So here's one of the frustrating things about mainstream country artists: since so many of them have songs written by other songwriters entirely, it can distort your mental picture of an act's identity. That tends to be a complaint at the root of a lot of critics' issues with bro-country: when so many of the songwriters come from the same camp and write for many different artists, acts that should have a distinctive voice begin to blur together.
But rarely has there been a case where my view of an act has been so sharply divided as when I'm talking about the Eli Young Band. They were around in the country underground as early as the mid-2000s, but they exploded into mainstream popularity in 2011 with Life At Best. And considering I was only following country radio and less distinctive albums around that period, I was perplexed that the Eli Young Band could have such a variance in quality, as 'Even If It Breaks Your Heart' was close to one of my favourite hit songs of 2012 and 'Crazy Girl' would have had a shot at being one of the worst.
So in preparation for this review, I went back and listened through Life At Best, and surprise surprise, both songs were written by different songwriters - and neither were members of the Eli Young Band. 'Crazy Girl' was written by Lee Brice, one of the most meat-headed and devoid-of-insight songwriters working in bro-country right now, while 'Even If It Breaks Your Heart' was written by Eric Paslay, who I reviewed a month or so back and whose debut album is only getting better every time I listen to it. But even with that, I didn't have a picture of how the Eli Young Band represented themselves, so I went deeper and...
Well, they aren't bad, but they didn't really stand out much for me. I liked the heavier guitars, the good lyrical flow, and the melancholy elements that were well-characterized and smartly delivered, but between the sloppy and often flat production and the strange dreariness that bogged down and homogenized parts of the album, I wouldn't call it a great record. And thus, I didn't know what to expect when I took a look at their newest album 10,000 Towns. They had about the same number of songwriting credits, but initial buzz suggested it had a bit of a lighter tone. So, how did it go?
Monday, March 10, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
video review: 'st. vincent' by st. vincent
Well, this was an intellectual adventure, and one I enjoyed the entire way.
Next up will be the Eli Young Band... and then Young Money and David Nail. Hold on, folks, this might not be pretty.
album review: 'st. vincent' by st. vincent
The term 'indie pop' has always got on my nerves. Not the music (for the most part), but the genre term itself. Springing up in the mid-80s, it describes music that was too weird or off-beat for the mainstream, but had a more melodic focus and was less characterized by angst. What always got on my nerves was the connotation associated with the genre: that simply being an indie act gave them music critic credibility they didn't always deserve. Furthermore, it denigrated pop music as corporate and derivative - and yeah, that's often true, but it's hard to deny that musical trends started in the indie scene often cross over into pop music or mainstream culture at large, and sometimes mainstream acts can do it just as well. And let's not forget, there was a point in the 90s where big chunks of the indie pop scene was enthusiastically embraced by adult alternative, shoegaze, emo, and even mainstream pop music (the 90s were weird like that).
And honestly, a lot of it really sucked. Sure, there were gems in the rough, but a large reason I don't love 90s alternative music like most critics is because the twee explosion of indie pop often fell into gutless bland garbage that didn't have the brains or deeper insight to back up the pretentiousness. And look, while I get everyone has different tastes, the 'revolt into childhood' (the embrace of twee innocence and focusing on living little ordinary lives) attitude has never ever been something I've liked. And since most of it involved fitting with a very white, middle-class, mostly educated ideal, it always felt trite, small, and in the end not exactly progressive or all that intellectual. And if you embraced the 'twee' attitudes ironically, that was even worse, because not only were you promoting by association, you lost the best element of good indie pop which was the heartfelt earnestness.
And with the growth of 90s nostalgia, the revival of the 'hipster ideal', and the increased mainstream success of the indie scene, I feel that some of these trends are going to be coming back. And from a cultural standpoint, it makes a lot of sense - my generation is less cynical than Gen X, we're a lot less embarrassed of liking the sillier elements of our past, and many of the 'revolt to childhood' ideals aren't far from the truth when people my age can't get jobs and are stuck living with their parents. But to some extent, these trends aren't exactly healthy for long term mature cultural development, just as Gen X cynicism wasn't precisely healthy either. It's because of these trends, for instance, that tropes like the Manic Pixie Dream Girl exist and have widespread popularity.
Enter St. Vincent, the stage name of Annie Clark, singer-songwriter and guitar virtuoso. Her name was originally taken from a Nick Cave song, and honestly, it's kind of a perfect fit because St. Vincent has a very similar brand of subversive darkness to her material. Starting with her debut album Marry Me, she's made a point of taking twee indie pop elements and tropes and then undercutting them with a seething, disturbing madness, and it's incredibly effective in a very baroque sense. It also helps matters that she's an incredibly inventive and talented songwriter, and all of her work has been pretty damn close to great. And thus, I was looking forward to delving into her new self-titled album, which early buzz was suggesting was even more weird and twisted than previous releases. And thus, I took some time to really delve into this record, try to dig deep and parse it out - what did I find?
And honestly, a lot of it really sucked. Sure, there were gems in the rough, but a large reason I don't love 90s alternative music like most critics is because the twee explosion of indie pop often fell into gutless bland garbage that didn't have the brains or deeper insight to back up the pretentiousness. And look, while I get everyone has different tastes, the 'revolt into childhood' (the embrace of twee innocence and focusing on living little ordinary lives) attitude has never ever been something I've liked. And since most of it involved fitting with a very white, middle-class, mostly educated ideal, it always felt trite, small, and in the end not exactly progressive or all that intellectual. And if you embraced the 'twee' attitudes ironically, that was even worse, because not only were you promoting by association, you lost the best element of good indie pop which was the heartfelt earnestness.
And with the growth of 90s nostalgia, the revival of the 'hipster ideal', and the increased mainstream success of the indie scene, I feel that some of these trends are going to be coming back. And from a cultural standpoint, it makes a lot of sense - my generation is less cynical than Gen X, we're a lot less embarrassed of liking the sillier elements of our past, and many of the 'revolt to childhood' ideals aren't far from the truth when people my age can't get jobs and are stuck living with their parents. But to some extent, these trends aren't exactly healthy for long term mature cultural development, just as Gen X cynicism wasn't precisely healthy either. It's because of these trends, for instance, that tropes like the Manic Pixie Dream Girl exist and have widespread popularity.
Enter St. Vincent, the stage name of Annie Clark, singer-songwriter and guitar virtuoso. Her name was originally taken from a Nick Cave song, and honestly, it's kind of a perfect fit because St. Vincent has a very similar brand of subversive darkness to her material. Starting with her debut album Marry Me, she's made a point of taking twee indie pop elements and tropes and then undercutting them with a seething, disturbing madness, and it's incredibly effective in a very baroque sense. It also helps matters that she's an incredibly inventive and talented songwriter, and all of her work has been pretty damn close to great. And thus, I was looking forward to delving into her new self-titled album, which early buzz was suggesting was even more weird and twisted than previous releases. And thus, I took some time to really delve into this record, try to dig deep and parse it out - what did I find?
Thursday, March 6, 2014
video review: 'oh, what a life' by american authors
Wow, this was a fun surprise. A good palette cleanser, especially considering what might be coming up in coming weeks.
Next up... shit, I've got no idea. Stay tuned, anyhow, it'll be coming soon!
album review: 'oh, what a life' by american authors
Well, we knew this was going to happen eventually. We knew that someday, some major label executive was going to notice the smash chart success of The Lumineers and The Neighbourhood and Bastille and think, "Oh god, indie rock has actually scored a foothold on the charts, how the hell are we going to capitalize on this without signing an act that's actually challenging or hard to market?"
Well, the funny thing is that there really are a lot of bands in this vein, just indie-sounding enough to avoid the pop brush but not so indie that Pitchfork gives a damn about them. Acts that you might know and like for 'that one song' but would be hard-pressed to call yourself a hardcore fan. In other words, we're looking at a silent majority act, or, to be a little more snide, the indie rock that gets popular thanks to commercial jingles or showing up on sitcoms. And while you have acts like Bloc Party, Vampire Weekend, and Deafheaven who have shaken the silent majority label by actually being critical smash hits, most critics don't tend to care much about bands in this vein.
Enter American Authors, formerly called The Blue Pages when they were still trying to build buzz on Bandcamp. After two independently-released EPs, they landed a major label contract with Mercury in early 2013 and have since then seen their songs feature in mainstream ads around the world. And like with Alex Clare's 'Too Close' from 2012, this has led their big hit single 'Best Day Of My Life' to gain some major traction on mainstream radio. My initial judgement of them based on that single were as a cross between The Lumineers and Imagine Dragons (in other words, the marketer's wet dream), but I've been surprised by bands in this vein before and I didn't want to brand them as derivative without giving them a fair chance, so I gave their debut album a few spins. How did it turn out?
Well, the funny thing is that there really are a lot of bands in this vein, just indie-sounding enough to avoid the pop brush but not so indie that Pitchfork gives a damn about them. Acts that you might know and like for 'that one song' but would be hard-pressed to call yourself a hardcore fan. In other words, we're looking at a silent majority act, or, to be a little more snide, the indie rock that gets popular thanks to commercial jingles or showing up on sitcoms. And while you have acts like Bloc Party, Vampire Weekend, and Deafheaven who have shaken the silent majority label by actually being critical smash hits, most critics don't tend to care much about bands in this vein.
Enter American Authors, formerly called The Blue Pages when they were still trying to build buzz on Bandcamp. After two independently-released EPs, they landed a major label contract with Mercury in early 2013 and have since then seen their songs feature in mainstream ads around the world. And like with Alex Clare's 'Too Close' from 2012, this has led their big hit single 'Best Day Of My Life' to gain some major traction on mainstream radio. My initial judgement of them based on that single were as a cross between The Lumineers and Imagine Dragons (in other words, the marketer's wet dream), but I've been surprised by bands in this vein before and I didn't want to brand them as derivative without giving them a fair chance, so I gave their debut album a few spins. How did it turn out?
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
video review: 'mastermind' by rick ross
Well, this wasn't much fun. Gah.
Next up, not sure. Right now, I need to make sure I get some sleep. Stay tuned!
album review: 'mastermind' by rick ross
I have never, ever been able to understand Rick Ross' appeal.
And by this point, I probably should have an idea why this guy is famous, but for the life of me, it's not clicking. Rick Ross released his debut album in 2006 and ever since then, we've been inundated by hits from this guy, none of which have impressed me. His reported 'best' album was Teflon Don back from 2010, and if we're looking for admittedly well-produced luxury porn, I guess Rick Ross delivers, but that's not a version of escapism I find attractive or all that interesting. Maybe it's because I look at that sort of music as walking advertisement from all the brands he mentions in his songs, and sure, I get the appeal of luxury rap, but wouldn't you want a better rapper spitting those lines?
Because here's the problem: while he has gotten better, I've never thought Rick Ross as a good rapper on a technical level. What's worse is that I can't exactly look past how transparently phony elements of his persona are - sure, he's rich as all hell, I can buy into that side of his rapping, but when he talks about hustling coke or blowing away his rivals, I find it hard to buy in comparison to a guy, to take a recent example, like Schoolboy Q. At least at his peak, Rick Ross' appeal was that of the crime boss, but maybe it was a lack of charisma, his inconsistent technique, or the fact that he was frequently blown off the stage by his many, many collaborators in the Master P school of making albums, but I was always underwhelmed by the guy. Where he wanted to come across as Vito Corleone, I always saw Luco Brazzi. And when you throw insulting trash like the 'U.O.E.N.O' verse from last year onto the mix and the complete lack of stage presence appeal in the 50 Cent mold, I was just about done with Rick Ross.
But yet, he still gets positive reviews and that utterly mystifies me. And since I'm always one to give artists a chance to surprise me, I gave his newest album Mastermind a few listens. How did it turn out?
And by this point, I probably should have an idea why this guy is famous, but for the life of me, it's not clicking. Rick Ross released his debut album in 2006 and ever since then, we've been inundated by hits from this guy, none of which have impressed me. His reported 'best' album was Teflon Don back from 2010, and if we're looking for admittedly well-produced luxury porn, I guess Rick Ross delivers, but that's not a version of escapism I find attractive or all that interesting. Maybe it's because I look at that sort of music as walking advertisement from all the brands he mentions in his songs, and sure, I get the appeal of luxury rap, but wouldn't you want a better rapper spitting those lines?
Because here's the problem: while he has gotten better, I've never thought Rick Ross as a good rapper on a technical level. What's worse is that I can't exactly look past how transparently phony elements of his persona are - sure, he's rich as all hell, I can buy into that side of his rapping, but when he talks about hustling coke or blowing away his rivals, I find it hard to buy in comparison to a guy, to take a recent example, like Schoolboy Q. At least at his peak, Rick Ross' appeal was that of the crime boss, but maybe it was a lack of charisma, his inconsistent technique, or the fact that he was frequently blown off the stage by his many, many collaborators in the Master P school of making albums, but I was always underwhelmed by the guy. Where he wanted to come across as Vito Corleone, I always saw Luco Brazzi. And when you throw insulting trash like the 'U.O.E.N.O' verse from last year onto the mix and the complete lack of stage presence appeal in the 50 Cent mold, I was just about done with Rick Ross.
But yet, he still gets positive reviews and that utterly mystifies me. And since I'm always one to give artists a chance to surprise me, I gave his newest album Mastermind a few listens. How did it turn out?
video review: 'louder' by lea michele
Ugh, this album really should have been better. Exasperated that it isn't. Gah.
Next up... fuck, I have no clue. We'll see what happens, so stay tuned!
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
album review: 'louder' by lea michele
Ugh, I might as well admit it: I used to be a huge fan of Glee.
And I'm not really apologetic for that, either. Glee burst into pop culture in 2009 and turned itself into a cultural force capable of propelling songs and artists into the popular consciousness. And as much as it's incredibly easy to rip on the show's sloppy continuity and characterization, haphazard writing, and ham-fisted treatment of some special issues and criminally fumbled treatment of others, there are moments where Glee actually earned some of the critical praise it got, thanks to good actors, emotionally satisfying arcs, and shockingly good covers (well, at least for most of the first two seasons - things really went off the rails in Season 3 where they started burning through plots like kindling and anything close to sanity went out the window in the writer's room).
Now, I stopped watching at the end of Season 3, mostly because Glee pulled off a genuinely season ending and I didn't need to see more, and since then, I've been reading the episode reviews on The AV Club and Autostraddle, which have proven to be often more entertaining than the episodes themselves. But there was a time back early in Glee's run that I was really into the show, almost going so far as to making an audition tape for The Glee Project (that none of you will ever find). But back when I watched the show, there was one character who drove me off the wall - and that character was Rachel Berry, played by Lea Michele. That wasn't saying that she was a bad singer - she had stepped off of Spring Awakening and had a ton of natural stage presence and charisma - but that her character could be so mind-bogglingly annoying and self-obsessed. And in retrospect, my annoyance was likely linked to the fact I shared those particular traits and refused to admit it to myself.
But putting that aside, Lea Michele has finally done like many of her fellow cast have done and have started to move towards a solo direction. Now, Glee hasn't exactly had a good reputation turning its cast into stars away from the show. Matthew Morrison's solo career really hasn't taken off, Darren Criss has done some Broadway, and Heather Morris will likely just go back to dancing with Beyonce (so no worse, but no better either). The one who has probably done the most is Chris Colfer, who wrote a best-selling children's book and wrote/directed/starred-in a pretty decent indie film Struck By Lightning. And while I suspect Lea Michele will end up going back to Broadway eventually, she's trying her hand at pop stardom with her debut album Louder. How did it turn out?
And I'm not really apologetic for that, either. Glee burst into pop culture in 2009 and turned itself into a cultural force capable of propelling songs and artists into the popular consciousness. And as much as it's incredibly easy to rip on the show's sloppy continuity and characterization, haphazard writing, and ham-fisted treatment of some special issues and criminally fumbled treatment of others, there are moments where Glee actually earned some of the critical praise it got, thanks to good actors, emotionally satisfying arcs, and shockingly good covers (well, at least for most of the first two seasons - things really went off the rails in Season 3 where they started burning through plots like kindling and anything close to sanity went out the window in the writer's room).
Now, I stopped watching at the end of Season 3, mostly because Glee pulled off a genuinely season ending and I didn't need to see more, and since then, I've been reading the episode reviews on The AV Club and Autostraddle, which have proven to be often more entertaining than the episodes themselves. But there was a time back early in Glee's run that I was really into the show, almost going so far as to making an audition tape for The Glee Project (that none of you will ever find). But back when I watched the show, there was one character who drove me off the wall - and that character was Rachel Berry, played by Lea Michele. That wasn't saying that she was a bad singer - she had stepped off of Spring Awakening and had a ton of natural stage presence and charisma - but that her character could be so mind-bogglingly annoying and self-obsessed. And in retrospect, my annoyance was likely linked to the fact I shared those particular traits and refused to admit it to myself.
But putting that aside, Lea Michele has finally done like many of her fellow cast have done and have started to move towards a solo direction. Now, Glee hasn't exactly had a good reputation turning its cast into stars away from the show. Matthew Morrison's solo career really hasn't taken off, Darren Criss has done some Broadway, and Heather Morris will likely just go back to dancing with Beyonce (so no worse, but no better either). The one who has probably done the most is Chris Colfer, who wrote a best-selling children's book and wrote/directed/starred-in a pretty decent indie film Struck By Lightning. And while I suspect Lea Michele will end up going back to Broadway eventually, she's trying her hand at pop stardom with her debut album Louder. How did it turn out?
Monday, March 3, 2014
video review: 'g i r l' by pharrell williams
Well, this happened. Can't imagine the controversy that'll come with this one...
On another note, it's taking me a lot longer than I'd like to get through St. Vincent's material, half because I'm enjoying it as much as I am, but also half because this week will probably kill me in terms of the amount of material I need to get through, plus keep my full-time job and a semi-functioning social life. Strap in folks, this might get wild.
album review: 'g i r l' by pharrell
It's always a little worrying when producers step out from behind the sound board and try to make hits of their own.
And I know that sounds terrible, but it circles back to the fact that it's extremely rare that a genuinely gifted producer will be a smash performer, and vice-versa, because while there is some overlap in their skill sets, it's incredibly rare to find someone who can handle both effectively. In modern years, the one that immediately leaps to my mind is Timbaland, who worked with Justin Timberlake and even had a few hits of his own throughout the mid-2000s, songs that might not have been amazing but Timbaland's unique baritone and some decent charisma gave the songs some staying power. But even with that, I'd have a hard time calling his material as a frontman amazing because there was something of a calculated element to his presentation. It was a little stiff, a little awkward, something you never saw in his beats, and that lack of comfort does show in front of a microphone. Then again, when compared to will.i.am, the other beat-making producer who stepped out from behind the mic and and showed nothing but disinterest for the idea of recording lyrics that made sense and sounded anything close good, Timbaland holds up pretty well.
Now to his credit, the artist we're going to be talking about today has never really seemed to have this problem. Pharrell Williams may have started his career in the same era as Timbaland as a member of The Neptunes with Chad Hugo, making slick R&B and hip-hop jams, but his career got a major boost thanks to 'Get Lucky' and 'Blurred Lines' doing so well last year. That, plus his many production credits, some solid live performances, and that ubiquitous hat have led him to drop his second solo album. And from the early buzz, it became apparent that Pharrell wants to be a star all on his own this time, as his newest record was reported to be a feminist borderline-concept album celebrating the place of women in society. Let me repeat that: an album with strong feminist themes, written in the wake of the controversy over 'Blurred Lines', controversy that I will go on record saying was overblown even though that song did contain seriously questionable elements, written by a man.
...well, you might as well hot-link Jezebel and your local MRA forum, because I'm bound to offend somebody in this review, so before I inevitably shoot myself in the foot, how's the album?
And I know that sounds terrible, but it circles back to the fact that it's extremely rare that a genuinely gifted producer will be a smash performer, and vice-versa, because while there is some overlap in their skill sets, it's incredibly rare to find someone who can handle both effectively. In modern years, the one that immediately leaps to my mind is Timbaland, who worked with Justin Timberlake and even had a few hits of his own throughout the mid-2000s, songs that might not have been amazing but Timbaland's unique baritone and some decent charisma gave the songs some staying power. But even with that, I'd have a hard time calling his material as a frontman amazing because there was something of a calculated element to his presentation. It was a little stiff, a little awkward, something you never saw in his beats, and that lack of comfort does show in front of a microphone. Then again, when compared to will.i.am, the other beat-making producer who stepped out from behind the mic and and showed nothing but disinterest for the idea of recording lyrics that made sense and sounded anything close good, Timbaland holds up pretty well.
Now to his credit, the artist we're going to be talking about today has never really seemed to have this problem. Pharrell Williams may have started his career in the same era as Timbaland as a member of The Neptunes with Chad Hugo, making slick R&B and hip-hop jams, but his career got a major boost thanks to 'Get Lucky' and 'Blurred Lines' doing so well last year. That, plus his many production credits, some solid live performances, and that ubiquitous hat have led him to drop his second solo album. And from the early buzz, it became apparent that Pharrell wants to be a star all on his own this time, as his newest record was reported to be a feminist borderline-concept album celebrating the place of women in society. Let me repeat that: an album with strong feminist themes, written in the wake of the controversy over 'Blurred Lines', controversy that I will go on record saying was overblown even though that song did contain seriously questionable elements, written by a man.
...well, you might as well hot-link Jezebel and your local MRA forum, because I'm bound to offend somebody in this review, so before I inevitably shoot myself in the foot, how's the album?
Friday, February 28, 2014
video review: 'helios' by the fray
Well, this was a disappointment. Guess I understand why critics have thrashed The Fray in the past.
Next up is St. Vincent, and then next week is extremely busy. Stay tuned!
album review: 'helios' by the fray
Let me take you back a few years.
See, back in the mid-2000s the Billboard Hot 100 charts were in a very weird place. Southern crunk was deteriorating rapidly, indie rock briefly exploded before fizzling out, pop punk and the newest incarnation of emo were tearing up the charts, and pop music was in a weird place, either coasting off of slinky R&B in the vein of Justin Timberlake or with crossovers from other genres, like Gwen Stefani building her short-lived solo career away from No Doubt or Nelly Furtado selling out to work with Timbaland and actually making better music for the trouble.
And it was in this period that a series of bands discovered they could churn out hits making soft, introspective middle-brow material with just a hint of a rock edge, and in 2006 we got a deluge of bands some enterprising critics deemed 'Dawson's Creek rock'. You know the genre, songs that are just perfectly inoffensive enough to be played over long meditative montages where James Van Der Beek wistfully stares off into the distance and cries about something. And in 2006, we got the motherload, with Daniel Powder's 'Bad Day' topping the Billboard Hot 100 list of that year, with a whole slew of acts like Five For Fighting, James Blunt, Coldplay, Snow Patrol, and others surging up the charts. Hell, even Nickelback tried to go in this genre before reverting to their typical brand of meat-headed mediocrity. And to be fair, as much as I like to make fun of this genre (mostly because it's so damn easy), there was quality here, and while Snow Patrol was always the best of the genre (you know it's true), I do wish the boom had lasted a little longer and given adult alternative acts at least a little more staying power before the genre practically evaporated with the club boom with only a few exceptions.
And among the list of bands to explode in that year was The Fray, a band I only find remarkable because of how incredibly accessible they were. Not enough of a brawny edge to fall into post-grunge, yet not soft enough to be dismissed as easy listening schlock, The Fray had a smash hit with their debut album How To Save A Life - despite the fact it wasn't that good and hasn't really aged well. Critics have never been kind to The Fray, and there's a very good reason for that: when you try so damn hard to please a wide audience, you end up losing some unique identity yourself. And while I tended to like their more melodic focus more than most critics, I've never been fond of Isaac Slade's vocals, I've found the guitars lacking in texture, and the lyrics have always teetered on the line between overly earnest and kind of endearing and borderline parody.
In any case, The Fray hit a stumbling block with their second self-titled album, mostly because it was playing in the same wheelhouse with somehow worse lyrics. And after recording a cover of Kanye West's 'Heartless' that completely missed the point, I assumed their careers were over. But it turns out in 2012 they put out a third album Scars & Stones, and while The Fray were touting their ability to stick together, I was seriously wondering if they had forgotten their strengths. At this point, the lyrics were borderline token, Slade's falsetto was painfully weak, and the good melodies had been subsumed under flat guitar lines that were trying to sound big but had none of the personality. At this point, I assumed anybody who was still listening to The Fray had picked up Fallen Empires by Snow Patrol (a much better album) and had put The Fray out of their minds forever.
Well, it turns out The Fray have a new album with a new single that sounded nothing like The Fray I knew, so out of sheer curiosity I picked up Helios. Was it the shift in direction The Fray needed to stay relevant?
See, back in the mid-2000s the Billboard Hot 100 charts were in a very weird place. Southern crunk was deteriorating rapidly, indie rock briefly exploded before fizzling out, pop punk and the newest incarnation of emo were tearing up the charts, and pop music was in a weird place, either coasting off of slinky R&B in the vein of Justin Timberlake or with crossovers from other genres, like Gwen Stefani building her short-lived solo career away from No Doubt or Nelly Furtado selling out to work with Timbaland and actually making better music for the trouble.
And it was in this period that a series of bands discovered they could churn out hits making soft, introspective middle-brow material with just a hint of a rock edge, and in 2006 we got a deluge of bands some enterprising critics deemed 'Dawson's Creek rock'. You know the genre, songs that are just perfectly inoffensive enough to be played over long meditative montages where James Van Der Beek wistfully stares off into the distance and cries about something. And in 2006, we got the motherload, with Daniel Powder's 'Bad Day' topping the Billboard Hot 100 list of that year, with a whole slew of acts like Five For Fighting, James Blunt, Coldplay, Snow Patrol, and others surging up the charts. Hell, even Nickelback tried to go in this genre before reverting to their typical brand of meat-headed mediocrity. And to be fair, as much as I like to make fun of this genre (mostly because it's so damn easy), there was quality here, and while Snow Patrol was always the best of the genre (you know it's true), I do wish the boom had lasted a little longer and given adult alternative acts at least a little more staying power before the genre practically evaporated with the club boom with only a few exceptions.
And among the list of bands to explode in that year was The Fray, a band I only find remarkable because of how incredibly accessible they were. Not enough of a brawny edge to fall into post-grunge, yet not soft enough to be dismissed as easy listening schlock, The Fray had a smash hit with their debut album How To Save A Life - despite the fact it wasn't that good and hasn't really aged well. Critics have never been kind to The Fray, and there's a very good reason for that: when you try so damn hard to please a wide audience, you end up losing some unique identity yourself. And while I tended to like their more melodic focus more than most critics, I've never been fond of Isaac Slade's vocals, I've found the guitars lacking in texture, and the lyrics have always teetered on the line between overly earnest and kind of endearing and borderline parody.
In any case, The Fray hit a stumbling block with their second self-titled album, mostly because it was playing in the same wheelhouse with somehow worse lyrics. And after recording a cover of Kanye West's 'Heartless' that completely missed the point, I assumed their careers were over. But it turns out in 2012 they put out a third album Scars & Stones, and while The Fray were touting their ability to stick together, I was seriously wondering if they had forgotten their strengths. At this point, the lyrics were borderline token, Slade's falsetto was painfully weak, and the good melodies had been subsumed under flat guitar lines that were trying to sound big but had none of the personality. At this point, I assumed anybody who was still listening to The Fray had picked up Fallen Empires by Snow Patrol (a much better album) and had put The Fray out of their minds forever.
Well, it turns out The Fray have a new album with a new single that sounded nothing like The Fray I knew, so out of sheer curiosity I picked up Helios. Was it the shift in direction The Fray needed to stay relevant?
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
video review: 'riser' by dierks bentley
Well, that was a lot better than I expected. That's always pleasant to see.
Okay, next up will be The Fray's newest album, because I need a little more time to get through St. Vincent's excellent discography. Stay tuned!
album review: 'riser' by dierks bentley
So I'm going to tell you all something I'm not fond of admitting: from about mid-2008 to 2011, I didn't listen to a huge amount of country music. Sure, there were a few artists, new and old, that I did follow, and a few of my favourite country acts like the Zac Brown Band really exploded in that period. But mainstream country radio and I weren't seeing eye to eye, and the only acts outside of my favourites that I followed were the ones that eventually ended up on the Billboard Year-End Hot 100 chart.
But honestly, I was drifting away from country music even earlier than that, and thus going back to explore the discography of Dierks Bentley was something of a revelation. While I recognize a number of his singles, it became very quickly apparent why I never really followed him. Unlike acts like Rascal Flatts (a band I've never liked and one that was mostly responsible for driving me away from country for a time), Dierks Bentley stuck with more rough-edged neotraditional country music, but at the same time he didn't really stand out. He didn't have Eric Church's ambition, Jason Aldean's politics, Toby Keith or Brad Paisley's humour, or even Tim McGraw's gift for comforting music and killer hooks, and for a guy who churned out an impressive number of high charting hits and albums, he never really stuck with me.
Now that's not saying that he makes bad music, or that his career hasn't been interesting. In 2010 after three critically well-received releases and one dud, he pulled a hard left away from mainstream country radio and released a bluegrass-inspired album that featured plenty of supporting acts from the edges of mainstream country (and was actually pretty damn solid), but that was more of an overgrown side-project and he came roaring back in 2012 with Home. That was an album that did notch some hits but nothing I really loved, mostly because they were lodged in proto-bro country territory and not the charming side at that. And thus I was seriously skeptical about his newest album Riser, partially because I recognized many of the Nashville songwriting machine behind it and not - bizarrely - Jim or Brett Beavers, two songwriters he's been working with since the beginning of his career. Yet on the other hand, he also recruited Kacey Musgraves as a collaborator on his opening track so I had no idea what to expect. So how did it go?
But honestly, I was drifting away from country music even earlier than that, and thus going back to explore the discography of Dierks Bentley was something of a revelation. While I recognize a number of his singles, it became very quickly apparent why I never really followed him. Unlike acts like Rascal Flatts (a band I've never liked and one that was mostly responsible for driving me away from country for a time), Dierks Bentley stuck with more rough-edged neotraditional country music, but at the same time he didn't really stand out. He didn't have Eric Church's ambition, Jason Aldean's politics, Toby Keith or Brad Paisley's humour, or even Tim McGraw's gift for comforting music and killer hooks, and for a guy who churned out an impressive number of high charting hits and albums, he never really stuck with me.
Now that's not saying that he makes bad music, or that his career hasn't been interesting. In 2010 after three critically well-received releases and one dud, he pulled a hard left away from mainstream country radio and released a bluegrass-inspired album that featured plenty of supporting acts from the edges of mainstream country (and was actually pretty damn solid), but that was more of an overgrown side-project and he came roaring back in 2012 with Home. That was an album that did notch some hits but nothing I really loved, mostly because they were lodged in proto-bro country territory and not the charming side at that. And thus I was seriously skeptical about his newest album Riser, partially because I recognized many of the Nashville songwriting machine behind it and not - bizarrely - Jim or Brett Beavers, two songwriters he's been working with since the beginning of his career. Yet on the other hand, he also recruited Kacey Musgraves as a collaborator on his opening track so I had no idea what to expect. So how did it go?
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
video review: 'oxymoron' by schoolboy q
Well, this turned out better than expected.
Next up should be Dierks Bentley, so stay tuned!
Labels:
2014,
hip-hop,
kendrick lamar,
music,
rap,
schoolboy q,
youtube
album review: 'oxymoron' by schoolboy q
So the Grammys are a joke.
It's amazing how few people actually know this, because they take it shockingly seriously for an award show that really has never earned the clout of a show like the Academy Awards. Now we metal fans have known the Grammys are a joke for years, because the metal and hard rock awards have never gone to the best acts in the genre or even the critically acclaimed ones, or, to put it another way, Evanescence, Linkin Park, Slipknot and Korn have more Grammys than Dream Theater, Nightwish, Queens of The Stone Age, or Ayreon. I know progressive metal is rarely well-reviewed, well, anywhere, but there's something wrong with that.
Well, a few weeks ago, the hip-hop community who don't remember Will Smith, Young MC and Chris Brown having more Grammys than Public Enemy or De La Soul or 2Pac or Biggie Smalls got pretty damn angry that Macklemore won best Rap Album of the year over Kendrick Lamar's star-making album of 2012, Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City. And as much as I like The Heist, it's not better than Kendrick Lamar, who is probably the biggest genuine talent to come out of rap music in a while. The man is smart, nuanced, has a great ability to switch things up and vary his flow, and he's currently signed to Aftermath and is working with Eminem so if he handles his career well, he'll be fine. The fun fact is that, like most rappers who get famous, Kendrick is using his newfound success to give some of his friends a popular boost.
And now we come to Schoolboy Q, fellow member of Black Hippy and gangsta rapper in his own right. I first became familiar with the guy off of his first full-length album Setbacks - and honestly, while it was good enough, I wasn't blown away. Schoolboy Q had a flexible, versatile flow but there were a lot of sloppy rhymes and not enough original content to impress me much or differentiate him from any other gangsta rapper. His socially-conscious, more mature songs were always the best on the album, but there was a lot of weed rap and brag rap that wasn't all that engaging and stuff I'd heard plenty of times before. Fortunately, his technique got a lot better on the follow-up Habits & Contradictions, an entire album set on exploring the inherent contradictions in gangsta lifestyle and Schoolboy Q himself. The album is dark and moody, but it never really loses momentum, most of the beats are surprisingly strong, Schoolboy Q brings a dark viciousness to his delivery, and all of his guest stars deliver. What's even better is how it works on two levels: if you want crass, hard-hitting gangsta rap, you'll find it, but if you look in the right spots, you'll find a surprisingly mature record lurking beneath it that trusts the audience enough not to spell out its insight - and while I won't say the album is precisely great, I've definitely heard worse gangsta rap albums in my life.
And I have to admit, I was more than a little interested about what he'd deliver with Oxymoron, his major label debut and apparently a record where Schoolboy Q had a lot more creative control and flexibility. He stressed that he was sticking with his gangsta image and that gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand, gangsta rap has a certain visceral appeal as a power fantasy and Schoolboy Q is smart enough not to frame himself as a role model by any means. On the other hand, we've had gangsta rap for over twenty years at this point and he was already retreading old ground on his last album, albeit doing it well, so what new material was Schoolboy Q going to bring to the table?
It's amazing how few people actually know this, because they take it shockingly seriously for an award show that really has never earned the clout of a show like the Academy Awards. Now we metal fans have known the Grammys are a joke for years, because the metal and hard rock awards have never gone to the best acts in the genre or even the critically acclaimed ones, or, to put it another way, Evanescence, Linkin Park, Slipknot and Korn have more Grammys than Dream Theater, Nightwish, Queens of The Stone Age, or Ayreon. I know progressive metal is rarely well-reviewed, well, anywhere, but there's something wrong with that.
Well, a few weeks ago, the hip-hop community who don't remember Will Smith, Young MC and Chris Brown having more Grammys than Public Enemy or De La Soul or 2Pac or Biggie Smalls got pretty damn angry that Macklemore won best Rap Album of the year over Kendrick Lamar's star-making album of 2012, Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City. And as much as I like The Heist, it's not better than Kendrick Lamar, who is probably the biggest genuine talent to come out of rap music in a while. The man is smart, nuanced, has a great ability to switch things up and vary his flow, and he's currently signed to Aftermath and is working with Eminem so if he handles his career well, he'll be fine. The fun fact is that, like most rappers who get famous, Kendrick is using his newfound success to give some of his friends a popular boost.
And now we come to Schoolboy Q, fellow member of Black Hippy and gangsta rapper in his own right. I first became familiar with the guy off of his first full-length album Setbacks - and honestly, while it was good enough, I wasn't blown away. Schoolboy Q had a flexible, versatile flow but there were a lot of sloppy rhymes and not enough original content to impress me much or differentiate him from any other gangsta rapper. His socially-conscious, more mature songs were always the best on the album, but there was a lot of weed rap and brag rap that wasn't all that engaging and stuff I'd heard plenty of times before. Fortunately, his technique got a lot better on the follow-up Habits & Contradictions, an entire album set on exploring the inherent contradictions in gangsta lifestyle and Schoolboy Q himself. The album is dark and moody, but it never really loses momentum, most of the beats are surprisingly strong, Schoolboy Q brings a dark viciousness to his delivery, and all of his guest stars deliver. What's even better is how it works on two levels: if you want crass, hard-hitting gangsta rap, you'll find it, but if you look in the right spots, you'll find a surprisingly mature record lurking beneath it that trusts the audience enough not to spell out its insight - and while I won't say the album is precisely great, I've definitely heard worse gangsta rap albums in my life.
And I have to admit, I was more than a little interested about what he'd deliver with Oxymoron, his major label debut and apparently a record where Schoolboy Q had a lot more creative control and flexibility. He stressed that he was sticking with his gangsta image and that gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand, gangsta rap has a certain visceral appeal as a power fantasy and Schoolboy Q is smart enough not to frame himself as a role model by any means. On the other hand, we've had gangsta rap for over twenty years at this point and he was already retreading old ground on his last album, albeit doing it well, so what new material was Schoolboy Q going to bring to the table?
Monday, February 24, 2014
video review: 'burn your fire for no witness' by angel olsen
I might have been harsh on this album, but I really wish it was stronger and more memorable than it is. And considering what's looking to be coming out in March... yikes, it looks rough, folks.
About four more albums coming out in the rest of February, so stay tuned!
album review: 'burn your fire for no witness' by angel olsen
Before we begin, let me share with you something that's fairly common to all music nerds, including myself: we have a strong sense of history. We've often built ourselves a stored back catalog of music from the past that we like to revisit or hold up as classics, and nothing gives most music nerds more pleasure than finding ways of linking the music of the past to the music of today. And while that can make some music nerds a little insufferable - and I count myself among that number on occasions - it can be rewarding to trace the lineage of a song or an artist, especially when that artist doesn't sound distinctly modern.
So to indulge that vice of mine, let's talk a bit about Angel Olsen. An indie folk singer-songwriter, she burst onto the scene in 2012 with Half Way Home, a debut album I liked but never quite loved. I've mentioned often I'm not a fan of white guys with acoustic guitars, and I often hold the fairer sex under the same umbrella. What made Angel Olsen stand out most was her voice, as it was very reminiscent (for me at least) of traditional country singers from the 50s and 60s, most notably Patsy Cline. It was emotive and powerful and had a great wounded vulnerability that was well-balanced against her impressive stage presence, and it was really quite compelling - almost enough to make you overlook the fact that the instrumentation wasn't anything stellar or that the lyrics were only really passable at best, pretty but not exactly substantial or powerful on their own. Sure, they supported her vocal style well, but if we want to draw a Patsy Cline comparison, she's not as good of a songwriter as Willie Nelson. On top of that, there were moments where I felt Angel Olsen might have oversold her vocals a little bit - she never engaged in the histrionics that annoy me with some vocally talented indie folk singers, but there were moments that definitely lacked subtlety.
So when early buzz was suggesting her newest album Burn Your Fire For No Witness was going in a rougher, more upbeat direction, I was definitely interested. I wasn't sure how good it would sound, but a lack of memorable melodies was a problem with the last album and now that she was on a new label, maybe it would give her instrumentation more of a kick. So how did it go?
Sunday, February 23, 2014
video review: 'cole swindell' by cole swindell
Ugh, glad I could get through this.
Next up, probably Angel Olson or Schoolboy Q. Stay tuned!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)