video review: 'because the internet' by childish gambino

Well, this went okay. Probably one of the odder albums I've covered, and I think the review does reflect that to some extent.

Next up will be the long-awaited retrospective of the Queens of the Stone Age album, then we'll see. Stay tuned!

album review: 'because the internet' by childish gambino

Let's ask an uncomfortable question, one I don't think there's an easy answer to and one I certainly I can't answer: how much does race matter in music, especially in rap music? On the one hand, music spans skin colour and culture, and one would like to think that it shouldn't matter when talking about artists or personal tastes. We live in a generation where Jason Aldean can collaborate with Ludacris and Brad Paisley with LL Cool J, and we should be able to judge the music regardless of racial connotations. And yet, when you have acts like Eminem or Cage or Macklemore or Yelawolf or The Beastie Boys, the prefix 'white' is always added to their titles as 'rappers'. But it runs deeper than that, to a bigger cultural question: whether hip-hop or rap hold central roles to black culture, and the distinguishing factors that make that genre unique to that audience. Now of course this can reach cartoonish extremes, such as those twits calling Lorde racist for attacking shallow luxury rap for its materialism and emptiness (which holds a much uglier connotation, implying that it's inherently black to revel in superficial displays of wealth), but one can't exactly deny that there's a distinctive difference between the place of hip-hop in black culture, particularly in the United States, in comparison with some other genres, like country or metal. And let me assure you, this isn't just confined to the hip-hop genre: many would rightfully argue jazz, soul, funk, disco, R&B, and even the very origins of rock 'n roll itself could be considered having deep roots in black culture.

And nowhere is this difference more apparent than in the subgenre of 'nerd culture' topics like sci-fi and fantasy, which has tended to trend overwhelmingly white or Asian. Now there have been acts that have bucked this trend - the Afrofuturist movement, for instance, with its most recognizable figure in modern music being Janelle Monae and all the awesome work she's done. These works suggest a synthesis, a fusion of stereotypically 'white' sci-fi precepts with discussions and critiques of real world black culture and history. From my point of view, Janelle Monae is doing something truly great by stripping away any needless racial connotations associated with subgenre conventions like sci-fi or fantasy, and adapting them to her own unique viewpoint.

So let's ask another question: what do you get when you have a black rapper who is a nerd and is somewhat enamoured with 'white culture', to the point where he feels he has lost something of his black cultural roots? Well, in that case you get Childish Gambino, well-known as Donald Glover, comedian and actor from NBC's excellent show Community. When he released his major label debut Camp, it polarized critics, mostly because it was an album that spent much of its running time discussing Gambino's unique insecurity: feeling like an outcast because he was 'too black for the white kids and too white for the black kids'. His skin was black, and yet he liked comic books and sci-fi and was defiantly not the stereotypical tough guy gangsta rapper, to the point where his attempts at playing one to win over girls were completely unconvincing. Coupled with the baroque pop-infused production, the near-constant stream of pop culture references, and his cartoonish and exaggerated flow, it made for an interesting listen, if not an unequivocally great or even wholly good one. Despite Pitchfork's scathing line, 'If you buy only one hip-hop album this year, I'm guessing it'll be Camp', a line denigrating presumably ignorant (read: white) audiences who followed Glover from Community (fun fact: the reviewer who wrote that review was white - make of that what you will), there is a grain of truth in the observation. 

And as a white guy who listens to a fair amount of hip-hop and who is clearly the audience for that album (having listened to Camp after watching Glover on Community), what did I think? Well... look, it was okay. I liked the instrumentation and production drawing from baroque pop with Kanye's influences, but Gambino's flow was jerky, the hashtag rap got old fast, the references were well-structured but dated themselves quickly, and Gambino's very real insecurity (supported by a bizarre myopic and backwards-looking view of hip-hop) often lacked coherency or depth. That being said, I can accept that it might have greater resonance with other audiences who might more closely resemble Gambino's situation, and all of the real positives on the album were enough for me to give his newest album Because The Internet a listen. Did it manage to work better than its predecessor?

video review: 'days of gold' by jake owen

Well, this was a nice surprise. Can't say I was expecting Jake Owen to deliver anything worth listening, after all.

Next up will probably be Childish Gambino's new album, so stay tuned!

album review: 'days of gold' by jake owen

A few months back, I reviewed the mostly-ignored album from Joe Nichols, and in that review, I mentioned that a certain male country singer had come out against the rising trends of bro-country, stating that 'we need more songs that just songs about tailgates and cups and Bacardi and stuff like that'. And yet, the traditional country music press had to restrain some scoffs of disbelief when they heard that comment - mostly because it was coming from Jake Owen. 

Okay, some background. Jake Owen is a country singer that had his major breakthrough hit in 2011 with 'Barefoot Blue Jeans Night', a song I only ever thought was okay, mostly buoyed by the strengths of the performer himself. As much as Jake Owen doesn't seem to be the brightest apple in the bunch (at least to judge by his songs), he has the energy and affability of a born showman, a guy with a ton of natural charisma and likability, which is a natural fit for his upbeat, beach-ready brand of country. But it's hard to deny that songs like 'Barefoot Blue Jeans Night' were the prototypes for the rise of bro-country that we have today, and thus it was a little difficult for some to take Owen remotely seriously in his comments about going back to tradition. 

But then I thought, 'Wait, how the hell is that fair? We let the Zac Brown Band retain their traditionalist country credentials when they do songs with Jimmy Buffett, and there isn't anything inherently wrong with making dumb, fun party songs! The bigger problem has always been the gradual stripping away of individuality between songwriters across Music Row, and if we're looking to call Jake Owen on any hypocrisy, it might be here, because he doesn't have a single writing credit on his newest album Days of Gold. But on the other hand, there has been 'bro country' music that I've liked, and one of my biggest issues with the genre has been how unnecessarily serious and over-the-top macho so many of the artists have played it, so maybe Owen's goofball charm and charisma might play to his advantage. So, how did Days of Gold turn out?

video review: 'britney jean' by britney spears

Forgot to post this last night. Kind of irrelevant, though, because the album sucks.

Next up will be 'Days of Gold' from Jake Owen, and then hopefully I can tackle whatever's left in my backlog before the December glut in a few days. Stay tuned!

album review: 'britney jean' by britney spears

Throughout this year, I've gone on at great length regarding scope for certain acts, knowing one's limits and how to position an artistic work with respect to those limits. A bit of an odd topic, I'll admit, but it holds a surprising amount of relevance when it comes to pop music, and over the past few years, I've found that the best pop albums come from artists knowing their limits and pushing towards them, or even finding ways to extend them. And hell, even serviceable pop albums can be made by staying within those limits and carefully fine-tuning the little details. But if the artist or their handlers don't know these limits, sometimes you can run into serious trouble and the mainstream audience isn't quite as ignorant as some record executives think they are.

Take, for instance, Katy Perry's Prism. Now, I wasn't particularly kind to that album: the lack of strong hooks, the instrumentation cribbed from a half-dozen better acts, and the occasionally inexplicably bad songwriting were bad enough, but looking, my biggest issues were that Katy Perry was trying to make an album with more resonant emotional depth, and she didn't quite have the songwriting skill or emotional range to pull it off. Let's face it, Katy Perry has two modes where she's solid as a performer: enthusiastic sex kitten and on the verge of emotional collapse. Outside of those modes, she either comes across as obnoxious or aggressively bland, and writing semi-spiritual songs just didn't sound natural for her. 

But perhaps I should have been grateful, because when I heard that the newest album from Britney Spears would be her most 'personal album to date', I steeled myself for the worst. Look, I've never been the biggest fan of Miss Spears over her decade long career, but I'll acknowledge she has put out some good, possibly even great songs - but 'depth' and 'personality' have never been a part of her vocabulary or arsenal. While Katy Perry can at least say she has two modes of performance, Britney Spears arguably has one: cooing sex kitten. The fact that her songwriters and handlers slammed her into this role at an incredibly young age and were incredibly poor at managing the fallout of it throughout the mid-2000s really does make me feel sorry for her, and the fact that so much of her career and life has become a walking spectacle beyond her control is kind of heartbreaking. But I'm a music critic and I put aside Miley's baggage when I reviewed Bangerz, and when I go back through Britney's discography... look, it's a miracle her career lasted as long as it did. Her albums have never received critical acclaim or have ever been cohesive, she's not a great singer on record or live, and her songwriters made the choice long ago that all she should sing about is sex. And when she sticks to that mold, she can be enjoyable.

But, to be fair, the few points where vulnerable elements of Britney's personality have shone through have been good moments: hell, her song 'Lucky' probably remains my favourite of her hits simply because of how eerily prophetic it turned out to be, and that wasn't a sex jam at all. So maybe I misjudged Britney, and I gave her newest album a listen: how did it go?

video review: 'run the jewels' by run the jewels (RETRO REVIEW)

Finally. Goddamn, I'm happy I got this out. Yeah, the video's not one of my best, but this was one of those tougher ones, and I'm just happy I got to say my piece.

Next up is Britney Spears. Brace yourselves, it's not going to be pretty.

album review: 'run the jewels' by run the jewels (RETRO REVIEW)

Okay, it's time for me to talk about a fundamental tenet of my reviewing philosophy: whenever I go into an album, I always try to discern the artist's intent, and review the album they built with that in mind. It's all a matter in how well they present and deliver that intention and message, and how they control their scope. And this can mean some acts will get good reviews from me despite the fact that they really aren't aiming to say anything all that transcendental. Thus if a boy band makes an album full of silly dance and love songs, that's the standard by how you should review them, and as much as you'd like to rage and complain that they aren't making grand, affirming, meaningful statements, they aren't trying to do that. For an example, compare the original review of Andrew W.K.'s I Get Wet by Pitchfork and then look at the re-review a decade later.

But at the same time, this sort of reviewing philosophy can get frustrating when approaching albums that attain some measure of critical acclaim about six months too late, which takes us directly to the self-titled debut album from hip-hop duo Run The Jewels. The duo is composed of two important names in hip-hop: Atlanta rapper Killer Mike and near-legendary Brooklyn rapper-producer El-P, the latter who has been a favourite producer of mine for quite some time. In 2012, they collaborated on a pretty damn solid album R.A.P. Music, with Killer Mike on vocals and El-P handling production, but this year, El-P decided to step up to the mic himself for their newest project: Run The Jewels. To be completely honest, I didn't cover this album until now because, hey, I can't cover every hip-hop album and mixtape that hits shelves, I'd be swamped (it's easily one of the most prolific genres and it's no surprise there are whole channels dedicated to just covering it). But given the critical attention and acclaim it received, I figured I needed to cover it some time - and unfortunately, it's taken almost half a year to get through my backlog to it. And believe me, considering how well this album was received, I was seriously pumped for something special from two heavyweights in their genre. Did I get that?

video review: 'knock madness' by hopsin

Okay, that takes care of November album releases, and it ends on a good note. Time to catch up on as much material as I can before early December, wish me luck!

album review: 'knock madness' by hopsin

Before we start, I want to take care of a brief piece of old business from one of my most viewed - and most openly reviled - reviews, when I covered Cage's album Kill The Architect. Since that review, I've relistened to that album several times, trying to see what others clearly found so inspirational and powerful that they felt content to hurl all manner of abuse at me, and I'd like to make a small correction to that review, as I feel I didn't quite represent myself as well as I could have. In that review, I drew several comparisons to Eminem's Encore (which with its reflective themes, depressing tone, and bleak ambiance, to say nothing of the awful singing, felt more than appropriate) and I made the comment that Cage had lost his ability to shock me in his raps. Some took umbrage to that by stating that Cage wasn't trying to do that on this album, instead opting for an introspective focus and message (even though there were enough sinister elements that could easily be construed as threatening...). 

And here's where I feel I have to make a clarification: my issue with Kill The Architect was never the change in subject matter or tone, moving towards what some would argue more 'mature' subject matter. My issue was that it didn't resonate with me as compelling, half because Cage's delivery was more low-key and lacking in energy than ever, and half because the insights he was providing into his current state of affairs felt strangely muted and distant. It was an awkward fit for the guy, and while some might empathize with his inner turmoil (and hell, there were points where I did), it felt like steps taken in a downward spiral without the slightest desire to climb back up. And as I've said time and time again, nihilistic artwork can get boring or absolutely intolerable if there's no deeper context or nuance. In contrast, Nine Inch Nails and The National both made dark, somewhat depressing albums this year, but they tempered their depression with rich context and compelling instrumentation and coherent focus, none of which I felt Cage brought to the table.

But this prompted an interesting question: most critics tend to be harsher on acts that shift their artistic direction and subject matter from their established formulas. Hell, I'd argue I'm even somewhat guilty of this, so why do we do it? Well, part of it is obviously linked to comfort with the familiar, but I think a greater portion is that when artists decide to shift direction, critics have an automatic expectation that the artist is knowledgeable enough about the genre that they can execute the shift and still maintain their artistic strengths (which can be unfair). And to be fair, not a lot of artists can pull that off. 

So instead, let's talk about an artist who seemed to be on the right track: Hopsin. A reasonably new arrival to the scene, he's an L.A. rapper who drew a lot of his inspiration and flow from Eminem for his first releases, which had trace elements of horrorcore fused with straightforward, hard-hitting hip-hop. But in 2012, he released Ill Mind of Hopsin 5, a charged track targeting trends in youth today with vitriol and biting insight. It was a phenomenal change of pace and it showed that Hopsin had potential for societal commentary beyond his previous work. But then he released Ill Mind of Hopsin 6: Old Friend (later retitled as 'Old Friend') earlier this year, and I didn't like it quite as much. Sure, it felt genuine and emotionally grounded, but the sharp anti-drug screed felt less like it was appealing to my mind and more trying to tug on my heartstrings (particularly with Hopsin's delivery), and I felt it was a step down artistically from the previous track. It shows one of the occasional weaknesses of message-driven music: jettisoning the nuance in favour of broader emotional messaging that might prove more accessible to a wider audience, but doesn't quite contain the same punch or impact (at least for me). 

And thus, I wasn't quite sure what to expect with his most recent album Knock Madness. Recorded over a period of two years, how was Hopsin going to reflect his dramatic shifts in direction over his recording period?

video review: 'danielle bradbery' by danielle bradbery

This was a nice surprise, I actually didn't hate this album. Next up is Hopsin, and then I'm going to cover a few albums I missed earlier this year before covering Britney Spears.

Sadly, one of them won't be Chris Brown - the asshole delayed his album to 2014. COWARD.

album review: 'danielle bradbery' by danielle bradbery

Okay, let's try this again. 

Back when I reviewed Cassadee Pope's long-delayed debut album Frame By Frame, I made the point that I didn't really watch NBC's The Voice, half because I don't have a TV and half because I've never cared. To me, it was yet another reality show with an overcomplicated competition narrative between a selection of big-name stars using their 'proteges' to win over their colleagues. The question I don't think anyone was prepared to answer was how on earth The Voice would help the careers of the new acts they were promoting.

Well, it did what its predecessor American Idol did: set the artist up with a selection of professional songwriters and proceeded to scrub every iota of distinctive personality to create more blandly-written pablum for the public at large, which was arguably my biggest problem with Frame By Frame. It wasn't precisely bad as it was boring, and a big step down in terms of personality from her days with Hey Monday, which at least had something of a distinctive sound and soul in comparison to the neutered pop-country she was pursuing now.

But at least on that album Cassadee Pope had songwriting credits, which ultimately led to the few songs I actually kind of liked on that album. With our newcomer Danielle Bradbery, the winner from Season 4 of The Voice, we've got no such luck, and thus I had a real sinking feeling when I prepared myself to look at her self-titled debut album from Big Machine Records. I mentally set myself up for yet another Taylor Swift wannabe, especially considering she's seventeen and every iota of her public persona seemed to emphasize the 'cute' factor. What did I find?

video review: 'dark wings of steel' by rhapsody of fire

Ugh, I really wish this had been better. Eh, even in genres you like, you get duds.

Next up will be Danielle Bradbery, then probably take on some Hopsin. Stay tuned!

album review: 'dark wings of steel' by rhapsody of fire

Let's talk about fantasy and heavy metal. These two genres within art have often had a pretty stable link that's persisted for decades: both were unfairly branded 'outsider' or 'low art' genres for a long time by the mainstream, both had been persecuted by alarmists trying to link them to allegations of Satanism or paganism, and both occasionally toed the line between the 'epic' and the 'epically ridiculous'. It's also the connection of how I jumped into heavy metal in my teens, pretty much bypassing nu metal and the rest of angry white boy music to settle in with power and symphonic metal acts like Blind Guardian and Nightwish. And really, fantastical subject matter is often a great fit for power and symphonic metal: they're looking to tell epic tales on the fringes of imagination, with grand scope and power, often calling to mind titanic battles and feats of heroism - and what better way to tell such stories than with grand, multi-part arrangements and blistering guitar riffs? 

But with the mainstream success of material like The Lord Of The Rings and Game Of Thrones, I began wondering whether it wouldn't be long before the heavy metal genres I liked began to reap the rewards of that link. Of course I was being realistic about this - there's always a certain pulpy cheesiness to some metal acts that would prevent most people from taking them seriously, but some could stand to do well, and metal has occasionally been successful during the numerous fantasy booms throughout the past few decades. 

Yet even with that, Rhapsody of Fire would probably not reap many rewards of that association, because of the metal acts I've covered, they're one of the tough ones to get into in the middle. Started in 1997, the band steadily pumped out album after album throughout the late 90s and 2000s that all tied together to the same ongoing fantasy story, confined to two five-album sagas, with a pretty dense mythology by the end. That 'end', incidentally, occurred in 2011, where the band decided to amicably split into two distinctive bands, one with the same title and the other called Luca Turilli's Rhapsody of Fire (if only to additionally confuse things), with the eponymous name coming from the guitarist and primary songwriter. They released an album titled Ascending Into Infinity in 2012 that was pretty solid, but today we're going to be looking at the original Rhapsody of Fire, who have decided to dispense with the ongoing mythos and try something new, with all the lyrics written by lead singer Fabio Lione, along with a new guitarist and bassist. If anything, it feels like I'm approaching an entirely new incarnation of Rhapsody of Fire... which could be a good thing for new fans. And really, a fresh start might just be what this band needs, so I checked out Dark Wings of Steel. How did it go?

video review: 'the woman I am' by kellie pickler

Almost forgot this entirely. Ah well, here it is.

Next up is that blasted Rhapsody of Fire review. Prepare for the maelstrom, folks, this might get ugly.

album review: 'the woman I am' by kellie pickler

If you've been listening to country radio over the past few months, you'd probably think that there aren't many solo female country stars left in the genre - with the exception of Taylor Swift (who is barely a country act these days), Miranda Lambert (who only is notching mainstream hits thanks to duets, unfortunately), and maybe Carrie Underwood (same deal as Taylor), who do you have? Well, you've got Cassadee Pope, but she's following in the Taylor Swift template and is more pop than country (an unfortunate cry from her roots, but given the patronage of Blake Shelton, not entirely surprising). But even with that, the songwriting is seldom up to par, and you don't tend to see a fair number of female country singer-songwriters gaining chart or critical acclaim.

But that doesn't mean they aren't there. Acts like Kacey Musgraves, who won Best New Artist of the Year at the CMAs (deservedly so) and Brandy Clark are still writing and singing great country songs that reflect a distinctly female presence in the genre. And really, it's a damn shame they aren't getting airplay in the same way, particularly when they write bitingly intelligent material and have a lot of flavour and texture behind their delivery. And thus, I was looking forward to the new album from Kellie Pickler, who some country music fans have wrongly branded just another American Idol 'faux-country' girl (even despite her embattled childhood and distinctive country roots). Then again, it's not hard to see why some came to that conclusion, given her first albums of output were not strong in the slightest.

But then she came back in a big way with 100 Proof last year - which earned a fair amount of critical acclaim for being an artistic breakthrough for Pickler and addressing some of the darkness in her past. And, completely unsurprisingly, the hits of that album didn't chart for anything - which was a real disappointment, because it was a very strong album and enough to pique my interest for her newest record, The Woman I Am. Between these two, Pickler had left her former label and signed with Black River Entertainment, an independent country label (yes, Pitchfork, indie country exists, why aren't you reviewing it?), which for me was an even better sign - maybe Pickler would have more control over her artistic direction, and we could get something special. So how did the record turn out?

video review: 'midnight memories' by one direction

Well, I did it. Cue fanrage from everyone. But I didn't get into this without being honest, and I was here.

Next up... honestly, it'll either be Rhapsody of Fire or Kellie Pickler, we'll see.

album review: 'midnight memories' by one direction

There comes a time in every boy band's 'evolution' that they want to take their brand in a different direction from the typical pre-packaged pop music that made them stars. They might want to come across as darker, or edgier, or experiment with new instrumental directions or styles. It's often the first tentative step towards artistic freedom, and it's also the step that tends to either make or break boy bands. 

Let's consider the 90s boy bands and for an example, we'll talk about N'Sync and The Backstreet Boys. The latter band decided to go in a darker direction with Black & Blue, which arguably handled the transition better by opting to stick to the pop template and just play with a darker tone and energy, and, for the most part, it worked. But then again, it would take the Backstreet Boys five years to create another album, and by that point they switched genres towards adult contemporary and pop rock. The much bleaker story comes from N'Sync, who jumped onto the slick R&B bandwagon with Celebrity in 2011 - and then imploded. They went on hiatus and since Justin Timberlake's solo career took off, they never reunited, but I place most of the blame on that final album, mostly because it was only a half-hearted step towards a genre into which the band was an awkward fit. Note the difference between the two bands here: one stuck within the same genre but changed the tone, the other switched genres and fell apart.

So what should we expect from One Direction, the mega-selling boy band titan that currently rules the hearts of teenage girls everywhere? Honestly, I don't know what to expect, because having listened through both of their previous albums and watched that godawful movie (which only notable for wasting Morgan Spurlock's talent as a director), I still don't have a feel for the unique personalities behind the band. I guess some could make the argument that Harry Styles is going to become the Justin Timberlake and use One Direction as his N'Sync, but I find that hard to believe given Timberlake was at least a potent songwriter on his own and Styles doesn't really have that solo songwriting presence (both Liam and Louis have more songwriting credits). 

The other big problem is that none of these kids have ever impressed me with raw personality or charisma or talent in the way Justin Timberlake did, and while I can now tell them apart, I have yet to detect enough vocal distinctiveness to determine personalities outside of 'the cute one' in the boy band template. Yeah, it's time for full disclosure, before going into this album, I've never liked One Direction. Their harmonies are bare-bones at best, their instrumentation and production (easily the best element of their material) can lack flavour at points, and their lyrics are godawful. I don't need to link The Colbert Report's dissection of 'What Makes You Beautiful' or the seduction-through-insult methodology behind 'Little Things', all of these lyrics make One Direction come across as pickup artists who target their material at the most vulnerable parts of the psyches of their teenage fanbase. And while I won't deny it works, it doesn't come across as romantic or authentic to me, because the material is so calculated and the band is devoid of unique personality between members. I'm not going to deny that The Backstreet Boys and N'Sync used a lot of the same formula, but at least the Backstreet Boys made 'The Call' and 'Perfect Fan' and 'Larger Than Life', and N'Sync made 'Pop' and 'Bye Bye Bye' and both bands built their brand on differentiations between the members both in sound and in style. And frankly, One Direction has neither, which made me think at first Midnight Memories might be a step in the wrong direction for the band. If they're going for pop rock the same way N'Sync went for R&B, they might be in a world of trouble. Was I right?

video review: 'desolation rose' by the flower kings

So happy that I could get this out, mostly because this is a band that really deserves more attention. 

Next up... oh boy, let's see how much hatred I get if I tackle One Direction...

album review: 'desolation rose' by the flower kings

It shouldn't be any surprise to, well, anyone at this point that I'm a big fan of progressive rock. Bearing its roots in the psychedelic rock, classical rock and early metal of the late 60s, it was a genre known for concept albums, virtuosity in instrumentation, complex and cerebral themes and lyrics, and off-beat experimentation that defied commercialism. The genre definitively peaked throughout the seventies and declined with the rise of punk, but that doesn't mean prog rock has gone away. Far from it - it still exists in the form of prog rock harkening back to the golden age, prog metal in the vein of acts like Dream Theater, Ayreon, and late-period Porcupine Tree, and even what has been described as nu-prog like Coheed & Cambria and the Mars Volta. 

And really, there are great acts in all three categories, but today we're going to be talking about a favourite act of mine that fits closest into the group of prog metal calling back to the past, yet with enough a modern touch not to brand them as a throwback. Yes, I'm talking about The Flower Kings, a Swedish prog rock group that began in the early 90s and have continued releasing albums for the past two decades. And yet, they've never really had that critical breakthrough single that would have propelled them to anything close to chart success, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a huge following for the band - which is really disappointing, because they're awesome, a cerebral act that often goes for broke with interesting concept album ideas and some great instrumental segments to back it up. I got into The Flower Kings first through their 2006 album Paradox Hotel, which acts as an exploration of various paradoxical situations with breathtaking variety. 

But it might have been an inopportune time to get into The Flower Kings, because after their 2007 album Sum Of No Evil, the band took a five year break to recharge, coming back with their exceptionally strong 2012 album Banks of Eden. And thus, I was overjoyed to hear that they had released another album this year, titled Desolation Rose. The band has made the statement that they consider this album their 'most involved, important, and interesting album ever', designed to make the audience 'question the mainstream media and rethink your whole world view'. Now I always get skeptical when prog bands become political, but to be fair, prog rock might be one of the few avenues where political music works well, assuming they put the time and intellectual nuance into articulating their points of view. And really, The Flower Kings have proven in the past that they are capable of doing this, so I went into Desolation Rose with more than a little excitement. How did it turn out?