album review: 'trouble will find me' by the national (RETRO REVIEW)

So here's the rant you've all been waiting for, the topic of which I'm sure has been seared into your mind since the very beginning: why I, like apparently every other music critic, thoroughly hates Mumford & Sons with the hatred of a thousand suns. The faux-folk rock band that deserves to be consigned into the flaming abyss, the band that co-opted the image and earnestness of folk rock and turned it into shameless commercialism, clearly one of the worst acts to have every blighted this world today. And I, as a critic with reputably harsh standards, clearly must hate them with extreme force, right?

Well... no, not really. Make no mistake, Mumford & Sons aren't a good band, but they sure as hell aren't the scourge of all music as a slew of would-be hipsters have branded them. They have some natural talent for catchy-as-all-hell melody lines and memorable harmonies, they have a mostly distinctive sound, and they sell all of their material with gutwrenching sincerity (which, believe it or not, goes a long way with me). To me, I've consigned to the rung of 'painfully mediocre', right next to Nickelback (don't even start).

Hmm, come to think of it, Mumford & Sons does seem to strike me as rather similar to the post-grunge act that ruled the rock airwaves throughout the early 2000s. Both bands have a lead singer that sounds like he's delivering his lines directly from his colon, both were accused of selling out to the tasteless masses (believe it or not, this was actually true for very early Nickelback), and both made music that somehow lodged itself in our brains like tapeworms. 

But what I think is most indicative of the similarities between these two bands is a very important concept that I've been skirting about for a while, but haven't found the right time to talk about until now: artistic framing. This is most often conceived as a device for literature and film, where the context can be adjusted depending on how the scene is written or shot, and which can be used to powerful effect by talented directors and great writers. One of the reasons, for example, while many people despise Twilight isn't for the misogyny or the stalking or the Mormon undercurrents, but because said elements are framed in such a romantic light. In the hands of any sane writer, Bella's story could have easily been written as that of a thriller or a melodrama between a very stupid girl and her vampiric stalker, but Stephanie Meyer sets up these events to feel romantic and attractive to Bella, and thus the reader - you know, abandoning appropriate context in favour of the author's wish-fulfillment fantasy.

And believe it or not, this becomes a big issue in music as well. A lot of alarmists tend to look at acts like Eminem and Kanye West and see terrible, reprehensible human beings promoting messages of misogyny, homophobia, and violence - and yet both artists have made it clear from the very beginning that they aren't role models and that nobody should aspire to be like them (hell, Eminem wrote several songs about it). They (or at least their artistic personas) are assholes, and we shouldn't so much glorify them as recoil from or pity them (that's the one big reason that I give a pass to Relapse, an album that seems designed to make Slim Shady look as pathetic and wretched as possible). Of course, the question then becomes that some people will interpret the surface themes of the album anyways and follow their manifests of hatred anyways, but that's a trickier topic for another day.

So coming back to Mumford & Sons and Nickelback, the same problems with framing crop up here too (albeit significantly more with Mumford & Sons). We're expected to buy into these acts as having sensitivity and/or more heartfelt emotions, and it feels completely disingenuous with Nickelback's humourless and sour delivery and Mumford & Sons' consistently terrible lyrics. You don't buy into the emotions they're trying to convey because some element of their framing completely shatters that immersion. It's why I'd argue Nickelback has actually slowly been getting a bit better over the years: they've actually embraced the fact that they're douchebags, and are just rolling with it to create douche-bro party anthems that at least feel authentic (if a little gross).

Mumford & Sons, unfortunately, haven't quite reached that point of self-awareness, which I think is one of the big sticking points for me with the band. They deliver all of their material with the heartfelt earnestness of a man proposing marriage in the mid-1800s, but their lyrics are rife with lines that undermine this earnestness at every turn, which makes it look all the more like a pose (also, their music has little-to-no instrumental texture and the production is pop as all hell, but that's another issue). And more than once, I've wished that we could find that band that had all of the earnest sincerity of Mumford & Sons, but had the lyrical context and texture and was framed in a way that made sense or added additional depth.

Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to The National, the indie post-punk act for which I was waiting. Now I suspect that many of you actually already know this band (particularly if you watch Game of Thrones), but I just discovered this band and considering they're easily one of the best acts I've discovered in a long time, I want to talk about them at length. Make no mistake, considering my luck approaching indie acts this year, I was more than a little surprised by how incredibly solid The National was, particularly when placed in competition with their lesser contemporaries, and they pushed a lot of important buttons for me.

For starters, the lyrics were audible and high enough in the mix to make out, and occasionally there was some real emotive poetry hidden behind the clever turns of phrase. I wouldn't quite say it's as descriptive or lurid as that of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, but it's not trying to be either. The National is very much a 'mature' act, and like Deep Purple from earlier this year, they transform that maturity into a real strength that adds poignance to their lyrics. You can tell through the placement of the vocals that The National began as an alternative country act, and the importance placed on lyrics and the 'older' subject matter comes through here as well. More importantly, The National are smart enough to frame their songs intelligently, making sure that if their song's narrator could be interpreted as an asshole or a prick or a loser, he's appropriately positioned in that regard, supported by both lyrics and instrumentation. And considering how many songs The National writes about sad-sack losers who have screwed up their lives, they've nailed the formula down to a tee.

But what I find significantly more interesting with The National comes through on the other underlying theme of the majority of their work: upper class Americana, and the existential ennui that comes with it. Admittedly, The National do a very solid job speaking to all demographics, but with the highly literate songwriting and richer instrumentation, it's very clear they're targeting a certain college-aged yuppie hipster group within popular culture. And as with before, it comes back to the framing for why this works, both skewering the nastier elements of these subcultures (racism, classism, misogyny, antiquated value systems, etc.) and still writing music for the more perceptive of the audience to find the distinct sadness in said characters. In comparison to Vampire Weekend (who treat their privilege like a family heirloom only they are allowed to play with), The National are more blunt and don't hesitate to cast their narrators as just as sad, pathetic, desperate, and lonely as anyone else, and it's a testament to their excellent instrumentation that you're actually able to sympathize instead of scoff with derision at 'white people problems'.

All of that being said, I do have a few issues with The National. The band has occasionally recycled instrumental themes (which can get exasperating) and musical dynamics, which can lead to some songs running together. And as often as Matt Berninger has been compared to Nick Cave for his delivery and uncompromising framing, I'd argue he doesn't quite have the same emotional range in his voice that Cave does. Granted, he pulls off depressed and morose very well, but anger still occasionally seems like a foreign emotion to Berninger and that can get frustrating. On top of all of that, with similar thematic elements running through their previous five albums, it would be nice to see them switch up the formula, go for something darker or in a different vein entirely. Otherwise, it just feels like they lack imagination.

So, what do I think of their newest album, Trouble Will Find Me?

album review: 'crash my party' by luke bryan

Let's talk a bit about supply and demand.

See, it's very basic economics that if you have a lot of demand and the supply stays constant, the price will go up. Similarly, if you keep the demand constant and increase the supply, the price will go down. And you might not believe it, but a similar conceit applies to music - if you have an influx of artists who are making similar versions of the same basic genre and no added increase in demand, how much people care about said artists will decrease. And if you think I'm kidding, think back to the boy band explosion of the late 90s or the crunk boom of the early 2000s - there might have been a few standouts, but the music industry pumped out a lot of very similar artists in order to capitalize on presumed trends.

And really, that's one of the few explanations I have for the current massive influx of male country acts on the pop charts right now. As of now, there are about twenty unique male country acts occupying spots on Billboard's Hot 100 - that's a fifth of the chart. In comparison, there are precisely two female country acts (Carrie Underwood and Taylor Swift) and I have a hard time calling either of them pure country acts!

So how to explain this sudden influx? Well, if I were to hazard a guess, I suspect it might be partially linked to the indie rock explosion last year, where a more organic sound and 'greater authenticity' became more attractive to the mainstream public in the aftermath of the club boom. So at some point the industry executives looked up from their cocaine buckets and thought, "Well, we could go into the indie or folk rock scene and find some new acts - but oh man, they have distortion and a grittier sound and occasionally challenging subject matter and that just makes my brain hurt!" And then some bright young jackass in the board room thought, "Hey, what about those country guys? They're inoffensive and easy enough to market - we've been doing it for years, after all - and the country music scene is so polished it's practically pop anyways! Let's leave the folk rock to Mumford & Sons and Phillip Phillips, leave Kurt Vile twisting in the wind, and force Kacey Musgraves to tour with Kenny freaking Chesney if she wants to build any buzz! See, problem solved!"

Ugh. So there you have it, folks, the reason why we have over a dozen practically interchangeable male country acts dominating the charts. Sure, there's a few bright spots - Tim McGraw and Brad Paisley routinely have a fair amount of quality, and Lady Antebellum and the Zac Brown Band will always get a few crossover hits - but certainly not many. The pandering insincerity of it all makes me sick, even if it doesn't surprise me.

And speaking of acts that don't surprise me and also kind of make me sick, let's talk about Luke Bryan.

Now let me qualify this a bit and say Luke Bryan is better than the majority of his peers. For starters, he actually has a personality, some charisma, and a distinctive voice that has country flavour. I wouldn't quite say he has a sense of humour in the vein of Brad Paisley or Toby Keith, but he's sincere enough and his delivery tends to be believable. His instrumentation is a bit more of a mixed bag, but occasionally can have some real texture and rock energy. And better yet, he doesn't tend to engage in the heavy-handed political moralizing that taints acts like Jason Aldean and Justin Moore, preferring to have a much smaller, more intimate focus (there is still some southern pandering, but it's a modern country album, there'll always be that out of Nashville). Hell, I'd even argue that he's a reasonably talented songwriter, at least on a technical level.

Here's my big problem, though: Luke Bryan can really be an asshole, sort of in the same vein as Adam Levine from Maroon 5. He's not nearly as catty, but there definitely can be that undercurrent of leering douchebaggery that really rubs me the wrong way, mostly because of the delivery and framing of the songs. Take 'Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye' from his album Tailgates and Tanlines (which is just an album title that tells you more than you ever needed to know about Luke Bryan's priorities), which is basically 'One More Night' by Maroon 5 with a country twist. It's a song about a toxic relationship that only works when Bryan and his partner are having sex, but it's set up as being so romantic, when it reality it's unrealistic, sleazy, and a little misogynist, all traits that are amped to eleven on 'Country Girl (Shake It For Me)'. And look, I like my share of rap and hair metal debauchery, but when Luke Bryan tries to fuse in a call list of items of southern pride, it sounds both pandering and leering in the worst possible way. And then, of course, there's 'I Know You're Gonna Be There', where Luke Bryan cheats on his wife/girlfriend in plain sight of her just to make sure she still cares about him, with no consideration for his wife or the other girl (who he flat out admits he doesn't care about), and it's another song that's framed as him just testing her love. I honestly shouldn't have to explain everything that's wrong with that. (EDIT: I'm been informed by a trusted source that my interpretation of 'I Know You're Gonna Be There' is likely incorrect, with Bryan not referring to a current relationship, but an ex-girlfriend he's not over. I'm still of the opinion it doesn't make things better.)

But with all of that being said, I took a look at Luke Bryan's newest album Crash My Party, curious to see if some of the texture and good songwriting I liked made it over and the asshole behaviour had been dropped. For once, did I get lucky?

YouTube review after the jump

an open letter to prime minister stephen harper

To Prime Minister Stephen Harper,

My name is Mark Grondin. I am twenty-three years old, a Canadian citizen living in Toronto, and at one point in my life, I was a member of The Conservative Party of Canada. I have voted for you, Mr. Prime Minister. And though we disagree on many points, I have respected you for your intelligence, your stances on certain policy, and your shrewd politics.

Which is why, today, I am calling upon you to boycott the 2014 Olympics in Sochi, Russia, and call for a relocation of the Olympic Games to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.

I am sure at this point, you are aware of the gross human rights abuses currently exploding across Russia targeting the LGBT community. You have likely heard of Stephen Fry's plea to his Prime Minister David Cameron to take a stance against Vladimir Putin and his autocratic, wholly corrupt reign that allows grotesque atrocities to take place within his nation. I do not care that said atrocities may have popular support within Russia, and that such prejudice and homophobia may be condoned by both the Kremlin and the Russian majority. The world community has grown large and will continue to grow, and if Russia wants to be included in that community and hold a place of respect in that community by hosting the Olympic Games, they must shed the backwards-looking bigotry that serves no purpose other than rancorous hatred.

I will not attempt to appeal to your emotions, Mr. Prime Minister. At this point, I'm sure those appeals have been made and discarded. Instead, I will put forward the following reasoned points that will show not only will this will be the right choice, but will benefit you, the Conservative Party, and Canadians as a whole. You have protected the rights of the LGBT community within Canada by blocking bills from your own party to restrict them, and even if the intent is only to secure your reelection, it is still the right choice to make. 

To begin, you have always made your position clear regarding your support for our men and women in uniform. The athletes that Team Canada is sending to Russia this year wear our uniform, and will put their bodies through grueling challenges in the greatest test of their lives. They have trained for years for this opportunity, and now some may have justly founded fears that they may be targeted for their sexuality before they have a chance to take to the slopes or the ice. Furthermore, there are Canadian citizens travelling to Sochi to watch and support our athletes, non-combatants who may be walking into territory that may be hostile to them. Should they have to cower or conceal who they are because of thuggish brutes who might kidnap, rape, torture, or kill them, all under the negligent eye of an autocrat? You know the answer to that, Mr. Prime Minister - you took an oath of office to stand for the safety and protection of all Canadians, including those abroad, including those who wear our flag and represent us on the world stage.

But it is not just the safety of our people, Mr. Prime Minister, but of athletes across the world from many nations who might feel in danger setting foot in Sochi - which is why I have put forward the option of Vancouver. We already have the facilities in place, and it would not require work to get them in top condition. We are one of the few nations that have that ability. And while it would be expensive, you and I both know that the economic stimulus thanks to tourism, business investment, and tax revenue to the Canadian economy through hosting this event would be a great boon to us. According to the Olympic Games Impact report conducted by the University of British Columbia, a conservatively estimated fifty million dollars was collected in tax revenue alone! Once again, we could increase Canada's economic stature on the world stage, something in which you have a vested interest. We can show the world yet again that Canada is a place of solace and safety and freedom, regardless of your race, gender, or sexuality.

And this boon is not just confined to Canada as a whole, Mr. Prime Minister. If you choose to lead your party towards this option, you will gain political capital across Canada and the world. You will show that not only will we refuse to stand along side those who advocate abhorrent and repugnant policy, but that we are offering a better alternative on our shores. You will be a leader not just of our country, but of the world, one willing to take that first, lonely step forward in favour of truth, justice, and the protection of human rights. This would be an opportunity for the Canadian government to take a stand and affirm our commitments to the protection of our citizens abroad and the preservation of higher principles we hold sacrosanct.

We will pay a diplomatic cost for this. The Russian government will not look favourably upon this. We will likely pay something of an economic cost for this as well. And there may even be a political cost for this at home, from within your own party or by those who will make the timid assertion that we should not take international action like this without the unilateral support of our allies, or that we should focus on issues within our borders before bothering to look out. You know all this, Mr. Prime Minister, and that is why as of this recording you have made statements disapproving of the Russian policy, but nothing more. President Obama has made similar statements, but he can do little at this time - the United States' international political capital is running dry in Russia. If you choose to take this step, for a moment, you may stand alone.

But that is the role of the leader. That is his purpose. The position of a man strong in his convictions and courage, his eyes clear and his gaze unwavering. Such a man knows that there is a time for words, but when words prove ineffective, action is required - and this is the time for action. We are one of the few nations on this planet that can take this action, Mr. Prime Minister, and rest assured, there will be others that will follow if you choose to lead. I know you hold respect towards the annals of history, and the great men who have led us, and you may have questioned how you might be remembered as time marches onward.

This is one such way history is made, Mr. Prime Minister, by those willing to put money and action where their mouths are and show courage to stand against those who have betrayed their oaths of office and willfully endangered the lives of their own populace. I have never doubted your courage of convictions, Mr. Prime Minister, and I know you have integrity. Now is your chance to prove it to not just to me, or to your party, or to your electorate, but the world.

To quote Theodore Roosevelt: "The credit belongs to those people who are actually in the arena... who know the great enthusiasms, the great devotions to a worthy cause; who at best, know the triumph of high achievement; and who, at worst, fail while daring greatly, so that their place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

Step into the arena, Mr. Prime Minister. Stand against tyranny and persecution so that lives might be saved. Make history.

album review: 'monomania' by deerhunter (RETRO REVIEW)

Let me talk to you about a pet peeve of mine: when people say 'the lyrics don't matter'.

I've gotten this comment from a number of people, and it's often followed by 'I just listen to the music, I don't care about the lyrics'. And you know, there's a bit of an argument there - ultimately, the musical compositions should be what we get behind, the instrumentation and production that composes the elements of the song, the strength of the vocalist's delivery when singing. And a lot of critics have done very well in the field of describing what works and what doesn't about said compositions, pointing out the individual elements that come together to create the music.

But here's my huge problem with this: the lyrics are still part of the song. Somebody still sat down and wrote them to fit the instrumentation, or composed the instrumentation to match with the lyrics. If the lyrics didn't matter at least a little to the artists, why don't they just fill the vocals of their track with vocal gymnastics or general incoherence? Why don't they just use nonsense words if the lyrics don't matter?

Well, the thing is, most musicians do care about lyrics - it's arguably the most straightforward way in which they can communicate their message (if they have one). Sure, you can draw interpretations from the instrumentation, particularly through the consideration of contextual sampling (see: Kanye West, The Beastie Boys, Eminem, etc.) and discuss the emotions and thoughts the artists are attempting to evoke, but the most direct way in which they communicate their message are the lyrics, and as a critic, it should be my role to interpret, explain, and analyze that message. You know, do some legwork in discerning the artistic intent and then explaining whether or not the execution of said intent actually worked.

But too often, I've seen too many critics fall into the trap of just describing what the music is. They talk about the sound that the music creates and maybe scratch the surface of the message informed by the lyrics, and even then, that particular deeper analysis is cursory at best. That's not being a critic, that's being an observer with a thesaurus. And I'll admit it, this underlying peeve is why I tend to have more acceptance for country and pop music: sure, the lyrics might be shallow or vapid or incredibly stupid, but at least they matter in the mix (particularly in country music, where less emphasis is on instrumentation and more on lyrics). 

On the same note, a lot of indie rock that opts to bury the lyrics deep at the back of the mix where they're borderline unintelligible really frustrates me. Without lyrical context, i feel like I'm grasping at straws to interpret or criticize the material, and I'm stuck asking why they're burying the vocals instead of actually paying attention to the instrumentation - instead of taking in the entire musical piece, I'm stuck listening for one component. Let me also stress that this is different than dirty vocals (like what you see in black metal and death metal) - that's a vocal style that's intended to sound threatening or scary, and once you get a handle on how to listen to those vocals, the lyrics are often easy enough to make out. But there are some bands who bury their lyrics under vocal effects  and distortion where I can't make out what they're saying without pulling up the lyrics online - and in those cases, I get why many music critics will just throw up their hands and talk about the band's 'sound' (the unfortunate problem is that too often the band gets critical acclaim based off the sound alone). 

So with all of that in mind, I was left distinctly dissatisfied when I started going through Deerhunter's discography in preparation for reviewing their newest album Monomania, particularly with their debut (unfortunately titled 'Turn It Up F****t'). It was an album dedicated to their late bassist Justin Bosworth, and has been repeatedly disowned by lead guitarist and singer Bradford Cox. I'm glad he thinks that way, mostly because putting aside the title, this album is terrible. It's clearly a case of instrumentation trumping any coherent vocals (considering there wasn't any due to terrible binaural recording techniques, it wasn't much of an accomplishment), and when looking up the lyrics, I can understand why: it was a load of trite, overwrought, teenage nonsense.

Fortunately, the band did mostly learn from that with their follow-up Cryptograms, which cleaned up some of the vocals and was generally much stronger (the second half was better than the first). I'll admit that Deerhunter does an excellent job creating expansive psychedelic soundscapes, but in cleaning up the vocals, Deerhunter exposed the lyrics, which might dance around the themes of 'death and companionship', but rarely coalesced into any coherent or all that impactful. This is mostly due to Bradford Cox's stream-of-conscience delivery, which led to interesting enough ideas, but nothing all that meaningful. 

Their third album Microcastle took things a step further and cleaned up the production even further, moving towards an even tighter focus and great accessibility. Logically, this should make the album my favourite of the three thus far, but these choices also exposed an uglier theme of the album: self-absorption to the point of myopia and paranoia, and a Peter Pan complex that could rival that of Billy Joe Armstrong. Yes, I get that Bradford Cox has had many brushes with death thanks to his genetic condition Marfan Syndrome, but his repeated refusals to grow up or properly deal with how his life will inevitably progress (even to the point of denigrating those who have grown up and who will 'wait to grow old') shows an astounding lack of maturity. Granted, this attitude was visible on his debut, but it rears its head in a big way on Microcastle, showing how he'd be most comfortable sealing himself away in a bubble, away from reality and consequence. 

And you know, this would actually be tolerable if the framing of this individualist vision had context or deeper insight or showed an iota of self-awareness - and for a few moments on Deerhunter's Weird Era Cont. (their follow-up the same year after Microcastle leaked very early), fragments of that context appears... but it's also on this album that Deerhunter returned to bad habits and shoved the vocals to the absolute back of the mix where it would be impossible to hear. At this point, I nearly threw up my hands and gave up, and if it wasn't for the strong instrumentation, I would have stopped listening to Deerhunter entirely.

Fortunately, I didn't give up - and good thing too, because their follow-up 2010 album Halcyon Days was probably my favourite of their discography thus far. Not only do they make the vocals audible, Cox actually executes a thematic throughline surprisingly well, various associated memories of discovering new music. Sometimes they were thrilling, sometimes they were chilling, but all of which were emotional and inspired a reaction that had context and made sense. It's one of the few places I argue Cox's stream-of-conscience lyrics actually work, because they fit the moment-by-moment flow of the album. Yes, the album is still self-indulgent at points (and also weirdly 'flat' at points in production - for a band so frequently trying to sound big, Deerhunter sure has a hard time getting it right), but the instrumentation was stronger than ever (drawing a lot of influence from 60's rock) and Cox showed signs of improvement. 

And thus, in the end, I was enthused going into Monomania - could it be even better than its predecessor and surprise me all the more?

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'imps of perversion' by pop. 1280

You're all forgiven for not knowing who this band is.

Hell, it wasn't that long ago when I had no idea who this group was. If you're looking for acts flying completely under the radar, Pop. 1280 might just be one of the quintessential examples. Signed to Sacred Bones (an indie label out of, where else, Brooklyn), a criminally underwritten Wikipedia page, and with a reputation for abrasive, grimy gothic noise rock, Pop. 1280 certainly aren't attracting the type of critical buzz that I'd normally pick up upon. The only reason I think The AV Club bothered to review the album is because it's the beginning of August and there's barely anything else coming out until John Mayer and Chris Brown decide to simultaneously ruin the summer in one fell swoop.

So why am I bothering to review Pop. 1280's newest album Imps Of Perversion instead of continuing with my retrospectives of other acts that already came out this year? Two reasons: I still need a bit more time to go through Deerhunter's discography for when I talk about Monomania; and more importantly, the fact that Pop. 1280 describes itself as a 'cyberpunk' act.

This immediately caught my attention, because the whole 'cyberpunk' brand used to be a lot more prevalent in the 80s and 90s, with a unique aesthetic drawn from the goth, punk, and raver scenes. Heavily linked to dystopian fiction, cyberpunk tended to have underlying themes of youth fighting against corrupt institutions of the past, the balance between humanity and technology, corporate capitalism running rampant, the abuse of biotechnology, and a lot of interesting ideas that tended to get buried beneath the bondage leather and the excuse to have fetish models pop up in B-list action movies. The sad fact that outside of some critically acclaimed anime, some solid video games, a few decent table-top RPGs, a couple superb novels (often by William Gibson), and Blade Runner, there's a whole ton of crap in the cyberpunk genre that can't even hope to be intellectually engaging or interesting besides cheap masturbatory thrills. 

And nowhere is this more apparent than in music. Sure, Bowie managed to make a decent pseudo-cyberpunk album in the mid-90s with Outside, and Nine Inch Nails' Year Zero did attempt a more politically charged venture into cyberpunk trends, but most music attempting to tap into 'cyberpunk' culture failed pretty disastrously. The most egregious example was Billy Idol's catastrophic album Cyberpunk, which thoroughly destroyed whatever was left of his career. Having relistened to that album recently - and believe me, it hasn't aged well in the slightest - I think I've managed to pin down why it failed: it only grasped the surface gloss of what cyberpunk was, instead of digging into the meatier ideas beneath it.

And really, when I took a look at Pop. 1280's first album The Horror, I was optimistic. After all, there's plenty of untapped potential in cyberpunk, and if we're looking for a modern generation where cyberpunk might hold some relevance to youth, it's right now. Think about all of the themes I mentioned before and compare them to current trends right now. Double-digit unemployment, corrupt corporate overreach, disaffected youth lacking direction and seeking release however they can, these are real things for my generation, and Pop. 1280 could have made a challenging and essential album to speak to these real problems...

And they didn't do that. Their 2012 album The Horror instead opted to imitate the cheap thrills of the cyberpunk aesthetic and blend them with lyrics cribbed from a bad nu-metal songbook. I will give credit to bassist John Skultrane and Zac Ziemann's drumming for managing to build a firm foundation for the better songs, but there's very little built on top of that foundation that's worth talking about. The guitarwork by Ivan Lip is biting and distorted and occasionally builds up with monstrous energy, but with a lack of a driving tune and little chord variation, I couldn't help but lose interest in the material very quickly. Chris Bug's vocals might strive to imitate early Nick Cave, but lacking the dynamics or the air of menace, he comes across like a post-grunge singer attempting to sound dangerous or scary, neither of which I bought. And not only was the technical songwriting rudimentary at best, the lyrics forsook the more interesting ideas in cyberpunk and opted for cheap, schlocky attempts at scares with little subtlety or pacing. In comparison to anything Nick Cave has done (or The Flaming Lips' similarly titled album The Terror from earlier this year), Pop. 1280 couldn't help but look out of their depth, particularly with the lifeless and flat production work that did nobody any favours.

But that being said, I'm willing to give Pop. 1280 a second chance - debut albums are always tough to get right. So how does their follow-up Imps Of Perversion turn out?

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'silence yourself' by savages (RETRO REVIEW)

I didn't get into punk music the 'typical' way. I wasn't given an old punk record by a family member or dropped into that particular music scene by a group of friends or attended a party or concert where said music was being played. No, pretty much any exploration of punk music - and indeed of underground culture from the mid-70s to, well, now was entirely a self-driven endeavour.

Funnily enough, I started looking into punk from one of the harder-edged scenes on the fringes of the genre: anarcho-punk. Coming out of an anarchistic high school phase, I was actively listening to Chumbawamba and started to get intrigued about their contemporaries. So one day, I picked up two four-disc collections that I highly recommend to this day as a great sampler of music of the time: No Thanks! The 70s Punk Revolution and Left Of The Dial: Dispatches From The 80s Underground. And I honestly can't count the number of bands I got into thanks to these two multi-disc sets, exposing me to several entire genres of music that I had never heard on mainstream radio or any of the clubs I frequented.

Interestingly, there was only genre that seemed to span both disc collections - and it wasn't punk music. No, it was the dark, brooding, complex, oft-inaccessible genre of post-punk, composed of the leftovers of the punk revolution and a gateway to all manner of weird, twisted music that I fell in love with instantaneously. These were acts like Wire, Bauhaus, Sonic Youth, The Sisters Of Mercy, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, Television, Joy Division, The Cure, Siouxsie & The Banshees, The Chameleons, and more. These are among some of the most critically acclaimed acts of the 70s and 80s, and they pushed the envelope of music further than ever before.

It's not entirely surprising, then, that as 70s nostalgia returned through this year (to say nothing of the rise of darker, industrial-flavoured music across the charts), post-punk would make a return appearance. But while Nick Cave did release a mind-blowing album this year with Push The Sky Away, it wasn't so much a post-punk revival album as a moody piece of atmosphere alternative rock from an elder statesman of the movement. 

Instead, we got a debut album from a new act that had been swelling in the underground since 2011, just waiting to explode with a mission statement scrawled in block capitals.

The band was simply called Savages, the debut album was titled Silence Yourself, and it is goddamn awesome.

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'wakin on a pretty daze' by kurt vile (RETRO REVIEW)

Believe it or not, I don't go into albums looking to hate them or bash them. One of the reasons I review a lot of material is because I'm looking to be surprised or caught off-guard by something of shockingly good quality. I want to find that special album that blows my mind in a dozen conceivable ways. And more importantly, to quote Abed from Community, 'I like liking things'. Hell, at the beginning of the year, you probably couldn't have told me that one of the most pleasant surprises of the year was a 4-part album from a white female rapper called Skitszo, but Colette Carr's debut album was actually surprisingly decent.

That being said, it's extremely difficult to not immediately form an opinion in your mind about what an act will sound like when you first hear about them, and I'll admit that can adjust your expectations in one way or another. I'll admit that going into critically-acclaimed indie rock albums, I tend to have a sharper critical opinion than, say, a Backstreet Boys album. And knowing my own tastes, if anything, makes it all the worse, as my ability to prejudge material is all the sharper.

So when I heard about Kurt Vile's new album, it was hard not to immediately cast more than a few judgments on the guy without even hearing a single song. A critically acclaimed, Pitchfork-adored lo-fi indie rocker primarily on a laid-back guitar with hazy, borderline incomprehensible vocals and lyrics that could only pretend to make sense on a good day? You bet your ass i prejudged the hell out of this guy and very nearly decided to ignore this album entirely. As I've said before, I don't have a lot of patience for white guys with acoustic guitars, and if they're half-stoned or have pretensions to depth, that limited amount of patience drops to a critical low. And sure, there's Beck, but he proved to have extraordinary amounts of talent, both in instrumentation and songwriting (to say nothing of his particular brand of insanity), and I can't say many of the lo-fi acts that followed in his wake did much to blow me out of the water.

And so before reviewing Kurt Vile's Wakin On A Pretty Daze, an album title that just screamed stoner indie rock in the worst possible way, I took a deep breath and plowed through this guy's discography, prepared for song after song of bland, pretentious nothing that I'd be able to jettison out my mental airlock the second it was over.

I didn't get that, and believe me, that was as much of a surprise as anything. Even as I say this, I'm still a little flummoxed why Kurt Vile works while so many other act like him have either bored or infuriated me. And while I wouldn't quite call myself a fan of his material, I found myself liking much more of his songs than I actively disliked.

Let's start with the songwriting, which is arguably the spot I would have come down hardest if he had been any of his contemporaries - and while there is a certain profundity that shows up in his material, there were more nuggets of insight in his ramblings than I expected. It's almost impossible to know how many levels of irony or sarcasm Kurt Vile might be operating on, which adds a layer of ambiguity to his presentation I found intriguing. On top of that, he doesn't tend to leap into the trap of acoustic love songs - hell, I don't even think Kurt Vile could record a truly effective love song even if he tried. Most of that comes down to his delivery, which I would describe as something of a cross between Beck and Wayne Coyne if the latter was actively smoking pot over dropping acid. And while he does abuse vocal affects and reverb more than most, it contributes excellently to a certain atmosphere that completely justifies Kurt Vile's appeal.

You see, I'd almost hesitate to call Kurt Vile an acoustic act - a lot of his material might have roots in acoustic rhythmic guitar, but it is often swallowed up in distortion and static that permeates the track, creating a rich expansiveness that still manages to feel organic and real. It may flirt with psychedelia at points, but that's only to suit the hazy, dusty feel of the tracks. Many critics have drawn connections between Vile and the gritty guitar-based singer-songwriters of the 60s and early 70s, and I can definitely buy into that aesthetic, particularly when it feels as authentic as it does.

And, of course, it helps that Kurt Vile is a gifted instrumentalist and songwriter all on his own. The guitar lines are often mesmerizingly simple, but contain enough shifts and complexity to keep me wanting more, and the natural free-flowing nature of the writing is a perfect fit for it. I'm reminded of Kacey Musgraves in a very good way, and like with her, they share the same affection for downbeat, rural Americana that feels all too real, particularly because Vile doesn't hold back from including himself in his message. It feels like the events in Vile's songwriting could have really happened to him, or are thoughts coming from a real place, and that does wonders for the atmosphere of the album.

That being said, I do have my gripes with Kurt Vile, particularly considering the fact he seems to be losing some of that richer instrumental texture with more recent albums. The distortion is peeled back, the vocals are cleaner, everything feels that much more polished, and I don't feel that's the greatest choice for preserving the atmosphere. But on the other hand, it does do wonders for exposing the smarter elements of Vile's songwriting, which I do appreciate, even though I wish more of that distorted grit would return. So does Wakin On A Pretty Daze deliver on that?

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'neon' by jay sean

For most of this week, I was seriously considering not doing this review.

And really, it's not like I'd be alone in this particular endeavour. To say this album has been overlooked is understating it. On this album's Wikipedia entry, there are precisely two reviews, and both of them barely scratch the surface of cursory and token. Pitchfork ignored this album entirely. Instead of reviewing this album, the AV Club opted to review the new Backstreet Boys album. And sure, I covered the Backstreet Boys album, but that's because I'm a fan and I cover pop music more than the majority of critics. Keep that in mind - the guy who bothered to review will.i.am, 3OH!3, and Selena Gomez nearly made the choice to completely ignore this guy.

Now some of you might be asking why on earth so many critics are apathetic towards this new album. To explain that, you need to understand the events in the pop music scene of about four years ago - namely, Chris Brown's assault on Rihanna. While it provided ample fodder for the tabloids, the less-spoken-of fact was it also created a certain tumult in the industry. Suddenly the world had woken up to the fact that not only was Chris Brown's musical output painfully mediocre, but that he was also a generally awful human and thus wouldn't sell the same number of records (Jay Z's quiet sabotage to Brown's career notwithstanding). And when Chris Brown's album Graffiti flopped, record executives got desperate to replace the woman-beating Usher-wannabe that had been bankrolling their eleventh yacht.

So throughout 2009 and 2010, we got bombarded by a host of young R&B acts looking to take Chris Brown's place. Some, like Trey Songz and arguably Taio Cruz, managed to construct something of a personality and have a bit of staying power, while others (Iyaz and that talentless hack Jason Derulo) scraped by through having no talent or personality whatsoever, manufactured pop stars in everything but name. And it was somewhere in the middle of all of this that we get our pop star of today, a British-Indian R&B singer who called himself Jay Sean. 

Now to be completely honest, I've never had a problem with this guy. I can't exactly call him great, but he's never been offensive or unlistenable, and I can't say either of his two hits ('Down' and 'Do You Remember') were anything worth hating. However, that's also indicative of part of the problem. Jay Sean isn't bad, he's boring, the sort of studio-produced pop/R&B creation who is pleasant enough to hear but immediately forgotten afterwards. And sure, that might have worked well enough when trying to replace the greatest dearth of charisma in music, but since Chris Brown came back, what has Jay Sean done to make himself distinctive or interesting or worth talking about? And as most music critics will tell you, there's nothing worse than reviewing an act that doesn't have the slightest iota of personality.

But with that being said, I eventually decided that I should at least say something or give this guy a bit of a chance. I mean, somebody probably put money into this album, and I figured that solitary producer might be curious to hear what the critical press has to say as he looks up from the cocaine bucket. And like it or not, I'm one of the few critics who actually tends to give pop music more of a chance. So how did Jay Sean's new album Neon turn out?

Youtube Review after the jump

album review: 'shaking the habitual' by the knife (RETRO REVIEW)

Consider, if you will, minimalism.

Now you might think, with my general appreciation for acts like Meat Loaf and Nightwish and Blind Guardian and The Killers and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, that I tend to favour music that's overblown, overwrought, and generally made with a larger 'scope' in mind. And I won't lie that I do like songs in this vein more often than not - hell, I'll give a pass to Andrew W.K. for his maximalist aesthetic, even though his lyrics tend to have less substance than an empty bucket made of air. And it's not surprising that a lot of critics tend to snub acts that go for broke with a lack of abandon and complete sincerity - these acts are often deemed lowbrow or pandering to baser sensibilities. And sure, in some cases that is definitely the case, but I'd argue there's a method to writing that hyperbolic material well (the difference, for example, between Fall Out Boy's Folie A Deux and their newest album Save Rock and Roll, an album I like less and less as a cohesive whole every time I listen to it).

Likewise, minimalism often shares a similar differentiation of quality, but the distinction of being able to accomplish this aesthetic is a little subtler than its louder counterpart (the line of sincerity tends to be more sharply defined at higher volumes). Minimalism typically works through reduction, scaling back certain elements in order to draw attention and emphasis to others, or in order to create an atmosphere of emptiness and space. One of the reasons Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds succeeded so brilliantly this year with Push The Sky Away is because he utilized the minimalist style to both create a foreboding, expansive atmosphere and to draw attention to the oblique lyrics. It was no surprise that some critics panned the album in response, especially considering Nick Cave spent so much of his career overwhelming the senses that people considered his brand of minimalism dull. In other words, they completely missed the point.

Now that's not to say minimalism can't be done badly. On the contrary, it can be argued that minimalist efforts often have a much greater chance of failure than those that simply choose to go for broke on all cylinders. I've spoken before of my distaste for music in the 'white guy with acoustic guitar' or 'white chick with piano' vein, and their poor usage of minimalism is often the reason why. In choosing to pull back and limit their instrumentation, they draw much tighter attention to the singer and the lyrics, and the swathe of trite, pretentious garbage that spews forth is evidence enough that these singer-songwriters just don't have anything worth saying. 

And more often than not, too much minimalist material fails simply because the musical atmosphere lacks texture and thus gets very boring very fast. Let's take James Blake's Overgrown as an example where the minimalism worked - but it only worked because Blake's careful control of the atmosphere and soulful delivery nailed the tricky balance between atmospheric and intimate. And it's a tough balance to nail - I can think of more than a few albums that don't manage to hit that sweet spot, particularly in electronica and modern hip-hop. 

So with all of that in mind, let's talk about the Swedish electronica duo The Knife, a band that takes electronic minimalism and turns it into something else entirely.

Now I'll admit right out of the gate that The Knife had a bit of a steep road to climb with me, as electronica acts (particularly those heralded by Pitchfork and music critics and pretty much only them) that tend towards tight, carefully positioned beats aren't normally my thing. And coupled with Karin Dreijer Andersson's borderline intolerable singing (she reminds me of a cross between Joanna Newsom and a screechier Tegan Quin) and the duo's tendency towards oblique, barely comprehensible lyrics, I was fairly certain this band would wear out their welcome faster than ever. And really, if I was looking to find a band with little-to-no mainstream appeal, the kind that would brand me as a hipster instantly upon mention, The Knife would leap to the top of my list. They certainly weren't doing anything to make themselves accessible or radio-friendly, that's for damn sure.

And yet, going through their discography (particularly their 2006 album Silent Shout), I started to understand the appeal of The Knife. Despite the clipped, clattering beats at the very top of the mix, the band had an expansive sound that sucked me in more often than not. The juxtaposition between Andersson's vocals and those her partner Olof Dreijer's did a fair amount to win me over (although the occasionally off-tune screeching got intolerable more than once). But what ultimately won me over were the lyrics - there's a real bleak darkness and unsettling atmosphere to their poetry that has flavour and real personality, and while I wouldn't call them technically strong lyricists, they are smart enough to convey some potent material. Yes, they've made mistakes - sometimes big ones - but overall, their good material has tended to outweigh the bad (with 'Marble House' being the immediately recognizable standout from Silent Shout and a goddamn impressive song).

So when I heard that the act was, again, accruing critical acclaim from critics and Pitchfork alike for their new album, I was interested. After numerous solo ventures, The Knife had finally reunited for their first venture on their own in seven years. How did it turn out?

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'in a world like this' by the backstreet boys

I have been a fan of the Backstreet Boys for almost fifteen years.

They weren't just a band I grew up with, they were the very first band of which I was ever a hardcore fan. I own physical copies of all of their albums. I've sung Backstreet Boys songs in karaoke and in talent shows. I can play their music on the piano. I've seen them live, and I'll be seeing them again in less than a week. They are the quintessential late 90s boy band and they have earned their place in popular culture, and I'm proud to call myself a fan.

...and because I said all of this, some of you will immediately disqualify any review I give henceforth as either the gushing of an admirer or the nitpicking of a displeased fanboy. You'll probably say that there's no way I could possibly be impartial when it comes to this band, and thus my review is invalid because of some nebulous 'bias'. Now I could go on for hours how this disqualification is absolutely asinine (in fact, I already did), but I find myself pausing a little more when I consider my love of the Backstreet Boys. Is it possible that since this band was part of my childhood, I view their material with rose-coloured nostalgia? Am I giving too much credit to a pop act, particularly given my well-documented tendency of reading too much into things?

Well, maybe, but then again, I haven't exactly disabled my critical faculties when reflecting on The Backstreet Boys, and the band's material isn't immune from honest analysis or criticism. For example, I don't have particularly kind words for The Backstreet Boys' first album, most of which is catering to the Europop bandwagon and lacks significant personality. They would iron some of the kinks out before Backstreet's Back, but there are still major duds on that album. In fact, come to think of it, I would argue that all of their albums had at least one song that didn't work in the slightest (Millennium comes the closest to consistent excellence, but to me, 'It's Gotta Be You' just didn't come together). And while I'll defend their 2005 comeback album Never Gone more than most (seriously, between 'Siberia', 'Forces of Nature', 'Lose It All', and 'I Still...', that album deserves way more credit than it gets), I don't have many kind words to say about the two albums they made without Kevin Richardson in 2007 and 2009. I wouldn't call them precisely bad (okay, most of This Is Us is pretty awful), but considering the heights of which they were capable, they were disappointments. And obviously the less said about that New Kids On The Block experiment, the better.

But going back through their discography in preparation for this review, I was reminded of all the reasons I fell in love with this band in the first place. In my review of The Brilliancy EP, I talked about the three factors required to make good pop music: solid, catchy instrumentation/production (plus a hook); good lyrics/vocal delivery; and sincerity. And while The Backstreet Boys have definitely slipped up more than a few times with the first two factors, they've never become cynical or pandering or showed anything less than complete sincerity. What other band would make 'Larger Than Life', one of the biggest hits of their career, an explicit love letter to their fans? In comparison to an act like N'Sync (yeah, I'm going here, deal with it), the Backstreet Boys sounded looser and ever so slightly more organic (particularly on Millennium, Never Gone, and Unbreakable). Yes, they were occasionally hyperbolic and yes, they were occasionally jokey and cheesy, but they were always willing to include themselves as part of the joke and just run with it. If you were laughing, rest assured they were laughing with you, and yet you could tell there was genuine emotion in their delivery. People respond well to that sort of sincerity, and it's no surprise that over a decade after their heyday, there are still hardcore Backstreet Boys fans (myself included).

So when I heard they were released a new album this year, I had a moment of elation that was very quickly drowned out by some real concerns. For starters, they're not getting any younger, and if This Is Us taught the world anything, it was that modern production didn't always fit well with The Backstreet Boys (to say nothing of autotune, which didn't fit at all). And yes, it was awesome that Kevin was back, but would they manage to have that flair and personality over fifteen years into their careers, that unique presence to stand up against their personality-bereft and far less talented peers in One Direction? And as much as I really, really wanted this album to be great, I knew that the Backstreet Boys' last consistently good album came out in 2005. 

So how does In A World Like This fare?

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'blurred lines' by robin thicke

For those of you who haven't been following the charts this year, let me provide a bit of commentary discussing the bizarre trends sprouting up on the Billboard Hot 100. While the year started slow (with the early months dominated by either the Harlem Shake, 'Thrift Shop', or a series of piano-driven ballads), a new trend began to coalesce as the summer began, a trend spurred by the release of a critically acclaimed album courtesy of one of the best electronica groups in the country, an album I may have already reviewed.

The song was 'Get Lucky', the band was Daft Punk, the album was Random Accessed Memories, and the music was a blend of funk and disco, two genres that many considered dead at the end of the 70s. And yet here they were, making a comeback unlike anything we'd seen. And while I had been saying the 70s had been making a comeback since earlier this year, it was nice to see the charts reflect some of that. And really, the stylistic flourishes that represented that decade were popping up all over the chart, from the chanting and 'righteous cause' bombast from Macklemore to the slick R&B touches with Justin Timberlake. Hell, Snoop Lion dropped an album that was basically an attempt at resurrecting politically-charged reggae! And with the exception of 'When I Was Your Man', both of Bruno Mars' charting singles were basically 70s throwbacks and they were easily on par with the best of his material!

But really, the song that had to rise to the top was 'Get Lucky'. Not only was it a scintillating and enthralling blend of disco and funk modernized, it had a real playful elegance in the lyrics that vaulted it above the average disco track. In my mind, it still is in hot contention for my list of the best songs of the year, and it might just rise to the top.

Unfortunately, it's been blocked from the #1 slot by another pseudo disco track that apparently jumped out of nowhere, also starring Pharrell, a song that very quickly drew some controversy for some rather overtly sexual lyrics. And it's this song - the title track from the album we're going to talk about today - that has blocked Daft Punk for over five weeks, and it's courtesy of an artist who I thought went out of business a good six years ago.

So let's talk about this artist, shall we? Robin Thicke is a guy you're all forgiven for forgetting, because outside of one single Glee did infinitely better, he honestly hasn't done much that I immediately remembered. Granted, I give him a bit more credit going back through his discography, but I've never been able to like his music all that much, and after listening through his albums, I think I know why. 

For starters, unlike many R&B crooners, Robin Thicke does have a fair amount of vocal personality, and his falsetto range is incredibly impressive (see, Julian Casablancas, this is how you do it). And I'll give him this, when he wants to make a song that sounds incredibly sexual, he has the slick sophistication and class to make it work. However, there's something about his delivery that doesn't quite click with me, namely that I never quite buy that he's entirely emotionally invested in his material. In comparison to, say, Usher, who throws everything and the kitchen sink into his love songs, Robin Thicke is a bit more laid-back, and that kind of puts me off a bit. On top of that, too often his lyrics can be a little too jokey and silly, and while there is a certain degree of self-awareness, it can sometimes undercut or confuse the emotional current of the song.

Now granted, I'll admit right now that R&B isn't my strong suit when it comes to genres (one of the reasons I didn't review Ciara's Body Party, outside of no interest and the general consensus being rather mixed on it). It's not that I can't recognize good R&B, but more that I have a much smaller tolerance for it in comparison to, say, country music. Most of this comes from the lyrics, in that too often the subject matter behind them seems a bit thin or the lyrics feel underwritten. But then again, that might be an area where Robin Thicke's goofier side might be an asset - he might not make an incredibly intelligent or moving R&B album, but I bet he could still make an interesting one.

So, how does his new album Blurred Lines fare?

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'the brilliancy ep' by the brilliancy

It really gets on my nerves that so many critics dismiss pop music.

Oh, certainly not as often as they used to, but more often than not, music critics tend to look down on pop and country and other genres that cater to mainstream radio with a certain condescension that drives me off the wall. Not only is ignorant of history (you all remember that The Beatles and Michael Jackson started out as pop acts, right) and denigrates the genre, it also places their genres of choice (often indie acts) on a higher pedestal. And the more I think about it, the more I become increasingly convinced that said pedestal isn't always earned - sure, there are plenty of independent acts that are pushing boundaries and are making interesting artistic statements, but just because they might adopt a less commercially successful aesthetic doesn't give them a complete pass if their lyrics or instrumentation aren't compelling. 

And when we circle back to the topic of good pop music, the conversation gets even trickier. What most people don't tend realize is that good pop music of any kind still requires a fair amount of talent to write and produce, and the formula to getting it right is constantly changing. In that element, I'd argue indie rock has it easier - without having to worry about mainstream airplay, they have the freedom to push boundaries and write songs about any topic under the sun, whereas pop music doesn't quite have that flexibility.

So what makes good pop music? Well, like all art, there's no defined formula, but I think I've managed to nail it down to three central concepts: solid instrumentation/production (complete with a hook), good lyrics/vocal-personality, and sincerity. Most pop songs can get mainstream airplay with two, maybe one-and-a-half out of three, but the best, most memorable pop songs get them all, and I can't stress enough how important these elements are (particularly sincerity). Getting simply one out of five might get you a passable song, but nothing more than that.

For example, let's talk about 'Call Me Maybe' by Carly Rae Jepsen, a song I don't particularly like that ruled the airwaves last year (you might have heard of it). In my books, I think the weakness in this song is the bland instrumentation (those aren't real strings, you're not fooling anyone) and the crappy lyrics, but Carly Rae Jepsen manages to salvage things with some personality and complete sincerity in her delivery. Compare this to Taylor Swift's '22', a song with a decent hook, but terrible lyrics and a complete lack of any sincere feeling, so the song just doesn't work for me. It's why songs like 'I Want It That Way' by the Backstreet Boys is such a great pop song (perfect across the board) and a song like Selena Gomez's 'Come And Get It' is such a dud (I'd give it half a point at best). And when you go back through pop music, it's extremely hard to find songs that would fit all of those criteria. Hell, even going into the independent scene I'd find a hard time locating songs that nail all three of these categories (depending on framing, independent music can occasionally get away with a lack of sincerity or a hook).

So with all of that in mind, let's talk about the self-titled EP from pop rock act The Brilliancy, and why it's probably going to make it on my list as one of the best albums of the year.

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'amok' by atoms for peace (RETRO REVIEW)

As a music critic, you always end up missing albums.

Yeah, even the guys who listen to a new album every single day are going to miss a few that are outside of their preferred genre or were dismissed out of hand as being crap. Now if you're familiar with any of my reviews, I like to give everything a reasonably fair shake, but as someone with a full-time job and an active social life, I still don't have time to get through everything.

And that means, like most music critics in the middle of the summer, I took a bit of time in this brief lull to start locating the albums in my backlog that I should cover before the end of the year. Sure, I'm not going to find everything, but it can't hurt to go through the seven or eight albums with positive critical press I inevitably missed (either coming out before I started my reviews, or were put aside in favour of albums I actually had an interest in or wanted to rant about).  

And completely unsurprisingly, most of these albums that I'll be talking about over the next while (with the exception of the new releases, obviously) are going to be the critically acclaimed material that Pitchfork and the majority of the entertainment press have slobbered all over. And those of you who have been following my work know that I tend to be significantly tougher on indie rock than most - something I also won't apologize for in any way. If these are going to be the acts that might dictate the paradigm in independent music, you bet I'm going to be scrutinizing them with a critical eye. After all, if you want to be on the cutting edge, you have to earn it.

So with that in mind, let's talk about the debut album of Atoms For Peace, a collaboration act featuring Thom Yorke of Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers bassist Flea, Joey Waronker (who worked with Beck and R.E.M.) and longtime Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich. From that line-up alone, one can have high expectations - that's the sort of superstar tag team you'd expect to be introduced by its own theme music! And while I'm most definitely not the biggest Radiohead fan (a conversation for later), it's hard not to look at the rest of this act with a fair amount of awe and wonder.

But then the part of my brain that leaps up whenever I get excited about new prospects made sure to say, 'Now hang on a minute, you remember what happened with Angels and Airwaves, and even though Audioslave was a relative success, it was nowhere near close to the sum of its parts.' And really, outside of Ayreon (which owes its success to the excellent coordination of Arjen Lucassen, and even he doesn't always get it right), there really hasn't been a collaboration effort that I can think of immediately that hasn't been either overshadowed by one member or significantly less than its potential. And given some of my distaste for Thom Yorke, I wasn't entirely sure I was going to enjoy the album, with the very un-Radiohead-esque name Amok. Did that opinion last?

Youtube review after the jump

album review: 'edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros' by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros

Today, let's talk about the hippie movement.

As someone who has always had an interest in cultural demographics, I've always been a little fascinated by the hippie movement, particularly considering its presence in the music of the late 60s and throughout most of the 70s. So many great acts of the era can be linked directly to it and the countercultural force it was for a brief time. Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, Janis Joplin, hell, pretty much all of the psychedelic rock genre owes its existence and most of its fanbase to the free love, free drugs, inner peace nirvana that the hippie movement preached. In terms of an era where cultural progressives owned the industry (rather than the other way around), it was unlike any other.

So what the hell happened? Well, pretty much what anyone with a brain could have expected. The 'intellectuals' of the hippie movement went into prog rock and avant-garde music that became too pretentious to be sustainable, the music industry digested the musical and visual aesthetic and dumbed it down for the mainstream, and midway through the 70s, a group of angry punks smashed whatever free love was left to pieces. It's a sad testament to the legacy of the hippies that Seth MacFarlane was able to sum it up aptly in the words of his talking dog on Family Guy: 'We lost the values but we kept the weed'.

Now to be completely fair, there were always gaping holes in the hippie ideology that you could fly a spaceship through, namely a complete ignorance of consequences to all the free love and free drugs. The pacifism was nice, but human nature made it abundantly clear that pacifist thinking and radical politics weren't a combination built to last (the radicalization of the leftist movements in the 70s proved this). Speaking on the topic of the philosophy, most of it was a product of the drugs and lifestyle that spawned it, and was thus incoherent, unfocused, and surprisingly shallow - without a clear message, there was never going to be societal change on the scale the hippies wanted. And on the political side (most commonly recognized as the Yippies), there may have been some movement towards social and racial equality (driven by some of the great leaders for social change of the time), but without changes on the institutional level, most of the greater 'change' died in a sputtering heap. And as for the progressive movement... well, I'll just let Will McAvoy from Aaron Sorkin's The Newsroom explain (along with some rightfully required ruminations on the Tea Party):

The sad thing is that he's not wrong about any of it, hippies or Tea Party (yeah, I said it), and you can go further and trace this to how 'hippie music' and psychedelic rock suffered their painful decline throughout the 70s. But what I think was more damaging was how the image of the hippie movement was further ridiculed as 'out-of-touch' or so high that any fragments of coherent or interesting ideology is drowned out in baked-out nonsense. And really, that bugs the hell out of me, because there were nuggets of real truth and wisdom, about the human condition in that culture that gets swept away and ignored. Now I'm not exactly surprised that material was ignored - often times it was more grounded and had some serious teeth - but it was enough to justify the hippie movement's philosophy, if not its execution.

And funnily enough, issues with problematic execution are where I always used to stand on Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, another band I'd categorize as a 'silent majority' act that broke through in 2009 with their debut Up From Below. A musical project run by singer-songwriter Alex Ebert, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros resemble nothing less than an act attempting to recapture the 60s hippie aesthetic, but never quite grasping the meat of the message. 

Now don't get me wrong, I like what this band represents, and there are definitely elements of their material that I find extremely compelling. For an act that debuted in 2009, they sure as hell do a good job sounding like an act from the golden era of psychedelic rock, particularly in production. I like the interplay between the vocalists, I like the harmonies and the stomping choruses, I like the breadth of instrumentation, and I even like some of the more ridiculous and grandiose moments that only seem to work half of the time. If anything, what makes Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros stand out to me is their musical 'texture', particularly on their first album - the mix is organic and layered masterfully, yet done in a way that we don't see the seams. I don't know who does the production work for this band, but Jimmy Eat World needs to hire them as soon as possible!

But unfortunately, I know the exact reasons why Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes never worked for me: there was never any edge. Sure, the music had the sound of a hippie record, but there was no edge or hint that their lyrics meant anything, or were going to take any chances - in fact, any attempt they did try to stretch themselves lyrically on Up From Below they sounded laughably out of their depth. They did try to improve things with their second record Here, but in doing so, they also cut back on the larger scope and feel of the band, and some of the texture leaked away. If I might make a TV comparison, the second season of The Newsroom has a lot fewer mistakes than the first, but it also lost some of the grandiose bombast and utter insanity that made that first season so compellingly watchable. Simply put, if you shoot lower, you're going to fail less, but your successes won't mean as much either. 

What Here also revealed for the band was that the project's focus was solely on Alex Ebert. Now, granted, some of this was bound to come out - the album was a concept piece exploring one's difficulties with religion and spirituality - but with that knowledge comes a lack of inclusiveness that really runs contrary to the hippie ideal. Any attempts at having Ebert balanced by the other vocalists just fell painfully flat because it was so obvious where the lyrical focus was fixed. And while the album might have had a more coherent tone and narrative throughline, it still lacked the edge that would truly make the album distinctive. 

So a year after that album's release, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros have come back with a self-titled album two into their career, something that just happens to be a serious pet peeve of mine. Does the band manage to overcome that peeve and create something of substance?

Youtube review after the jump