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(04/27/16 4:11pm)
California folk-rock band Dawes will perform at the Bluebird this Thursday, April 28, in support of their latest album, 2015's All Your Favorite Bands. That record, released via HUB Records, finds the band channeling the same influences that made their first three records so great. 70s Laurel Canyon influences abound, and the tracks are simultaneously sunny and dour, a hallmark of that era of songwriting. Lead singer/songwriter/guitarist Taylor Goldsmith has quietly positioned himself as one of music's premiere songwriters since the band's debut, 2009's North Hills, fashioning a style that's at once ruminatively specific and optimistically populist. Dawes' live show, too, is an exercise in dualism; the tight, subtle arrangements from their albums are played to perfection, but the addition of guitarist Duane Betts, son of former Allman Brothers Band guitarist Dickey Betts, has bolstered the band's live sound. Gorgeous vocal harmonies, soaring guitar solos, and nuanced lyricism will all be on display this Thursday, providing concertgoers with a cathartic end to the end of this school year.
Watch the video for "Things Happen" here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNpSpMMfQis
This show is 21+. Tickets are $20. Doors open at 7 p.m. Hiss Golden Messenger is slated as the opener and will go on at 8 p.m.
(01/20/16 6:25pm)
This Thursday, Jan. 21, marks Diane Coffee's debut performance at the Bluebird in support of their latest record, 2015's excellent Everybody's A Good Dog. The band, helmed by Shaun Fleming, established voice actor and live drummer for indie rockers (and Culture Shock 2015 headliners) Foxygen, is making their second Bloomington appearance in less than a year, having already put in a rollicking performance at the Bishop last September. Diane Coffee's sound, an infectious mixture of 60's power pop and glam/psych rock, is defined in large part by Fleming's vocal theatrics, and his on-stage demeanor more than matches the vocal gymnastics he employs on-record. With Fleming's voice and songwriting talents, Diane Coffee more than stands up against Foxygen's best material, and fans should expect a wildly entertaining night of glorious rock and roll bombast this Thursday.
This is a benefit show for Bloomington PRIDE, a wonderful organization that works to promote and celebrate LGBTQA culture.
Watch the video for terrific single "Everyday" here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJ8xHy-xPoQ
The show is 21+. Tickets are $35. Doors open at 7 p.m. There is no slated opener. Proceeds benefit Bloomington PRIDE.
(12/28/15 5:58pm)
4/7
9/4 via Nonesuch Records
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kcewVcjtiE
There’s always been a lot to enjoy about Dan Auerbach’s side projects. As a solo artist, 2009’s Keep It Hid proved Auerbach’s true mettle as a songwriter trading in the swampier depths of American music. As a producer, he’s revived R&B stalwart Dr. John’s career, added muscle to Ray LaMontagne’s weathered growl, and refreshed Lana Del Rey’s then-tiresome shtick into something dark and beautiful. But no matter what, Auerbach will never escape the long shadow cast by his most successful project. Every solo album, every tour with a side project, they’ll all be compared to the Black Keys, arguably the most successful rock band of the 00’s.
Throughout the debut of his newest side project, The Arcs, Auerbach finds himself shrouded by that shadow. Which is not to say he doesn’t do his best to get out from behind it. Yours, Dreamily, is, at its best, a thing of beauty. Auerbach’s grimy guitar and honeyed falsetto, long two of the Black Keys’ signature touchstones, are everywhere on this album. And The Arcs prove a worthy band to Auerbach, shading this album appropriate hues. From cracking ferocity (opener “Outta My Mind”) to seductive slinkiness (“Cold Companion”), from stuttering psychedelia (the outstanding “Put A Flower In Your Pocket”) to soaring soul-searchers (“Searching the Blue”), it’s all there for the band.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3CyjGhVua_s
Or at least it’s almost all there. Because despite some true high points on this record, Auerbach and co. still can’t seem to shake the spectre of the Black Keys looming over them. Too often, Yours seems to unintentionally split the difference between two of the Keys’ more psychedelic efforts, 2008’s Attack & Release and last year’s Turn Blue. Those albums found Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney finding their way through Danger Mouse-induced haze, but the aura never dominated the songs. That is too often not the case here. “Nature’s Child”, despite a great vocal from Auerbach and some liquefied synths, never quite seems to know what it wants to be, bouncing between aesthetics with no real direction. “Come and Go” plods along on tired innuendo made explicit by the moans of satisfied females that pop up in the background. It’s entirely unnecessary, and a low point on the album. And, despite its relatively svelte 45-minute runtime, the record drags on and on. Not even an inspired guest vocal from the all-female mariachi group Flor de Toloache on “Chains of Love” can speed up the back half of the album.
Despite all this, the high points on Yours, Dreamily, really do stand up to some of Auerbach’s best work, and that includes the Black Keys. And the best tracks do sound like they’d come off a Keys record. “Outta My Mind” sounds like a storming centerpiece off Attack & Release, while “Put A Flower In Your Pocket” would’ve been right at home on Brothers. When this album is good, it’s great. But its best tracks cannot save Yours, Dreamily, from the giant looming over its shoulder. But that doesn’t invalidate this album’s existence, and with another full-length record in the works, The Arcs certainly have more to offer. But it remains to be seen just how much more they can.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOdVTaf-CbE
Key Tracks: “Outta My Mind”, “Put A Flower In Your Pocket”, “Stay In My Corner”,
“Searching the Blue”
(12/19/15 8:19pm)
Released: 7/17 via Brown Records
4/7 stars
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPqeZncpbuE
Covers can be a mixed bag. At its best, a cover can extract something fresh and vital from its source material, making the song new again. Some of the best cover versions barely sound like the original at all. When Jimi Hendrix covered “All Along the Watchtower”, he ditched the dustiness of Dylan’s original in favor of some of the most dramatic guitar playing of his career. Jeff Buckley disposed of the schmaltziness of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”, turning it into the singular statement of his career, a towering moment that blends secularity and spirituality into one spine-tingling performance.
At its worst, a cover doesn’t insult its source material. A “bad” cover isn’t poorly performed or conceived. Some of the worst covers are the ones that fail to do anything other than mimic the original. It’s boring and uninspiring. Would the Byrds’ version of “Mr. Tambourine Man” been as ubiquitous had they merely copied Dylan’s version?
But, like anything in music, those rules don’t stand hard and fast. If you two voices as beautiful as Sam Beam’s and Ben Bridwell’s, sometimes it doesn’t matter if you take the source material to new and exciting places. And on Sing Into My Mouth, the Iron & Wine and Band of Horses frontmen don’t inject much originality into most of these songs. What they do, however, is show extreme reverence to these songs, and deference to their definitive, original recordings.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqGazXmiqCM
The tracks selected for this album are a smorgasbord of singers and songwriters from the last 50 years. This isn’t a who’s-who of classic songs, and frankly this album is all the better for it. Instead of covering Rod Stewart, Bridwell decides to take on a terrific track from Stewart’s Faces bandmate Ronnie Lane, the lightly rollicking “Done This One Before”. The cover is extraordinarily faithful to the original, swapping Lane’s harmonica solo for a jaunty electric piano solo. On the next track, Beam ambles his way through Bonnie Raitt’s “Anyday Woman”. Bridwell’s lead on “You Know More Than I Know” isn’t much different from John Cale’s original; there’s just some more pedal steel guitar on this one. And Beam’s cover of the Marshall Tucker Band’s short ditty “Ab’s Song” is a note-for-note replication of the original.
The tracks that do deviate from their source material largely differ from subtraction. Bridwell’s beautiful take on the Spiritualized track “Straight and Narrow” retains the soul-seeking affect of the original; Bridwell’s plaintive tenor is almost a dead ringer for Spiritualized singer Jason Pierce. But here the duo drop the orchestration that adorns the back half of the original, instead letting their harmonies and pedal steel guitar shine. Beam’s turn on Sade’s “Bullet Proof Soul” is one of the more surprising moments on an album not particularly heavy on them. Here, the moody sax lines and drum machines are replaced with moody slide guitar lines and faraway harmonies from Beam and Bridwell. The duo’s ability to retain the tension and drama of the original is why this track works so well.
But despite the tendency to remain faithful, the duo still finds opportunities to take some chances. Their spacey, ethereal take on J.J. Cale’s classic, rambling “Magnolia” is a welcome diversion from the source material. Beam’s smoky voice echoes like it’s coming from some far-off place, injecting freshness into the original’s laid-back mellow. And Bridwell’s expansive take on Peter La Farge’s eerie dirge “Coyote” is a tremendous example of retaining the spirit of the original while taking it to bold new places. Where La Farge was howling from the top of some lonely hill in the depths of the woods, Bridwell’s calling out from some distant galactic outpost. It’s an album highlight.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKH_fsLC3SU
But perhaps the song most emblematic of this album’s spirit is the song it derives its title from. The duo’s spellbinding version of the Talking Heads’ “This Must The Place” almost does the album a disservice by being its first track: where do you go from there? Aside from the lyrics, Beam and Bridwell’s version is almost unrecognizable from David Byrne and co.’s weird and wonderful 1982 masterstroke. The two singers gel perfectly here, with Bridwell’s reedy tenor gliding perfectly atop Beam’s dulcet voice. When they hit their falsettos at the end of the song, it amounts to the most sublime point anywhere on the album. It singlehandedly justifies Sing Into My Mouth’s existence.
There are certainly some clunkers on this album. The version of David Gilmour’s “No Way Out of Here” drags on, and the deep soul of Them Two’s “Am I A Good Man” is completely absent here, but mostly the duo succeeds in crafting a cover’s album that befits its album artwork’s spirit. This is just a couple of extremely talented singer-songwriters with a lot of reverence for their surprisingly wide-ranging influences. This album isn't a bid for ubiquity a la Johnny Cash’s famous cover of “Hurt”, or even Iron & Wine’s hushed take on “Such Great Heights”. Which is why, despite the duo’s general risk aversion, Sing Into My Mouth amounts to such an enjoyable, if largely inconsequential, listen. It doesn’t hurt to have a couple of world-beating singers either.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bnnjTmph9o
Key Tracks: “This Must Be The Place”, “Magnolia”, “Straight and Narrow”, “Coyote”
(12/19/15 8:18pm)
Released: 7/16 via dBpm
5/7 stars
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2r82YRkLAQA
It's hard to separate Star Wars from its sudden release in the middle of the summer. Surprise album drops aren’t as rare as they used to be, not after Beyoncé released her self-titled at the end of 2013. Since then, lots of high-profile artists have followed suit. D’Angelo reignited his long-dormant career with Black Messiah at the end of 2014, and Drake solidified his hip-hop dominance with a surprise mixtape at the beginning of 2015. Wilco’s ninth studio album might not carry the historical weight of D’Angelo or tilt the axis of the music world like Beyoncé, but Star Wars is indicative of a more confident, assured Wilco. It’s the best album the band has put out since the addition of guitarist Nels Cline and multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone, and possibly their best since 2001’s sublime Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. That is was dropped without warning only serves to muddle just how solid this album is.
Since YHF, the band has received critical praise and derision for a variation on the same theme. They’re simultaneously a band that is consistently willing to take risks or a band that is anything but risky. Reviews of Star Wars seemed to reflect that divide as well, with critics praising the band’s experimentation while others derided the album's safeness. And while it won’t break down any genre walls or revolutionize rock music, Star Wars is a lean record, clocking in at just under 34 minutes, and manages to feel entirely off the cuff while still sounding meticulously crafted.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_0EB1pjvCM
The opening skronk of instrumental “EKG” is more playful than serious, almost winking it its faux-seriousness. “More” is classic Wilco: slightly off-kilter in its ambling rhythm, but with a strong Jeff Tweedy hook (and a wigged-out Nels Cline solo for good measure; he has never been better employed on-record by the band). “Random Name Generator” rocks as hard as anything in the band’s catalogue, with a careening, downhill riff and a nonsense vocal hook propelling the song into fuzzed-out joy. “You Satellite” threatens to take off into the stratosphere with its spacey, shimmering coda; it’s an album highlight, and one of the most strangely beautiful songs Wilco has ever put to tape. Even the more straightforward tracks have subtle wrinkles thrown in. “Taste the Ceiling” features some left-field guitar work, while the stripped down “Where Do I Begin” ripples into backwards drums and guitar lines. They also feature some of the record’s most devastating lyrics: “Taste the Ceiling” is punctuated by Tweedy asking “why do our disasters creep so slowly into view?” While the band’s performance on these tracks is unshakably great, Tweedy also continues to prove why he’s one of the greatest lyricists of the last 20 years.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LozgWLlykDM
Elsewhere, the scuzzy, lo-fi rocker “Pickled Ginger” and the hypnotizing march of “King of You” turn the classic old I-IV-V progression on its head, while closer “Magnetized” ends the album on a haunting note. Tweedy’s lyrics have always been hazy and elliptical, but he’s able to strike the right nerve with a well-placed line. “Magnetized” opens immediately with the seemingly nonsensical line “Orchestrate the shallow pink refrigerator drone,” before Tweedy drops a crushingly casual “everybody wastes my time.” He’s always been a master at conveying isolation and inner turmoil, but on “Magnetized” he seems resigned to do battle with his loneliness, however begrudgingly. “I realize we’re magnetized”, he sings, and it almost sounds like surrender. In any case, his musings are swallowed by the band as the music grows behind him, and Star Wars is over almost as suddenly as it began.
Wilco dropped this album the night before their Friday night headlining set at the 2015 Pitchfork Music Festival. They came out to “EKG” and played the whole album straight through, for the first time ever. Maybe they felt emboldened, being on their home turf of Chicago and all. Maybe they just felt like this was the best collection of songs they’ve put out in a long, long time. That’s certainly true; Star Wars could’ve amounted to nothing more than a novelty, getting attention from everything but the music. The surprise release, the silly name, and the even sillier album cover all could’ve just been smokescreens deployed to shroud the contents within. Instead, Star Wars is a gem of an album, a work that may come to stand shoulder to shoulder among the band’s best once the dust settles.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyej9P7JUTw
Key Tracks: "Random Name Generator", "You Satellite", "King of You", "Magnetized"
(12/02/15 6:46pm)
This Thursday, Dec. 3, marks the triumphant return of Indiana-based quartet Houndmouth to the Bluebird. The band, touring in support of its sophomore effort, 2015's Little Neon Limelight, will be making its second appearance at the venerable Bloomington venue in less than a year. Their last appearance was a homecoming of sorts, a celebration of the band's Indiana roots. This time around, the band has another reason to celebrate. Little Neon Limelight received critical acclaim, highlighting the band's increased instrumental prowess and songwriting craft. Breathtaking four-part harmonies, blazing guitar solos, and rousing singalongs will all be on display when Houndmouth hits the Bluebird stage Thursday night.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8wifV5RYr8
The show is 21+. Tickets are $20 (sold out). Doors open at 7 p.m. Moon Taxi is slated as the opening act.
(10/21/15 6:15pm)
Some quick background: I am the self-proclaimed Star Wars expert of WIUX. I think my peers would back me up on this, albeit with some eye-rolling. I know the backstories. I know the names of starships. I know the best order to watch the franchise in (4, 5, 2, 3, 6), and I'll go on and on about why it's the best way. I don't so much have conversations about Star Wars so much as I talk at people about it. Essentially, the instant a snippet of a John Williams score comes on, I turn into an oversized 6-year old boy. More on that later.
I didn't get to see the new (and technically first full) trailer for Star Wars: The Force Awakens when it aired during Monday Night Football on ESPN (ESPN is owned by Disney, who also now owns Star Wars). That's a shame, because events like this don't really happen anymore and I wanted to be a part of the experience. It was the most in-depth look we've had at the new movie since last April. The two teasers that preceded this trailer told us virtually nothing plot-related, which I appreciated. This trailer still didn't reveal much in the way of plot, but it really opened up some interesting talking points.
Bad guy Kylo Ren, who is not a Sith but rather a Force-sensitive being, views Darth Vader as something of a martyr whose work must be finished. The shot of Vader's charred helmet was chillingly juxtaposed against the sleekness of Ren's own headgear. Similarly, the First Order is not a fragmented Imperial remnant, but rather an organization inspired by the ideals of the Empire. Rogue/dashing hero/scruffy-looking nerf herder Han Solo is now a true believer in the Force. New protagonists Rey and Finn share some sort of connection and are likely to learn the ways of the Force, although it's unclear from whom or where. R2-D2 is still rolling around but now has to split the "Adorable Droid Hero" billing with BB-8 who quite literally rolls around (it is a ball). There's still no Luke (although we can assume that robot hand on R2 is his), but there is Leia. And it sounds like, for whatever reason, the events of Episodes IV-VI have been relegated to the stuff of myth or legend. When Han growls, "It's true; all of it," the sheer amazement on Rey and Finn's faces indicate a degree of disbelief existed before.
The looks on their faces mirrored my own as I watched the trailer for the first (and second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth...) time. I imagine the same can be said for anyone else that watched it. The trailers we've seen so far have helped us eradicate our own disbelief in the idea that Star Wars could be great again. The idea that, nearly 40 years on and 10 removed from the disastrous prequel trilogy, it can engender childlike wonder and excitement. That it can turn jaded cynics into little kids for just a moment. That the mere sight of the Millennium Falcon barrel-rolling across a planet's surface, the shriek of a TIE Fighter as it screams into combat against X-Wings, the ignition of a lightsaber can put us on the edge of our seats and make our eyes well up. It's all there in this trailer, and it should all be there in the film.
I was asked by one of my peers last year what I found so enthralling about the teaser trailers that had come out. She was having trouble understanding just exactly what it was that made me so hysterically excited. She had also never seen any of the films, which is understandable and made the question fair. I told her that watching those trailers made me feel like a wide-eyed little kid again. Like I was 6-years old and watching an Imperial Star Destroyer slowly crawl across the screen, or watching Luke Skywalker ignite his lightsaber for the very first time. That always used to make me jump, no matter how many times I'd seen it. I felt like I was being taken to some wild and beautiful place I'd never been before, and into an adventure that I would never forget. I think that's the real beauty of these movies, at least at their best. They have the power to transport you. Not just to a new planet or galaxy, but backwards in time to when this was all brand new to us. It's sheer excitement and romance and discovery.
Nothing that has come so far has made me think this movie will be bad, or that the future of the franchise is in question. Director J.J. Abrams has a good track record with reboots (the 2009 Star Trek movie was insanely fun and held so much promise), and the fact that he'll be passing the baton off to other directors is encouraging (his Star Trek follow-up Into Darkness was uninspired fan service). December 18th can't come soon enough, because I can't wait to feel six-years-old again. And if this movie delivers like I think it will, we'll all have plenty more opportunities to feel like kids again.
(10/14/15 7:08pm)
This Thursday, Oct. 15, singer-songwriter Conor Oberst will perform at the Bluebird in support of his most recent solo album, 2014's Upside Down Mountain. Oberst, who has released albums as part of Bright Eyes, supergroup Monsters of Folk, and punk rock outfit Desaparecidos, has still found time to release a series of albums under his own name. Oberst uses his voice, an often frail, quivering instrument, to evoke melancholy mixed with populist political sentiments. In that sense, and especially in conjunction with the folk trappings that adorn his music, Oberst has been called "The New Dylan" by more than a few critics. Whether or not that's true, Oberst's critical acclaim is well-deserved, and fans can expect to hear material from all of his projects during his set this Thursday.
Find out for yourself is Conor Oberst is "The Next Dylan". Even if you disagree, he'll win you over anyways.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csEQ0oj9xwQ
The show is 21+. Tickets are $25-$30. Doors open at 7p.m., and the show will begin at 8 p.m. There are no slated opening acts.
(09/23/15 9:54pm)
9/21 via Pax-Am Records
4/7 stars
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9V-8VP5dnrQ
How ironic is it that one of Ryan Adams' most enduring recordings is a cover? For a guy that's notoriously prolific (and prolifically uneven), he might be most revered for his iconic, haunting reworking of the Oasis classic "Wonderwall" that came out on Love Is Hell way back in 2004. For many, that's his pinnacle: distilling a singalong anthem into a dark, hushed whisper, peeling back the song's preening confidence and twisting it into something deeply painful. It might've been the pinnacle of Adams' sad-sack, drugged-up period. Maybe it was its nadir. Either way, his version is deeply moving, and stands among his most notable recordings.
So Adams knows the value of a well-done cover song as much as anyone, which makes his decision to finally release his highly anticipated re-imagining of Taylor Swift's super mega pop smash 1989 less surprising on its surface. From a cynical, marketing standpoint, it's a canny move. Pull this off and Adams immediately expands his potential audience and gains more media traction than he's had since 2001, and probably more. Of course, he'd need Swift's blessing (she LOVES this thing). He'd need to build anticipation (those Instagram teasers were pretty tantalizing). And above all, he'd need to make sure this thing was GOOD. If this album were just a sensitive white dude playing acoustic guitar, it might've haunted the rest of Adams' still-vibrant career.
Fortunately, we find out within the first 30 seconds that Adams' 1989 is certainly not that. And while Adams himself states his take on the album would be in the style of alt-rock icons the Smiths, "Welcome to New York" is pure Springsteen cinematic grandeur, from the opening chord crashes to the bombast of the chorus. "Stay" has been morphed into a late-night disco rock strut, with Adams snarling "we never go out of style" with the brashness that line deserves. The chime-y guitars that adorn "Wildest Dreams" are the most obvious callback to the Smiths, while the dusty amble of "Clean" could've easily made it onto 2014's Ryan Adams.
But it's his takes on 1989's biggest singles that elevated Adams' versions into their own level. "Blank Space" has been recast as an intimate acoustic ballad, his fragile falsetto framing the song as a poignant paean to his own inability to connect emotionally. The ubiquitous, near-perfect pop of "Shake It Off" has been totally re-imagined as a somber, muted send-up of Springsteen's "I'm On Fire". Indeed, both that track and Adams' "Shake" feature muted guitar arpeggios, warbly keyboards, light percussion, and a mid-tempo shuffle that stands in direct opposition to Swift's original "Shake", which is all glossy, joyful exuberance. But where her version stood defiant against detractors, Adams' reading allows the insecurity and doubt lying just below the surface to creep into the cracks. And Adams, once considered an easy target for media diatribe, must've reveled in the opportunity to dig into a song that details life in the public eye in such a succinct, simple way. He does not, however, get down to this sick beat. (On a similar note, Adams also omits the bridge on "Blank Space"). "Bad Blood", the first song released ahead of the full album, is a shimmering reworking of what might be (to me, at least) the worst of Swift's 1989 smash singles. But Adams lets the song breathe, adding guitar counter-melodies and a coda that positively sparkles. It also, unfortunately, amplifies the "bandaids don't fix bullet holes" line that just sounds like it's trying too hard. It's the only blemish on what might be the best track on this album.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PwmXO0J-PAA
But like that line on "Bad Blood", Adams' re-engineering of this album has the unfortunate consequence of highlighting some of the trite, poorly-executed writing of the original. "Welcome to New York", overtures to the LBGT community and all, has some pretty brazenly naive lines in it. "Out of the Woods" chorus never really ends up anywhere, and the orchestrated outro that adorns Adams' version only makes it feel more bloated. "I Wish You Would" is totally forgettable, and his solo piano take on "This Love", while gorgeous, feels silly and melodramatic. A line like "this love is good, this love is bad" sounds silly no matter how much emotional heft Adams or Swift manage to give it.
Still, what makes this album work as a whole is just how serious Adams is about these songs. He connects to them in a way that I (and probably most others) didn't think was possible. Adams is a quirky, adorably weird 40-year-old man with lots of critical acclaim. Swift is a 25-year-old pop wunderkind with the wind of the mainstream at her back. But the similarities are there: both have a complicated relationship with country music; both have been in high-profile relationships; both have been subject to unfair media coverage. To say Adams sees a little bit of himself in Swift might sound strange, just as it might sound a little strange that Adams' "grown-ass men dork friends" got a little teary when he started singing these songs. But something clicked for him, and you can hear his sincerity and admiration of Swift's craft all over this record.
There have been a lot of different talking points on this album. Some say it's far better than the original and some say it's the worst thing they've ever heard. Some people criticized Adams for changing the pronouns in the songs to reflect his own gender and sexual preference. Others questioned whether or not we "need" a Ryan Adams cover of 1989. It's up to you to figure out where you stand on those issues, or if you think these are issues at all. But Adams is a critically-acclaimed singer-songwriter with his own quality studio, a bunch of friends that love to play music, and his own insatiable hunger to record and create. He created something he loved and had the capacity and courage to put it out there, no matter how meme-worthy or clickbait-inducing the idea seemed to be. If this album were a Ryan Adams original, it might rank in the middle tier of his work; not his best or most essential listening, but certainly not his worst. But it was a labor of love, and that much is evident throughout.
The "Wonderwall" cover was released on Love Is Hell, a record that was at times both murky and sparkly, and always felt very badly beaten. It's a little too long and sorta uneven, but it also has some of Adams' most severely gorgeous songs. It was also the record that signaled the shift away from the Americana and country of Adams' first few recordings and into the more shimmery '80s sound that he sounds most comfortable (if not his best) in. For Swift, 1989 is a very similar beast. We don't know what Swift's future will sound like; what we do know is that there's a blueprint she can use to get there if she so desires. A fork in the road that leads out of the woods.
Maybe all she needs now is her own "Wonderwall".
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sndW_dDy-s8
(09/17/15 5:41pm)
4/7
via Warner Brothers Records
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvMd9KJrpg8
Gary Clark Jr. has been called "The New Hendrix" by more than a few publications since he exploded onto the scene in 2010. Those kinds of parallels create enormous expectations. Creativity gets smothered, and an artist's work will always be unfairly compared to the greats that came before. Gary Clark Jr. is not the new Hendrix; maybe insofar as he's a black guitarist who predominately plays blues music. I think a more apt framework to view Clark through is the Eric Clapton window. Clapton, who arguably gave the Austin-born guitarist his big break in 2010 by inviting Clark to play at his Crossroads Guitar Festival, hit the scene as a hotshot guitar player. He eventually resented the title of guitar virtuoso, and much of his solo output downplays his guitar playing prowess.
Clark's career has unfolded in a similar vein: his major label debut, 2012's Blak and Blu, was far more eclectic than critics could've imagined. The snarling blues numbers were there; "Bright Lights" remains Clark's signature song. But forays into funk, R&B, and even pure soul music made the album a sampler of Clark's songwriting talents. But the album still painted Clark as something of a Clapton-esque figure, a reluctant guitar slinger that had more to offer than fretboard pyrotechnics.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFajvN0IFyo
Clark's second major-label album The Story of Sonny Boy Slim (Clark released several albums and EPs on small local labels dating as far back as 2004) essentially serves as a sequel to Black and Blu. The album is just as stylistically diverse as its predecessor; Clark just sounds more confident this time around. Part of that might be the semi-autobiographical nature of some of the songs (the title is an amalgamation of nicknames Clark accrued over the years). Part of it might be the absence of an outside producer; Sonny Boy Slim was self-produced, and Clark plays the majority of the instruments himself. Part of it might just be that these songs are good. There are plenty of great guitar players out there. What sets Clark apart from the pack, and what elevated him above the crowded Austin, TX, scene he emerged out of, is the simple fact that he writes such good song and he knows it.
The 1-2 punch of opener "The Healing" and "Grinder" might be the album's most overt display over Clark's guitar prowess. Over thunderous arrangements, Clark's guitar screams in direct opposition to his smooth, sultry voice. "The Healing" fills a similar role to "Bright Lights": it's the album's mission statement, with Clark announcing "This music is my healing" over visceral guitar stabs. "Grinder" is the heaviest song on the album, and ends in a flurry of fuzzed out notes.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ffEpbvAcG4
But while those songs seemingly announce Clark's every intention to storm through the album, these songs don't set the tone for the rest of the album. Instead, the spaced-out groove of "Star" and the gospel organ that adorns "Our Love" position this album as another eclectic affair. The probably-too-long acoustic strum of "Church" gives way to the horn-adorned funk of "Hold On", with Clark admonishing "hold on, we're gonna make it" before ripping into a frenzied guitar solo. "Cold Blood" also pulses on a groovy horn arrangement, with spanky guitar and soulful falsetto vocals. Album highlight "Wings" is essentially the inverse of Blak and Blu bonus track "Soul"; the guitar melody that began that track is lifted directly into "Wings", and now serves as the vocal hook. Paired together, the two songs compliment each other perfectly, with "Soul" serving as the sweetly melancholic counterpart to the more world-weary "Wings".
Clark largely eschews massive solos on this album; he'd much rather you focus on the groove, on the arrangements, on his gorgeous falsetto. He uses the instrument as way to color his songs. Songs like "Star" and sprawling, synth-adorned closer "Down To Ride" eschew Clark's guitar hero title altogether. Those songs are pure groove. The solos that do pop up are reigned in, song-serving. The windows-down breeziness of "Down To Ride" fades out in a shower of notes, but the cinematic scope of the whole arrangement is the song's driving force. It's an album highlight, and totally indicative of Clark's desire to move beyond his guitar god status.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eA6i5oaTkTU
Clark might not be saying anything new or groundbreaking lyrically, and he's also not necessarily breaking into any innovative new sonic territory. But he's shown a large degree of personal growth, as well as an indication that he's got far more to offer listeners than ripping guitar solos and fuzzed-out riffs. And The Story of Sonny Boy Slim, while less eclectic than its predecessor, shows that Gary Clark Jr. isn't ready to adhere to the expectations or labels pressed upon him. He might never be (at least on record). And that's alright, because it's important to let modern artists exist independently of their influences and forerunners. Clark is well on his way to carving out his own sonic niche, and The Story of Sonny Boy Slim is a fine step in the right direction.
Key tracks: "The Healing", "Grinder", "Wings", "Down to Ride"
(09/09/15 5:27pm)
This Saturday, Sept. 12, marks the appearance of venerable southern rock group Drive-By Truckers at the equally venerable Bluebird. The band, which has released ten albums throughout its 19-year career, is currently touring behind 2014's well-received English Oceans. The album is quintessential Truckers: thoughtful, soulful southern rock music with a distinct Americana bent. And while their career has been fraught with lineup changes, particularly the departure of now-critically-acclaimed singer-songwriter Jason Isbell, the band is currently in the midst of one of its most stable periods, spearheaded by founding members Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood.
Drive-By Truckers are known for their incendiary live performances, so you won't want to miss this one.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_V300e6_9g
The show is 21+. Tickets are $20. Doors open at 8pm. Blank Range is slated as the opening act.
(06/23/15 3:10am)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTrKkqE9p1o
5/7
Released June 23, 2015, via Columbia Records
Critics are quick to make saviors out of up-and-comers, pinpointing their most prominent influence and hailing them as "The Next Whoever". That makes the line between "fresh, young act with respect and reverence for their influences" and "unoriginal nostalgia act shamelessly pilfering from their influences" finer than the tip of a ballpoint pen. There are plenty of ways to stay on the right side of that line. It helps to have once-in-a-generation vocal talent: an R&B revival act like St. Paul & the Broken Bones sounds relevant due in large part to the titanic voice and goofy charm of singer Paul Janeway. Likewise, Alabama Shakes' debut album, 2012's excellent Boys & Girls, could've fallen into nostalgia-act territory if not for the sheer massiveness of frontwoman Brittany Howard's pipes (they've also shown a willingness to evolve). The earth-shattering riffs and sky-cracking vocals of Rival Sons keep them from being the White Lion of the 21st century: a mere facsimile of classic rock bands like Free or Led Zeppelin. Of course, there are plenty of other routes out of nostalgia novelty.
So what do the best of these acts have in common? A lot of things, really. They all possess a youthful vigor, a hunger for success that keeps them pushing for new sounds. They mine their influences more deeply, twisting them into something new and fresh. They've all got style, attitude, and perspectives that are all their own. But most importantly, they've got songs. That is and always will be the key to success and relevance. If you don't have the songs, you might as well put on a big hat and kimono and be in a Stevie Ray Vaughan cover band.
That's what makes Coming Home, the debut album of Texas soul singer Leon Bridges, so refreshing. Underneath his smooth, gospel-infused voice and straight-outta-1963 arrangements are some honest-to-goodness tunes. He shows deft skill in his craft: songs like the album-opening title track and "Better Man" feature sterling hooks that stick to your ribs like Texas barbecue. Standout "Lisa Sawyer" packs some detailed imagery and a firm sense of time and place: it's New Orleans, Louisiana. It's 1963. "Small," he croons soulfully, "but a mansion in her eyes." It's that kind of keen eye and characterization that makes the best songs on Coming Home come alive, all framed in beautiful, classic R&B arrangements.
The title track and "Lisa Sawyer" are master classes in slow-burn soul groove. They're patient, they take their time. They reveal themselves slowly and all at once: little twists and turns keep these arrangements fresh. "Better Man" bops along steadily, honking sax lines meshing with Bridges' smooth voice. "Smooth Sailin'" settles into an uptempo groove that never quite explodes; it's an exercise in dynamic restraint, a quality that belies Bridges' years. "Shine" is pure Southern honey, all shimmering guitar, soulful organ, smooth sax, and choir backing vocals. "Pull Away" is another glorious slow-burner, with Bridges letting his backing vocalists punctuate the verses.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYplnRjMVhM
Restraint is a key theme throughout this album. At barely over 34 minutes long, Bridges ensures that Coming Home never overstays its welcome. The arrangements are taut and perfectly placed, Bridges' tremendous voices never strays into hysterics, and the songs never go any longer than four-ish minutes. Bridges understands that records that dip so deeply into a specific sound can get fatiguing. And it's true: there are a couple relative duds on this album. "Brown Skin Girl" features this saccharine line: "Ooh baby, don't you know you're a cutey pie?" That might've flown 50+ years ago, but we expect a little more out of our lyricists now, I think. Similarly, penultimate track "Twistin' and Groovin" leans a little too heavily on the classic I-IV-V progression that a lot of our most cherished pieces of classic rock, blues, soul, and R&B are based on. What saves these songs is Bridges' confident, self-assured delivery. When he sings that "cutey pie" line, he's not winking at the audience or hiding behind the all-encompassing shield of self-awareness. These are genuine sentiments, straight from the man's heart. It's the same kind of genuine directness that made Tobias Jesso Jr.'s (whose released his superb debut earlier this year) lyrics so effective. They may be simple, but goddamnit, does the man mean them.
It's that kind of nakedness that makes the album's final track, "River", the most touching moment on the album. Against the steady strum of an acoustic guitar that emerges through the fog like the moon over the Cumberland River, Bridges bears his soul. This song is pure gospel, like something Bridges might've sang at Sunday mass when he was younger. "Take me to your river," he sings, backed by the swell of a church choir. "I wanna go." His sins are self-evident; he knows what he's done, and he's pleading for forgiveness, to have his slate wiped clean. Whether it's to God or to the woman he loves, the sentiment remains the same. When the guitar drops out and an uncredited female vocalist steps to the front to join Bridges in harmony, it's as if all has been forgiven. It's the musical equivalent of leaving the confession booth, or emerging from the baptismal waters: you're clean now.
For a 25-year old soul singer, Leon Bridges surely has talent far beyond his years. Coming Home serves as the long-awaited exhibition for his skills, and he delivers in kind. Critics always try to pin the label of "Second Coming" on artists. It always sets artists up for failure, shouldering them with enormous expectations while simultaneously blocking them from expanding their musical palette. "The Next Dylan", "The Next Beatles", "The Next Jimi Hendrix". For Bridges, it's "The Next Sam Cooke". But Leon Bridges is not Sam Cooke. And that's ok. I'd rather not have two Sam Cookes. I'd rather have a Sam Cooke and a Leon Bridges.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC5Lisj1hGI
(06/16/15 7:56pm)
It's truly been a landmark year for music. As soon as the calendar flipped to 2015, we were greeted with a deluge of incredible albums. January alone saw the release of strong efforts by Mark Ronson ("Uptown Funk" has permeated our social consciousness more than any other track this year), Belle & Sebastian, Sleater-Kinney, Viet Cong, Panda Bear and the Decemberists. From there, the field only becomes more crowded. Putting together a "Best Of" list at the year's end will undoubtedly be excruciating (as if my 2014 list didn't already feature enough agonizing decisions). And furthermore, it might not be a stretch to say that, barely half a year in, 2015 in music has already surpassed what was an extremely strong 2014 in music.
The WIUX Blog Squad (trademark pending) has done a truly admirable job keeping pace with all the records being flung at them. It'd behoove you to go back through our archives and check out some of the truly great work our writers have done this year. (A particular favorite of mine was our review of Sufjan Steven's Carrie & Lowell, which is on my "shortlist" for Album of the Year).
That being said, and with a field this insanely crowded, some records slip through the cracks. A whole bevy of terrific releases have gone unreviewed by the blog. This is due in part to the effects of summer: school gets out, there are less consistent contributors to the blog, but the albums just keep coming. It's inevitable.
That's where this column comes in: my goal is to try and recap some of the amazing albums that WIUX might have missed since the beginning of May, when our stable of writers diminished substantially. These aren't full-scale album reviews; rather, they're brief snapshots of albums that, had they been released during the academic year, would certainly be given full reviews. They probably would've gotten high marks, too: many of these records have already butted their way into the "Album of the Year" (henceforth AoY) discussion (at least for me), making that discussion even more difficult.
The general idea is to keep this column going every couple of weeks, maybe every month. If you've got an album that you'd like us to review, recommend them to me via Twitter (@SammyVMan).
So let's dive in.
The Waterfall - My Morning Jacket (released 5/04 via ATO Records)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2hUf9tf-0s
Venerable freak/folk/jam/whatever rockers My Morning Jacket have returned with their first album since 2011's strong Circuital, and it's a doozy. After what looks increasingly like a safe, fan-service album in Circuital, it seems as if Jim James & co. have found their experimental streak again. There's a lot happening on this record, from the burbling electronics on anthemic opener "Believe" to the quiet, lilting "Get the Point" to the massive, thundering arrangements on tracks like "Spring (Among the Living)" and "Tropics (Erase Traces)". This is a record that deserves full stereo system treatment: your laptop speakers or cheap headphones simply won't capture this album the way it's meant to be heard. With The Waterfall, MMJ have crafted a huge, bombastic rock album that forgoes traditional rock cliches, liberally applying their patented brand of weird. It's an AoY contender for me. 6/7 FOR ME.
Key tracks: "Believe", "Spring (Among the Living)", "Tropics (Erase Traces)", "Only Memories Remain"
Wilder Mind - Mumford & Sons (released 5/04 via Island Records)
Mumford & Sons crafted an intriguing narrative in the run-up to their third studio album. After temporarily shutting it down in 2013 (the "I Fucking Hate the Banjo" period), the quartet returned to the studio with a new look and - more importantly - a "new" sound. By "going electric", the band left their divisive brand of folk stomp behind them in favor of more plugged in, full band arrangements. It wasn't a stretch: their best songs shook the stadium rafters like the power chord-fueled anthems of arena rockers before them. But in crafting a new sound, the band lost their identity. Say what you will about albums like Sigh No More or Babel; those albums had a particular sonic quality, style, a sense of place that was pure Mumford. On Wilder Mind, the band has lost all that: they've crafted what is essentially a late-period Kings of Leon record, or any number of alternative-ish rock bands. Underneath it's surface, there is nothing "wild" about this record. It sounds like everyone; it sounds like no one. That is Wilder Mind's biggest pitfall. GOTTA GO WITH A 3/7 HERE.
Key tracks: "Believe", "The Wolf", whichever song Aaron Dessner of the National is on I guess
Dark Bird Is Home - The Tallest Man On Earth (released 5/12 via Dead Oceans)
A traditionally acoustic-based artist makes the creative decision to employ more electric and full band instrumentation in an attempt to freshen up their sound. If you've been following the music press this year, you might assume that narrative belongs to the aforementioned Mumford album. But, quietly, Iceland's Kristian Matsson (aka The Tallest Man On Earth) has done largely the same thing. The difference? Matsson is a better musician, singer, lyricist/storyteller... everything, really. His previous three albums have been masterful explorations of quiet, intimate folk music, largely focusing on the singer, his nifty, nimble guitar playing, and his truly brilliant storytelling. Dark Bird Is Home continues that trend, but with Matsson subtly shepherding those understated "plugged in" elements that can be so tricky to incorporate for a folk artist. But when those drums and guitars and keys come crashing in on "Sagres"? Oh, boy. "It's just all this fucking doubt," he gasps, and that line seals the deal on the album. Fans pining for his old sound need not worry: "Singers", the brilliant "Little Nowhere Towns", and "Beginners" have that in spades. All in all, it's another astounding release from one of Iceland's greatest exports. UGH IS IT A 5/7 OR A 6/7. HUH. I GUESS 5? NAH FAM, GOTTA GO 6/7. AoY CANDIDATE.
Key Tracks: "Darkness of the Dream", "Slow Dance", "Little Nowhere Towns", "Sagres"
Multi-Love - Unknown Mortal Orchestra (released 5/26 via Jagjaguwar)
Man oh man, this album is all kinds of nuts. Sonically, there's so much going here. Phased guitar mixes with blaring synth bursts, deft bass playing, and slightly off-kilter drumming to create a kind of funk/rock/R&B pastiche that wouldn't sound out of place on a Prince album. Production-wise, frontman Ruban Nielson has crafted an extraordinary sonic landscape. It's the album equivalent of hanging a bunch of drug rugs up over the windows of your college house: it's a little muted, a little musky, and super vibe-y. Nielson WANTS you to hear the production; it's as central to the record's sound as the musicians or the polyamorous themes that permeate it (an extremely dense lyrical topic that Nielson, the group's singer and songwriter, navigates with aplomb). The title track is hauntingly funky, while "Like Acid Rain" and "Can't Keep Checking My Phone" are old-school rave-ups with a decidedly new-school slant. This album is musically fun, thematically heavy, and ridiculously listenable. HEY GANG GOTTA GO WITH A 6/7 AGAIN. AoY CANDIDATE. HOLY SHIT.
Key tracks: "Multi-Love", "Like Acid Rain", "Can't Keep Checking My Phone", "Necessary Evil"
How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful - Florence + The Machine (released 6/08 via Island Records)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9v8jLBrvug
This album is exactly what it's title advertises: it's big, it's blue, and it's certainly beautiful. On their third studio album (and first since 2011's Ceremonials), Florence Welch and co. deliver in a way that's as huge as the voice that first carried the group to stardom in 2008. Welch's massive, effortless vocals arc across these songs of love and loss, heartbreak and triumph: she has never sounded better. The arrangements are breathtaking: check the swelling strings on "Various Storms & Saints", laid against Welch's gut wrenching vocals and a simple guitar accompaniment. Or the cracking riff of single "What Kind Of Man". Or the bombastic beat of "Delilah". Or the massive hook that forms the heart of "Third Eye" ("I'm the same, I'm the same, I'm trying to change"). Check any song, really. This album is that good. Florence + The Machine have taken the joy and innocence of their debut (2008's Lungs) and combined it with the dense, heavy darkness of Ceremonials to create their biggest, best, most accessible album to date. FUCK PROBABLY GOTTA GO 6/7 ON THIS ONE TOO.
Key tracks: "Ship To Wreck", "Various Storms & Saints", "Delilah", "Third Eye"
Surf -Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment (released independently, 5/28)
Let's get one thing straight: Chance the Rapper does not want you to view Surf as a Chance the Rapper album. It's not credited to him; about half the album's songs don't even feature him. This is, first and foremost, an album by the Social Experiment, a jazz-influenced collective of musicians that Chance happens to be a part of. Nico Segal (aka Donnie Trumpet) plays ringleader here, and his horn is the common thread tying the album together (check his lines on mood piece "Something Came To Me", or the brass gymnastics at the beginning of "Just Wait"). The album itself is a joyful celebration of musical collaboration, a vibrant parade of jazz, hip-hop, R&B, even gospel. Donnie Trumpet and Chance lead the cavalcade of guest musicians through the record. The crackling "Slip Slide" features invigorating turns from Busta Rhymes, B.o.B., B.J. the Chicago Kid, and Janelle Monáe hollering in the background. Elsewhere, Big Sean and J. Cole pop up, taking a verse and then dipping out. This is an album that is devoid of ego; it's a celebration, an exultation, a paean to musical inclusiveness and community. It's the kind of record that can make trap artists like King Louie and Quavo from Migos feel at home in a jazz setting. Hell, Erykah Badu makes a 30 second appearance out of nowhere that feels perfectly placed. The whole record is an exercise in ego subversion. And we haven't even gotten to Chance's tracks. Album opener "Miracles" is sweeping. "Windows" is gut wrenching. "Rememory" (the Badu track) is hauntingly beautiful. And the album's big hit, "Sunday Candy", is pure gospel, with Chance sounding absolutely giddy throughout. That the track features Jamila Wood's smooth vocals on the hook is simply bonus. Surf was meant for summer, and we're all grateful for the waves. FUCK MAN GOTTA GO 6/7 HERE TOO JESUS LORD.
Key tracks: "Slip Slide", "Just Wait", "Rememory", "Sunday Candy"
I Don't Want To Let You Down (EP) - Sharon Van Etten (released 6/09 via Jagjaguwar)
2014's critically-acclaimed Are We There established Van Etten as a powerful force in music, her quavering, emotive voice propelling her gutwrenching songs of heartbreak and torturous love. This new EP serves as an addendum to that album's exhausting examination of poisoned love. The title track is particularly painful, framed by smooth tremolo guitar and Van Etten's voice pleading, pleading "I don't want to let you down". These songs come from the same emotional turmoil that Van Etten detailed with intimate detail on Are We There, and that context makes the pleasant piano arrangement of "I Always Fall Apart" that much more devastating. "You know I always fall apart," she sings. "It's not my fault, it's just my flaw/It's who I am." The EP ends with a live take of "Tell Me", a song Van Etten says she has yet to adequately capture in the studio. This EP, taken with Are We There, paints an even more vivid picture than that meticulously detailed album did on its own. But perhaps the strongest characteristic of I Don't Want To Let You Down" is just how well it stands up by itself. PROBABLY GONNA GO WITH A 5/7 HERE. V GOOD BUT NOT A FULL ALBUM.
Key tracks: "I Don't Want To Let You Down", "I Always Fall Apart", "Tell Me"
All of these records have been released in a little over a month. The pace at which quality albums have been coming out is patently absurd, and surely cannot be sustainable for the second half of the year. And yet, with albums by Kanye, Drake, Frank Ocean, Tame Impala, Beach House, Coldplay, and countless others on the horizon, 2015 might go down as the best year in music of the entire decade. We can only hope that, as the year marches on, we don't get too overwhelmed.
(06/04/15 11:34pm)
5/7
Released June 2, 2015, via Hub Records
"May all your favorite bands stay together."
That lyric is at the heart of the title track of Dawes' fourth album, All Your Favorite Bands. It's a touching entreaty, one wrapped in sentimentality, kindness, and good wishes. Who wouldn't want their favorite bands to stay together?
But even the kindest of wishes have the tendency to go sour. For every band that dissolves at the height of its powers, there's a group that soldiers on long past their prime, to increasingly diminishing returns. The history of rock music is rife with examples of this: the last time the Rolling Stones put out a truly unassailable album, the Reagan years were just beginning; the Who have continued on with only two of the original quartet remaining (ie; still alive), releasing one album in the last 33 years; Lynyrd Skynyrd exists in name only, with only one original member remaining. We may like the idea of the bands of our youth staying together, but they rarely remain relevant the way they were in their primes, the way we want to remember them by.
That's why that lyric is so important: it can be very easily applied to love and relationships. We tend to romanticize their peaks and apexes, conveniently omitting their troughs and nadirs. It's easy to trick yourself into believing that things could continue on the way they might've been, just like it's easy to wish that all your favorite bands would stay together, as if they could possibly sustain the period that produced their best music. It's a fool's errand, a kind of romantic purgatory that keeps you suspended in time and prevents forward movement.
Dawes has existed in that gray area since their debut album (2009's gorgeously rendered North Hills), and All Your Favorite Bands sees them continuing to mine that same territory, though perhaps not quite as well as their past efforts. The new album possesses the slick sheen that graced their last release, 2013's strong Stories Don't End. Like that album, Bands is very much a grower; it doesn't strike you immediately like North Hills or the band's second album, 2011's tremendous Nothing Is Wrong. Rather, Bands sneaks up on you after multiple listens. It reveals itself slowly, carefully, in layers. What might've seemed cloying at first becomes endearing.
Nowhere is this more apparent than on first single lead-off track "Things Happen". Against a cracking full band arrangement, lead singer/guitarist Taylor Goldsmith offers a simple, seemingly cliched premise: "Things happen," he declares. "That's all they ever do." Considering the lyrical gymnastics Goldsmith normally employs, this may seem a tad... unrefined. And indeed, on first listen one's reaction might lean more towards *eye roll* than *applauds at lyrical salience*. But dig deeper into the verses: "On a different time, on a different floor/I might mourn the loss of who I'm not anymore." That's a good line, and it's indicative of just how deft this band's lyrics can be.
It's not hard to see, then, how Goldsmith has made a name for himself as one of the 21st century's premiere lyricists, crafting carefully wraught stories of heartbreak, struggle, and triumph. He's got a voice that perfectly frames his words, equal parts bittersweet, soaring, and conversational. His guitar playing covers multiple angles through the course of single songs; it's not surprising to hear sweet, sympathetic melody lines juxtaposed against jazzy chordal motifs (or vice-versa) in the same track. Dire Straits send-up "I Can't Think About It Now" melds all of these ideas into a six-minute album centerpiece, featuring a fiery guitar solo that builds to a cathartic crescendo.
All Your Favorite Bands once again finds the band expanding their once primarily roots-based sound. This is very much a "plugged in" record: acoustic guitars are employed far less frequently than on their first two albums, continuing a trend that began with Stories Don't End. The album's opening salvo, consisting of "Things Happen", "Somewhere Along the Way", and "Don't Send Me Away" are nearly devoid of acoustic instrumentation. They also happen to contain some of the strongest hooks on the album; "Somewhere Along the Way", in particular, is an album highlight (and also happens to employ acoustic rhythm guitar). And while the band has avoided highlighting acoustic guitars the way their first albums did, it's also not hard to hear echoes of the band's sound from several years back. Their roots are pure Laurel Canyon: Jackson Browne, early Eagles, Joni Mitchell, and Neil Young are obvious touchstones in their sound. And while they've seemingly moved further away from that Hollywood Hills jumping off point, that sound is so ingrained in their musical DNA that it's impossible to shake. In fact, the piano-centric title track harkens back to Nothing Is Wrong standout "A Little Bit Of Everything", a song that, in many ways, sums up the band's influences. It wouldn't sound out of place on an early-70s Neil Young album.
Despite all that's good about this album, All Your Favorite Bands sometimes seems a tad safe. The production gleams and the songs are sturdy and well-constructed. And while the band made a point of selling this as their most live-sounding album, it feels a little too polished to make that sentiment ring true. North Hills felt rawer than this, more organic. And some of the lyrics feel very of their time: both "Somewhere Along the Way" and "Don't Send Me Away" reference things like solar panels and instant messaging. Those lyrics might seem relevant, even clever, today, but might someday sound shortsighted. "Right On Time" begins with "If these walls could talk...", a phrase used far more effectively (and, granted, in an entirely different genre and context) by Kendrick Lamar earlier this year. These lyrics are not among Goldsmith's finer turns of phrase.
Altogether, Dawes has crafted a nice, extremely solid fourth album, one that sounds better taken as a whole than as individual tracks. The band is locked in, tightly honed from years of touring. Goldsmith sounds comfortable in his craft, and despite a couple of misses, he's once again crafted an album packed with emotional resonance and wide-screen storytelling. Album closer "It's Too Late, Maria" might serve as the record's best summary of the band's best qualities: Goldsmith's bittersweet voice, playing, and lyrics, all packed with regret and finality; the ease of the band's groove; the way all of the band's components lock together to tell a story. That's the kind of band Dawes are at their best: they can make a nearly 10-minute song feel like the cool breeze on a sun-drenched California day. They possess the tools to make music as cinematic as the Hills they come from.
Life without a chaperone may not be all you thought it'd be, and your brother's El Camino may not run forever, but if All Your Favorite Bands ends up as Dawes worst album thus far, then this very well may be a band that we hope stays together forever.
(05/21/15 9:49pm)
The end came quickly, if not unexpectedly. Nearly nine decades is a hell of a long life, particularly when you account for everything the man had been through. Every whiskey-soaked blues bar, every smoke-filled juke joint, every long night spent on the road all across the world as an entire genre's global ambassador. Those things add up; taken altogether, you could say he's lived several lifetimes.
And in part, that's what makes the passing of B.B. King at the age of 89 sting as much as his guitar playing did. He'd been around for so long that you thought he was some kind of divine figure, that he was created from something that mere mortal men cannot fathom. His name fits him: he truly was royalty, destined for some kind of immortality. He was the last remaining of the Three Kings of the Blues (Freddie died in 1976 at the age of 42; Albert died in 1992 at the age of 69). In many ways, he was perhaps the most influential of them all.
B.B.'s influence on the blues cannot be overstated in any way, shape, or form. The man was a titan of the genre, one of the most commercially viable and globally visible blues artists of all time. He was certainly among the most recognizable. It's nearly impossible to hear a B.B. King guitar solo and not know instantly that it's him. His guitar playing was spare, economical, dynamic, sweet, singing, and he possessed a vibrato that makes grown men weep (just speculation). It's the kind of style that guitarists have been trying to emulate for over six decades. Every guitar slinger from Eric Clapton to John Mayer has cited B.B.'s playing as a major influence, and with good reason. You'd be hard-pressed to find a player worth his salt that doesn't owe at least some part of his style to B.B., or fails to recognize his influence.
What's so interesting about B.B. King's legacy is how much people have chosen to focus on his guitar prowess. That's all well-deserved, but you glance over something that's just as important: B.B.'s voice. The man possessed a massively soulful voice. It came from deep within him. You could feel him channeling all his pain, sorrow, joy, anger, every emotion he'd ever felt into that voice, releasing it all in a cathartic holler, a sweet falsetto, a weathered growl. No matter what you might've been feeling, B.B. could find a way to sing it.
B.B. King's greatness cast a large shadow over the blues. But his influence extended far beyond that, and it put him in the kind of limelight that few of his contemporaries ever achieved in their lifetimes. B.B. influenced everyone; that meant he got to play with anyone he wanted to. He was close friends with his peer Buddy Guy. Eric Clapton, another one of the great blues guitarists, ushered him further into the public eye, with Clapton frequently championing King, performing high-profile gigs with him, even recording an album with him (2000's Grammy-nominated Riding with the King). His guitar, a big hollowbody Gibson ES-355 named Lucille, is almost as famous as he is. He's hob-nobbed with Presidents, Popes, world leaders from all over. Hell, Former Biggest Band in the World U2 even recorded a song with the King, 1988's "When Love Comes to Town". He's been everywhere, met everyone, done everything, and through it all he represented both himself and the genre he ruled over with a sense of respect, dignity, grace, and class. His music embodied many of those same characteristics.
I've been wondering why it took me until four days after King's passing to put pen to paper and write about it. I guess it's because I couldn't really come to terms with losing someone who played such important role in my musical development. I was raised on classic rock and blues music. It provided the bedrock for my taste in music, giving me a starting point from which I've branched out from. B.B. King was among the first of the blues musicians I ever heard. From him, I was led to Freddie and Albert King (no relation), Albert Collins, Otis Rush, Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy, Hubert Sumlin, Howlin' Wolf, and countless others. Hearing him and these other blues titans threw the music of personal heroes like Clapton, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, and others in sharper relief; to hear where they got it from was eyeopening. Hearing B.B. King is like finding the groundskeeper's set of keys: suddenly, everything is unlocked. As a guitar player, I've spent years trying to nail that vibrato. I remind myself all the time to try and play more like B.B. King. Sometimes, less is more. Sometimes it's not about the notes you play.. It's about the notes you don't play. B.B. lived in that space between notes. He understood the power that existed there, and that was a huge lesson in my development on the instrument.
But its more than just the loss of an influential man. B.B. King's passing signals the continuation of the inevitable: all of those heroes, if they haven't already, are nearing the ends of their lives. Buddy Guy is 78. Clapton, Page, and Beck are in their 70s. Paul McCartney is 72. Nobody knows how Keith Richards is still alive. The last of the blues titans and the giants of rock n' roll are in the twilight of their lives. Maybe that's why I tried to put B.B.'s passing out of my mind. You try to forestall the inevitable, but that only makes it sting that much more when it finally happens.
B.B. King left behind a massive legacy. He was a great many things to a great many people. 17-time Grammy award winner. Blues and Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee. Kennedy Center Honoree. Winner of the Presidential Medal of Freedom. To the blues, he was a global ambassador, a superstar, a titan. He was a King. All king's reigns must come to an end. And so B.B. King's reign came to an end on May 14, 2015, after decades on the throne. And even though his guitar playing had deteriorated in his old age, and even though his diabetes had forced him to sit rather than stand when he played, and even though his once titanic voice had grown more raspy in recent years, B.B. ruled to the day he died. His playing was slower and more measured, but still as fiery as ever. He might not have been able to stand, but that didn't stop him from performing. His voice might've rasped, but it still carried just as much weight. And not that he's gone, his seat will remain vacant. Nobody could ever hope to take his place.
The King is gone, but he's not forgotten. He never will be. Long live the King of the Blues.
(04/16/15 10:26pm)
It's been nearly four months since fans of the galaxy far, far away were treated to their first glimpse of the brand new Star Wars movie. That trailer lasted 88 seconds and gave fans very little indication of what the hell would be happening in the years following the destruction of the second Death Star. What it did do, however, was generate the kind of buzz around the franchise that hadn't existed since the first trailer for the much-maligned Episode I: The Phantom Menace came out in 1998. And while that movie may have sucked (as did all of the prequel films), The Force Awakens, the first Star Wars movie to feature J.J. Abrams and Disney at the helm, holds obscene amounts of promise. That much was evident from the first trailer, which inspired the kind of childlike excitement, wonder, and giddiness that I hadn't felt in a long time.
Now comes the second trailer for The Force Awakens. It's two minutes long, and is largely just as vague as that first teaser was. It features some of the same sights as that initial trailer: X-Wings skimming across a lake, TIE Fighters zipping around, Imperial Stormtroopers (this time with a full view of their armor and helmets), several of the new characters. But it also features many things that were noticeably absent the first time around: Luke Skywalker's unmistakable, yet grizzled voice provides the voiceover. We get a brief shot of R2-D2 with a robot hand on his head (presumably Luke's). We get a full, albeit brief, look at the new villain; we still have no idea who or what it is, which only makes it more exciting. We get a larger look at just what the Empire is still capable of, even after the demise of the Emperor himself in Return of the Jedi. We also see just how far they've fallen; the first shot features the far-off husk of a destroyed Imperial Star Destroyer on a desert planet.
But most importantly, and in concert with the first teaser trailer, we get the money shot: none other than Han Solo and his trusty pal Chewbacca in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon. It's an emotional moment, cathartic even. It's what the fans have been waiting for. The familiar faces from the Original Trilogy were curiously absent from the first trailer. That may be rightfully so; this new trilogy isn't about them as much as it's about the new characters, so it's only right that they have the most face time.
But this is what we wanted all along. We need this. We deserve this. After what George Lucas did to the prequel trilogy (to say nothing of his "improvements" to the original), this is a well-earned moment for everyone who loves the Star Wars universe. Christmas 2015 cannot come fast enough.
"Chewie, we're home."
(03/20/15 10:26pm)
Released: 3/17/2015
5/7 stars
You know that old adage, don't you? Everyone knows it.
You can take the Houndmouth out of the southern Indiana but you can't take the southern Indiana out of the Houndmouth. It's a saying as old as the written word, obviously.
Little Neon Limelight, Houndmouth's follow-up to their 2013 debut From the Hills Below the City, opens with the band rebelling against that very sentiment. Lush album opener "Sedona" finds the quartet in the Great American Southwest: the sound of a windswept desert evening blends with the soft, fingerpicked guitar intro to set the scene, placing the band outside of their southern Indiana stomping grounds for the first time in their career. As the band enters the fray, guitarist/vocalist Matt Meyers' voice emerges, clear and sharp, conjuring images of redstone, stagecoaches, and neon lights. The song comes careening to a halt, the band's four distinct voices harmonizing in that bittersweet way that's become something of their trademark. With "Sedona," Houndmouth has arrived: confident, swinging, and more than a little forlorn.
But while "Sedona" transported them from the hills of New Albany, the little southern Indiana town across the Ohio from Louisville, the rest of the album finds the band pretty firmly in the wheelhouse they established for themselves on their debut. Then again, maybe all their time spent in Louisville, the band's adopted home, has rubbed off on them. The rest of Little Neon Limelight doesn't take place out west; rather, it is steeped in the kind of roots, blues, and soul that is so ingrained in the musical fabric of the South.
The album's second track, "Otis," sets that tone clearly. Keyboardist/vocalist Katie Toupin takes the reins on this track, a stately soul groove that features Toupin's plaintive vocals and soaring harmonies during the chorus. Toupin's voice, a highlight of Houndmouth's debut, has only grown more confident. The same can be said of the voices of bassist Zak Appleby and drummer Shane Cody, both of whom take the lead on a couple songs. Cody's voice is pure Southern honeyed drawl, and on the understated, show-stopping "Honey Slider," it emerges from behind his drum kit like a ferry through the Cumberland River fog before it's enveloped again by the band's stunning harmonies and a towering guitar solo from Myers. It's an album highlight.
Myers has always been the most willing singer in the band, and he gets a chance to shine on his own with "For No One," a solo acoustic ballad that finds the guitarist at his most intimate. Myers, armed with nothing but his guitar, lets his words fall over one another, like pre-Born To Run era Springsteen used to do. Listen to the way he crams his syllables together when he sings, "They saw the black dawn off in the midnight skies/man, you shoulda seem 'em, they were so down in the dumps that evening." It's almost conversational; he's talking to you, talking to me, talking to whomever it is that's left him with that shrapnel in his knee. It makes the song all the more intimate, and it's almost jarring when it ends as abruptly as it does.
While not as willing a singer as his guitar-wielding band mate, Appleby leads the band through the rollicking "15 Years," a standard 12-bar blues that's electrified by the band's tempo changes, which shift from careening to shuffling and back again. Toupin's organ stabs and Myers' guitar solo make this track a true rave-up.
Like Myers early in the album, Toupin gets her own time to shine with the delicate, lilting "Gasoline." Toupin's voice is framed only by fingerpicked acoustic guitar and some ethereal background vocals here and there. If Myers is the most willing, charismatic vocalist in the group, then Toupin is probably the most naturally gifted. Her voice soars with ease and swells with emotion, her ability to convey feeling her greatest strength. If she were to strike out on her own in the future, she'd have no problem making an imprint.
But while Myers and Toupin are their twin focal points, Houndmouth's true secret weapon is the rhythm section of Appleby and Cody. They're the boiler room, the engine, the fuel that makes this whole thing go. Whether it's subtle and reserved ("Honey Slider") or full-throttle ("15 Years"), the bass-and-drum duo are as vital to this album's success as their two onstage lynchpins. Look no further than the superb "Black Gold." The rhythm section pulses and drives, Cody's cymbal splashes and drum fills locking in with Appleby's bass lines to counter Myers' guitar fills. This song might be the album's apex. It's got everything: great, nimble guitar work; the aforementioned rhythm section; soaring four-part harmonies. It's so very Houndmouth, and the band knows it. Listen to Cody shout "one more time!" in the background before the band finally ends the song. They're digging it, and they know we are, too.
One thing's for certain: this album isn't nearly as immediate as From the Hills. That's not necessarily a criticism, though. These songs grow on you. They're well-composed. They're ably-performed. The band is confident and swinging, tightly honed after all that touring. Some songs are goofy and absurd, like "My Cousin Greg." Some are fun and frantic, like "Say I," with its carnival organ and delirious background vocals. And some are absolutely gorgeous, like the soul balladry of album closer "Darlin'". Much like its counterpart on From the Hills ("Palmyra"), "Darlin'" is a slow-burner with beautiful, soaring organ lines and an understated, dynamic guitar solo. The song positively sparkles, and ends the album in breathtaking fashion.
Another thing that separates this album from their debut is the production. On From the Hills, the songs sounded like live takes from the studio, with little in the way of post-production. On Limelight, that is essentially the case, but the band takes little steps into studio trickery that they eschewed on their debut. Things like the whistling wind that opens "Sedona" or the far-off vocals that puncture "For No One" come to mind. That little bit of saxophone that makes its way onto "Black Gold". Little touches that accentuate the songs and add to their overall appeal. The overall production, too, is brilliant: this record sounds organic, and plays a large part in pushing the rhythm section to the forefront.
From the opening wind gusts of "Sedona" to the final chords of "Darlin'", Houndmouth have crafted a fine follow-up to their tremendous debut. It might take a couple of listens, but this is a record worth sitting with. If this record, combined with sterling reports of their live shows, are any indication, this is a band that'll be a force for some time. No matter where they go geographically, we'll go right along with them. Even if they want to get outside of Indiana for a bit.
(03/09/15 8:26pm)
If the Bluebird were a basketball arena last night, then Houndmouth was the beloved home team, back from a long road trip and in the middle of blowing out the competition in front of its beloved fans.
The home crowd were certainly given something to cheer about.
While not exactly on their home turf - the band is from New Albany, just across the Ohio River from Louisville - Houndmouth treated their stop in Bloomington as a kind of homecoming.
"You guys are definitely the rowdiest bunch we've had on the tour so far," drummer/vocalist Shane Cody remarked, sending the already electrified crowd into an even more frenzied state.
The band responded in kind, their energy matching the crowd's every step of the way.
Touring in support of their new album Little Neon Limelight, slated for release on March 17th, the quartet opened their 17-song set by launching into four consecutive new songs. That's a ballsy move, even for the most established bands, but Houndmouth pulled it off with nothing short of aplomb. It's a testament to this band's abilities that the crowd ate these songs up, despite having never heard most of them before.
It wasn't until about 25 minutes into the show that the guitarist/vocalist Matt Myers tore into the opening riff of "Comin' Around Again," a fan favorite off of the band's 2013 debut From the Hills Below the City. It set a precedent for the rest of the evening: the crowd would go on to scream every word of every old song played that night, harmonies and all. And every time the crowd pulled them off, the band would look around at one another, grinning ear to ear. This was home.
After a rousing, crashing rendition of "Casino (Bad Things)," during which keyboardist/vocalist Katie Toupin took the lead and drew a huge ovation from the crowd, the band wheeled around into the delicate, fingerpicked lilt of new single "Sedona." The song continues the band's theme of location, location, location. Exactly half of the songs on their debut referred to specific places and towns, with many more of the songs making references in the lyrics. But whereas their debut kept a relatively local outlook (save for "Houston Train." an encore showstopper), "Sedona" transplants the band to the Great American Southwest. The imagery evokes neon lights and the soft hues of Sedona sunsets, all wrapped around the band's tight, gorgeous harmonies. It was certainly a highlight of the evening.
When the band ripped in to "Hey Rose" and bassist/vocalist Zak Appleby stepped up to the microphone, the crowd went nuts. The band used the song as an opportunity to flex its musical muscles, with Myers tearing into the guitar solos with reckless abandon. The band again allowed the crowd to take the harmonies themselves, which made for one of the more touching moments of the night. Myers turned his mic toward the crowd and the band sat back with massive smiles on their faces, relishing the moment. The band followed that fan favorite with the gorgeous new, soul-influenced "Darlin'", which featured close Myers/Toupin harmonies and a towering, dynamic guitar solo.
Fan favorite "Penitentiary" brought the set into its final leg, and just like at the beginning, the band closed with three brand new songs. The closing song, "My Cousin Greg," was dedicated to the titular cousin, who was in the crowd. Myers said the band wrote the song in Greg's basement, and they'd been waiting all tour to play it for him. The song opened with the lyric, "My Cousin Greg, he's a greedy son of a bitch", eliciting a huge roar of laughter from the crowd. The band closed out the set on a tear, and left the stage to a deluge of applause.
The crowd, clamoring for an encore, got their wish when Myers came back on stage by himself with an acoustic guitar to play the new song "For No One," which he dedicated to his girlfriend. The song was beautiful, gently strummed and intimate. Unfortunately, the performance was marred by the behavior of a man in the crowd who was having perhaps too good of a time, it seemed. So Myers took matters into his own hands: at the end of a verse, he turned to the guy and yelled "Get the fuck outta here, brother." The crowd roared in approval, and the man was escorted out.
When the rest of the band came back on, they locked into an emotional rendition of "Houston Train," Toupin's voice providing the perfect juxtaposition to Myers' cathartic guitar solos and the rhythm section's motor. As the crowd yelled and whooped for more, the opening band, Twin Limb, came onstage and together they tore into a spirited, electrified rendition of the doo-wop classic "Runaround Sue." The crowd sang and swayed along, and it was over before anyone could really believe it.
One thing was completely apparent after Thursday night's performance: Houndmouth is a force to be reckoned with onstage. Every member of the band is immensely talented. Myers plays his guitar with the reckless abandon of his rock and roll forerunners. Toupin's organ stabs added a beautiful, soulful quality to the music. Appleby walks up and down the neck of his bass like it's a goddamned treadmill. And Cody plays the drums with the spirit and stately gait of The Band's Levon Helm. All four of them can sing, and together their voices blend into deliriously gorgeous harmonies (it's no coincidence that the group has drawn comparisons to the Band). While their music is nothing new - the band isn't trying to reinvent the wheel or anything - it's performed beyond capably, and with the kind of confidence and reverence that belies their age and experience. The more albums this band gets under its belt, and the more confident they get, Houndmouth has the potential to be a real force for many years to come.
But more than anything, the crowd was intoxicated with the amount of love that was on that stage. Love for each other, love for the music, love for the crowd. And as the last cymbal crashes and guitar chords reverberated off the walls of the Bluebird, Houndmouth clinched that blowout victory that they so rightly deserved. It feels good to come home every now and then. It's easy to forget that the people back home love you. For Houndmouth, that love was all too evident on Thursday.
(03/05/15 5:50pm)
Released: 2/25/2015
Rating: 4/7 stars
Noel Gallagher hasn't been a member of Oasis since the seminal Britpop band disbanded in 2009; and yet it's nearly impossible to separate the singer-songwriter's career from that of his former band. You can't talk about one without talking about the other.
It's almost more difficult to separate Noel from his former band mate and younger brother Liam, Oasis's charismatic frontman. The two have a kind of symbiotic relationship; they both largely despise one another, and yet together they formed the foundation of the most important British rock band of the 1990s. If you have a conversation about either of them, you will inevitable circle back to the band that propelled them to superstardom.
Looking at the Gallagher brother's respective solo careers, it becomes entirely evident what their respective roles in Oasis were.
Noel was the songwriter extraordinaire, a deceptively capable guitar player, and the definition of "too cool". He's a master of songcraft. That much was already clear. He's also a massive prick. That much was also apparent.
Liam was the swaggering frontman, all nasally vocals and "fuck 'em" personality. His onstage presence would've been entirely negligible if it weren't so magnetic. His songwriting, while not nearly as prominent during Oasis's peak, improved near the end of their career. His musical wheelhouse is straightforward, piss and vinegar rock and roll. He, too, is a massive prick. Again, all of these things were already evident.
The divide between the two of them is thrown into even sharper relief when you consider their solo projects. Liam's post-Oasis group, Beady Eye, eschews nuanced songwriting in favor of balls to the wall rock bombast. They have released two albums, both of which received lukewarm reviews.
Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds have also released two albums. On the first, 2011's eponymous debut, the elder Gallagher took the opposite direction of his brother. The songs were nuanced and well-crafted, every minute detail and brass flourish perfectly placed. While Beady Eye cranked their amps and extended their middle fingers, Noel's group came across as almost too calculated, bordering on cerebral. It was all too evident that, going forward, Noel would have to expand his sonic pallet beyond what that debut album showed.
With Chasing Yesterday, released just last week, Gallagher attempts to expand and refine that pallet. While it's not nearly as amped up as Liam's efforts, Noel ups the temp and aggression just enough to make this album a refreshing change of pace from his debut.
Of course, this isn't entirely apparent on the album's opening track, "Riverman". Instead of exploding out of the gate, "Riverman" opens the record on an ominous, mid-tempo groove. First thing's first: this band is tight as hell. They're locked in. And they're stretching out. "Riverman" features a space-y, Floyd-ish vibe, down to the jazzy keyboard lines, jammy guitar solo, and honking saxophone featured throughout. It's a great opening track, introducing us to one half of the album's personality.
It isn't until the album's second track, though, that things really explode. Despite "In the Heat of the Moment's" inherent mid-temponess, this song struts. It swaggers with the confidence of someone who's written some of the best songs of the last 20 years, someone who can sit back and say, "Yeah, I know this song isn't the fastest or the most amped-up, but it's still pretty badass". The song also shows just how much Noel's voice has improved over the last twenty years. Where Liam's once proud nasal growl has deteriorated into a hoarse raspiness, Noel's voice has taken on a profoundly confident, soaring quality. "In the Heat of the Moment" serves as a showcase for his most underrated tool.
"Lock All the Doors" pushes the throttle down even more, albeit again with attitude in lieu of tempo. Howling feedback leads directly into a charge of electric guitar while the rhythm section locks in against Noel's voice. A jarring guitar solo punctuates the track before heading back into the final chorus. It's over in a flash, like it never happened. Rock and roll. "The Mexican", meanwhile, sounds like something out of the Marc Bolan/T. Rex glam rock playbook. Another too-cool-for-school riff scratches against Gallagher's double-tracked vocals as he sings "They say that you need love like a kid needs crack/I got a feeling of what you are and it's kinda holding me back". Maybe not the best lyric, but the guy's been doing this for 20 years. In any case, the song plods through on cool factor alone, featuring a guitar solo that sounds like a single phrase from an SRV solo stuck on repeat. Pretty cool.
Gallagher hasn't entirely traded in his perfect songcraft for rock n' roll, however. "The Dying of the Light" could've easily been on the High Flying Birds debut, its incessant keyboard tones and chiming guitars creating an air of melancholy as Gallagher protests "I was told the streets were made of gold/and there'd be no time for getting old when we were young". He's indignant, but he's weary and he's tired and goddamnit, "Man it makes me wanna cry."
"The Right Stuff" drives along on a pulsating drone, punctuated by staccato horn blasts, tremolo guitar, and more brilliant bass-and-drum interplay. The rhythm section is inarguably the unsung hero of this record, and nowhere is this more apparent than on "The Right Stuff". It overshadows the wonked out sax and wah-wah guitar solos. The cymbals splash and the bass pops and drives, and everything is great in this quasi-psychedelic march of a song.
And yet, for all the progress Noel's solo act has made since the debut, it still oftentimes comes across as too well-constructed. Say what you want about Liam and Beady Eye's uneven pair of records, they were at least fun and didn't seem to care too much about songcraft or critics or anything of the kind. They were just there to rock, and if you liked it then great, come along for the ride. But Noel seems like he really has to try to get into that kind of headspace. It's encouraging and respectable that he's tried to push himself into another zone, but the results, particularly on the tracks I didn't mention, are uneven.
Noel is still arguably one of the greatest songwriters of the last two decades. You don't write "Live Forever" or "Wonderwall" or "Champagne Supernova" and get left out of that conversation. And he's certainly not coasting. The last couple Oasis albums were two of the best records they'd done since 1997's bloated, coked-out Be Here Now. But those albums also featured strong writing efforts from Liam and other members. It was far more of a group effort. And Noel's High Flying Birds albums have been solid too, Chasing Yesterday especially. But more than anything, Chasing Yesterday serves as a reminder that, no matter how solid and craftsman-like the songwriting, no matter how pristine the production (and the production here is outstanding), no matter how hard he tries to distance himself from his past, Noel Gallagher will always be one half of the greatest British band of the last 20 years, and he will always be compared to his brother. For better or for worse. Maybe (*HOT TAKE ALERT*) it's time for Noel to stop chasing yesterday and just embrace it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIIZnZ-pgDI
(12/29/14 9:52pm)
Do we really need another end of the year list?
Every media outlet under the sun has them, from Pitchfork to Consequence of Sound to the A.V. Club and beyond. Hell, even Grantland, ostensibly a sports/pop culture site, has one for music.
So the answer is a resounding "no, probably not." But we're going to give you one anyways.
Here's another rhetorical question: does Sam Velazquez's taste in music come close to encompassing everything released this year?
The answer is, again, no, only this time it's a resounding "no, DEFINITELY not." Jessica, one of our blog directors, characterized my music taste as falling squarely in the "dad rock" category, whatever that means.
Ouch, Jessica. Very ouch.
(ed. note: it was out of the love in my heart-Jessica)
But she's not wrong. I was raised on classic rock and blues, and my tastes in modern music largely stem from there. I'm not a big fan of hip-hop; I can appreciate singles, but have never been able to settle in for a whole album's worth. I can't do modern country (which I maintain is closer to '80s hair metal than anything), and electronic music has almost always gone over my head. So my tastes sometimes lock into guitar-oriented rock music, singer-songwriter tunes, and things of that nature. The good news is that there was plenty of great music like that in 2014, and maybe I'm just the guy to talk about it.
A disclaimer: I'm no good at ranking things. I don't like ranking things. I don't think things like music should necessarily be ranked. So I'm not going to do it. Rather, I'm going to give a list of 10 albums, in no particular order, that I listened to and enjoyed the most this year. I'll also acquiesce and list some honorable mentions, as well as some albums by artists I was disappointed in. Sometimes you've gotta cover all your bases.
So let's begin.