- ezpeza in New Single: Patrick Wolf’s “Accident and Emergency” blond gets fucked
- nwagukisicap in New Single: Patrick Wolf’s “Accident and Emergency” jenna jameson threesome
- teecomb in Pitchfork Leaks Some of the 2008 Lineup Animal Collective rocks so hard. It’s has great melodies and most people who hate on it have only heard one era of them that didn’t...
This is kinda rich. The Rolling Stone “Rock n Roll Daily” blog/newswire/whatever took a shot at Pitchfork yesterday by doing what music journal readers worldwide have b
een doing for years–expressing indignance over some douchebag’s year-end faves list (in this case, Pitchfork’s Top 100 Singles of 2006).
I’m not sure what’s funnier here–a mainstream corporate rag that champions watered-down horseshit year in and year out implying that they know something, anything, about quality music, the claim that Pitchfork’s list is otherwise “quite well-conceived,” or the photo of Joanna Newsom that accompanies it. Um, dudes? I’ll admit freely that i have not heard a note by this woman and am only aware of her because other people talk about her like she’s some sort of hot shit, but i think i can safely say that after seeing this photo, i don’t want to hear anything. Wtf? Someone alert that shrewd and knavish sprite called Robin Goodfellow that some chick stole his hat.
Anyway, it’s amusing to me to see the music journalism equivalent of conservative wingnut Michael Savage calling out the fringe of the left wing as “lunatics” when he himself is about three tiles shy of a Scrabble set. Does anyone think either of these publications know what’s up? Pitchfork’s number one single is by Justin Timberlake, for fuck’s sake, and i’m sorry–i realize there’s some sort of weird po-mo “indie kids like mainstream stuff too!” pro-J-Tim movement out there, but it’s totally lost on me. (And cripes, in their Top 50 albums list they don’t even mention the Melvins’ (A) Senile Animal. I mean, come ON.) Meanwhile, Rolling Stone’s pick is apparently “Crazy” by That Band That Did “Crazy.” Daring! (And they put friggin’ Wolfmother at #15 in their top albums. Wolfmother. Led Friggin’ Sabbath. And…checking…yep, no Melvins here either. But wait, Thunderbirds are Now! made the top 50? Oh god, i hope this doesn’t mean they started sucking. Wait, Thunderbirds put a record out this year? Shit, i just learned something from Rolling Stone. I’d better end this post before my head implodes…)
Here’s some fantastic news for you rabid fans of Arcade Fire: If you want to check out “Intervention,” the new track from their upcoming sophomore effort Neon Bible, you can use the old-skool magic that is the telephone to hear it. According to an oddly unadvertised and brand-new website, you can call toll-free to 1-866-NEONBIBLE, extension 7777, and hear the new song in its entirety. Rumour has it the new record will drop in March of 2007.Â
The question, by the way, wasn’t “should a New Order album be #1 on my list,” but “which New Order album should be #1 on my list?”
At various times in my life, Republic and Brotherhood have both held down the top spot. Even now, they would both easily be in a top 10 list where I wasn’t following the one album per band rule. Monaco’s Music for Pleasure would be as well (I thought using solo projects was cheating), and Low-life, an album that saw me through some tough times during my sophomore year of college, would at very least be in the top 15. Both albums by The Other Two rank pretty highly on my list too. (I think Superhighways is the better of the two, but I’m willing to hear arguments to the contrary.)
There’s a case to be made, I think, that New Order had the best five-album stretch of any band, from Power, Corruption & Lies through to Republic. This doesn’t even count the album’s worth of tracks that only appeared on singles that they released during that time, which includes some of their finest work. (If you can believe this, “True Faith,” “1963,” “Temptation,” “Confusion,” “Shellshock,” “Let’s Go (Nothing for Me),” “Touched by the Hand of God,” and “State of the Nation” all were non-LP tracks — and that’s without even noting that “Blue Monday” didn’t appear on the original UK version of PC&L, and was only added to American pressings of the album.)
But out of all these high points, Technique is quite possibly the band’s finest hour. From the flickering hi-hat that starts off “Fine Time” to the edgy, circular guitar solo that closes out “Dream Attack,” it’s a flat-out, stone-cold masterpiece. New Order were the founding fathers — and mother — of dance-rock, of course, but Technique is where they reached the pinnacle of this fusion. The guitars and synths don’t just compliment each other, they sound almost like two aspects of the same thing. The songs on the album range from the largely guitar-driven (”Run,” “All the Way”) to the almost completely synthesized (”Vanishing Point”), but they sound all of a piece. It’s not a matter of switching from one style to another, it’s that they’ve so thoroughly perfected the style that they can change the instrumentation to fit each song without worrying about how well it will come together.
But that’s not a talent that would matter if the songs weren’t utterly, gorgeously, heartbreakingly brilliant, which they are, without exception. What might possibly be my favorite song ever, by anyone, is on Technique: the pulsating centerpiece “Mr. Disco,” which somehow takes an entire lifetime of unrequited longing and turns it into four and a half minutes on the dance floor. Even now, almost a decade after I first heard it, my heart still breaks a little every time it gets to the end and Bernard Sumner whispers “Ibiza, Majorca, and Benidorm too: / I searched all these places, but never found you.”
And aside from all the musical genius at work here, it’s that emotional honesty that makes Technique not merely special, but priceless. Plenty of other bands, some of whom I like as far as they go, have tried to imitate New Order’s sound, but what The Killers and The Bravery and Interpol and iForward, Russia! have never seemed to realize is that the essence of New Order isn’t in the sinuous basslines or syndrums, it’s in the ache and the longing and the bruised hope that forms the heart of their songs.
“Nothing in this world can touch the music that I heard / When I woke up this morning,” Sumner sings quietly at the beginning of “Dream Attack.” “It put the sun into my life / It cut my heartbeat with a knife…” And you know what? Nothing in this world — or at least in my world — can touch Technique, which is likely to remain my favorite album for the foreseeable future. (Or at least until the next time that Brotherhood or Republic make their way onto my stereo…)
Release date: 1989
Label: Qwest
Rating: 10/10
 Here we go. Once again I am ready to spout off about something I feel so strongly about, but when the time comes I can’t find the words. Perhaps I’ll chalk up this up to being so mature that naturally all my thoughts flow towards positive things and this rage I feel is just hipster-wanna-be-ism. Or maybe I’ll admit that I’m just not adept at sharing my feelings through the medium of words.
 In any case, Jimmy Buffet is awful.  What can you say about a guy whose entire career is built on deception? The man was a bonafide failure of a country artist. Nashville would have nothing to do with his soulless inspid tunes, so he moved to Key West and started playing for tourists. A few novelty songs later the man has his own line of golf clothing. Feel good about yourself just long enough to buy my pre-made margarita mix!Â
The more I think about, the more I think that Jimmy Buffet was perhaps the first true ‘crossover’ country artist. The man that paved the way for Garth Brooks and Brooks and Dunn. How I truly hate him now.
With these negative reviews I am trying to give you, gentle reader, an alternative. Anyone can just bash. If you want to hear truly whimsical, light hearted, music from someone who really lives by his own rules, try listening to The Flaming Lips. It’s a little more Beatles-y than Country, but I think Wayne Coyne achieves with one fart what Jimmy Buffet has been striving for his entire career.
as i was sitting at the computer this afternoon doing my best to further both my writing career and my carpal tunnel syndrome, i thought i’d try out the new ”hot indie rock” station streamed on yahoo’s launchcast, as much as the name of it makes me cringe on the inside. and then i thought to myself, hey, self, why not quickly review the first 5 songs that play? and i agreed with myself because i like to make me happy when i can.Â
it did take me away from some very important instant message conversations (joiezabel: hey, if you landed on an alien planet where the local intelligent life form tasted unbelievably good, would you eat them? dave: how do you know they taste good unless you’ve already eaten one?) but i did do a quick top-of-mind review of some current tunes. i jotted them down as artist/song/album and it’s kind of stream-of-consciousness so bear with me.
1. the long winters, “fire island, ak,” putting the days to bed (2006)
oh geez, the long winters. i totally forgot they had a new album out…i haven’t even heard it yet. they are one of those bands that i totally SHOULD like but have never grabbed me. judging by this song, i should check it out though. it’s kinda fun, quirky, pop with layers. this song seems a bit more lighthearted than their earlier stuff and that’s not at all bad. note to self.
2. spoon, “i turn my camera on,” gimme fiction (2005)
yay. i love this song because it’s so funky…there is such a lack of good music that is danceable without being vapid and annoying at the same time and this has that sly groove that makes me want to gyrate. britt daniels almost sounds like prince on it.Â
3. tv on the radio, “i was a lover,” return to cookie mountain (2006)
good song but i wish it was something else…i have a weird relationship with tv on the radio. this album was on my list of best releases of 2006 and while i stand by that and think they are incredibly innovative and talented, it’s something that i rarely want to listen to. it takes so much concentration, which is a high compliment to any song but not a good thing when you are trying to write a brochure on illinois tourism. “we had a three volume tome of contemporary slang/to keep a handle on all this jive” is a great line though.
***ok, diamond commercial. god, i hate diamonds. i hate those evil bastards at de beers sitting on a massive pile of them just to increase their perceived value, i hate all attempts to infuse compressed chunks of carbon with elusive emotional meanings, i hate that said ridiculous attempts are getting in the middle of my music streaming experience. *** Read more »
All these lists… maybe I’ll indulge in one shortly. I have picked my annual
favorites, and have formed opinions on them that everyone needs to know, but I’ve just been introduced to Reindeer Section, and Son of Evil Reindeer is, at the tail end of 2006, my favorite album right now. The lists can wait.
There’s no sense in listing the cast and crew of this Scot-pop SuperGroup - it rivals most marching bands by size. The short list includes members of Belle and Sebastian, Arab Strap, Mogwai and Teenage Fanclub, all joining Snow Patrol’s Gary Lightbody to become Reindeer Section, a shockingly subdued and linear sound experiment.
The band started in late 2001 (the mythology surrounding an alcohol-fueled recruiting session at a Lou Barlow show is for another story), and released their debut Ya’ll Get Scared now, Ya Hear! in October of that year. More introspective and melancholy than the 2003 follow-up Son of Evil Reindeer, Ya’ll Get Scared was lazy lightning in a bottle. That they came back together for the brighter and more ambitious Son, and made an even better album is extraordinary. That there has been no Round 3 is too bad, but sometimes best to leave well enough alone.
It’s easy to imagine these Glaswegian hipsters and hon
orary Scots sitting in a dark room in early 2002, wondering how to brighten the mood of the next Reindeer album. A few ideas and pints make their rounds before someone suggests that adding more members is the ticket.
“Wha’ faye? Already 15 oaf us, likesay,†is the knee-jerk reaction, but they eventually agree that 12 is the perfect number needed to fill the personnel gap, and a true rarity is born - a drunken notion that sounds as good as it did when the idea was hatched.
Consider how many times has an enthusiastic idea concocted over heavy drinking turned out anything constructive. At best, it may be decided to make the next party bigger, or to invite more girls, but all that, “Dude, we should start a band…,†shit usually nets zero. The very idea – assembling the best of Scot(esque)-pop – should have resulted in something disastrous, let alone throwing another dozen minds at the project for Round Two. Part of enjoying this album is considering what a mess it could have been, and for that Lightbody deserves praise for his skills as songwriter and manager.
Emotional music runs the risk of leaning too far towards the glum or exuberant, or even worse sitting in an ambivalent inactivity. Neither too sad nor too happy, Son has the unique ability to put you into a morose funk or get you dancing in your living room, depending on which side you want to take.
Track 1 off of Son, ‘The Grand Parade’, is the kind of opener that makes you wonder if the rest of the album is going to be a let down after such an excellent warmer-upper. It is in some ways, because the band works so hard at avoiding both gloom and bliss that it forges a number of forgettable songs. Still, nothing is saliently wrong with any of the album’s 12 tracks, and by the end, even the unmemorable ones like ‘Your Sweet Voice’ and ‘Cold Water’ (which is not a Tom Waits cover) have given the disc important dimension. The disarming opener enters on Lightbody’s 12†voice and almost inaudible guitar before it bursts into to an efficacious horn and piano chorus, on which many of the remaining 26 characters lend their voices and instruments to the mix. The band is holding back on the reins here and throughout the album, which only makes you want more.
Take track 3, ‘Strike Me Down’ - the ‘bop ba-ba, bop, bop, ba-ba,’ sing-along chorus is contrary to the song’s subject (a relationship gone wrong), but it’s somehow appropriate. There is plenty of melancholia to go around and make perfect a cloudy day, but, like its predecessor, Son of Evil Reindeer leaves you unexpectedly elated at its conclusion. There is also plenty of gratuitous ear-to-ear beaming, like the album’s big single ‘You Are My Joy’, which is as blissful as the title suggests, though it tends not to be the content but the skill and restraint in each song that makes you glad.
The Lou Barlow influence is evident in many places, like the line, “I will beat your love out of my chest,†but Barlow isn’t the only person to write in dire and exaggerated terms. It could also be that I’m searching everywhere for more Barlow-isms than is warranted now that I know that Lou Barlow is indirectly responsible for this band’s conception.
Ya’ll Get Scared is improving with age, but Son is likeable from the start and still hasn’t faded. Maybe I need to listen to it all winter in the same way I spent Jan-March ’04 with the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir on repeat… I only hope I feel better about Reindeer in three years than I do SYGC.
