Stars - Set Yourself On Fire (2004)

4.0 ★/8.0 - 8.9

How appropriate is it that an album, whose sole purpose seems to be to soundtrack those long drives in the rain after breaking up with a long term lover, opens with a song titled, “Your Ex Lover Is Dead”? A gale of classical sounding sorrowful strings rushes in and sets the introspective tone of the track. The two main vocalists, Torquil Campbell and Amy Milan take turns reciting clearly spoken verses, and relaying the minute observations of a failed love while the crescendos and marching drums enhance the narrative, before building up into an awesome harmonization between the two: “There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave, You were what I wanted, I gave what I gave, I'm not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry it's over, I'm not sorry there's nothing to save”. If you are not clinging to the closest pillow or stuffed animal at this point, you surely must not have a soul. One could dismiss the band as overblown sentimentalists, but the best thing about the album is how restrained each of the songs are. They know when it’s appropriate to stay ambiguous and when to burst out with oozing passion. "He Lied About Death" is a pedestrian attack on George Bush, but succeeds because the way the track builds up abrasive tension, adding more and more digital fuzz and noise before Campbell drops the line “tomorrow it's you and me...”, and the whole scene explodes in an enraged French horn solo. Evidently, Stars' mastery of volume must come with the territory of being on Art & Crafts (label-mates with Broken Social Scene - another purveyor of the crescendo), but it’s hardly an old trick. Their dynamics are what make the shimmering ethereal qualities of “Calendar Girl” stand out and inspire the gradually increasing wall of sound on the glitch pop influenced “The First Five Times” or the epic closing jam session of “One More Night (Your Ex Lover Remains Dead). And on the title track, the band seems to challenge themselves to throw as many harmonies and varying ideas into a single seamless composition as they possibly can. Yes, “The Big Fight” is almost too mushy for it’s own good, and sometimes a monotone song like “Sleep Tonight” just sounds lazy in comparison to their more daring tracks. But they’re only small blotches in the bigger picture: that Stars have released an album that breathes new energy, sophistication and creativity into a stagnating contemporary pop style. Read more...

Cat Power - Moon Pix (1998)

3.5 ★/7.0 - 7.9

Many people look up to female musicians because they're an empowering image of the confidence and accomplishments that a woman can attain in a male-dominated world which purportedly aims to keep females in social and psychological depression. You know the scenes - burn the bras, riot grrl, etc. Chan Marshall definitely isn’t one of those musicians. Anyone who's seen her live has had experience with her shambling performances. Her nervousness on stage insures that those looking for inspiration are gonna come out malcontent. Besides, her music isn’t exactly the confident stuff your average feminist would want to keep in her collection anyways. Moon Pix, in particular, sounds like the consequence of too many lonely hazy nights spent browsing black-and-white photos of dead loved ones. But with it, Chan proves you don't need an empowering image to be accomplished.

Previous Cat Power albums were urgent and amateur sounding while Moon Pix’s astute mixing suggests more aesthetic thinking. There are sophisticated and subtle textures at work that make it as unsettling and confrontational as Chan's early work, such as the intricate guitar interplay on "No Sense" or the plodding backwards drums and gentle feedback on "American Flag." But while Chan’s songs are no longer exhaustive with conflict, they’re still emotionally resounding. The guitar line on "Say" is as desolate as the gray skies and thunder storm sound effects it inspires. And that’s before Chan’s desperately pleading whine is hauntingly over dubbed to suggest sheer heartbreak. There’s a certain sarcastic bitterness when she sings, “Never give up,” and “no one is around but we’ll always love you”. And surprisingly enough, it’s not all hopelessness. "You May Know Him", an acoustic guitar ballad, suggests more optimism than any of Chan’s other recordings. “Lord, I've never doubted for an instant...you came through,” she sings over ascending major chords. "Color And The Kids" follows and for over 6 minutes, Chan delivers her most touching performance over a sparse reflective piano melody. "When we were teenagers, we wanted to be the sky, now all we wanna do is go to red places and try to stay outta hell," she utters, painting a vivid picture of reminiscence and euphoria, without sinking into depression. And completing the greatest stretch of the album is haunting single, "Cross Bones Style" which, from Chan's seductive moans to the chugging rhythm, is arguably the most dauntless thing she's ever recorded.

With Moon Pix, Chan Marshall discredits the stereotype that you need complete confidence and activist tendencies to be an ideal female model, by portraying the courage that can be found in weariness. And while it makes for a long winded and depressing album which ultimately may fall short of perfection ("Moonshiner" and "Peking Saint" are pretty dull), it's still an enormous step forward. After all, part of the show when you go to see her live is witnessing her anxiety in all it’s starkness. It makes those moments when she does express a glimmer of hope and confidence so much more revelatory. Read more...

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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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...

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...

Elliott Smith - XO (1998)

4.0 ★/8.0 - 8.9

In Elliott Smith’s prior 4 years of making music, on small-time indie label, Kill Rock Stars, I don't think anyone could have guessed that he’d ever be signed onto a major label. Sure, his first three full-length acoustic based lo-fi albums garnered great critical acclaim, but it was mainly by indie snobs and obscure record collectors - both of whose opinions the public rarely take to heart. It should have been Smith’s Oscar nomination for his bittersweet ballad from Gus Van Sant’s Good Will Hunting, "Miss Misery", that foreshadowed possible major-label interest in the northwestern 60s pop revivalist. Sure enough, in less than a year, Smith found himself on DreamWorks Records, spending massive amounts of time and money in the studio preparing his 4th album and major label debut, XO.

The change in sound is apparent from the opener, "Sweet Adeline" which suddenly moves from a confessional George Harrison-esque melody to a swirling vortex of piano, organ and strings. Charming piano fills and flawless production litter the album, peppering each song with a new found accessibility and maturity that Smith only hinted at before. Smiths’ songs have always been well structured, but their true potential was somewhat jaded by the relatively limited abilities of the Lo-fi aesthetic. Free from those constraints, he has space to be creative. There’s so much more to his mind than standard acoustic guitars with occasional light percussion and he proves himself to be perfectly capable of taking his catchy melodies into the more professional sect of compositions. It's an improvement that the songs vary more drastically in sound than his previous efforts, from the acoustic personal pondering of "Oh Well, Okay" and "Pitseleh" to the bouncy piano based pop of "Baby Britain". And the fully formed multi-tracked layers of melancholy guitars and intensive finger-picking are what makes "Tomorrow Tomorrow" his most realized song to date. Meanwhile, the use of multiple vocal tracks and organs make Smith’s soft voice sound even more fragile (best heard on the utterly ethereal "Waltz #1", as well as the album closer, "I Didn’t Understand", which is a heartbreaking dirge performed in a capella style). Calling these songs confessionals is an understatement. Elliott practically inspires discomfort with his starkness, yet another of his strong points amplified by the major studio.

Still, it's not exactly an irrational fear that the underground might lose one of it's most valuable songwriters to the demon of major-label influence, which often prioritizes profits and popular demand over artistic vision and quality. All the indie snobs who may have cried “sell out” at the prospect of Elliott going onto bigger things, did so knowing the past examples of bands losing their integrity to the prospects of big bucks. Yet, despite the noticeable changes and tendency to drag with boring post-grunge rockers like "Amity" and "A Question Mark", XO is still clearly Elliott’s album at heart and, in addition to becoming an excellent addition to his output of consistently great albums, easily dispels all possible notions of his creativity stagnating. Read more...