The Button with the Two Vertical Bars

There have been a series of blog posts on NPR’s music website lately dedicated to the musical culture surrounding electronic music.  Posts have ranged from how electronic music has been promoted by major labels in the United States to pioneers of sounds that led to electronic music.  Anyone that follows music knows there are many different styles around electronic music.  My own brother spins records as a side gig (in addition to being able to play multiple instruments proficiently), and he has introduced me to a number of styles, though his primary realm is in jungle and drum ‘n bass.  For me, I have been more into the ambient style of electronica—the type that embraces not only the original house beats established in the late 1980s and expanded in the 1990s but also introduces elements of jazz, fusion, and other musical idioms.

This leads me to the topic of this particular entry.  Four Tet is the stage moniker for multi-instrumentalist Kieran Hebden.  He has established himself in electronic music for taking different musical genres and integrating them into electronic music, delving into a niche style that can be challenging to sell to the public.  Hebden has worked with a wide range of artists in remixing their music into something similar to his own releases under Four Tet.  The results have been critically praised, and his stature in music has grown through each release.  His first release with Domino Records, Pause, is the focus of this post.

#164 – Four Tet, Pause (Metascore = 85)

With electronica records I have a difficult time knowing how to articulate my review.  I listened to the James Blake record recently, and I realized I usually need a couple of listens to sort of grasp what the artist is trying to articulate.  Listening to Pause was no different for me.  The obvious difference between the Blake record and Pause is that Blake actually sings on his record, whereas Hebden does not sing at all on his and has few vocal samples on his records.  So right away I have to look for other elements to understand the artist’s inspirations.

The immediate recurring musical theme I heard was what I thought was an Eastern Asia-inspired multi-note motif (think the sound of a Japanese koto played on an acoustic guitar), which plays in several variations throughout the record.  Another frequent sound throughout the record is the sound of an office in the morning (with computer typing, coughing, and other office-like sounds).  I personally didn’t think the office sounds really unify the record.  I was more attracted to the repeating Asian motif, which begins in “Glue of the World” and reappears at different times.

What I do know is that, in terms of atmospherics, Hebden does a great job of creating this chilled-out atmosphere where the music kind of weaves in and out of consciousness while progressing through.  His blending of folk music with jazz on top of electronica beats is rather interesting…in the years I have listened to electronic music, I don’t recall having heard acoustic elements in other music I have heard.  I also found the pacing throughout the record to be very good; Hebden has a good mix of slow and fast and medium throughout the record.

Calling out particular tracks for an album can be challenging for me, particularly when I prefer to look (or listen) at the product as a whole.  A few highlights for me, though, were “Twenty Three”, “Untangle”, “Everything is Alright”, and “No More Mosquitoes”.  I enjoyed how the layers of music come together to create these sound collages while retaining the overall sound of the album.  That’s not to discount the other tracks here…these just affected me more.

As I’ve mentioned before, I needed several listens in order to appreciate this album.  There are a lot of things going on here, and being able to follow them took an extra pair of ears.  The interesting thing about this record is I can hear how in later years other artists adopted this sound to incorporate into their own.  This is a good record that foretells of future successes Hebden would have.

This Ain’t No Ludacris Joint

Like most artists from the South, the Drive-By Truckers take pride in where they come from yet do not shy away from the problems and prejudices that have plagued the region for centuries.  They have most definitely never been afraid of writing concept albums around the South; Southern Rock Opera to me was an amazing record that focused primarily on the history of ever popular Southern rock band, Lynyrd Skynyrd, through a fictional lens.  That album wasn’t just about them, though; Patterson Hood, Mike Cooley and Rob Malone wrote songs that dug into the dark history of certain individuals and groups in the South during the band’s history and didn’t try to sugar coat it.  Hood in some ways tried to exonerate famed Alabama governor George Wallace for work he did later in his career, but he didn’t hesitate to bring up the awful incident at the doors of the University of Alabama in 1963 or other pro-segregation incidences that have forever clouded his career.

The Dirty South (2004) marks the second album the Truckers did with Jason Isbell in the lineup.  Unlike Malone, Isbell was more forthright in wanting to contribute to the songwriting process that has forever been dominated by Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley.  Unlike on Decoration Day, The Dirty South introduced Shonna Tucker, the band’s current bassist and Isbell’s wife at the time, as part of the lineup, replacing long-time bassist Earl Hicks.  The Dirty South was, like Decoration Day, highly praised for its concepts and music.

#81 – Drive-By Truckers, The Dirty South (Metascore = 87)

The Dirty South opens with the hard rocking, twangy track “Where the Devil Don’t Stay”.  Mike Cooley, signature vocals and all, wrote this dark tale about a son witnessing his father’s downfall to moonshine and gambling in the challenging Great Depression.  My online sources tell me the band performed this in one take and that Cooley received inspiration from his uncle, who wrote this as a poem.  The imagery his uncle created here is absolutely fascinating and sets the stage for a powerful record.

Individually as songwriters, Cooley, Hood and Isbell are all very different yet very similar.  They are different in that Cooley leans heavily on his country roots, writing lyrics that could just as easily be by Waylon Jennings or Willie Nelson (e.g., “Carl Perkins’ Cadillac”).  Isbell’s songs have a more roots rock feel, along the veins of The Band or The Byrds; his songs tell stories of folk heroes or venture into lighter subjects like love and life (“The Day John Henry Died”).  Hood tells long, drawn out narratives that frequently have an underlying meaning to them (check out “Puttin’ People on the Moon”).  But together, their stories and styles coalesce into this incredible album, unifying the messages and themes that run through the record.

Musically the group sounds even more assured than it did in Decoration Day, and I thought they sounded damn good on that record.  I listen to a song like “The Sands of Iwo Jima” and hear the intricacies of each instrument locked together; you hear the unique playing of each member here (speaking of which, Mike Cooley is just a fantastic musician, playing banjo and harmonica on that track in addition to the amazing guitar runs and riffs he plays on the rest of the record).  The rhythm section holds down the beat well here, letting the three-pronged guitar attack run loose in front of the lyrics.  The music is more diverse with Isbell—less Southern rock, perhaps, but it still has that strong foundation to make the country or pop more edgy. 

As with all Drive-By Truckers albums, I’m initially drawn strictly by the music, but over time I really appreciate the lyrics to the songs.  Decoration Day and The Dirty South, of all of their albums, are the two most consistently strong records from beginning to end.  Southern Rock Opera was great overall, but there were moments where I felt lost on several tracks or that the tracks lost the soul of the better tracks on the album.  The Dirty South is another great record from this band that deserves a better grading than it received.

Time (The Revelator)

After taking a few weeks off to deal with my music ADD, I am trying to reboot and start fresh.  I have ninety albums left to here, so I need to renew my focus.  Today’s entry focuses on a great record from folk/Americana music, Time (The Revelator) by Gillian Welch.  Gillian Welch herself has been a prominent figure in the genre for years for her own recordings as well as guest appearances on other artists’ recordings.

Welch was adopted by musical parents at a young age in New York City and later moved with them to Los Angeles (where they wrote music for The Carol Burnett Show).  From them she was exposed to all types of music, including the works of Bob Dylan, Woody Guthrie, and country music greats the Carter Family.  She excelled in many things she did, including learning musical instruments and singing.  She graduated from UC-Santa Cruz with a degree in photography but wanted to further pursue a career in music, so she attended the prestigious Berklee College of Music, majoring in songwriting.  It was there that she met her longtime collaborator and friend, David Rawlings.

Together, Welch and Rawlings have released five well-received albums.  They have been produced by acclaimed producer T-Bone Burnett (if you recall, Burnett also produced another record that I have reviewed, Raising Sand, with Robert Plant and Welch’s friend Alison Krauss), and have recorded most of their material in Nashville.  Their third album, Time (The Revelator), was released in 2001 and is the subject of this entry.

# 107 – Gillian Welch, Time (The Revelator) (Metascore = 86)

The beauty of this record for me is the mix of classic folk and Americana music with modern lyrics and touches.  Opening track “The Revelator” is a perfect example of the former.  The song rolls along like a Hank Williams, Sr. ballad, with its dark Western lyrics and somber sound.  The drifter goes from town to town, cast out each time by its inhabitants.  Only time could possibly save this person’s soul.  In fact, this theme of time being the revelator resonates throughout the record, a characteristic that gives this album strength.  The subjects change, and modern touches such as those on “Elvis Presley Blues” or “I Want to Sing That Rock and Roll” show that folk music does not always have to be rehashes of Woody Guthrie’s music.  Bob Dylan has shown this time and again, and Welch and Rawlings further prove this.

Two other characteristics that really strengthen the album are the vocal and musical interplay between Welch and Rawlings.  They are the only two players on the record, but their sound is so powerful that one can’t help but be attracted to the music’s pull.  Having worked together for nearly a decade at this point, the pair is very aware of how the other sings or plays; they sound perfectly in sync, and the richness of their harmonies gives this record a shine that most other records cannot even begin to duplicate.

Welch’s plaintive vocals and storytelling give this record the plaudits it has received.  Critics praised these characteristics for embracing the sounds she began with in Revival (1996) and Hell Among the Yearlings (1998) to create a record that is both rustic and modern at the same time.  Every listen I find myself more attracted to its sounds and depth.  I also appreciate why numerous artists have utilized her vocal talents to enhance their records.

Britpop Titans Re-Emerge

When most people (and I mean the casual listening public) think of the Britpop of the 1990s, two bands probably come to mind—Oasis and Blur.  Oasis was the juggernaut that exploded with “Live Forever” off of Definitely Maybe in 1994, practically taking over the charts after Kurt Cobain’s death in April.  Blur was a few years older and somewhat late on the U.S. scene (compared to Oasis), but their single “Song 2” has been a mainstay on rock radio for years.  People probably forget that Great Britain was fertile ground for music in the 1990s.

One of the bands to emerge from the Britpop scene was the Manic Street Preachers.  Hailing from Wales, James Dean Bradfield (lead vocalist, guitarist), Nicky Wire (rhythm guitarist and lyricist, later chief lyricist and bassist), Sean Moore (drummer), and Miles Woodward (original bassist) started the band as a punk band before Bradfield, Wire, and Moore migrated more towards glam punk and hard rock (Woodward would step down during this transition).  Richey Edwards joined the band on rhythm guitars a little over a year after Woodward quit, changing the dynamics of the band.  Edwards’ writings tended to be either political or introspective, and his personality was often characterized as enigmatic yet eloquent.  He was the mastermind behind their most powerful record, The Holy Bible, which was critically acclaimed but commercially a flop.  Despite the commercial failure, the band maintained a strong fan base, though Edwards became more and more despondent.  Edwards disappeared mysteriously in 1995, but before his disappearance he left a journal of his lyrics and writings with the band while in the process of recording.  This journal became the core of the album I’m listening to today, Journal for Plague Lovers (2009).

# 187 – Manic Street Preachers, Journal for Plague Lovers (Metascore = 85)

Journal for Plague Lovers came out shortly after authorities deemed Edwards had died in 2008, nearly 13 years after his disappearance.  The band, having never really believed he had died, set aside his share of royalties from their sales in case he should return.  The band even seriously considered disbanding after the decision, but Edwards’ family encouraged them to continue.  Journal for Plague Lovers is sort of their ode to their fallen band mate.  They had recorded only a few songs from this material on a previous album, Everything Must Go, but otherwise they set the material aside for the right time.

The time waited seems to have allowed the band to digest what they found.  They held Edwards’ input into the songwriting process so deeply that they only wanted to do the best they could.  Each band member contributes to writing the music to the lyrics, which is a relatively new aspect of the band.  Bradfield wrote most of the music on previous Preachers’ records, but here Wise and Moore provide more to the music than they had previously.  Sonically this sounds similar to other more recent Preachers’ albums; I felt familiar with it having heard Send Away the Tigers previously.  “Journal for Plague Lovers” actually sounds like a Rush song to me, but other than that, the Preachers’ stamp is here.

Lyrically the listener can get a feel for the mood Edwards was in at the time of his death.  Some of his lyrics and writings were created while institutionalized for depression and alcoholism.  There are strong political tones throughout the record, but there are as many songs of heart break and loneliness.  Edwards references Noam Chomsky’s book Rethinking Camelot in album opener “Peeled Apples” and writes about endless suffering and no governments doing anything to remediate it.  In “Jackie Collins Existential Question Time” Edwards seems to be questioning his own thoughts of what love and life are when writers like Jackie Collins write these overtly selfless lust books where the characters are never really in love so much as in lust over other people than the ones they should be devoted to.  Love, or the lack thereof, was a muse of Edwards to his end.

I acknowledge I should listen to more of the Preachers’ music than I have, because listening to this it’s hard to tell whether the record is better than some of their others.  As an outsider looking in, though, I do appreciate this album and what the surviving band members did with Edwards’ material.  Many of the songs here barely exceed 3 minutes in length, but their efficiency and catchiness are apparent throughout.  I think an 85 Metascore is good for this record.  It’s not the best record I have heard so far, but it’s certainly a good record.

Redefinition

When I think of John Cale, I think of his work with controversial band the Velvet Underground, from which he departed in 1968 after releasing roughly three full albums and recording various tracks.  I’ll never forget his tracks on White Light/White Heat (1968); “Sister Ray” was my favorite tune, but “The Gift” (a collaboration amongst all the members) is one of the most disturbing tracks I have ever heard, and I practically refuse to listen to that album for that reason.  John Cale is a multi-instrumentalist, singer and songwriter who has worked with a wide range of artists during his career.

Cale was classically trained on the viola before moving onto the piano and multiple other instruments.  His work with the ensemble Theater of Eternal Music heavily influenced his work with the Velvets; their music was heavily drone-laden, which influenced later musical styles, particularly noise rock.  He left the Velvets over creative differences with Lou Reed, and with that the experimental tendencies of the band also went.  As a producer and artist, he has not latched onto one particular style, instead putting out what interested him at the time.  At times this chameleon-like approach has served him well; at others, his output has been unbearable.  He has often taken inspiration from the movements of the moment.  The electronic music movement of the late 1990s and early 2000s was the inspiration for his album, HoboSapiens (2003).

# 33 – John Cale, HoboSapiens (Metascore = 89)

HoboSapiens finds Cale embracing electronic music.  While he still employs instruments throughout the record, there are more sound blips and samples on this record than had been on earlier records.  For the most part I found the record sonically fascinating.  Cale doesn’t open any new doors with this foray into electronic music; more, he pays tribute to it in his own way.  His addition of instruments with the music helps broaden the sonic palette, and I found it to be tastefully done (standout tracks include “Things” and “Bicycle”).  He melds his style of drone music with electronic music in an interesting way (particularly on “Caravan”). There are songs towards the end of the record that make you weary, but this ode seems decent.

The song list credits “Zen” as the opening track, though the album contains a hidden track about four and a half minutes back if you rewind the record entitled “Set Me Free”.  I like “Set Me Free”, though I wonder what critics thought.  Cale seems stoic in the song, and it’s really a nice ballad, though it comes off as older David Bowie than younger John Cale, which is not a good thing.  The trick too often in Cale’s music is the lyrics, which are frequently strange.  Some songs are bluntly about one topic (“Reading My Mind” is a car song).  Some songs aren’t really about anything (“Zen”).  There are no set themes here, which does this record a disservice. 

For some reason, when I listen to this record, I think about Robert Wyatt’s record Comicopera or Paul Weller’s Wake Up the Nation.  I found those two albums to be better than this one.  Comicopera, despite its sometimes over-the-top political commentary, was a record written with three different yet united themes.  Wake Up the Nation doesn’t really have a theme, but Weller seemed to embrace his age and make a catchy record.  The thing with HoboSapiens is that while it’s (for the most part) musically interesting, lyrically it’s just too frequently strange to be interesting.  The music isn’t able to fully fill the lack of interest from the lyrics, at least for me.

Do I recommend this record?  That’s a tough call.  It’s not a bad record.  It’s not an 89 record for me.  There are qualities about this record that to me better reflect an 85 record.  But I would recommend for those John Cale listeners needing their John Cale fix.

Tony Stark

Since my teenage years I have always been fascinated by the Wu-Tang Clan and its individual members.  Each member had a different personality and vocal delivery that made them one of the most popular rap groups during the 1990s, if not of rap history.  I don’t know that I could pinpoint a particular rapper that I liked the most; they all had their own versions of stories that they would weave together into songs.  As a group, the Clan has released 5 albums; Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) is a hip hop classic released in 1993 when West Coast gangsta rap was the en vogue thing, and they released a record quite different to that sound but with the same braggadocio, grime and grit.

Members of the Wu-Tang Clan have released solo records as well as teamed up with other members and rappers to release material.  One of the best duos from this group is the pairing of Raekwon (real name = Corey Woods) and Ghostface Killah (real name = Dennis Coles).  Their collaborations on their solo efforts have always had some of the best rap stories.  Ghostface has one of the best rap flows I have heard, and while he can be quite violent and lewd, he’s very effective in his rhymes.  Paired with another great wordsmith in Raekwon, they have put out some fantastically reviewed albums.  Fishscale, released by Ghostface Killah in 2006, is one of the albums to achieve this and is the next record I’m discussing.

#67 – Ghostface Killah, Fishscale (Metascore = 88)

Fishscale is filled with tales of crime, drugs, and sex.  “Fishscale” itself is slang for uncut cocaine, the drug most frequently referenced during this record.  There are short skits (“Heart Street Directions” is the funniest yet lewdest thing I have heard on record not spoken by a comedian).  There are references to the Iron Man comics (Ghostface has been frequently referred to as Iron Man since his solo debut.  On “9 Milli Bros.” the entire Wu-Tang Clan (including the late Ol’ Dirty Bastard) appears to support his record.

Obviously Ghostface is the highlight of this set – it IS his record.  This record, though, really impressed me more than some of his other releases.  He sounds loose and confident here; the stories he and the wide selection of guests tell here are sharp and intriguing.  Even if there was no intent to develop a specific story here, I feel like I am watching a movie listening to it.  There are stories of early life in organized crime (“Shakey Dog”), the lead character on top of the world (“The Champ”, “Beauty Jackson”), the same character dealing with losing friends (“R.A.G.U.”), and reminiscing about the aunt that would set him straight despite being involved in organized crime (“Whip You Like a Strap”).  Not all tracks sound like they belong in the same movie, but without them the listener would feel short changed.  “Momma” is one of the best tracks on this record and one of the most personal; he details the struggles of a single mother dealing with heart break and pains, wanting to let everything go, but how he is going to bring hope and peace to this mother.  It’s a truly powerful track. 

This record is full of great backing samples, a product of the great producers involved on the album.  MF DOOM, who is basically Madvillain (seem my previous blog on how awesome Madvillain was), produces a few of my favorites off the record (“9 Milli Bros.”, “Jellyfish”).  Pete Rock, famous for being a part of Pete Rock & CL Smooth, brings his synthesis of jazz and funk to produce some killer tunes here, too (“R.A.G.U.” and “Be Easy”).  I find it amazing how much a great beat can bring out of a rapper or singer.  I believe the beats are a catalyst in how the artist writes.  Here the beats become a part of the story that is being told.

I have heard this record about three times in full, and each time I gain a little more from it.  I also gain a better appreciation for what Ghostface Killah has released here.  While he has always been a consistently strong performer, he is particularly on point here.  This record is not for everyone (particularly those sensitive to language and themes of crime and drugs), but it is definitely a strong record.

A Better Appreciation

When I reviewed New Moon a while back, I don’t think I had the appreciation for Elliott Smith’s music that I do now.  I think I needed several listens of that record in order to better appreciate his songwriting gifts and his articulate playing.  New Moon captured demos and early recordings from what is considered his richest songwriting period – 1994-1998, covering the albums Elliott Smith and Either/Or. 

On a trip to the library one day, I found the most recent release from his estate, An Introduction to…Elliott Smith, which is a compilation of some of his best tunes from his first album to From a Basement on a Hill, his last official LP (which was released posthumously).  Introduction was favorably reviewed, though it didn’t get nearly the reviews as his original releases did.  I found it to be a great re-introduction for me; I listened to it a couple of times and re-listened to New Moon and started to better understand and appreciate these qualities in him.

From a Basement on a Hill is the second of Smith’s albums on my list and the subject of today’s entry.

# 58 – Elliott Smith, From a Basment on the Hill (Metascore = 88)

When I first listened to this record, I thought Smith was bitter and angry.  Unlike New Moon, there was a lot more electric guitars and heavy drums, so I immediately took this negative approach.  But on my second listen, I realized this is more on par with some of the songs I heard on Introduction, so I have given it a better chance.  I guess I ought to if I’m going to understand the reviews (see the 88 above).

When I hear “Coast to Coast”, I think about this article I read in Britain’s New Music Express about his life and music.  He was going through a rough relationship at the time, and the lyrics seem to emphasize this.  His relationship was on-again, off-again, and some people have speculated that its ups and downs had something to do with his death.  Whether or not this is true, the negativities in this relationship permeate from this track.  “Let’s Get Lost” would be his running away based on the track sequence, though I’m more intrigued by his guitar playing and singing here.  “Let’s Get Lost” also recalls his minimalist past works on Elliott Smith or Either/Or, which were not known for their electric qualities.

“Pretty (Ugly Before)” is my favorite tune of his.  I have read that he did not intend to include this song on the album, it having been released as a single before.  However, there is just something so rich about this song, so creative in the words and playing (despite how cliché it may sound), that I really feel this benefits the album tremendously.  It’s a pop song…a sad pop song, but so catchy that I can’t help humming it.  For me this might be the epitome of the sad indie pop tunes he ever wrote.

In reading some reviews, the critics describe the music on this album and his previous release, Figure 8, as more grandiose than his previous records.  Having heard some of his songs from earlier releases on Introduction, I can hear the Beatles circa Magical Mystery Tour or White Album sound in these songs.  There is the hint of psychedelia mixed in with acoustic balladry and melody in the majority of tunes here.  There is the mix of optimism and pessimism (though more pessimism than optimism).  I actually find it to be a refreshing update of that sound.

Some of the reviewers also criticized this record for being burdened with topics that were too reminiscent of earlier works.  One topic Smith abuses over and over is drugs, which he had a terrible heroin and alcohol addiction during his life.  At some point he’s beating a dead horse in discussing it, and perhaps he may not have released some of these songs if he had been alive.  I have a hard time overanalyzing these comments because we don’t know what he might have changed if he had been alive when this was released.  I think some of the criticisms are valid but really unfair given the circumstances.

As I mentioned earlier, I have a better appreciation for Smith’s work now than I did.  I find From a Basement on the Hill to be a strong record, certainly better than some of the other records I have heard, but I am not sure I would rate this one as well as New Moon.  Lyrically, despite the retreads, Smith’s writings are very good here.  Just be prepared for being in a dark mood after hearing it.