Keep It Clean

I don’t know a whole lot about Canadian hardcore band F*cked Up other than their last two records—The Chemistry of Common Life and David Comes to Life—have been widely hailed for their subject matter as well as their music.  However, in reading more about them, they are a band that has released a ton of material as well as collaborated with a wide number of artists, including Danko Jones, Nelly Furtado, the Circle Jerks, and many others.  To call their music hardcore punk (as referred on some websites) would be sort of false because they have diverged from that early path to a more experimental hardcore sound.

F*cked Up is not afraid to push boundaries with their music or album artwork, as they have had some legal troubles with a few of their records.  But within the records themselves there is a depth not always characteristic to punk and hardcore bands.  How many hardcore or punk bands have you heard sing about plants?  (Ok, maybe mushrooms, but I’m referring to other plants.)  F*cked Up likes to stretch boundaries, and nowhere is this more evident than on their first big success, The Chemistry of Common Life.

#189 – F*cked Up, The Chemistry of Common Life (Metascore = 85)

“Son the Father” opens with a short flute prelude before the guitars come churning in.  Soon lead singer Pink Eyes (aka Damian Abraham) comes pummeling in.  When I hear his voice, he reminds of the lead singer of Green Jelly on “Three Little Pigs” but singing far more intelligent lyrics (songs that involve Rambo at the end are campy at best).  When I listen to “Son the Father”, I feel like I’m hearing Adam’s tale (Adam from the Bible) of his bloodline, spoken in a way where he questions whether or not his descendants deserve a second chance.  It’s something different for sure.

Questioning and understanding faith is the underlying theme here.  Whether the band is ultimately successful or not (doubtful), through each song they ask questions and seek answers why people believe what they believe, what it means for them, etc.  Pink Eyes doesn’t try to be judgmental or arrogant about the questions; he’s just trying to understand the meaning of life and death.  Some of his musings are done under the influence, perhaps needing that hallucinogenic push to better understand.

Whatever the outcome, this is a lyrically dense record.  One would think based on their band name alone or sound that lyrics would take a back seat to the overall edge they portray.  You would be wrong, as this grafting together of intelligent lyrics with a sometimes hard, more times melodic sound make a very intriguing record.  The critical reviews of this record tended to focus on the edginess of the band while casually mentioning the lyrics.  The lyrics make this record more than the sound, in my opinion.  This was an interesting listen.

More Utensil Artwork

Today’s entry comes from a previously discussed band, Spoon.  I left off discussing one of their earlier records, Girls Can Tell, an album that seemed to lay the groundwork for where the band would go in future releases.  Why I think Spoon is unique, I don’t know.  To me they are not like other bands I have heard…at least with the sounds put together the way they are.  Perhaps it is the way they employ different sounds, whether one of the members is beat-boxing (“Stay Don’t Go”) or Britt Daniel is playing unusual chord patterns on guitar.  Or maybe it is Daniel’s lyrics, which are frequently personal but come off in a strange, goofy fashion.

Something about Spoon is unique to me, and Kill the Moonlight (#63, Metascore = 88) does not change my opinion.  The sounds are different but build upon the foundation established by Girls Can Tell.  Every song sounds more concise, more focused than they did on Girls Can Tell.  The record itself clocks in at 34:50 and has no songs over 4 minutes in length (unlike Girls Can Tell, which had two songs over 4 minutes and is about a minute-and-a-half longer).  When you listen to the record, there are sounds coming from both sides, from behind you and in front of you, from all over.  Some bands have trouble filling in the empty space; Spoon does not.

While I thought I liked Girls Can Tell, I enjoyed Kill the Moonlight more.  There’s a great opener – “Small Stakes” – with a great organ riff and pumped up vibe, and there’s a beautiful closer – “Vittorio E.” – that is very minimal yet very full.  Lyrically (when I pay close attention) Daniel is able to weave in stories and feelings in a non-cliché way; I don’t feel like I’ve heard this story before or he’s rambling about the same stuff all over again.  There is never a particular rhyme scheme, just times of what feels like stream-of-consciousness that flow from his mouth.  I do not know whether this is his writing style or not, but I feel as if most of the songs he develops the sound ideas first and builds the lyrics around the sound.  Or maybe Daniel does both at the same time. I like many songs off the record, but “Someone Something” I probably like the most.  Musically it is an odd song, non-traditional in a chordal sense.  I like the harmonies with the “someone somethings” throughout, and the lyrics, while choppy, get the theme across.

I find Kill the Moonlight more accessible, more refreshing than some of their other albums I have heard.  What Spoon has put together here is a well-written album that baffled the critics when it came out because, while it was definitely a Spoon album with their sound, Kill the Moonlight took the best elements of all of their earlier work and made it sound commercial without being commercial.  The album sounds like a band that knows what it does best, knows how to write interesting melodies, and knows how to deliver them.  Their later albums (Gimme Fiction, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, and Transference) do not reach this level of sophistication; they have their individual moments, but the albums themselves lack the cohesion of Kill the Moonlight.

A Long Time Disposed

Wow!  I can’t believe how long it has been since I lasted posted.  My apologies to my follower! ;o)  There has been a lot going on personally and professionally, so the blog took a step to the side for a while until I could sort some things.  I’m really, really hoping to finish this blog this year.  I think that’s a reasonable goal, seeing as I have 83 remaining albums to hear.  The only foreseeable problem will be access to certain records, but I’ll keep you posted.

Today’s entry will focus on the band The Pernice Brothers.  Joe Pernice started the band in the mid-1990s after the breakup of his previous band; his brother Bob also is in the band, though this is mostly Joe’s beacon.  They have been performing on and off since forming, having released seven studio albums.  Rather than sticking to the alt-country style of his old band, the Scud Mountain Boys, Pernice has written songs in a more pop rock style, but he hasn’t totally abandoned those roots, incorporating some alt-country sounds here and there.

The Pernice Brothers’ earlier material received generally positive reviews.  Their later material has been decidedly mixed.  I don’t want to speculate on that, not being totally familiar with their material.  Yours, Mine & Ours, however, I have heard multiple times now and really enjoy.  Here’s my take.

#44 – The Pernice Brothers, Yours, Mine & Ours (Metascore = 88)

Of the albums that I have heard to date through this blog, the closest entrant would be Fountains of Wayne’s Welcome Interstate Managers, which I reviewed eons ago.  My first impression of Yours, Mine & Ours was “this sounds like an improved-upon Welcome Interstate Managers”.  Yours, Mine & Ours and Welcome Interstate Managers were actually released within weeks of each other in late spring 2003.  Actually there are quite a few characteristics that each shares:  both bands formed in the Northeast U.S. (FoW in NYC, PB in Massachusetts); both bands formed in 1996; and, both bands’ sound are quite similar, taking pop rock but adding some alt-country elements to it.

What I like about Yours, Mine & Ours over Welcome Interstate Managers, however, is the overall polish of the sound and the stronger lyrical qualities.  Each song has a steady beat with a strong backing group to support Joe’s love visions post-9/11.  If you take a look at the Pernice Brothers’ website in the discography (www.pernicebrothers.com/discography/), you can read the press release that Joe penned for the record where he talks about his reactions to 9/11, a renewed focus to enjoy what he has, the life he’s been given.  Pernice imbues these feelings into the songs on this record starting with album opener “The Weakest Shade of Blue”.  You hear the alt-country in the music when “Water Ban” comes on, with the pedal steel and melodic beat.  But by and large this is a pop rock sound that evokes the Byrds of the mid-1960s (another great comparison).

Intentionally or unintentionally, this record never really took off in terms of popularity, the one defining difference between the Pernice Brothers and Fountains of Wayne.  With “Stacy’s Mom” as the first single, Welcome Interstate Managers took off in the charts and Fountains of Wayne’s popularity soared.  While I have always thought that the ultimate goal for a music artist (particularly a rock artist) was having many, many people listening to and purchasing your music, I also know that artists crave artistic control, too (unless they’ve sold themselves to the corporate machine, but that’s a whole different issue).  Perhaps that is the case with Yours, Mine & Ours.  It’s not as if the album doesn’t have any potential hit singles—“The Weakest Shade of Blue” and “Baby in Two” (a great Elliott Smith-sounding tune) are fantastic tunes that probably could have done well that year.  But the fact is that Joe Pernice had just started his own record company, Ashmont Records, and funds were probably limited for a big time press release.  This is too bad, really; Yours, Mine & Ours is a fantastic record.

For those of you with a pop rock bent or enjoy a good rock song, check out this record.  I really liked it from front to back.

Round Two

With the proliferation of digital media and the expansion of music distributed around the world, the work of a DJ to create a unique piece of work that goes beyond what has been previously recorded has to be challenging, if not downright daunting.  I’m certain there will be naysayers, but DJs are musicians.  While in general they are not physically creating the music through musical instruments, they are taking songs, sound clips, and other things they can find in order to create songs and albums that will reach a broader audience, much like a guitarist, pianist, or whomever would attempt to write a riff or song or album that is different from what anyone else has released.  Sure, there are “formulas” for writing, but a true innovator will rework the formula to improve it.

Four Tet’s Kieran Hebden is a DJ that has embraced technology in order to obtain the samples he uses for his songs.  Unlike the traditional DJs who use two or more turntables and a large collection of vinyl records, Hebden has a tremendous collection of digital samples that he borrows from in order to create his music.  From a purely storage and organizational point of view, this is probably the easiest way to go now; with a 1-TB external hard drive you can store 2,000 hours of uncompressed audio files or 17,000 hours of compressed audio (at 128 kB/s).  A traditionalist could have crate after crate after crate of vinyl records but would probably not come close to the amount of available audio a digital storage device would have.  A tradeoff between digital and analog vinyl is that vinyl has a warmer sound to it; digital music, despite what efforts the user takes to rip the music, really cannot achieve this warmth.

All of this said (having expanded this tangent for long enough), Four Tet’s Rounds expands on the sounds Hebden delivered on Pause to create a record that has been critically-acclaimed and led Hebden to more gigs and recording opportunities with other artists.

# 30 - Four Tet, Rounds (Metascore = 89)

I heard Four Tet’s record Rounds prior to hearing Pause, so perhaps my impressions of Pause were affected by that.  Pause was a good record, particularly for it being the first big label release.  Rounds takes the sounds from Pause to a whole new level.  Unlike Pause, Rounds sounds and feels more cohesive.  There is something more organic about the way that Hebden has pieced the music and sound clips together that the record doesn’t totally feel like CGI, or rather CGS (since CGI would be images, CGS seems more appropriate, which probably doesn’t exist in this fashion, but whatever).

Gone in my opinion is the “folktronica” or whatever hokey descriptions were given for Pause.  Still here is the Asian influence (Hebden’s parents are from India, though he grew up in London) and a broader palette of beats to improve on the overall ambience he created in Pause.  One critic even hinted that Hebden had integrated cinematic ideas into this record, which, upon a further listen to the record, I can hear what that critic is hearing.  How Hebden has set up the track order could play easily into a Ocean’s Eleven crime caper.

For me this is easily one of the more enjoyable electronic records of any style I have heard.  Tracks like “As Serious As Your Life”, “Unspoken” and “She Moves She” are so perfectly put together that the flow of the record just feels right.  There are not really any throwaways in my opinion; each track integrates with other to create this amazing soundscape.  I would go so far as to say this is one of the better records I have heard to.  It sounds like the work of someone who has taken the time to carefully craft and document a record that would have a long-lasting impact on future recordings from other artists.

Screaming Tree

For those few that read my little blog, sorry for the month-long delay between entries.  Having concentrated my efforts on the birth of my first child, I haven’t had the opportunity to really give a good listen to any of my remaining albums.  I still would love to knock this project sooner rather than later, and hopefully I will be able to do so.  All in the same, I love listening to the music, and any chance to extend it for the sake of hearing new music I will gladly try to extend.

When I hear the name “Mark Lanegan”, I think of the lead singer for former Seattle grunge band the Screaming Trees.  I heard their song “Nearly Lost You” off the singles soundtrack, an old Cameron Crowe film that featured many music acts from the Seattle scene in the early 1990’s, and immediately liked it.  My initial attraction to that soundtrack was for the Pearl Jam songs “Breath” and “State of Love and Trust”, but I had also heard “Would?” by Alice in Chains, “Nearly Lost You”, and “May This Be Love” by the Jimi Hendrix Experience.  “Nearly Lost You” for me combined the Seattle hard rock edge that was beginning to take over the airwaves with a smart pop sound that didn’t sound anything like the boy bands that were popular at the time but was catchy.  Lanegan’s voice in particular was different, being gravelly and deep, not the high-pitched voice you typically think of in a rock lead singer.  Screaming Trees had released Sweet Oblivion somewhere around the same time, and that record took off.  I had the privilege of seeing them live when they toured with the Spin Doctors and Soul Asylum; I remember Barrett Martin was killing it on the drums.

Anyway, the Trees broke up, and Lanegan has had various side projects going on.  He’s done some great stuff with Queens of the Stone Age (though he’s left them since Lullabies to Paralyze was released), Greg Dulli (formerly of the Afghan Whigs), Isobel Campbell (formerly of Belle and Sebastian), and solo.  His solo recordings have been sporadic, but in general they have been received well and modestly successful.  His last solo effort, Bubblegum, received his strongest critical praise and is the topic of this entry.

# 184 – Mark Lanegan, Bubblegum (Metascore = 85)

“Bubblegum” is really a misnomer for this album; the word itself would make you think this is a happy, poppy record, but this is far from the case.  The opening riff on “When Your Number Isn’t Up” does not ring of happiness or joy; instead, Lanegan’s character seems to languish in that point between life and death, not knowing which side he’s going to come out on.  Speaking of the opening riff, musically this is different from what I’m accustomed to hearing.  It does not boom with the hard rocking guitar/drums overload of the Screaming Trees or the chaotic noise of the Queens.  The sounds are more subdued and experimental than in those more popular collaborations.

Lanegan has numerous collaborators on this record.  In some cases, the listener knows who is on the track:  “Hit the City”, for instance, includes PJ Harvey, who also appears on several other tracks.  “Wedding Dress” features vocals from Lanegan’s ex-wife Wendy Rae Fowler.  There are many others on here, too, most of whom perform in the background:  Josh Homme and Joey Castillo of Queens of the Stone Age, Duff McKagan and Izzy Stradlin of the original Guns N’ Roses lineup, and Greg Dulli.  Their styles also help bring a certain air to how the record sounds.  There is something sinister in some songs, something desperate in others.  The dynamics help strengthen this record.

None of this record is over the top, which gives it a much better ambience.  In some ways I liken it to the Dead Weather’s first record, Horehound, which also felt minimal yet had this great ambience to the record, particularly on a song like “60 Feet Tall”.  Lanegan’s vocals and lyrics are treated excellently here; the darkness of drug addiction and dying love are evoked effortlessly here.  I particularly liked “When Your Number Isn’t Up”, “Methamphetamine Blues”, “One Hundred Days”, and “Come to Me”.  I also enjoyed the different musical styles throughout, how Lanegan put them together in a way that keeps them cohesive.  Not all of the songs are home runs, but they at least fit the overall package.