Rantings, reviews and lists from a person who structures half his life around obsessing over music.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Mercury Rev - The Dark Is Rising (2001)

3.0 ★/6.0 - 6.9

Gosh, look at that album cover - can you say overkill much? And check out the tracklisting - "The Dark Is Rising". What a bunch of dorks! There’s a song called "Hercules"! I can just picture Norwegian Viking Metal fans getting excited about the pretense of Roman gods conducting epic battles. But mentioning the whimsy of Mercury Rev in the same sentence of Death Metal is silly. This album obviously conjures up the images of witches and encantation more than it does of battles and testosterone. Speaking of genetic makeup, did they take estrogen shots in the making of this album? I’ve never heard so much delicate tender lyricism set to equally romantic atmosphere for a while. The closest modern approximation I can think of is HIM. Wow, Aron, you just mentioned HIM and Norwegian Viking Metal in one review. If the reader hasn’t walked away yet, they’re a real trooper. And you gentle reader, will be awarded for your perseverance if you get this album, because the music itself isn’t nearly as silly as any of the imagery conjured by the album’s inclinations (especially those goofy looking “pensive” band pics in the liner notes). Don't get me wrong, there’s definitely bombast in small doses. Listen to the opening of "The Dark Is Rising" to get an idea of the bravado employed occasionally. The symphonic self-indulgence swells like a Star Wars soundtrack. But it’s kinda deceiving because, in the same track after the initial boom, a lovely piano ballad follows - one that’s subtle and intelligent as well as emotional... uh oh, here comes the swell again...

Despite such a mixed opening track, the album grows to harbor genuine gold in the dream pop field. Yes, the swirling synth lines, sprightly bass and absolutely huge sounding piano chords in "Nite And Fog" may as well be playing on your parent’s lite-rock AM radio station, but the spectacular hooks make it hard to dislike. The gentle melancholia of "Tides of The Moon" drifts loosely along, expanding into a nice reverb drenched drift. "Lincoln’s Eyes" is an eerie lullaby that explodes into an unhinged swirling jam session before settling back into the prior unsettling atmosphere. "Little Rhymes" comes in like a gentle train whistle and grows into a steady, bass-driven anthem creating the feel of skating on the rings of Saturn. The splendid "Hercules" builds upon the initial two chord acoustic progression in all sorts of exhilarating ways before exhausting every possible outgrowth and ending the album with a bang.

Majesty is a sorely under-appreciated emotion in music these days. Thank god for bands like this bringing it back unashamedly. Sometimes Mercury Rev slips and lays down a clunker or two, becoming the perfect example of style over substance. Nowhere is this more notable than in Donahue’s lyrics which beats the dog dead with their portrayal of women through proverbs ranging from decent to embarrassing. But for the most part, they wisely sidestep that weakness and gives us a worthy follow up to Deserter's Songs.
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Monday, January 15, 2007

Sigur Ros - ( ) (2002)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9

Pretentious is one of the most overused and misunderstood words in music criticism today. It’s constantly employed as a sticker of disapproval, when in reality, music can be pretentious without necessarily being bad. For example, Sigur Ros, as you probably already know, is pretentious in that they think their glacial paced, classical influenced soundscapes are vital. Just look at the bombastic claims left on their website (“We are simply gonna change music forever...and don't think we can't do it, we will”). But this wasn't a problem on Agaetis Byrjun because they exhibited the talent that could back up such statements. Their new album, however, is another beast completely and whether they've constructed a work that justifies the self-importance that's overabundant in every single aspect of it is questionable. You see, ( ) doesn’t have a speakable name. It's simply given the symbol of two opposing parenthesis. Of course, we'll probably think of something to call it: “The Brackets Album”, “The Unpronounceable” or, a title preferred by the countless dissenters it’ll undoubtedly inspire, “Aimless Self-Indulgent Crap”. A more pressing issue is that the songs aren't titled anything either. All 8 tracks will show up in your computer as "Untitled", even though they blatantly have names (see set lists, their website).

Despite the album's puzzling conceptual nature, "Vaka" (I'm using the real songtitles, translated to english) is enough to believe in it's immense power. The sorrowful keyboard progression, Birgisson’s ball-clenching high falsettos, and the soaring crescendo near the end create what is easily the most breathtakingly beautiful thing they’ve ever recorded. However, the first half is much better than the second half. While the first four songs are all distinctive from one another, brimming with shimmering hooks ("The Spy Machine") and masterfully executed atmosphere ("First Song"), the second half, with the exception of the excellent "Pop Song", dissolves into a string of slow, plodding, never-ending swells. By the end of the fifth track, we’re sick of the same lyrics, the same tempo and the formulaic compositions which aren’t worth being stretched out like taffy to the high-digit time marks they’re given. Everything Sigur Ros constructed for ( ) gives off the vibe that it's a life changing conceptual masterpiece that needs to be given time and research towards understanding. Realistically though, there’s nothing to be had. Further exploration into it's significance proves to be fruitless; the substance is as hollow as the liner notes’ 12 blank pages and as meaningless as Birgisson's fabricated 11-syllable language. Still, some of these songs are mesmerizing enough that the implicit meaning doesn’t even matter; the listener can apply any heartbreak, sorrow or joy s/he wants to and it'll work. In that way, the concept (or lack thereof) reflects the music perfectly. ( ) is composed of blank emotional blackboards, waiting to be chalked on. Read more...

Friday, January 5, 2007

Sufjan Stevens - Illinois (2005)

4.5 ★/9.0 - 9.9

Well, 2 states down and 48 more to go. Regardless of whether or not Sufjan actually pursues this extremely daunting "states project" though, at the very least we'll have Illinois. As a matter of fact, Illinois has made his task tougher, because he's gonna have a hell of a time topping what is not only his best album to date, but the best album of the year.

Musically, Sufjan’s symphonic folk and "everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink" instrumentation makes a return in epic fashion. However, "Come On! Feel The Illinois!" makes the difference between Illinois and Michigan apparent. Whereas Sufjan revealed Michigan to be the depressing asshole of America, with failing businesses and unemployment, Illinois is a center for celebration! The joyous piano line and staccato horn section gives way to Sufjan’s precious vocals to take the forefront as he and his choir section reveal to us the wonders of Illinois: The Ferris Wheel, Cream of Wheat, The World’s Columbian Exposition and more. Most of the album is dedicated to this and Sufjan isn’t a pussyfooter; he knows his shit. "Decatur" takes one of Sufjan’s irresistible banjo-toting campfire melodies and, along with splendid backing harmonies from Matthew Morgan, touches everything from Abe Lincoln to the manufacturing company, Caterpillar Inc. "John Wayne Gacy, Jr" is a hauntingly gripping narrative recounting the tragedy of the clown serial killer who raped and killed 33 young boys and buried them under his house, while "The Man Of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts" spends the most rock-oriented track recounting the legacy of the man of steel himself. By halfway through the album, a musical picture is already painted, giving a very distinct identity to Illinois, and there's still room left over for more personal-sounding song of the year candidates, "Chicago" and "Casimir Pulaski Day". Yes, the album is huge and doesn’t come without a couple of missteps, but it’s a shame that many listeners will become drained midway and not get to some of the strongest tracks buried in the mix, such as the booming crescendos of "The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us" or the strange time signatures and hand claps employed in "The Tallest Man The Broadest Shoulders".

Still, Illinois is easy to dislike. There's something about Sufjan's "precious pretty Christian boy" approach that's bothersome. With lyrics like, "I cried myself to sleep for the earth and materials" and christian themes, the inner punk in everyone will undoubtedly breach security level red. But if one keeps with it, even the most cold-hearted people could fall for these soulful epics. Through his stories and ceremonious demeanor, Sufjan gets you sucked into every dramatic crescendo, every shimmering note being held and every choir shout. He appeals to a basic human instinct - one of community and togetherness in the face of challenges. And I’m rarely one to go to sermons or join groups and sing along. But with Illinois, I’m taken. Agape, nudist colonies, turtle fetishist cults, whatever the fuck it is, just give me Illinois and sign me up. Read more...
"How many times must a man look up
before he can see the sky?"