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

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Radiohead - In Rainbows (2007)

5.0 ★/10.0

Buffered by the controversy of its unique release, few will be able to judge In Rainbows simply for what it is. Indeed, it seems that almost every review has begun with a discussion about the “pay-as-much-as-you-want” internet-only release (this one included). Perhaps it’s justifiable. The creativity and balls that Radiohead showed with their experiment was refreshing, to say the least. Nevermind the implications it suggested to the music industry; just think about the profound experience fans must’ve had, waiting till midnight on October 9’th, 2007. Released merely ten days after it’s announcement, In Rainbows never had a chance to lose momentum. There was no chance for a leak. Fans didn’t have to deal with that slow anti-climatic process of waiting months and months after a release date is announced, then drag themselves to the nearest record store during their lunch break. Everyone heard the album at the exact same time and, for a single night, a record release was once again an event. But with this understanding of how exciting the experience of the album was, it might be easy to overlook the material itself. So it's relieving that after the dust settles, In Rainbows remains one of those rare albums that actually completely lives up to its hype. Quite simply, every single song works; an accomplishment which, this late in Radiohead’s career, may finally be enough to cement their ranking in the same tier as the Fab Four themselves.

That often-made comparison between Radiohead and The Beatles may be a bit of a cliché, but that doesn’t make it any less true, especially when examined on an album-to-album basis. You see, Pablo Honey represents the entirety of The Beatles' pre-Rubber Soul work - pleasant, but ultimately shallow, dated and ordinary. The Bends, much like Rubber Soul, was the band's first sign of ambition. Although firmly rooted in the same style, it showed mastery of the form, greater depth, and hints of future experimentations. Taking the place of Revolver, OK Computer pushed that adventurism to the forefront and introduced the “new Radiohead” as we know them now - paranoid, uneasy, and brilliant. Kid A, however, was their Sgt. Pepper. It was their single-minded and bodied statement, their great leap into the unknown and their vie for perfection. And then they dropped their White Album with Hail To The Thief: a sprawling work that went in all directions at once. So, as you guessed it, In Rainbows completes the parallel and functions as Radiohead's Abbey Road. On it, Radiohead take their last 10 years of experimentation and graft it onto their old style of songwriting, resulting in a work that concisely sums up their career in 10 distinct tracks.

Each song captures a different side of Radiohead, clear already from the drastic differences between the two leading singles; “Jigsaw Falling Into Place,” plays like “A Wolf At The Door” sped up, capturing the frantic Radiohead in their most paranoid form, whereas the dub version of long time fan-favorite, “Nude,” is quite possibly the most beautiful and reserved thing they’ve ever put to tape. But, of course, it has major competition with “Reckoner”. Initially, the album’s centerpiece feels underwhelming in comparison to every other track and comes off as the weakest of them all. But as the band has insightfully stated in interviews, In Rainbows’ two halves are held together by the song’s understated pianos and string arrangements, and repeat listens reveal it to be a gorgeous and essential piece of the album.

This brings up another similarity to Abbey Road, which is that In Rainbows is always relentlessly beautiful – warm and lush, where their other albums since the big change in sound (OK Computer and onward), were cold and a little detached. Even Yorke's lyrics open up to some of the accessibility he abandoned after The Bends (“I don’t want to be your friend, I just want to be your lover”). Appropriately, “15 Step” feels like their own "Come Together": cool, calculated, groove centered and unafraid of utilizing human sounds, like handclaps and a chorus of cheering children. It introduces the listener to a band that's regained complete control of their direction and production (which is in stark contrast to the Radiohead on Hail To The Thief that sounded nearly possessed; trapped in their own minds and enslaved by their fears). Adversely, “Bodysnatchers” is an unhinged beast, comprised of Yorke’s menacing snarls and some of the most furious Greenwood-signature riffage since “Electioneering.” It’s the kind of song we thought they’d never make again. But then again, the peaceful "House Of Cards" is the kind of song we thought they'd never make, period; a catchy, carefree island theme song, whose only traces of Radiohead-origins lies in the submerged reverb and alien noodling between verses. And it’s just as exhilerating to see an acoustic track making the cut (“Faust ARP”). Even if it’s just an interlude, it prevails as an infinitely re-playable folk song.

In song of the year category, there's “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi”, where (surprise) arpeggiated guitar arrangements and Ed O’ Brien's stirring background moans strengthen what is already one of the album's most dramatic moments. "All I Need" is even better. The song begins to evolve out of nothingness. A sparse hip hop beat and electronic bass that sounds ready to cough up phlegm makes a spacious atmosphere. Yorke’s voice goes into R&B mode, dishing out sincerely romantic lines. The band tinkers and toys subtly with glockenspiel while bizarre noises rush up and disappear without warning. And then after enough head-bopping, a wonderful piano line rises out of the surface breaking the ever-constant tension. Strings waver, then implode, and Yorke’s voice soars into heaven with the rest of the band ala “Let Down”. But as grand as In Rainbows gets in its most climactic moments, it’s usually defined by spaciousness, and so it’s perfect that it ends with “Videotape”. Once cluttered with symphonic strings and epic guitars in its live incarnation, the studio version barely exists under a quiet piano progression and a deathly electronic march-beat. The minimalism seems to be in direct contrast with the closer of Radiohead’s other magnum-opus, Kid A, and is the final conceptual stamp the album needs to establish it as a complimentary masterpiece to that classic.

It's obvious that Radiohead knew that they knew they were composing a perfect album here. In interviews, Ed O’ Brien called it the last great album they needed in order to secure a legacy, and Thom Yorke cleverly makes his last line on the album, “I know today has been the most perfect day I’ve ever seen.” Fans may have trouble shaking off the feeling that the album feels a bit too much like a collection of leftovers from throughout the band’s career, but that too, feels like it was part of the concept. Kid A and In Rainbows form two sides of the same coin. The former is conceptually precise with very few individual moments rising above the overall experience, while the latter is a scattershot collection of nothing but shining individual moments. And both are, track-for-track, two of the most accomplished and stimulating musical works of art of the decade. Read more...

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade (2006)

3.0 ★/6.0 - 6.9

For some, 2005 probably went down as the year that they struggled to make their friends and family give Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge an honest open minded listen. In retrospect, they probably would've had an easier time defending the artistic credibility of Pink. It seems today that there's nothing people enjoy hating more than snot-nosed whiny kids from suburbs who dress and act hardcore, but are actually distributing melodramatic guitar pop with whiny processed vocals: "Emo." And it's pretty easy to pigeonhole My Chemical Romance into that genre. Their neo-goth clothes, eyeliner obsessed vocalist and MTV airplay all point to peers such as The Used and Taking Back Sunday. But that's where the justification ends. Their metallic guitar wankery have Iron Maiden written all over it while their high octane energy brings to mind At The Drive In. Plus their lyrics embrace high-concept indulgences. (zombie spaghetti westerns?) With the exception of "The Ghost Of You" and "Cemetery Drive," Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge was anything but Emo.

With The Black Parade, their ambition is even more evident, through their newly enlisted horn section, devised concept complete with outfits to boot, and bizarre collaborations, including Liza Minnelli. What's more surprising are the cues taken from incluences such as Sgt. Pepper, Smashing Pumpkins and especially the 70's. On The Black Parade MCR flexes their flair for the dramatic, touching upon everything from the operatic grandeur of Queen ("Welcome To The Black Parade") to the glam stylings of T-Rex ("Teenagers"). "The End" sounds like a Roger Waters composition circa 1979. It's acoustic guitar balladry opens a floodgate of lurching, epic, heavy guitar, and we can see The Wall rising in the distance in all it's overblown glory. Following that cue, they take liberties successfully using and abusing the tried-and-true formula for the glorious power ballad. Track after track we get powerful arena worthy anthems such as "I Don't Love You", "Disenchanted", and "Cancer" that remind us what it was like when waving our lighters was not cliche, but sincere.

Sadly, the album is still rooted in MCR's established formula, which hasn't aged well in the past two years, resulting some mediocre moments that seriously drag the work down; "This Is How I Disappear", "House of Wolves" and "The Sharpest Lives" are as boring as mainstream monster rock gets and what emerges is an album that doesn't have the coherence nor consistency as their past two efforts. But still, the band is on to something here. Many didn't get to live through the age of concept albums but they really missed out: the pomp, the high concept drama, the idea that you can have something important to say and not have to take yourself too seriously. My Chemical Romance have not only completely spit in the face of anyone ready to damn them with the "Emo" tag; they've also given people of the current young generation a chance to experience the wonder and awe that we would've felt during an era long gone. Read more...

Monday, October 1, 2007

Sly And The Family Stone - There's A Riot Goin' On (1971)

5.0 ★/10.0

Parallel to the rise of social activism and civil rights protests of the 60's, Sly And The Family Stone was releasing the soundtracks of their time, with a triumphal fusion of soul, rock, R&B, psychedellia, and funk. They most successfully absorbed and represented the summer of love vibes on their 1969 classic, Stand!, which accurately defines the late 60's through a communal "shout-out-loud" style and clear addressing of politics. Listening to Stand! was a celebration, a call for revolution and no other album speaks for that period better. But the fact remains that the late 60's was essentially a big party. One with good intentions, but a party nonetheless, and every hard party has it’s hangover. The 70's began to loom over the horizon with all of this shining promise from the previous decade...and yet...nothing happened. And when time came for Sly's next album, there was no more radiating enthusiasm for revolution anymore. On the contrary, between the assassination of MLK and Malcolm X and a new population of drug addicts and abusers being formed, there was a real hopelessness permeating the social atmosphere.

The spirit of There’s A Riot Goin On resides in that era of shattered dreams and disappointments. The Family Stone was coming out of those few years of revelry in shambles. They had become pretty fixated on partying and drug usage and Sly in particular had developed major addictions, consequently arriving late to or sometimes completely missing shows. When he did appear, his behavior was erratic enough that people began to seriously worry about his mental health. He would act extremely paranoid, even of those close to him, and went as far as to hire bodyguards and gangsters to protect him. The recording sessions for his upcoming album were just as affected. Unlike previous albums, Sly was recording practically all of the instruments himself with overdubs. He holed himself up either in his mansion or his self-built studio and would rarely come out, often recording his vocals while being strung out on a bed or couch. He built every track on drum loops from a rhythm box rather than live drums and that only heightened the insular mood. Plus, he constantly missed deadlines. On his contract, Sly had owed Epic a new album at least a year, before he actually got it to the CBS studios. And it must’ve been pretty frustrating to have, after a full year of delay, received an album as hard to market or sell as Sly’s new creation.

Don't get me wrong, the tracks were packed to the gill with hooks. Just check out the mid-tempo single, "Family Affair", the light syrupy vibes of "You Caught Me Smilin" or the gorgeous bubble gum pop of "Runnin' Away", enunciated beautifully by Rose Stone. And the in-your-face pop-funk that "Brave & Strong" authors, would eventually become extremely popular (not to mention the song's rhythm, which would be excessively sampled by countless hip hop artists in the future). But the recordings themselves were so extensively over dubbed, re-recorded and edited that the mastered versions came out drenched in hiss and buzz. The songs didn’t jump out like everything Sly had done before, because the production rendered them dry and damp, more low-key than anything else. As a matter of fact, hooks aside, most of the songs don't really build up or move anywhere. After the opener, "Luv N’ Haight", introduces it's apocalyptic chorus, it gets right into the album's mission statement: "Feels so good inside myself, don’t need to move," Sly hollers in the slithery verse. Consequently, track after track is found just lingering in their hazy junkie holes. Between the sluggish bass, scattered moans, and formless guitar lines, you literally can almost hear the weed being puffed on the R&B ballad, "Just Like A Baby". "Time"'s impressive compositional shifts can't shake off the disorienting keyboard effects and lazy, strung-out Blues that make it the equivalent of smoking a blunt on a hangover. And "Spaced Cowboy" may have a serious descending progression, but the inclusion of yodeling and a harmonica solo add a "what-the-hell?" factor that could've only come out of narcotic influenced noodling. Overall, There’s A Riot Goin On is a stoned out, muddy, almost funereal, mess of an attempt at a hard funk album. And yet that very messiness lends it timelessness, because it’s perfectly appropriate. Sly was burned out, stoned out, and stingingly cynical and so was his music, portraying drugs as he was experiencing them: seductive and enticing medications that ultimately disrupt motivation and encourage alienation. The production was perfect for this state of mind and, combined with the soulful, free form funk grooves, spontaneous instrumental interplay and few smooth pop melodies, made the jarring and impenetrable There’s A Riot Goin On one of the most essential albums of the 70's, containing within it’s murky depths, the most chill, laid-back music you will ever hear. The sexy sounding bass and keyboards of "Poet", for example, oozes urban coolness. Despite being nothing more than an interlude, it's a major highlight because of how loose the recording feels. As a matter of fact, it’s hard to believe that the song came out of anything other than a warm up jam session. Which brings to mind the album's effortless centerpieces, "Africa Talks To You The Asphalt Jungle" and "Thank You For Talkin Me To Africa". Combined, these two epic jam sessions are the true icing on the cake that makes There's a Riot Goin' On so perfect. In the former, ensemble group vocals match and even surpass anything from Stand!, but are used for the complete opposite: to mock the hippies and idealists left over from the summer of love with a savage uproar of “Timmmmbeeer...all fall down!” In the latter, an infectiously head-bopping, thick bass driven, dirge-like tempo resides over the sun setting, while Sly and his group take a final bow to their fans who stuck with them all the way to the last track: “Thank you for letting me be myself!” In both tracks, guitar and keyboard are pushed to the front as they nervously pop and crackle, trading off impressively sharp and spastic lines throughout and competing with each other in fractured bursts of escalation and release.

But truly, every track on There’s A Riot Goin On is worth mentioning and examining. What really makes it a perfect album is simply the way it sounds and how that contributes to such a uniquely singular experience. The album’s drug-induced message is conveyed in every minute aspect of it. The way the bass endlessly jerks, while the guitar stumbles over it almost randomly, captures the state of altered mental activity perfectly. The song structures thrive on repetition that bounce and groove with the single-mindedness of someone who’s definitely on something. Sly’s lines and sentiments always make a strong case for laziness and the slacker generation. Yes, it’s weak and devoid of any sort of energy, but the charm lies in that Sly embraces that, and devotes everything on the album to defending it, with enough stunning clarity to author a masterpiece. Read more...
"How many times must a man look up
before he can see the sky?"