video review: 'i'm a fire' by david nail

Forgot to put this up last night. Oops.

Next up will probably be Kylie Minogue, but I'm not sure. We'll see. Stay tuned!

album review: 'i'm a fire' by david nail

I feel like releasing this particular review so close to that of the Eli Young Band really makes my job that much harder - because, in the danger of repeating myself, I never felt I got the full picture about David Nail by listening to the singles he sent to radio. Like the Eli Young Band, he debuted in the mainstream near the end of the 2000s and he's had a steady stream of modest hits on the country charts. Like the Eli Young Band, he has a slew of songwriting credits but most of his albums have been defined by the Nashville songwriting machine throwing credits his way. 

But unlike the Eli Young Band, every impression I got surrounding David Nail from his singles was universally negative. I don't know if it was his too-polished instrumentation, his voice that had a bit of presence but didn't quite have charm or raw passion, or the fact that his lyrics toed the line between condescending dickishness and unwittingly painting him as an asshole, but it didn't work for me whatsoever. I think part of the problem was that his singles were mostly break-up songs and were often instigated by his actions, and thus, I had little sympathy for the guy on songs like 'Let It Rain' - I'm sorry, you're not going to get me feel anything but disgust from me for your cheating, David Nail!

And when I heard the opening single from his new album 'Whatever She's Got', I was immediately steeling myself for the worst. It was the sort of bro-country love song I always find a little repulsive, a song about some capricious girl that David Nail was to screw - and what's worse is that the description of this girl is pretty far from flattering and David Nail doesn't come across much better. But then I reminded myself that David Nail is usually better than his singles and despite some deep misgivings on my part, and besides, there were some good songwriters and collaborations on the record, so it couldn't be that bad, right?

video review: 'young money: rise of an empire' by young money

Ugh, did not like this. Glad to get it out of my system.

Next up will be David Nail and then... hmmm, not sure. We'll see. Maybe Sundy Best, maybe Kylie Minogue, maybe finally take a crack at Real Estate. Either way, stay tuned!

album review: 'young money: rise of an empire' by young money

I should really be less surprised this album exists than I am.

Because honestly, I thought the 'Young Money' posse was effectively over, at least to the extent that any rap posse breaks up or rebrands itself. And I thought this happened last year with the new rap supergroup Rich Gang which released an compilation album that went nowhere. And thus, that was a sign we as a culture accepted Drake as the one mostly consistent break-out success and consigned everyone else to popular irrelevance, including Nicki Minaj and Lil Wayne who both did not have good years in 2013.

Turns out I was mistaken in that regard, because Rich Gang as a supergroup is more of the project of Cash Money Records, which is owned by long-time rapper Birdman and has been around since the 90s. Young Money as a group and as a label is owned by Lil Wayne - and all of the artists with him are also co-signed to Cash Money so there's a ton of overlap. What this means is that Young Money as a group never really went away as its own entity - and thus it makes a fair amount of sense that Lil Wayne is reinvesting some energy into the project.

And let say something I don't really like to admit: Young Money is probably one of the few hip-hop supergroups that has produced multiple high-charting stars. Between Lil Wayne, Drake, Nicki Minaj, and to a lesser extent Tyga, they've launched some pretty successful careers, and with the round of additional rappers finally getting launch albums through Young Money, it looks like Lil Wayne is set on recreating that success for the rest of the posse. Now I'm far from a multi-million dollar businessman, but if I were in Lil Wayne's shoes, I'd be more concerned with making sure my existing success stories remain success stories, because with maybe the exception of Drake, everything put out by Young Money, including from its flagship artists, has been wildly uneven in quality, especially from Lil Wayne himself!

In other words, I wasn't looking forward to another compilation album from the ever-growing Young Money ensemble, especially when there are guest stars called in from outside the label (doesn't that really defeat the purpose?). That being said, the last time they did this was in 2009 and it wasn't terrible, so how did it go this time?

video review: '10,000 towns' by the eli young band

Can't help but feel a little disappointed with this album, it should have been better. Eh, it happens.

Next up... oh, Young Money. Lovely.

album review: '10,000 towns' by the eli young band

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?

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?

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?

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?

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!

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?

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?

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?

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?