Review: The Decemberists - "Here Come The Waves: The Hazards of Love Visualized"

Go buy some drugs, The Hazards of Love has an animated album-length video companion.

It’s somewhat predictable that a project like this would be attempted – pompous concept albums about wood nymphs and shape-shifters do lend themselves well to full-length animation treatment after all – but for any inherent ridiculousness, the whole thing works fairly well. It’s not as inventive as its forbears – chiefly The Wall, but also The Song Remains The Same and Magical Mystery Tour, among others – but, as with the album-length video companion, ambitious conceptual rock operas have also gone out of fashion.

As on the record, there’s a woodsy theme throughout the early proceedings, with leaves, roots, dirt and the like moving in time to the music and reflecting changes in tone and theme. Subsequent visual elements include constellations, woodland animals, geometric shapes, sinking ships and more.

For those looking for an old-fashioned “turn it up and tune out,” you could do a lot worse (and, oddly, it seems like it might appeal to toddlers as well, despite the occasional song about infanticide). But for those less interested in chemical stimulation, this is something of a one-shot deal. Having seen the band perform the record in its entirety, I’m still convinced that they should’ve just done the whole thing as a live album, in which case this could have served as a companion DVD documenting the live show.

Still, maybe somebody will figure out a way to sync their next record up with The Wizard of Oz. Or, that having already been done, perhaps Metropolis. Or maybe The Corpse Bride. Hell, just give ‘em a laser light show already.

(Originally posted in slightly different form at Under The Radar, 1/27/10)

Review: Forge Your Own Chains - Heavy Psychedelic Ballads and Dirges, 1968-1974

Consider this the umpteenth edition of Now That’s What I Call Psychedelic Music!, the would-be series having begun with Nuggets, then Pebbles and countless other psychedelic reissue compilations leading up to Forge Your Own Chains.

The record’s primary fault lies in its specificity, creating a listener expectation that the tracks doesn’t live up to. Sure, there are some heavy psychedelic ballads and dirges as advertised, but there’s also funk and soul of East of Underground’s “Smiling Faces Sometimes” and The Strangers’ “Two To Make A Pair.” Shin Jung Hyun & The Men’s “Twilight” wouldn’t have been out of place on a Kill Bill soundtrack (or in any other Tarantino film, for that matter), while the plaintive cut from D.R. Hooker that gives the record its name mixes meandering guitar with bursts of brass and flute.

Still, there’s some solid psych cuts here, not least of which Ellison’s “Strawberry Rain,” and Shadrack Chameleon’s “Don’t Let It Get You Down,” and Morly Gray’s “Who Can I Say You Are?", all of which stand out as classic psychedelia, with hazy, clouded vibes pervasive throughout. Tracks like that form the heart of the record, even when they’re flanked by lesser ditties that don’t seem to meet the “psychedelic” tag.

Compiled by the venerable Stones Throw label and producer Egon (also an NPR Music contributor), the whole set earns points for its thoroughness, including extensive liner notes on each artist’s background, recording history and more. Anthologies like this rise or fall by their liner notes as much as the music, and this one scores on that front. Additionally, those involved in culling the disc aren’t afraid of a long song – a plus, since many comps like this put the focus on short blasts of primal teenage garage energy. Indeed, many of the bands featured here were teens when these tracks were recorded, and it’s a credit to Stones Throw that they’ve brought together material of this sort not just from the states but from Columbia, South Korea, Nigeria, Iran and more.

Forge does what collections of this sort should, bringing together rare (in some cases ultra-rare) tunes by disparate artists all working within the same field and revealing even more breadth to a genre than previously known.

But unearthing a rare psychedelic-era track doesn’t automatically make it a Nugget or even a Pebble, and despite some real finds here, there’s the feeling that much of this ground has already been plowed. How many more great unknown psych-era bands are there, really? Hasn’t that well run dry by now? Judging from Forge Your Own Chains, if it hasn’t already, it may well be on its way.

(Originally posted to SpectrumCulture.com, 1/13/10)