Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Rolling Rock

Mostly everything that I currently listen to is marginalized to the unfavorable ‘indie’ isle of the record store, a product positioning unlikely to ever reach the mass audience. Most of the time its justified. I can’t imagine the ‘average listener’ ever wanting to hear a massively dense Khanate record, or a slippery Need New Body CD, or even the Futureheads smart-alecky pop-post-punk. Those that do cross over, the Modest Mouses (never again) and Flaming Lipses (see what I mean?), rarely have continual commerical success. And for the obvious argument – no, Nirvana was never an indie band. So where’s the payoff from being an indie musician? At most it includes a moderate amount of fame, a sub-par amount of money, and a lasting impression on white males in track jackets (this year).

For My Morning Jacket, we finally have an indie band raised in the minors that’s looking for the pot of gold – the famous Rock and Roll. From their beginning output they’ve always stared down the righteous road of rock salvation. Over the years they’ve streamlined their sound from a folky, mostly acoustic experiment in reverb to a ‘commercially viable’ amalgamation of 70’s and 80’s rock and roll. Their newest record Z does the thing that no one else does. They take your old Boston, Grateful Dead, Steve Miller, and, sure, the Lynyrd Tucker Band records and update the beasts. Most everyone in the underground seems terrified of these groups so far as to completely ignore and distance themselves from them. Not true. They wrote some of the best, most fun and engaging music of the 70’s.

Rightly so My Morning Jacket has been enjoying a mild amount of success in the jam band circuit. After all, they play a music easy to comprehend and noodley enough to satisfy your average Jazz Mandolin Project fan. The difference is that they don’t take the gimmicky approach most of the bands do, incorporating stupid instruments and bad voices. MMJ can sing, wail and flail with the best rock bands of all time. Their shit can be a white-hot supernova, or it can be a country road rambling on. All this and their versed enough to stay interesting in the confines of a rock tune.

Their newest record Z is their best. There are still missteps, but the overarching feel of the album ties everything they’ve done together to this point. Their music is undoubtedly arena or club-ready. It smokes and carries that midnight, lava-lamp sheen that all cool rock music should. It uses pianos and doesn’t sound like a pussy (‘Tiny Dancer’?), guitars that improvise but go somewhere. And Jim James is still singing. Just the sound of his gorgeous wail on “Wordless Chorus” should give you reason enough to believe. Rock music doesn’t have to have words or music so deep, philosophical and theory-heavy that it isn’t transcendent.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Art Therapy 1

Music has a very apparent therapeutic effect on most people’s lives. Dependent on what kind of day it is and what kind of mood you’re suffering (or enjoying), rock and or roll can totally make or break, justify or deny how you feel. Now I guess you the reader can say “faggot” and that this my emo post, but hear me out. There are definite career choices out there relating to this very topic: music (and art) therapy. While I think that these take things a bit too far, and certainly shouldn’t be used exclusively in psychiatric help, there is a nugget of truth in this study. I mean, music has a certain visual effect on people, (ever seen the color of a song? No I’m not on acid…more on this topic (Synestasia) later.) why can’t a song clear, confirm or question a mood? Why can’t music confirm or even help specific states of mind?

So, since I’m too lazy to write an essay and further examine the topic, I’ll show you a few records that remind me of or emote me in a certain way and some that can be generalized of a specific state of mind. You’ll find that, generally, these albums I cover all carry a common thread throughout and aren’t usually “singles” records.

If this works, I’ll post a few more relating to the subject.

Yeah, I was in the shit:

Case No. 001
State of mind/mood: Realization/Coming of Age
Album: Emergency & I
Artist: The Dismemberment Plan
Why: What better gift to give the high school graduate than this record? This is surely not Dr. Fucking Seuss’ Oh the Places You’ll Go – it’s not cheeky and clever, certainly not on sale (Starting May 15!) on a table in Barnes and Noble. Yet, it’s a better illustration of moving forward than any record I’ve ever heard. Lyrically, starting with the overarching march/what not to do anthem of “Life of Possibilities”, wading through the shit and obstructions of “What Do You Want Me to Say?”, again feeling righteous anger and sadness in “The City” and finally letting it all wash over, for better or worse with “Back and Forth”. And not only do the lyrics tell the story, the Plan’s music explodes with the noise of possibility, awkwardness and awesomeness, seemingly feeling it out in front of you. There’s never been a better album that funnels all shades of grey that confusion and the multiplicity of change that maturity brings. (Except Baz Luhrmann’s “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)”.)

Case No. 002
State of mind/mood: Overcoming Rejection/Sadness
Album: One Word Extinguisher
Artist: Prefuse 73
Why: Admittedly, this is an easy and obvious choice for both the artist and subject matter. It’s been widely documented that Scott Herren worked on this record after enduring a collapsed relationship. Also, there are a million other records dealing with the same damn thing. Pop music hasn’t really shied away from heartbreak to say the least. The thing that makes this record so unique is there aren’t any words to explain the guilt, sadness, and pain of a failed relationship. Rather, synths moan and clouds of melody blow over disjointed drum breaks while occasional voices coo, illustrating the slow rehabilitation of a broken heart.

Case No. 003
State of mind/mood: Immaturity
Album: Reville
Artist: Deerhoof
Why: While winsomeness isn’t something that I’d usually find particularly engaging, Deerhoof have a fantastic way of exploring something so indefinable. Sweetly sung, no-lyric melodies hover over a grand explosion of massive rock n’ roll fun recalling the best of the Who and Zeppelin. But rather than being sweaty Man Rock, their music is painted in big bright colors with wide-sized Crayolas, making beautiful art that exudes cuteness and creativity in its rawest form.

[I’m now exhausted – more later, I promise. I’ve been up since 4:30 this morning.]