Best of 2010

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

There were about four zillion records I should've heard this year that I didn't, but the following list - organized in no particular order - includes some of my favorites.

Surfer Blood - "AstroCoast"
Woods - "At Echo Lake"
Spoon - "Transference"
Arcade Fire - "The Suburbs"
The Radio Dept. - "Clinging to a Scheme"
The National - "High Violet"
The Apples In Stereo - "Travellers In Space and Time"
Tracey Thorn - "Love and Its Opposite"
Vampire Weekend - "Contra"
Belle & Sebastian - "Write About Love"

Honorable Mention:
Free Energy - "Stuck On Nothing"
Fyfe Dangerfield - "Fly Yellow Moon"
Best Coast - "Crazy For You"
Standard Fare - "The Noyelle Beat"
Band of Horses - "Infinite Arms"

Best Jamz of 2010
CeeLo - "Fuck You"
Surfer Blood - "Anchorage"
Boston Spaceships - "Come On Baby Grace"
Band of Horses - "Laredo"
Standard Fare - "Philadelphia" (I reserve the right to like an above-average song more than it deserves solely on the basis that I lived in the city it's named for).
DJ Khaled - "All I Do Is Win" (for serious.)

Can't wait for 2011...
New Decemberists LP (it's great!)
New Strokes LP
um...some other stuff...

Rediscover: PAS/CAL - "The Handbag Memoirs" and "Oh Honey, We're Ridiculous" EPs

PAS/CAL weren't a band made for these times. A bit too fond of themselves and their own urbanity and sophistication, the Detroit-area pop collective flamed out in 2008 after finally releasing their long-delayed debut LP. But in the current climate of (relative) austerity, their uppity, high-gloss act wouldn't play as well as it did in the early 2000s, when the band emerged tailor-made for listeners who thought the Decemberists weren't bookish enough, or who considered Belle and Sebastian too gritty and urban.

Released in 2002, debut EP The Handbag Memoirs was anchored around "The Bronze Beached Boys (Come On Let's Go)," the disc's first track and supposedly the band's attempt to construct the perfect pop song in just one evening. (If you don't know it, you've still probably heard it, as a year or so later the track served as the backing to a ubiquitous Saturn commercial that helped finance the group's second EP). In a number of ways, that opening salvo was as good as they ever got: a short, sunny burst of acoustic guitars, bubbly "ba ba ba"s and frontman Casimer Pascal's affected, falsetto vocals that made its point and got it over with before wearing out its welcome. At only six tracks it's still overly long, though "I'd Bet My Life That You Bet Your Life" swung with a western bounce, while "I Wanna Take You Out In Your Holiday Sweater" proved perhaps the band's best-ever attempt at an up-tempo Belle and Sebastian pastiche. Elsewhere, however, the EP sputtered ("Grown Men Go-Go" and "Marion/Mariam") and downright failed, especially on the overcooked "This Ain't For Everyone."

Still, it was a promising first try, and it's hard to think of that offering without also considering the follow-up EP, 2004's Oh Honey, We're Ridiculous. Both discs feel cut from the same cloth, though on Oh Honey the band attempted to turn its faux-refinement on its head with the raucous (by their standards) "What Happened to the Sands?," while also broadening their horizons - a sign of what was to come. PAS/CAL's greatest failure was always an inability to rein themselves in and limit the number of ideas crammed into one song, exemplified by the fact that the band (or, more specifically, most likely Pascal) never met a coda he didn't like, often stretching songs way beyond their logical end point (see: nearly every song on their lone full-length LP). On standout track "Dear Maude," Pascal serenades a 115-year-old woman whose only wish is to not see another birthday. "Dear God, please deliver a swift blow/ At least let me catch a bad cold/ And I'll be gone in a fortnight," he sings, channeling the wit of Jarvis Cocker, who surely would have had the good sense not to tack on another 90 seconds at the end of the song. "Bem, Please Come Home" could have soundtracked a Wes Anderson film, though one gets the sense that the pretensions of Whit Stillman might be more to the band's liking.

After those first two releases, the magic was basically gone. Between Oh Honey and the 2006 Dear Sir EP, the band released a vinyl holiday single, covering Wham!'s "Last Christmas," as well as "Summer is Almost Here," part of a 12-inch split, all the while continually promising that a full-length was on the way. Dear Sir, then, was meant to be a holdover and a tease to the forthcoming LP, though it ended up as a collection of tracks with very little binding them together as a unit, most of which shouldn't have been released in the first place.

In 2008, PAS/CAL finally released the long-awaited I Was Raised on Matthew, Mark, Luke and Laura LP, though by that point it seemed less like a victory lap and more like the last few drops coming out of the tap after the water's been shut off. For starters, at least a quarter of Luke and Laura's material pre-dated the rest, as the band recycled and/or revised tracks from previous releases. But the larger problem was that much of the disc came off as having spent too much time in the percolator: too few songs stuffed with too many ideas, to the point that there are any number of magical moments within songs, but few songs that actually carry that magic all the way through. For a band that had simply nailed it on their first try in "The Bronze Beached Boys," it was a lackluster finale, to say the least. After six years of waiting, we expected more.

After the album was released, that was essentially it for PAS/CAL. The band rarely played live in its hey day (and certainly not much beyond Detroit and New York), and there were few (if any) shows to support the record and no new music since then. A visit to the group's website redirects to a dormant MySpace account, and Wikipedia lists them as having been inactive since 2008. It's a disappointing end to what could have been, though those first two EPs still hold up, their best moments a promise of something great that never really fully materialized.

(Originally posted 11/9/10 at SpectrumCulture.com)

Review: Africa United by Steve Bloomfield

Talk about a thankless task: writing a book about a sport that few people in this country cares about, as played on a continent that few people in this country seem to care about. The World Cup in South Africa, however, provides British journalist Steve Bloomfield with an opportunity to shed a little light on the world’s most disadvantaged continent and its most popular sport – and the many ways the two are intertwined.

Bloomfield is a Nairobi-based correspondent for several UK media outlets, including The Independent, Monocle, and formerly The Observer. As he writes in the acknowledgments, Africa United was spawned by an attempt to understand the complexities of Kenyan politics through its soccer. That strategy works surprisingly well, as each of the ten chapters – covering 13 nations across the continent – touches on that particular country’s history, wars, recent political struggles and other conflicts. Investigating all that through the lens of soccer, both local club teams and the national team, Bloomfield also examines the people playing the sport and those working behind the scenes.

His thesis, then, is that states are only as honest as the people running the institutions, and in most cases here – such as Zimbabwe – if the men and women behind the football association are corrupt then odds are things are also rotten at higher levels. He’s a firm believer that sports can unite divided peoples, and while that’s not a new idea, Bloomfield expresses it in a breezy, readable way that’s entertaining and informative.

There’s no shortage of football travelogues, but {Africa United} bests many of them right off the bat with two distinct advantages. For one thing, Bloomfield approaches the material from a reporter’s point-of-view, writing as much about the socio-economic situation in each country as much as he does the soccer. Secondly, he’s judicious with the soccer, writing only as much as necessary without going overboard – a critical problem in many similar books, such as Jonathan Wilson’s Behind The Curtain, which chronicles football in post-Soviet Eastern Europe. Too often in Wilson’s book and others like it, too much focus is placed on recalling games, leaving the casual reader lost amid descriptions of grounds, teams and players he or she knows little or nothing about. Granted, there’s plenty of match descriptions here, but Bloomfield has an eye for color and catching the entire scene of the experience, not just the action on the field, making for a livelier read than just a play-by-play commentary.

Most memorable, however, are Bloomfield’s excursions beyond the pitch, including visits to a Coca-Cola plant in Somalia, run-ins with Zimbabwean police and matches between Sierra Leone’s amputee football league. As with similar titles, he also touches on the worldwide dominance of the English Premiere League and illustrates that in nations with struggling soccer teams, clubs like Chelsea, Manchester United and Bloomfield’s beloved Aston Villa are often more important to the people than their own local clubs, such is the reach of globalization.

The author’s background as a news reporter – as opposed to a sports correspondent – proves a huge advantage, as Bloomfield is adept at succinctly summarizing complex ethnic, tribal and regional conflicts in many African nations without getting bogged down in details or letting it overwhelm the reader. Furthermore, each chapter is peppered with anecdotes – such as his visit to a South African soccer stadium being renovated for the World Cup – that flesh out the particular story he’s trying to tell, never coming across as forced or over done.

The stated, altruistic purpose behind having the World Cup in South Africa was to show that Africa is more than just wars, famine and disease. Africa United, then, is a timely look at one of the world’s most misunderstood regions and the crucial role soccer serves there, both in bringing peoples together and – often more importantly – providing a unifying, entertaining diversion from everything else going on in that part of the world.

(Originally posted 6/27/10 at SpectrumCulture.com)

Rediscover: Omega (Redstar): - "Trombitás Frédi És A Rettenetes Emberek"

When you think about Communist Hungary – assuming you think about it at all – the first thing to spring to mind probably isn’t Eastern-tinged soundscapes and mind-fuck guitar licks. It’s time to rethink why the West won the Cold War.

Released in 1968, Omega’s Trombitás Frédi És A Rettenetes Emberek(loosely translated to Trumpeter Fred and the Terrible People) was Omega’s first offering in a career spanning more than 40 years. Though the band was always Omega, they were rechristened as Omega Redstar for their debut, though went by Omega on all future releases. Looking at the band’s record covers over the years is something of an abbreviated study in rock n’ roll album design and hairstyles over several decades, as they go from the Rubber Soul-esque 10,000 Lépés to 1975’s English-language The Hall of Floaters In The Sky, with its giant eagle clutching a sword; there’s the Bowie-fueled Omega X: Az Arc and 1978’s prog-inspired Skyrover, one of the many platters the Budapest-based quintet released in both English and Hungarian (a few English-only albums are also out there).

The band formed in 1962 but didn’t release its debut until six years later, and while six years isn’t all that long, it’s an eternity as far as the evolution of ‘60s rock. So, not surprisingly, Trombitás Frédi is a mish-mash of sounds from the era, though the Beatles seem to always be the chief musical reference point.

A track like “Vasárnap” could’ve been a {Revolver} cut solely on the strength of its McCartney-esque melody, which bears a striking resemblance to that record’s “For No One,” whereas “Rettenetes Emberek” feels like an early-‘60s dance hall track that transforms into a more psych-oriented mid-‘60s garage jam that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Nuggets collection. “Holnap” alternates between tiptoeing guitar and bass lines, offset by schizophrenic guitars and keyboards and “Ha Én Szél Lehetnék” is whistle-laden ditty that moves back and forth between a bouncy and childlike vibe before turning 90 degrees to add a Far East flavor, then turning back to the whimsical.

The brief instrumental “Kállai Kettős” opens with reverb guitars and a flute solo before the ominous bass and drums come in, building toward a guitar workout influenced by Hungarian folk melodies. (Psych revivalists, take note: when attempting to recreate this stuff, it’s best to include the bits that nobody likes, such as flute solos).

Sadly, Omega were left off of last year’s Psychedelic Super Piotr, a compilation of psych cuts from behind the Iron Curtain, including Illes, another Hungarian act, whose “Ne Gondold” comes across like The Beatles’ “Get Back” on steroids. Admittedly, there’s not a huge market for Eastern European psychedelia, but Omega at least deserved to be included in that sort of broad survey of the genre.

In an age when seemingly everything ever recorded is available with a mouse click or two, there’s a reason this sort of thing hasn’t been completely resurrected. For one thing, Hungarian psychedelic rock is an admittedly small niche market. Secondly, however, is availability: select bits of Omega’s catalog have been reissued via the Hungarian label Hungaraton, but even on the Web it’s not always the easiest thing to track down. (After a lot of searching I stumbled upon a copy at Philly’s AKA Records, home to one of the country’s the best selections of obscure foreign psych reissues).

Trombitás Frédi’s 2003 reissue contains seven bonus tracks – including the bluesy “Nem Szeretlek” and the Zombies-inspired “Rószafák” – and while the material doesn’t always gel together as a cohesive whole on account of coming from a number of different stylistic periods, it’s a fascinating time capsule from behind the Iron Curtain – and a peak into a regional genre that’s not often discussed.

(Originally posted 6/15/10 at SpectrumCulture.com)

Reviewapalooza!

Here's links to a bunch of stuff I've reviewed over the past several months but was too lazy to post individually each time it actually went up online. I'll try to be better about that.

"Red Riding Trilogy"

Freelance Whales - "Weathervanes"

David Hajdu - "Heroes & Villains"

Rediscover: The Rentals - "Seven More Minutes"

The Art Museums - "Rough Frame"

Miles Kurosky - "The Desert of Shallow Effects"

Free Energy - "Stuck On Nothing"

Woods - "At Echo Lake"

Standard Fare - "The Noyelle Beat"

Wednesday Comics anthology

I didn't see "War Games" until I was 29.

The Apples In Stereo - The Future Is Now

My piece on The Apples In Stereo, for Blurt Online

(Orig. published 5/14/10 at Blurt Online)

HAPPY ACCIDENTS: Fyfe Dangerfield

My piece on Fyfe Dangerfield, up at Blurt Online.

Dr. Dog - Trying A Detour

My piece on Dr. Dog, an Under the Radar Web exclusive (3/5/10)

The greatest love song of the last 10 years

If you just read selected lyrics, it comes across like your typical ode to lost love ("I don't even know where she lives/ I've not seen her in 10 years..." or the impassioned chorus of "Other girls went and other girls came/ I can't get over my old flame/ I'm still in love with Emily Kane.") But what makes "Emily Kane" arguably the greatest indie rock love song of the last decade is Art Brut frontman Eddie Argos' delivery and attitude. Sure there's some humor there, but it's only to mask the fact that he's 100% sincere.

From the way the opening eight chords slide down the scale to the fevered repetition of the final choruses, "Emily Kane" sticks with you not just because it's a great pop song, but because it so vividly pines for a certain feeling at a certain time of life. Not to mention that it's relatable; nearly everyone had some sort of infatuation at age 15 - unrequited or otherwise - and the thrill of that early romance is the newness of it. And that's half of what Argos is longing for: "Even though we didn't understand/ How to do much more than just hold hands/ There's so much about you I miss/ The clumsy way we used to kiss," he reminisces in his mostly-spoken style. Sure, it's a tribute to a real person, but more than that, it's a longing for something intangible - a little bit of nostalgia for a feeling that you basically only get once.

(Note: The video sucks, so press play and then ignore the visuals. Or just go find your copy of the album and turn it up fucking loud.)



(Originally posted 2/12/10 at SpectrumCulture.com)

Review: Aziz Ansari - "Intimate Moments for a Sensual Evening"

Arguably the three biggest stand-up comedy stories of the last decade were the massive popularity of “blue collar” comedians; the continued prominence of macho frat-boy jack-ass comedy (lookin’ at you, Dane Cook); and so-called indie comedy, the likes of David Cross, Patton Oswalt, Flight of the Conchords and more. Aziz Ansari (best known from his work on Parks and Recreation, Human Giant and Funny People) fits easily in that last category, but Intimate Moments for a Sensual Evening demonstrates that he’s still got a long climb before he reaches those comics’ level.

Intimate Moments, Ansari’s first stand-up special, premiered on Comedy Central, followed by release a few days later on both CD and DVD. The DVD’s only benefit over the CD (aside from the visual component, and save for one joke, Ansari’s not a visual comedian) is the bonus 30 minutes of material not included in the special itself. Why Comedy Central chose to release this in two separate formats rather than just packaging them together is beyond me, though my educated guess is that it has more to do with commerce and less to do with common sense or what the consumer might want.

As for the work itself, Ansari’s an insanely clever jokester, but he suffers from multiple faults which cheapen the material. Comedy has its own verbal tics and cues, and jokes need the proper tone for set up, development and punchline, but Ansari too often takes the same tone on each joke, wearing it out before its time. Thus material which should seem spontaneous comes across as scripted, punctuated only by Ansari’s frequent yelling to emphasize a punchline, for example.

There’s way too much repetition here, too. One joke (or series of jokes) about meeting celebrities is fine – indeed the Kanye West bit is among the best moments here – but there’s not just one bit about meeting celebrities: there’s three. In addition to West, Ansari also riffs on run-ins with M.I.A. and R. Kelly. If that’s your shtick and your name is Kathy Griffin, I suppose that’s okay; but since that’s already been taken, Aziz better come up with something else.

But the celebrity issue exemplifies one of Intimate Moments’ main problems. Far too frequently Ansari repeats himself and/or drags things out vastly longer than necessary, such as on the aforementioned R. Kelly bit or in a segment about commenting on Facebook. What starts out as funny simply becomes dull and irritating as the listener has wait for him to exhaust the topic at hand before he moves on to something else.

The set concludes with an 8-minute encore of “RAAAAAAAANDY,” Ansari’s take on macho comedian buffoonery (and his character from Funny People). Ansari’s clearly thought this through and done the research to come up with a composite sketch of that kind of comic, but it quickly moves from funny to obnoxious. That’s obviously the point, but Ansari seems to think enough of it to drag it on for longer than necessary. Like much of the rest of Intimate Moments, it’s a clever idea taken too far for too long.

(Originally posted 2/5/10 @ SpectrumCulture.com)

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)

Review - Simpsons Oral History by John Ortved

By now The Simpsons is among the most predictable institutions in America. Not in the sense that the show is boring or unsurprising – though many will argue that it is – but predictable in that, after two decades, it’s still on the air every week with new episodes Sunday night at eight o’clock. Like baseball or the Ramones, The Simpsons has come to be synonymous with America.

That wasn’t always the case, obviously, and when the series began it success was anything but assured. That hectic period is at the heart of The Simpsons: An Unauthorized, Uncensored History, a 300-plus page oral history that began two years ago as a Vanity Fair piece. Drawing from extensive interviews with cast members, current and former writers (including Conan O’Brien, Wallace Wolodarsky, George Meyer and others) and loveable Aussie billionaire Rupert Murdoch, the book was also done without the participation of principals such as Matt Groening, James L. Brooks and Sam Simon, forcing Ortved to rely on outside sources (primarily quotes from print and broadcast interviews) and the word of the dozens of others interviewed for the project.

While several other books have catalogued the show’s impact on television, culture and American life (as well as multiple other topics), the focus here is almost entirely historical. Ortved goes to great pains investigating the relationship between Brooks, Groening and Simon and how that led to Simon’s departure from the show after Season Four. Also of note are the extended sections detailing the differing dynamics of the show as run by Simon, Al Jean and others.

This being a history, however, readers should note that the material is infinitely more detailed on the early seasons, with the last decade barely glanced at in comparison. (The Simpsons Movie gets a moderate amount of ink, but less so than one might expect for a project that took more than 15 years to make it to the screen). As Ortved says at the outset, if you’re looking to learn about what happened behind the scenes during Season 16, you’ll be better served by DVD commentaries.

The book loses much of its steam in the second half but, to be fair, an upstart show on a fledgling network that’s successful beyond anyone’s wildest dreams is an inherently more interesting topic than an established commodity. Even so, Ortved’s account is remarkably thorough, witty and stands as likely the best Simpsons volume we’ll see for some time to come.

(Originally posted to Under The Radar, 12/16/09)

Best of 2009

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Best of 2009, in no particular order:

Woods - Songs of Shame
Monsters of Folk - s/t
Telekinesis - Telekinesis!
Jarvis Cocker - Further Complications
Morrissey - Years of Refusal
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - s/t
The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love
Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
The Soundtrack of Our Lives - Communion
Faunts - Feel.Love.Thinking.Of

Honorable Mention:

Flight of the Conchords - I Told You I Was Freaky
The XX - xx
Regina Spektor - Far
Bishop Allen - Grrr...
Wilco - Wilco (The Album)
They Might Be Giants - Here Comes Science
Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
Built To Spill - There Is No Enemy
Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band - s/t
Real Estate - s/t

2010...
**new Spoon album - it's great!
**full-length from Brown Recluse! buy their EP now and get in on the ground floor!
**even more Susan Boyle! (just kidding!)
**as always, some bullshit i've never even heard of but will fall ass over feet in love with!

Album of the Decade: The Strokes - "Is This It"

The very notion of a hyped band means said group is unlikely to live up to that hype, and few bands in the last 10 years received more of it than the Strokes. Eight years after the release of Is This It, the buzz may have faded and the band may have splintered a bit, but the music remains as compelling as it was in the fall of 2001.

Perhaps no band since the Beatles has served as such a template for the way in which popular music was perceived throughout the rest of its decade. In the initial years after that first record, nearly every upstart group of bed-headed would-be garage rockers was positioned as Strokes disciples: The Hives? Swedish Strokes. The White Stripes? Bluesy, sibling Strokes. Kings of Leon? Southern Strokes. The Bravery? Synth Strokes. (And that's not even going into the untold numbers of blatant rip-off artists pilfering the New Yorkers' sound and style that have since been forgotten.) Sure, a lot of that was journalistic laziness, but the band still served as a critical template (and high-water mark) for the way much of the garage-influenced rock spewed forth circa 2001 - 2005 was perceived. Seemingly every new rock band came to be seen as either a vindication of the Strokes' back-to-basics style and/or a repudiation of the late '90s rap-metal jackassery that carried into the new decade.

If there's a prevailing mood on the disc, it's a mix of disenchantment, disengagement and old-fashioned just-don't-give-a-shit. None of that's a surprise considering the late '90s/early '00s culture that preceded the record's release - and the opening title track conveys that with its hazy chorus and middling pace. Hell, the disc opens with an exasperated "Can't you see I'm trying?" But, like their forbearers in the Velvet Underground, the Strokes set their fuzzed-out malaise to inescapable melodies and arrangements, like the radio-ready "Soma" or the bouncy, oldies-tinged "Someday," all while accompanied by guitar lines pulled from the Television playbook. By the time "Take It or Leave It" rolls around to close out the album - with frontman Julian Casablancas straining his vocal chords in hollering out the final chorus - you can almost feel the exasperation. It's tiresome business, after all, trying to give a damn - especially when you just don't have it in you. Still, a bad attitude rarely sounded so good.

It's been recently announced that not only will the Strokes start touring again in early 2010, but they may release a new record as well. At this point, nobody expects them to save rock 'n' roll - and, really, isn't rock 'n' roll the kind of thing that's beyond saving anyway? Would it be any fun if anybody actually did? - but at least they'll still be around to show the next anointed savior just how it's done.

(Originally posted to Spectrum Culture, 12/14/09)

Review: Paul McCartney - "Good Evening New York City"

Regardless of your budget, Paul McCartney seems determined to stuff himself in your stocking one way or another this holiday season, either by way of The Beatles: Rock Band (which will set you back about $50), Fab Four reissues (running about $18 each) or Good Evening New York City, a two-CD/one-DVD set averaging $15.

Showcasing McCartney's opening shows at New York's Citi Field, Good Evening is pretty much what you'd expect; a lengthy greatest-hits retrospective chock-full of a whole lot o' Beatles (more than half of the entire set and the entire second disc). The whole affair is billed as historic, what with the Beatles' epic '60s Shea Stadium performance, and there's certainly merriment here to mark the occasion, but one has to wonder how much this varies from any other McCartney show - does he not put out nearly three hours of classics at any other show?

In spite of its virtues, it's by no means a perfect set, in part because McCartney's voice isn't near what it used to be and has a strained quality for much of the recording. Some Beatles tracks - in particular, showstoppers like "Hey Jude" and "Get Back" come off strong, whereas many songs suffer from overly beefed-up arrangements. Just because of the way four decades wear on and tear at vocal chords, much of the more recent material comes across better, almost to the point where it'd be nice to get more Wings and recent solo material. Ironically, the records he's ostensibly promoting - 2005's Chaos and Creation in the Backyard and 2007's weaker Memory Almost Full - get little more than a cursory glance. Then again, who goes to a McCartney show to hear new songs?

In addition to three fully-loaded discs, the package also comes with notes by veteran music scribe Michael Azerrad (Our Band Could Be Your Life). All told, it's a solid set and certainly a value, considering the low asking price. And if you can't afford to give McCartney concert tickets - and, in this economy, who can? - then this is at least a decent substitute.

(Originally posted to Spectrum Culture 12/14/09)

Review: "The Essential 'Weird Al' Yankovic"

If you’re inclined to look down on the concept of “essential” “Weird Al,” don’t.

In a career spanning nearly 30 years, Weird Al has surpassed the Dr. Demento show that spawned him as a cultural institution; survived and thrived while the artists he’s parodied have faded to obscurity; stayed consistently funny while SNL continues to tank; and become a modern musical icon to rival just about any other of his time, so widely recognized that even your mom knows who he is.

So why not an Essential collection, then?

The two-disc set – selected entirely by the man himself – comprises 38 tracks from across Weird Al’s career, wisely splitting the difference between straight-up parodies (“Another One Rides The Bus,” “Fat,” “Canadian Idiot” and more) and originals and style-parodies. It’s a smart move, since two discs of non-stop parodies would quickly grow stale. The chronological sequencing also gives a fairly nice overview of the past 30 years of popular music (filtered through Al’s distinct sensibility, of course).

There’s certainly some notable omissions here, but mostly on the early end of his career – it’s disappointing not to see “Ricky” (originally Toni Basil’s “Hey Mickey”) and slasher movie tribute “Nature Trail To Hell” left off, while tracks like “Bedrock Anthem” (originally the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Give It Away”) and “The Saga Begins” (Star Wars, to the tune of Don McLean’s “American Pie”) made the cut.

Among the standouts, however is “Don’t Download This Song,” a “We Are The World”-style screed against filesharing that serves as essential listening for anyone who thought Weird Al may have jumped the shark. Nice to see that three decades into his career he hasn’t much changed the formula. Then again, there’s little need to reinvent yourself when mocking the changes in popular music is your job description.

(Originally posted to Under The Radar 12/8/09)

Review: Chuck Klosterman - "Eating The Dinosaur"

After a collection of previously-published essays and taking an ill-advised stab at fiction, Chuck Klosterman’s latest offering gets back to what he does best, but it all feels a little too familiar.

In Eating The Dinosaur, Klosterman once again takes the position of all-encompassing cultural commentator, riffing on Abba, Garth Brooks, Kurt Cobain and David Koresh, time travel and more. Composed of a collection of un-related essays, Dinosaur ostensibly replicates 2002’s Sex Drugs & Cocoa Puffs, inexplicably Klosterman’s best-selling title to date (as he himself admitted in a 2008 Borders.com interview). If the book is “about” anything at all, it’s a dual treatise on the nature of authenticity and the way we as a society make meaning out of shared media experiences.

The problem, among others, is that Klosterman is at his best when sticking to one subject and following that thread throughout a book, as he did with hair metal in Fargo Rock City and dead rock stars in Killing Yourself To Live.

Despite some successful moments – particularly essays on time travel and Garth Brooks, respectively – the book unsuccessfully tackles some pet projects rather than sticking with what’s tried and true: the introductory essay on the nature of interviewing falls flat and belabors its point, and the author twice delves deep into sports – a topic he admits much of his readership doesn’t give a shit about.

There’s enough winning moments here to make it worth a read, but at this point Klosterman is enough of a known quantity that he can do just about whatever he wants (see: Downtown Owl) and his fans will still buy it.

(Also posted to Under The Radar, 12/7/09)

Revew: Julian Casablancas - "Phrazes for the Young"

At first glance The Strokes and KISS wouldn't seem to have much in common, but as The Strokes continue to not release Strokes albums and instead put out solo and side projects, they become less and less the sum of their parts—much like that time each KISS member released his own solo record. And, like the KISS solo efforts, each subsequent Stroke's record is less and less interesting than the one that came before, to say nothing of their output as an actual band.

More than three years since the last Strokes LP and the best that Julian Casablancas could come up with was these 8 songs? What sticks with you about Phrazes for the Young isn't that it's finally The Strokes solo project you've actually been waiting for, but just how disappointing and disposable the vast majority of it is. Granted, there are some fine melodic moments on tracks such as "Out of the Blue," and "11th Dimension" is easily the best '80s jam of 2009; but by and large the songwriting is weak and Casablancas comes off as uninspired. In lieu of a Strokes record, you get this instead.

Whereas the members of KISS had distinctive personalities (or at least recognizable make-up personas), their solo efforts were largely unimaginative KISS re-hashes that suffered from a) not being actual KISS albums and b) canonizing songs that ordinarily probably would've ended up on the cutting room floor. Likewise, the solo Strokes are less the sum of their parts; contrary to what was promulgated five years ago, the band is essentially interchangeable, with its members having little to say of musical merit when left to their own devices. The only real big surprises on all non-Stroke releases has been that Albert Hammond, Jr. is a surprisingly credible popsmith and Casablancas fetishizes synthesizers a lot more than you'd expect.

It's not all awful, and it's certainly not Gene Simmons doing "When You Wish Upon A Star," but it sure ain't the Strokes, either.

(Originally posted 11/17/09 @ Under The Radar)

Review: Wolfmother - "Cosmic Egg"

Part of what made Wolfmother's 2005 debut stand out was that the band wasn't afraid to embrace stupidity with a straight face. Here was a group of dudes that grabbed onto some of the most ridiculous aspects of psychedelic hard rock and held them close - fantastical cover art, druggy influences, blistering riffs, a Plant-esque howl and nonsensical lyrics: "She's a woman, you know what I mean/ You better listen, listen to me/ She's gonna set you free."

Did it make sense? No. Was it probably about fucking? Yes. Did you love it? Of course you did! It was the perfect soundtrack to turn up loud and stomp around your apartment like a Neanderthal while nobody's home.

Four years later, the trio is now a quartet (with bandleader Andrew Stockdale the sole original member) and while many of the same elements that made Wolfmother a success are here, overall the album doesn't quite add up. Stockdale's songwriting isn't up to the level of their debut (and he wasn't exactly crafting poetry there) and many of the riffs are weaker this time out, making it more difficult to divert the listener's attention from cliché-ridden lyrics.

Despite some high points, there's more than a few misguided attempts to broaden their sound, most notably the gratuitous power ballad "Far Away" ("I believe that love is gonna last forever/ And it's all within my mind") and "In The Morning," which begins like bad Oasis before building to a guitar-soaked conclusion. Neither achieves their transcendent aims (though of the two "Far Away" comes closer) and they're an ill-advised step away from what Stockdale does best.

For sure, Cosmic Egg has its memorable moments: the simple "New Moon," propulsive opener "California Queen" and "Phoenix," initially driven forward by a throbbing bassline until coming to fruition while Stockdale yelps about phoenixes rising and giving way to an extended guitar solo.

It seems unfair to criticize an album for not being stupid enough, but that's the case here. The primordial trudge and explosive riffs still make appearances, but they're largely undercut by attempts at musical growth - something it initially seemed Wolfmother rejected the very idea of.

(Originally posted 11/18/09 @ Spectrum Culture)