To The Max!

Heavy music deservedly got a rap as being for stoners, losers, and dropouts. So what happens when Sunn 0))) gets a Times spread and Jesu (former grindcore shredder Justin Broadrick) releases Loveless only re-imagined as 100x heavier and maybe better? Can we write off the stereotypes? Probably not, because your favorite metalhead at the gym is probably softly banging to Dope or Static-X. But. Holy smokes man, is there something happening here. One of these drifters put down the Scotchgard and learned a few things outside of the pit.

Jesu’s new Silver EP is enormous. My Bloody Valentine realized a very special and unique thing that has not been understood (to these ears, you know) until now. It’s a simple formula, volume plus emotion, mostly melancholy. And it’s overwhelming. In this case, 10-ton guitars and buzzing bass overdubbed 10,000 times crush and ripple the ground as drums collapse gracefully. Meanwhile, heavenly organ drones, floating synth lines and barely audible vocals waft over top of the grind. Turn this up loud enough and the bottom end completely paralyzes your body while the upper end’s sunset melodies warm the air with a cool breeze. It’s a completely disorienting listen and one of the best kinds – the physical combined with the emotional creates a whole new incredible sensory experience, one that will make the hairs stand up on your neck and fall out. Like watching nuclear warheads detonate, its bone-rattling power can’t be anything but gorgeous.

All We Are Is Dust In The Wind, Dude

Take a quick glance through any critic’s notebook, list of favorites, compendium of reviews and nearly every time you’ll notice that a reviewed musician’s initial offerings or works are somehow of more cultural importance than those coming late in their career. It’s an interesting thought – that all works, particularly those in the rock and roll genre, need that youthful energy and pop. Those coming later on always tend fall short of the promise hinted at early on, wishes left unfulfilled, somehow blanded out with age. Is rock music a young man’s game, so much so, that rock’s elders have no chance of keeping up?

The first records in bands or musician’s careers are their defining period, it’s impossible to capture that mindset for subsequent releases. Add to that, the early innocence and ignorance of youth that gradually disappears and is replaced with deeper knowledge and understanding. It’s strange that experienced mindset isn’t embraced but shunned in favor of ignorance-is-bliss mentality.

Obviously, I’m speaking in sweeping generalities, but it’s interesting. Consider Elliot Smith: as a young man he produced some incredible records, records that to this day are deemed his most important, essential listening. Smith matured as an artist, introduced incredibly developed arrangements on XO and Figure 8, something most young artists just couldn’t do without years of experience. But critics looked the other way, preferring his early work. For his last record before he took his own life, From a Basement on the Hill, Smith came with something grimy, curt and unpolished – a return to his early underproduced days. The record seems to be trying to capture the essence he exuded early on.

I could be thinking too much into this, and it could essentially be a case of the critics, or minority VIPs, saying “I was there before you, thus these are better.” Or could it be that youth is just so attractive and incapable of ever being achieved again? After all, knowledge can be gained over time. Age is just lost, never recaptured. Either way, it’s time to respect my elders in case I ever get old.

T.I. – King: Been listening to “What You Know” on repeat for 2 weeks now. Still good. Reminds me of the ending of a video game with melancholy but hopeful synth strings falling all over the place, trying to jam too big a line into too small a place. The laid back drawl overtop tells you who owns this. The rest: yes. Requisite parts present, check. (Rattlesnake hi-hats, slow jam track with Jamie Foxx.) But boy’s found a voice like Fab, but less punk more class.

Spank Rock – Yoyoyoyoyo: Baltimore? Sounds like grounds for glorification of poverty again for the educated (and white) crowd. A.R.E. Weapons? But. This stuff is down and dirt. Anyways, Mr. Rock has the resume to be straight for this boogie – he’s from a Charm City row home. Whatever – that shouldn’t be what makes it OK. Mic skills are solid and dirty like it should be, not transcendent. It’s the dirty-ass bass that hits the quickest, brown notes and all. Electro-funk ready, get yr Sparks and dance.

Queens of the Stone Age – Rated R: Don’t know how many times I can write about this band without repeating myself. When I graduated from marginal radio rock like Foo Fighters and worse (Lit, Buckcherry, the Refreshments?!) I saw this as an OK place to ride the train. More importantly, AP said 4 out of 5 times I was correct. Instincts are alright sometimes. “Auto Pilot”, “In the Fade”, and, of course, “Feel Good Hit of the Summer” are all pretty great, as is everything else on here to my ears. Yeah, nostalgia for The Headphone Album of sophomore year.

My Bloody Valentine – Loveless: I was drinking with my girlfriend and friends at Tangier in Philly Saturday night. The bartender came over to see if we were OK and needed another. I was drunk, grossly so. Said “Nice tunes man” or something else vanilla. Dude said, “Yeah I saw them live one time and they were sooo loud. They hit one chord and the girl I was with threw up all over herself.” Don’t know whether this is good or bad, but for the rest of the night I thought he was trying to sell me ecstasy.

Like a Rolling Stone

There recently was an article on cnn.com regarding the 1,000th issue of Rolling Stone. Like most gala events, someone’s unmentionables are being tugged for whatever reason, usually money. In this case it’s Jann Wenner, RS’ owner, showing how well he can do himself. Wenner points to his readership, 1.3 million strong, to show just how damn important his publication is.

It’s unassailable to say that Rolling Stone has had a great impact on the world of music, for better or worse. Sure, there’s been some incredible writing over the years, Hunter S. Thompson is one beacon, but there’s been little growth in the last 10 (more?) years. Every time I read it, it’s only because they have some List of the 243 Most Important Songs of All Time Ever in the Whole World. Don’t get me wrong, I love to read the lists, hell I love to write the things. The rub is that there’s no quality control or knowledge anymore in the pub. 3 Doors Down’s “Superman” at 476? Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway” at 13? Eagles’ “Hotel California” at 142? Obviously, there has to be a better way to expose people to incredible music that’s being made everywhere, underground and over, not a rehashing of “yeah we were there and we are awesome”. But to understand why they’re doing this is simple: they need to sell magazines.

Now it’s easy to turn your nose in the air and say that the last Deerhoof record was so much better than anything they would even give a 1/16 column to. Those of us indie/underground listeners feel entitled to be snobby about our tastes. After all, it took us time (don’t forget money(!) - for those of us that still buy music) to find these artists, research them and get into them. Michael Azerrad writes in his Our Band Could Be Your Life: “The underground’s musical diversity meant there was no stylistic bandwagon for the media to latch on to, so the record-buying public had to find things on a band-by-band basis, rather than buying into a bunch of talk about a ‘new sound.’” Well, here we are in 2006 and we have multiple online and some print media outlets to hear about all these new indie groups putting their spin on the new sound. Shoot, anyone remember the two words “dance punk”?

Essentially, the “underground” has disappeared and is only something worthy of the name for the mom-and-pop record labels and distribution channels. No, that Air Conditioning record isn’t going to make it into Best Buy – does that make it underground, exclusive and more important? Basically, the indie record consumer should control their urges to put that ringed nose in the air and begin to understand that you’re not so unique. Yes, what you’re listening to is most likely 10x better than the manufactured pap smears Jessica Simpson is putting out. But we should learn why that music is better by focusing only the music, not the exclusivity of it all. Because it’s not unique anymore. Just like everything else, the underground has been sold. Hell, it’s really not a bad thing – some kid in Oklahoma might be able to pick out the new Pissed Jeans record in Circuit City. They’ve recently signed to SubPop and you better believe they’re working their hardest to get on those shelves.