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Post by rickus on Mar 16, 2006 12:17:35 GMT -5
Kyle,
My "SOON" statement had more to do with the fact that it was past due. And I owed 20 cents to the library. The time I'm spending at the gym has kind of interrupted my ability to get to the library in time.
On the whole I liked this album. It's very autobiographic, most hip-hop is in my opinion. But then there are a lot of songs on the album that are an inditement of the social ills in the US and abroad. I particularly liked Diamonds From Sierra Leone the remix version (track 13).
But most, I really like his ability to use sampled music. As he started in the music industry producing albums for other hip-hop artists, this doesn't really come as a surprise. His choices of music to pull from on this album is wide and varied; Blues, Jazz, Alternative, and Movie Soundtracks. It's all in there. And what he does with them makes for some really good songs. I'm looking forward to hearing his first album.
As for his "statement" it's pretty innocuous in contrast to some of the stuff he says in Late Registration. At one point accusing the government of intentionally infecting African Americans with AIDS in the song Heard 'Em Say. But he wags his finger at everyone on this album, no one gets a free pass.
I liked it.
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Post by Betterout on Mar 17, 2006 0:41:53 GMT -5
As a socialist I'm loathe to admit this, but sometimes there's nothing wrong with a little friendly competition. A good example of it happened back in the 1960s, when Brian Wilson, the reclusive brains behind the Beach Boys, suddenly started taking the creative output of folks like Phil Spector and especially the Beatles personally. In fact, he was so blown away and therefore challenged by the twin genius of Rubber Soul and Revolver, that he rolled up his sleeves and set to work on what is widely regarded as one of the best American pop/rock albums of all time, Pet Sounds. Well, when the Fab Five (I always include George Martin, is that so wrong?) heard that, they decided that the gloves had to come off. They churned out Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in retaliation.
Now you'd think that these landmark releases alone would be enough to drive the point home, but history will show that in reality neither side was satisfied. Brian basically sequestered himself in a studio and set to work on the now legendary musical supernova known as Smile. It was so new, so fresh, so innovative, so wildly beyond belief, that Leonard Bernstein himself heralded Brian as a genius on national TV on the strength of some of the work that was being considered for the album. Sir Paul even lent a hand on a session or two. But, alas! The Smile album didn't really pan out. Parts of it turned up on the next Beach Boys album, Smiley Smile, but nothing like the whole project was released. So, the trans-Atlantic volleyball game seemed to have been handed to the Beatles: They went on to release juggernauts like Magical Mystery Tour, The Beatles (aka the White Album), and Abbey Road, and secured their place as the final word on pop music for all time's sake. Meanwhile, the Beach Boys (sans Brian) had a hit with "Kokomo" for the Cocktail soundtrack.
This is all well and good, but what does it have to do with recent musical purchases?
Well, for Father's Day last year, Mandy bought me Smile. You see, Brian never gave up on those sessions. He kept playing and recording and tweaking (in more ways than one) and mixing and reworking until he got it right. It was released in the fall of 2004, nearly 40 years after the fact. It's a great album. It's a series of distinct multi-song suites, all sharing musical and lyrical (Vandyke Parks is responsible for the lyrical vision, in all its goofy, cartoony, romantic glory) themes, and perpetrated by an ecclectic mix of instrumentation. It doesn't exactly do it justice to call it rock & roll, and it's about as far away from bikinis and hot rods as you can get. For instance, recognition of mainstream America's casual injustices against Native American spirituality is probably one of three big lyrical themes of the album, but we also get to hear about how much Brian likes carrots, and how "non-believers" can ruin the lives of innocent girls by getting them pregnant. Smile is a difficult album, but it's excellent. It's really worth hearing.
So, I've been listening to and really digging the shit out of Smile for the better part of a year now, and it has been increasingly obvious that I don't actually have anything else by the Beach Boys during that creative high mark period. Not Pet Sounds, nor its follow-up Smiley Smile, nor its follow-up Wild Honey, nothing. So, can you imagine how surprised I was today when I found a two-disc import at hastings that actually included all three of these? I snatched it up immediately. Now, I've heard Pet Sounds before several times. I know it's a classic. But the truth of the matter is, that as I sat in the parking lot listening to it, I didn't feel at all compelled to do so. It's precious and touching, true, but maybe almost too precious, too touching. I mean, I like beauty as much as the next guy, but I'm not really all about beauty, you know? I really can't imagine that I'll ever want to sit down and just give the whole damn thing a listen from start to finish. It's a classic that I'm embarrassed to have not owned, but one that I doubt will stay in my car for long periods of time. It's a real shame, really.
So, I popped it out and put in disc two, which has both Smiley Smile and Wild Honey on it. Wow, what a difference. Now, bear in mind that these came after the Smile sessions, which in turn came after Pet Sounds. Where Pet Sounds is a shot of emotional sugar, and the final version of Smile is the product of a mad scientist obsessed with creating life, Smiley Smile feels like the an earthquake aftershock. It's comparatively stark, and moody, but it takes all the bizarre musicality and unique creativity, and filters it back through a very different, very weary lens. It's a document of what could have been--perhaps even what should have been--made after the creative fires have begun to smolder. Fragments from Smile, five in all (some of my favorites, actually), pepper the album. They sound strange, though, in some ways almost sick. The production is strange, and the arrangements are, too. This is not all bad. After all, "Good Vibrations," the overwrought closing number from Smile, shows up in its classic radio form here. It's an improvement for that number to have been lifted from its all too careful context, and allowed to stand on its own merit. That song is damn near an A+ song in my book, and it's because of the Smiley Smile version, not the Smile version. I feel undeniably drawn to Smiley Smile in a way that I don't feel about Pet Sounds.
Enter Wild Honey. I'm blown away! Gone is the orchestra, gone is the theramin, gone is the grandiose conceptualizing, gone is... well, even the trap set! It's a stripped down pop, rock, and soul album at its core, but one informed to a large extent by Brian's brainy--but ever listenable--creative explorations. It's a songy album, which really can't be said about some of these others. And I really like the songs! Some of them sound like they could have been written by the Flaming Lips of a few years back or the White Stripes of today, or Motown's Holland-Dozier-Holland team. It's all over the map, but in a good way. I can tell immediately that this is going to be my favorite Beach Boys album. But, before you rush out and buy or download it, I have to warn you. The production on this thing is terrible. Wild Honey makes a Darren & the minorities tape sound like Okay Computer. Brian had long abandoned the touring band, and he was only a studio part-timer by the time this album was cut. His acute ear (actually, he only has one good ear--I believe he was born deaf in the other one) might have saved it, but for whatever reason, it didn't. I could do a better job with these masters, I'm convinced. That said, the fact that I really dig this record stands as a testament, at least to me, that the other guys in the band weren't just Hawaiian shirt filler. They actually have some talent, or at least enough to keep this album afloat. All in all, I think it's a really solid mid-60s work.
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Post by rickus on Mar 23, 2006 10:38:32 GMT -5
Recently checked out from the Library:
1. Nick Drake's - Bryter Layter 2. Nick Drake's - Pink Moon
The next two were checked out for my office mate Cheryl, who last week came in singing Time by Culture Club at the top of her lungs. I checked out all of the discs from the library that had any Culture Club on them. These were the first two to come in.
3. Rhino Records - Billboard top hits 1983, Do you really want to hurt me - Track 6 4. Rhino Records - Billboard top hits 1984, Karma Chameleon - Track 3
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Post by Guest Justin on Mar 23, 2006 18:34:42 GMT -5
I have a confession to make. My own personal love of Nick Drake isn't a result of my near encyclopedic knowledge of the post WWII popular musical landscape (uh... which I do NOT have, by the way). Nope, it came from that stupid Volkswagen commercial. You know the one: A bunch of kids heading to a party and listening to "Pink Moon" while staring out the sunroof suddenly change their mind once they arrive, and decide instead to go back to doing pretty much the same thing for the rest of the night. And as if that's not bad enough, I downloaded "Northern Sky" only after hearing it first in a really awful John Cusack/Kate Beckinsale movie. Hats off to the low brow, folks!
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Post by ryan on Apr 14, 2006 2:57:27 GMT -5
When I was in Mississippi a few weeks ago, I stumbled across a Suncoast store in a mall, where they were closing-out and selling all their DVD’s for half-price. There, I picked up a copy of the 30th Anniversary release of Bruce Springsteen’s Born To Run album. It came as a box-set, containing a remastered copy of the CD, and two DVD’s featuring some concert-footage and a making-of-the-album documentary.
I didn’t know much about Springsteen, but I gleaned from the original release date (of 1975) that this was one of Springsteen’s first albums. And the box-art suggested that it was part of the E-Street Band era. So I figured, for the price, I’d check it out.
I’m glad I did. This is a five-star album, folks. If you haven’t already heard it, rush out and buy a copy. It is some truly inspired music. And, for the record, this was actually Springsteen’s third album, and yes, it does feature the E-Street band.
What’s funny is, my initial impression of the album changed very quickly. When I first slid the disk into my rental-car’s CD-player, I was a bit turned-off by the vastness of the soundscape. Sax, piano, harmonica, two or more guitars, bass, drums, glockenspiel, etc, etc. I thought, “Ho, Jesus, this is exactly what I was afraid it would be.” I’d been afraid it would be full and formless jam-music — the sound of fifteen musicians each trying to solo over each other. And saxophones! “Why do they put saxophones in rock songs?” I thought. Every time I hear sax in a rock-song, I think of hippies and frat-parties and new-age gurus hocking spiritual therapies in late-night infomercials. Kenny G and Dave Matthews have ruined me on sax in rock-songs.
But that initial impression very quickly gave way to curiosity, and then to admiration, as I caught bits and pieces of Springsteens lyrics, and realized there was a great darkness lurking just below the surface of the album. And although the sound is certainly full, it is by no means formless. Although many of these songs stretch well past the 6-minute mark (and the closer, “Jungleland,” is nearly 10 minutes in length), there scarcely seems to be a wasted moment here. Each song is, at its core, a very tightly-written pop-song. What stretches these songs out to epic length is the use of some long but well-written instrumental passages.
Epic. That’s a good word to describe this album, actually. Cinematic would be another one. Born To Run is, in the best sense of the word, a concept album, in that each song is loosely related to a central vision. That vision, as best I can describe it, is the persuit of the American Dream, presented as technicolor melodrama. The narrators of these songs have seen tough times, and have known what it means to be broken, but are still willing to risk it all for One True Love or One Last Chance. These narrators still believe in the mystical power of the night, a full tank of gas, and an open road. They feel their youth is ending, but they believe redemption can still be found, somewhere out on the roads of American legend.
And that’s what’s so satisfying about this album. It’s one thing to have a vision, and quite another to relate it coherently and effectively in a suite of 8 songs. Springsteen does it impeccably, without ever seeming to try too hard, and without ever losing sight of the goal.
Lyrically, the CD is full of wit, wordplay, and down-and-out wisdom. I also enjoyed how Springsteen employed archetypical American images in inventive ways, such as this little tidbit from the title track off the album:
Wendy, let me in, I wanna be your friend / I wanna guard your dreams and visions / Just wrap your legs round these velvet rims / and strap your hands ‘cross my engines
The album is frankly bursting with such delerious, powerful imagery. Of course, as a “words” guy, I think I get more of a kick out of this kind of stuff than others do. But suffice it to say, Springteen’s lyrics paint some wonderfully evocative pictures.
All in all, this is one of the most inspiring and satisfying albums I’ve ever heard. From the opening strains of “Thunder Road” to the magnificent closing sweep of “Jungleland” (all 10 minutes of it), I am engrossed. This is music that sounds as urgent and fresh to me today as it must have sounded to those who awaited its original release in 1975. Do not miss this album. It is a feast.
Is the box-set worth it? Probably. While the documentary is too long and self-indulgent, the concert footage is outstanding. This footage is culled mostly from a show the band played at Hammersmith Odeon, London, very soon after they finished mixing the Born To Run album. This show was apparently their first gig overseas, and as such it was a pivotal, make-or-break kind of gig for them. The hype surrounding this gig was apparently enormous, prompting a rattled Springsteen to storm the venue prior to the show, ripping down posters and declaring “I don’t need this!” Fortunately, the show finds the band inspired, full of energy, and willing to indulge in some silly rock-star theatrics. Highlights include the opening performance of “Thunder Road,” which is stripped of its Operatic Americana sheen and recast as a sparse but lively piano ballad; “Spirit In the Night” finds Springsteen crawling on the stage during a quiet interlude, breathing a story into the microphone, and then dragging himself off the stage as he describes a character falling into a lake. This theatric is met with some laughter, a few jeers, and some scattered handclaps, before Springsteen re-emerges to continue his story, then looks around and laughs and says, “Hey, I think I left my hat down there!” It’s a funny and human moment, and kind of demonstrates what a brave and pretentious and funny act they were. They certainly knew how to put on a show.
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Post by Jeff on Apr 16, 2006 3:16:12 GMT -5
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Post by ryan on Apr 17, 2006 3:33:51 GMT -5
I haven't heard Nebraska yet, but I know that it's considered to be some kind of dark, minimalist, home-recording "masterpiece." I put that word in quotes because it's what I've been told, not what I'm saying about it.
I did read your review, and the "how it was done" article you linked to. Both were interesting. I certainly understand your ire about Springsteen's self-importance. All I have to say about it is, I recognize the guy is full of himself, and yet I like him anyway. He reminds me of my friend Jon Malone, who is an arrogant bastard obsessed with becoming a rockstar. All Jon's friends talk shit about him behind his back, but we all love the guy too, because he kind of represents a part of ourselves, and because if any of us will become a rockstar, it will be Jon, sheerly due to his singleminded determination.
Yeah, that's exactly how I feel about Springsteen. He's an arrogant, pretentious bastard, but I can see where he's coming from, and I admire his ability to write and arrange some superb music. And I can't personally find fault with many of the lyrics on Born To Run; much to the contrary, I think many of the lyrics on that album are excellent. Although, it must be said, I'm basing my entire opinion off that one album, and its accompanying concert-footage.
I'll probably make "Nebraska" my next Springsteen purchase.
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Post by ryan on May 25, 2006 9:54:43 GMT -5
Purchased on Tuesday 5/16 from Best Buy in Springfield, IL:
The Raconteurs, "Broken Boy Soldiers" Tool, "10,000 Days" Mike Doughty, "Skittish / Rockity Roll" double album Invader Zim #3 DVD.
Some quick reviews:
The Raconteurs: Broken Boy Soldiers In case you somehow missed the hype, The Raconteurs is the highly-touted new project pairing Jack White with fellow guitarist/pop-maestro Brendan Benson. The band is rounded-out with a lean, effective rhythm section. You do the math: Jack White, in a full four-piece outfit with a good drummer, a bassist, and a fellow vocalist/guitarist/songwriter. Should be great, right? Well, it is, up to a point. White and Co. have some inspired rhythmic ideas, and they often interlink riffs and vocals in a way that creates a delerious cascading effect. And need I mention that White has a golden ear for guitar and vocal tones? The first single, "Steady as She Goes," is good enough evidence of these strengths. But then, that song is also evidence of the album's big weakness: bland lyrics. This isn't such a bad thing in pop music; after all, some of the best-loved pop songs are those with the most banal lyrical ideas. But it is unfortunate that White, who has demonstrated an ability for neat, incisive wit, didn't bring more to that particular table. In all, it's a very solid debut, but one which is unfortunately lacking in staying-power due to its uninspired wordplay. I'd give it a 6.5 out of 10.
Tool: 10,000 Days Why do I always feel compelled to pick up the latest Tool offering? I've decided it's because of their ingenious packaging gimmicks. 10,000 Days comes with a pair of stereoscopic glasses, which can be used to view a series of stereographic slides printed in the liner-notes: It's Tool in 3D, man! (Here, take another hit!) Really, when a band is this concerned with packaging and presentation, the music is kind of beside the point. And yet, 10,000 Days doesn't disappoint. It offers exactly the same blend of heavy beats, mathy progressions, and shapeless guitar-riffs that the band presented on their last album, but expands on the template by drawing heavily from the more melodic and nuanced approach of Maynard's side-project, A Perfect Circle. It's impeccably well-produced, and presents a variety of interesting soundscapes. To that end, the album succeeds. But I have a confession to make: The last Tool album I really enjoyed was Undertow. It seems to me that, since then, the band has slowly but surely boiled all the hooks out of their music. Aenima had its moments, and certainly seems to have become the standard by which most fans judge the band -- but give me back the band that wrote "Sober" and "Prison Sex," and I'll be happy; eleven-minute prog-operas introduced by 5 minutes of bug-zapper noises do nothing for me. But then, these songs just highlight what we've all known all along: Tool is a big, dumb, loud, heavy, and utterly preposterous band who is totally convinced of their own importance. If you can dig it, then dig it. If not, well, they'd as soon see you follow L.A. into the ocean. So, let's score the album. If Undertow is a 10, and Aenima is an 8, then I'd give 10,000 Days a 6, because it's more memorable than Lateralus, which I'd rate a 4.5.
Mike Doughty: Skittish / Rockity Roll double album You might remember Mike Doughty as the vocalist for Soul Coughing, a mid-90's group that sounded like the Beastie Boys mixing it up with the Talking Heads. They had a few albums, and a few hit singles in "Super Bon Bon," "Rolling," and "Circles." They rocked a hard groove, mixing funk, soul, hip-hop, rock, and psychedelic samples over Doughty's dictionary-skimming vocal stylings. They broke up in 2000, and I always wondered where these guys would go next. So I was pleased and surprised to find a double-album by Doughty sitting on the shelf at Best Buy in Springfield, Illinois. According to the liner-notes, Doughty recorded Skittish in 1996, without major-label support. He says, "I was burning to do a solo acoustic record; my band didn't have room for this music. In 2000, I ... threw a guitar in the trunk, and toured like crazy, all alone in a rental car, for three years. After the shows, I sat on the stage with a box of CDs, selling them to fans myself." Skittish, then, is the heart of this package, while Rockity Roll plays like a bonus-disc, containing a few songs left-over from the Skittish sessions, a few live cuts, and a few newer tunes with full arrangements.
Overall, this package is brimming to the top with memorable tunes. Doughty has an intriguing vocal-style which mixes the beat-inversions of rap with clipped, repititious melodies. His words are hard, and forged, and sung with great conviction. He often inflects his songs with corporate vernacular and scientific jargon, slyly wresting depths of emotion from lines like, "The air it turns to water when / dioxide tempts the hydrogen." But his meaning is conveyed as much by his delivery as by his lyrics; his words are weighed, counted, and sung as if he's measuring his life in syllables. This considered approach lends a heart-tugging gravity to lines like, "You were the only answer / My plans spun all around you / Five years in the wrong, i am assured / My name to you is just another word."
Doughty's guitar-playing is similarly distinctive; he jabs-out quick, jazz-shocked riffs, often looping one pattern mechanically for an entire verse. These short bursts of guitar create exactly the right kind of punctuation for Doughty's slippery vocal-rhythms, falling on the same beats every rotation, giving him a solid framework to cast his words around.
Occasionally, Doughty employs a drum-machine, keyboards, a string-section, or muiltiple tracks of vocal-harmony to flesh-out the tunes on Skittish. This helps enliven the album during the first few listens, but after you've spun through the tracks a time or two, you'll probably find (as I did) that Doughty's voice and guitar are the real attractions here. Everything else is just icing on the cake.
This album has been perfect road-music for my recent travelling. It grew on me slowly over the course of a few spins, but the past couple of days it's hardly left my CD player. Some albums become a part of you, and so you consider them great. This is one of those albums. I'll give it a 9.5, because Skittish has one or two weak tracks, and because Rockity Roll is mostly a B-Sides and Live Cuts album.
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Post by Tyler on May 26, 2006 6:46:17 GMT -5
There is nothing, literally nothing, you could say that would push me to forgive Springsteen for having to put up with "Born in the USA" over and over.
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Post by chris on May 26, 2006 11:06:31 GMT -5
What if he gave you a handjob? Or had Courtney Cox give you a handjob?
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Post by Tyler on May 27, 2006 8:57:27 GMT -5
I'd tell you that I'd forgiven Springsteen. But I'd be lying.
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Post by ryan on May 27, 2006 10:44:24 GMT -5
I think I've heard "Born In the U.S.A" twice. Once was at a fireworks show, on the fourth of July, in Tulsa. The fireworks were sychronized to it. I think whoever was in charge of the show either mistook the song's message to be one of patriotism, or they got an ironic laugh out of it.
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Post by Tyler on May 29, 2006 9:46:22 GMT -5
Apparently somebody didn't turn on the radio during the last war.
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Post by ryan on Jun 1, 2006 23:59:23 GMT -5
Purchased on Wednesday, May 31, from a Border's in Peoria, IL:
The Old 97's, "Drag It Up."
A quick review, because I have some time to kill, and damn was I disappointed in this album...
The Old 97's: Drag It Up I confess: I have a weakness for dour songs, particularly of the clever variety. Sing me a tune that pokes fun at your own misfortune, and I'll celebrate your poetic misery. Score that tune with a rollicking country backbeat and spitfire electric guitar, and I'll gladly feel your pain. Front your band with a lead-singer who curls his lip and curses, then lilts into a heavenly falsetto -- and, well, now you've got the Old 97's.
The Old 97's are one of the most recognized purveyors of alternative country, no depression, insurgent country, cow-punk, or whatever you want to call it; it's country with a punk kick. Years ago, I fell in love with their 1997 album, Too Far to Care, which brought all their punk, pop, and country influences into a tightly-focused whole. The vocalist and chief songwriter, Rhett Miller, had a way of spinning hard-drinking country fables out of a few deftly-turned cliches and a self-depricating wit.
Their follow-up, Fight Songs, lacked the urgency and edge of Too Far to Care, but contained several memorable songs, and more of Miller's lilting falsetto and lyrical bite. And then came Satellite Rides, which revealed the band trying to shed their country influences and fully embrace sugary radio-pop. Here is where the band lost me. Miller's lyrics were suddenly vacuous; his sharp tongue had gone soft; his lyrics described Californian parties and the girls who went to them, and the boys who made out with those girls at those parties. Perhaps he was aiming for irony. Perhaps not. At any rate, Satellite Rides marked the point in their career when I bailed out.
So, about two months ago, I'm watching this cheeky horror/comedy called Slither, and as the end-credits started rolling, this song kicks in. It's a dark, energetic vibe -- kind of a "Paint It Black" with a country backbeat. Then the singer enters, and I'll be damned if his voice doesn't sound familiar:
The new kid, he's got money The money I deserve. He's got the goods, but he's no good for his word.
I listened with a feeling like deja-vu as the song built to its spiky chorus:
I’m gonna toil away Until my judgment day I will be rewarded for the good things I did Believe me every year There is another one here Don’t you see I used to be the new kid I am sorry to say You’ll get carried away Oh, you will be replaced You will be replaced I tell you again Don’t get too settled in Oh, you will be replaced You will be replaced By the new kid.
By the end of the chorus, I knew it was an Old 97's song I'd never heard. Miller's falsetto gave it away. But damn! What a great song! I left the theatre humming it, and trying to remember the words.
So, when I happened across Drag It Up two days ago, I was excited. It was an Old 97's album I'd never even heard of, and there, on the back, printed in the tracklist, was the name of that song I'd liked so much, "The New Kid." To buy a CD for one song is as good a reason as any, I figured. And, hey, maybe this would be another great album by the band! A return to form, perhaps? That's certainly what "The New Kid" suggested.
Unfortunately, the album is instead a rather lackluster -- and sometimes embarassing -- affair, which reveals that the band has entirely lost their direction. "The New Kid" is a terriffic song, but it is a lone gem stranded in the middle of a disc full of witless midtempo tunes which play like the leftover c-sides of a band a decade past their prime.
It's sad, really, the extent to which this album sucks. I think the album hits rock-bottom when guitarist Ken Bethea takes the mic for an ill-conceived third-rate Jimmy Buffett knockoff called "Coahuila," in which the first lyric is "I turned my microwave on and I cooked my chicken ravioli," and the chorus begins with the couplet, "And I’m suffering from a kind of indecision / About what I’m going to watch on television."
Uh, yeah. Now see, I can imagine a guy writing this kind of song to amuse his family and friends, but it's not a good idea to include it on an album. I'm sorry, Mr. Bethea, but your lyrics are witless, boring, and bland, and as someone who is not a member of your immediate family, I hereby judge "Coahuila" to be the worst song the Old 97's have ever recorded.
Elsewhere, the album isn't totally awful, but isn't very good. A few glimmers of the band that was still shine through, like on the chorus of "Won't Be Home," when Miller sings, "I was born in the / Backseat of a / Mustang in a / Cold night in the / Hard rain / And the very first song / that the radio sang / was 'I won't be home no more.'" But even here, it's worth noting that Miller doesn't sound particularly convinced of his words.
In all, Drag it Up seems to exist for one song only, and that song is "The New Kid." My recommendation: Download "The New Kid." Avoid the rest of this crap-heap of an album.
I'd score it like this: "The New Kid" (song) - 9.0 Drag It Up (album) - 1, plus 2 points for including a really great song, for a total score of 3.
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Post by mj on Jul 15, 2006 11:34:44 GMT -5
Purchased from iTunes this morning:
Crash into Me by Dave Matthews Band Satellite by Dave Matthews Band Sugar Water by Cibo Matto
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Post by ryan on Aug 1, 2006 2:34:14 GMT -5
Just purchased last weekend: Sonic Youth's "Rather Ripped" Thom Yorke's "The Eraser" First impressions: Rather Ripped: Wow. This is a deep and compelling album. I did not anticipate this. Sonic Youth has been on a roll since 2002, crafting two full albums of slow-burn rockers with "Murray Street" and "Sonic Nurse." These are great albums, but "Rather Ripped" strikes deeper -- partly due to its stripped-down live-in-studio production, and partly due to its lyrical content, which seems more intimate than anything else the SY has ever written. Songs about difficult relationships and sexual infidelity abound, and many of Kim Gordon's songs seem to bounce off Thurston's. Did you know these two are married? I don't know the details of their personal lives, but I do know they have a kid, and I've read that Gordon has had intense "friendships" with other women. One naturally assumes that Thurston has also had his share of infidelities. Seeing these songs in this light makes for a particularly compelling listen. The album also has other concerns on its mind. The quietly devestating "Do You Believe in Rapture?" is a meditation on our world's current politial climate. The sweeping and majestic "Pink Steam" details a particularly transgressive love-affair, marked by the lyrics, "don't you know you need no other / i'm the man who loves your mother." The contemplative "Or" recounts a few tour-diary moments, and ends with a list of questions fans might often ask a band. In all, this is the most solid and consistant album Sonic Youth has released in years -- and for my money, I think it ranks up there with the best of their work. You can stream every song from the album here: www.sonicyouth.com/alt-main/rippedpop.htmlThe Eraser: I don't have nearly as much to say about this album yet, since I've been listening to Rather Ripped almost nonstop since I bought it. But it sounds pretty much like what you'd imagine a Thom Yorke solo CD to sound like. Glitchy breakbeats, overly-processed samples of piano and synth, lyrics that provide just the right measures of the specific and the abstract. And of course, there's Thom Yorke's voice center-stage, aching with anxiety and yearning. It's minimalist electronica: sort of a stripped-down Kid A with an actual human on vocal duties. As far as first impressions go, I can say that it's a good album -- but I'm not sure that I'll really grow to love it. For starters, there's not enough variety to keep me listening for the whole ride. And then, there's Yorke's maddening penchant for difficult rhythmic structures. Don't get me wrong; I love odd time-signatures as much as the next guy -- but there are songs on this album that never seem to have a downbeat. Maybe I just haven't listened closely enough yet...
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