughable track. (Hey, they were on drugs at the time.) And the bonus jam tracks are very good.


Disappointments:

Neon Bible - Arcade Fire (2007)
Actually quite good, just not as powerful as it’s trying to be. And a letdown after "Funeral".

Live at the Apollo - James Brown (1962)
I really shouldn’t complain. It is James Brown live after all. But it’s short, so a greatest hits collection (like “30 Golden Hits”, or the 4 CD box set “Start Time” would be better. Definitely not bad, but sometimes live albums make you feel like you had to be there.

Return to Cookie Mountain - TV on the Radio (2006)
It’s got tons of sound, and is occasionally striking, but too often is just a lot of noise. And the singing isn’t good enough. But I’ll keep trying.


What I Got for Christmas:

This amounts to a subset of “Still Getting My Ears Around”. This is where I ask for gifts that I’d feel too guilty just getting for myself. There’s usually some experimentation here, which can be cause, during the cold winter months, for joyful immersion or deep depression as I ask myself just what kind of weird music I’m getting myself into. But as our use of the word “weird” is merely a reflection of our own provincialism, I carry on proudly, feeling superior to all around me. And isn’t that the point of life?

So I won’t know what I’ve got until at least March.

Spring Hill Fair - The Go Betweens (1986)
Will this be yet another classic from the Australian band of the 80s? Yeah, you heard me. You can keep your INXS, Men at Work, etc.

John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, featuring Eric Clapton – (1966)
Bitchin’ blues guitar from a post-Yardbirds and pre-Cream Clapton, and crappy singing from Mayall. Next year, I’ll go back to the originals that are covered here.

Brazil Classics, Volume 4: The Best of Tom Ze (1970s)
Gentle, but strange Tropicalia.

The Rough Guide to Youssou N’dour and Etoile Dakar (1980s)
A long vacation in Senegal.


I suppose that I ought to have a “Bad” category, but I rarely feel like I’ve gotten something that falls into that category. This may seem like the denial of a grim reality – bad music – but I guess I’m just too pig headed. I’ll force myself to listen to something over and over until I get it. Sometimes I never do. It’s great!

I got fourteen CDs altogether this year, and by my rough count, they average out to about 20 years old each. This gives the lie to my blog’s description, which refers to “current pop music”. But let’s face it, you don’t think in terms of years anymore, anyway. You think in terms of decades. Ouch!

It was an average year. I wish that there were a few more “Love”s. The great years are the ones where I get a truckload of music and five or six Loves rise to the top. I find that, unlike most things, more music is better.

Well, that was my 2007. How was yours?

Friday, December 14, 2007

Sound Advice - Belle and Sebastian's "If You're Feeling Sinister"

If You're Feeling SinisterThe other night, while watching one of those VH1 Top something of the 80s, I couldn’t get over how similar all of the music was. Regardless of style or genre, it was all very, very…busy. Everyone seemed to be trying to fill up every last bit of aural space available - sometimes with volume, but mostly with…stuff. There must have been a fear of leaving any moment empty of sound, as if an occasional silence couldn’t contribute to the overall musical effect.
Since this was the era of the music video, the feeling may have been that although the video image was meant to complement the music, it was really competing with it – sort of an updated version of radio’s fear of “dead air”, where even a moment of silence could cause a potential listener to bypass your station. Instead, in this case, it was feared that any letup in the sound would give the image the chance to take over. But I can’t say that the resulting information overload ever conveyed a performance as real or as intimate as the most over-the-top show stopper from an MGM musical. And I hate musicals.
I’ve got nothing against commercial music, and even consider 1984 (Springsteen, Prince, Cyndi Lauper, Tina Turner) a banner year for it. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with a professionally recorded album. Michael Jackson’s “Off the Wall” and the Pet Shop Boys’ “Very” are terrific records, as slick or even ornate as they might be, because they are also full of emotion.
And loud is good. too. I caught the Clash at Shea Stadium, opening for the Who, in 1982. The latter were well past their prime, but they had the sound system needed to fill that huge space. I hate to admit it, but that night, they were better than the Clash. Even if the Clash used the Who’s equipment, I doubt that they would have been better. It just seemed to me that their music was better suited to a smaller space, like Bond’s, where I had seen them the year before, to much better effect. But that night at Shea belonged to the Who.
I have more of a problem with what I call the “arena” sound, which is when an artist’s original conception of their music is based on it being played in a huge arena. I suppose if you’re very famous, thinking this way makes a lot of sense, but I’m referring to a sound I identify with the “hair bands” and commercial heavy metal music, which is hard to imagine being played in a club or even mid-sized auditorium. I guess it’s “rock” music, in the strict sense of hardness, but I wouldn’t call it rock and roll, which should connote motion and joy. Tens of thousands of people shaking their fists in unison reminds me more of a Nazi-rally than a party. Or maybe I’m just a snob that hates crowds. In any case, more is not necessarily better.
So my preference is for something more modest, more intimate. That doesn’t mean that it has to be quieter, though. I mean something that sounds like it’s being played in a space that accommodates somewhat less, actually way less, than 50,000. Joy Division’s “Dead Souls” (from “Substance”, or the soundtrack to “Control”) sounds like it was recorded in a padded room from which the singer is desperately trying to escape. The guitarist is trying to help him by playing louder than anyone I’ve ever heard, and not just because he’s turned the amp up to 11 – everyone does that - but rather because it’s all happening in this very finite space. It feels like the walls are about to crash down around you. Another example of this is “Just Like Honey” by the Jesus and Mary Chain (from “Psychocandy”, but it can also be heard at the end of “Lost in Translation”), which conveys a somewhat larger room, but one that is still going to collapse anyway. With all of the distortion and echo, the guitar is so loud that it’s almost funny, especially since the singer sounds like he just woke up.
My favorite music has all of the accompaniment that it needs – but no more and no less. It’s true to itself, not necessarily the company you’re having over. So sometimes it’s best to listen to this music alone.
I notice this a lot with older albums. They have a hard time competing with the clarity that current recordings are capable of, let alone the ones that insist on throwing everything at you. I sometimes have to brace myself when I’ve bought an old album because I’m afraid that the sound quality will be an obstacle to the enjoyment of the music. It’s important to get past that if you ever hope to enjoy music recorded more than a couple of decades ago. Of course, this is irrelevant to most people, who are perfectly happy with what is put right in front of them. “But,” as the Beautiful South say, “you want more!”
There are many older albums, like “Layla”, that have quite a lot going on inside, but that don’t sound busy. Maybe that’s because it can’t yield those details with perfect clarity anyway. Over the years, I’ve gotten it three times - twice on vinyl and once on CD – each time assuming it would be a little clearer. And it was, sort of. Yet, it seemed to have this impenetrable core that I wanted to somehow pierce without ruining. (We do “murder to dissect”, after all). But “Layla” is a great example of music that will not be dissected. The core of it is there but I’ll never quite make it out.
And yet there are a number of current artists who accept, and actually embrace, similar limitations in sound quality. They don’t worry that all of the musical details get through the speakers in pristine condition, instead counting on overall impact. This approach – sometimes called lo-fi – has been around ever since the punk era, and is a virtual guarantee that the record will not get much airplay. (Radio audiences don’t like to have to keep playing with the volume knob.) But I think these artists are trying to make music you can’t get to the bottom of.
When the lo-fi approach is used now, the artist may be using a deliberate strategy to evoke the sound of an era for which lo-fi was a given, not a choice. In other words, it’s a cheap shortcut to a certain audience’s emotions. You could even argue that, with better recording techniques available now, lo-fi is used to cover up bad technique, with the result that it also covers up potentially good music.
What really matters, though, is the final result. Just try to think of bad lo-fi music as the racket coming out of your neighbor’s house. Good lo-fi is the racket coming out of yours.
And besides, some lo-fi records are actually kind of pretty. There are albums with music that is so great that it takes me a while to realize that the recording isn’t crystal clear.
One great example of this is “If You’re Feeling Sinister” by Belle and Sebastian. This is one of those rare records that will bring you back to a time that may have never existed in the first place. It might sound a bit muddy compared to other contemporary CDs, but it will sound quite pleasant to those of us who used to listen to their music on portable record players.
That evocation of another time is also managed by the use of certain instruments that were in vogue at that time. B&S manage to avoid the more obvious ones, like the farfisa organ or - god help us - the sitar. They prefer instead to add a touch of electric piano or even vibes, and that makes all the difference between what is merely pleasant, and what is haunting.
But B&S won’t let you off with mere nostalgia. Their subject matter is a little more modern. There’s the cool but admiring one about the “beautiful people”, the couple who thought they were seeing other people but maybe aren’t, and the woman who’s into bible studies and S&M. And it’s hard as heck to keep the genders straight. So by the time you hear “The Fox in the Snow”, the emotion is well earned.
When I first put this record on, I had to turn it way up because it starts off at a whisper. The first song slowly builds in volume, all the while unfolding its melody, until, like a wave at the beach, it knocks you down and washes you away. Several other songs pull at you like the undertow before you realize how far out you are.
I’ll admit that it can be a bit precious, and the singing’s occasionally weak. There’s the bad joke (rhyming “minister” and “sinister”) in the chorus that takes away from the otherwise beautiful title song. “Me and the Major” tries to fit in too many lyrics into the flow of the music. And “Get Me Away From Here” is fun until you hear “I’m dying” a dozen times. It reminds me too much of the Smiths.
But there are at least three absolute classics (“Seeing Other People”, “Like Dylan at the Movies” and “Fox in the Snow”) here, and a couple of others that come close, although we’d probably disagree about which are which.
So, even with some minor flaws, it’s still one of the best records of the 90s (or is that the 60s?). And as beautiful as I think this music is, I don’t play it for company. Belle and Sebastian are a very private pleasure.


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Now playing: Belle and Sebastian - Seeing Other People
via FoxyTunes

Friday, December 7, 2007

Are You Passionate? - The Arcade Fire

I got an exhilarating glimpse of passionate music from two different video clips on YouTube the other night, both involving the Arcade Fire. The first clip featured them live in concert, performing “Keep the Cars Running” - a song from their second album, “Neon Bible”. They were joined onstage by none other than Bruce Springsteen, who fit in perfectly with these young Canadians. This was a Springsteen song if ever there was one. It’s just that someone else wrote it.
The second clip featured the Arcade Fire on stage, this time with U2, whom they toured with recently. They were performing Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – a song that alone makes up for all of the cheesy synthesizer moves in pop music over the years. But no one was playing a synthesizer in this clip. It was just a bunch of people playing a song they loved with the instruments at hand.
So in the space of two clips, they pulled together four strands of “passionate music”. That should be a redundant term - music is supposed to be passionate, and many artists spend a lot of time trying to simulate it. (I’m no purest, though. I’ll take a good fake over genuine garbage any day.) So whatever you may think of the artists in question, I’m willing to believe that they mean it – that they put it on the line every time.
I like clever as much as the next guy. Funny is good, too. Loud and fast is great. But passionate is best. It burns out, it doesn’t rust.
Such artists are easy to spoof, but that’s the risk they take and I deeply respect them for it. And Arcade Fire, fits right into this category. There are parts on both of their albums when it seems like the singer has gone off the deep end, and the band is right there behind him. This can seem ridiculous at times, but that’s the high wire act they perform on.
Their first record, “Funeral”, could remind you of early Talking Heads, carrying on that grand tradition bands led by complete lunatics. Win Butler’s voice does not always make it up to the register he insists on singing in. But that’s okay. He practically starts crying on the very first song (“Tunnels”). But, damn, if you don’t get totally swept up in it. “Laika” sounds like a gypsy caravan has crashed into your house. “Power Out” is anything but. “Wake Up” and “Rebellion (Lies)” could raise the dead. And it all ends with the beautiful and powerful “In the Backseat”.
But there are several quieter moments, like “Haiti” and “Kettles”, throughout. This contrast in tone is one of the reasons why “Funeral” is a stronger record than “Neon Bible”. The quiet spots make the peaks seem all the higher.
I do like the second one a lot, too, but it’s more like a Springsteen or U2 album, and I miss the quirkiness. I think the problem with it is epitomized by “Intervention”, which begins with a church organ. It’s hard to rev it up further when that’s your starting point. It’s a perfectly good song, and I suspect that it’s brilliant when played live.
“Neon Bible” does have its great moments like “Keep the Car Running” and “No Cars Go”. The finale, “My Body is a Cage”, is fine, but it’s got that damned church organ. “Funeral”s finale - “In the Backseat” – by contrast, settles for a rock-and-roll-with-violin arrangement to much greater effect. And this is the other reason why “Funeral” is the better album. The instrumentation is more limited, but they do more with it.
But maybe I’m mistaken. Perhaps number two has a more powerful overall sound. The issues are less private and more political. Maybe that will resonate more with you than with me.
In any case, the Arcade Fire reach for, and often achieve, a level of emotional urgency are that are undeniable. In this day of calculated effect, they will not settle for entertaining you. Judging from the video clips I saw, their concerts are transcendent.
Their music can be a little uncomfortable but it’s because they are asking you, are you passionate? They sure are.

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Now playing: Arcade Fire - Rebellion
via FoxyTunes