I wish I started the band Master Musicians of Bukkake, God that's a great name.

A few good things have happened to me:

One: Dead Meadow has put out another excellent album, Feathers. A really massive album, this time with an extra guitar player. Their production is nearly perfect for their sound, giving it a full, earthy, and dark gleam. Their heavy brand of psychedelia is fantasic live, but on record has always left something to be desired. Live they create a sonic wall of fuzzy sound, nearly pushing you against the back wall. They finally realized this isn't possible in a recording and Feathers is the result of a band finding itself more comfortable in the studio.

Two: M. Ward has put out a new record, Transistor Radio. I liked what I heard so far, but I was really hungover and only half-listening. More on this at a later date. Let's just say if it's anything like The Transfiguration of Vincent it could be record of the year.

Three: I found a copy of The Archers of Loaf's Vs. the Greatest of All Time on 10" vinyl. AOL has always been one of my favorite bands, ever since I heard their brown name from a tour they did with the Poster Children (PCJC USA...). It's a shame they're not around anymore, but Eric Bachmann's new outfit, Crooked Fingers, is fine by me ("New Drink For the Old Drunk"). Chapel Thrill represent. If you don't know the Loaf, please see "Web in Front", all I ever wanted was to be your spine. They were also signed to Elektra. What?? Other songs: "Chumming the Ocean" (fun fact: I used to smoke cigs to this song in industrial parks when I felt lonely in high school), "Wrong", "Greatest of All Time".

Four: Olivia Tremor Control is still really amazing (from a few posts ago). I'm listening to Black Foilage: Anamation Music Vol. 1, now and, boy, is it great. They found a perfect medium of experimentation and effortless pop. And by pop, I don't mean some people might like it kinda sorta if they like indie music. I mean pop like, the 3 minute songs would definitely been on the radio in the 60's. Oh, what hast thou done Clear Channel?

Sounds about right...

'My good friend Billy Dixon was my center in football from seventh through twelfth grade. One day during practice, our coach yelled, "If anybody sees anybody standing around with his thumb up his ass doing nothing, run over and knock him on his ass." Five minutes later, Coach was standing on the sidelines drinking a cup of coffee. Billy ran over an knocked him on his ass. I learned that day that, for the most part, we're all just standing around with thumbs up our asses.'
-Robert Pollard

Happy Valentine's Day

- I'm really glad that people are starting to listen to Archer Prewitt. Both Pitchforkmedia.com and Stylusmagazine.com gave him some glowing reviews for his new record, Wilderness. It's quite nice, in an adult-contemporary kind of way -- some good songwriting and fancy orchestrating. His previous record, Three, is alot like this one, only a little more smooth-FM ready. From that record try "Over the Line".

- I'm not so thrilled with allmusic.com's new interface. (How new is this? 6-months?) Too many click throughs and hidden stuff gets me frustrated. I like for everything to be laid out in front of me.

- I love my girlfriend, Christine Simpson, very much. She's a very, very special girl to me! We had a fantastic weekend in Winston-Salem, NC this weekend where we went to a winery (Sideways is having a bigger influence than you can imagine on white men everywhere), had a classy dinner, and topped our weekend off with one of the worst movies ever, The Day After Tomorrow. How come they don't make action movies like Diehard (which we saw the previous day) anymore? Movies like Diehard make me so happy I'm in love and not a terrorist, like Hans.

- Has Olivia Tremor Control always been really amazing? Man...

- I finished Bob Dylan's Chronicles. It was fun to read. He's an interesting person who has some very interesting things to say about the things that influence and affect him. My only complaint: he could write longer sentences every once and a while. His short, dramatic descriptions got kind of old after a while. "The music was like a car going over a cliff." But 300 pages long. (It's not that bad: I just used the dramatic flair he did. Clever, huh?)

- My Sirius satellite radio is really nice to listen to. Right now, I'm getting into "The Vault". They play classic rock tracks that don't normally play on the radio. Usually they're by bands that were never really that good (Alan Parsons Project, Chicago), but sometimes they're really great in their averageness. (Bonus points for "First Wave": they played a song from North Shore. Fuck yes!)

My favorite records of 2005

[Thank you for waiting for this. It's taken me quite a while, it probably didn't turn out the way I wanted, but I had fun doing it. I hope you enjoy.]


Lists documenting the top albums of the year are always a bit sketchy. After all, how’s one supposed to compare two very different things? Can you compare apples and pork tenderloin?

<>Still any critic feels a compelling need to gather everything together at the end of the year before starting afresh in 2005. Rankings are often described as the most important, best, essential, epic, mind-blowing, on and on, most attempting to presume some sort of mathematical formula for “best album”. For my purposes, I would never think you can compare one of these records to the other – art just isn’t that way. Rather, my list comprises the 25 albums I thought the most enjoyable and those that stuck in my mind the longest over the course of 2004. The list is not down to a science (even though it took me a long time). So 17 could be 12 and vice versa. These are the records I’m feeling at the end of the year.

Now, of course, there were albums that I missed. They are not listed. (What are they? Let me know.) And there are albums that didn’t make the cut, for various reasons. Some of them are compilations of old songs recorded new (Greatest Palace Music, Acoustic Citsuoca), some of them are nixed because they weren’t the best I’ve ever heard, and most because I needed to round off the list at an even number and I have time constraints. Unlike some bloggers, who have nothing but free time on their hands, I do work. I also didn’t want a top 47 albums of 2004.

So – without further a due, please enjoy my top 25 albums of 2004.

25. Of Montreal – Satanic Panic in the Attic – Polyvinyl

Of the Elephant 6 collective, Of Montreal always stuck out as the one band flying much too high on Zoloft and mushrooms – a lethal dose that usually wore thin by an album’s end, unable to keep up with its own giddiness and ADHD. On this year’s Satanic Kevin Barnes and company finally streamlined their hyperactivity tendencies into fluid songs and wrote their mainstream (circa 1969 San Fran, of course) masterpiece. The album is a blast, full of fuzzy guitars, bubbling synths, handclaps and restrained, but sugar-sweet melodies. Satanic is perfect pop music accessible to any generation, perfect for any era, no matter how nostalgic it wants to sound or you want to make it.

24. Air – Talkie Walkie – Astralwerks

And so we may once again breathe sexy life back into the dull, dusty world of lounge. After too many Ibiza Chill Out compilations, it almost seems supernatural of the Frenchmen to sweep down and rescue us from mediocrity all while making us moist. I also love that this is a soft rock album marketed as electro/indie-cool. Must have the Avants up in arms.<>

23. Growing – The Soul of the Rainbow and the Harmony of Light – Kranky

This is a spectral record, bright with pinks, purples, and yellows, but smart enough to use white (and black) light, and hot enough to singe your ears. “Onement” has an ebb and flow of drone (from guitar and bass? Oh, nein!) floating so gently overtop, until you’re pummeled by cymbal and set up for a brainmelt in “Anaheim II”. I never thought Sunn O))) could/would play Windy & Carl songs!

22. Kanye West – College Dropout – Roc-A-Fella

There’s not much more that I can say about this album that hasn’t been written and rewritten all year. But a cocksure, self-conscious MC/DJ? Fucking sweet. Never thought I’d see the duality of man exemplified in a rapper. The songs are good too.

21. Sonic Youth – Sonic Nurse – Geffen

I asked for this record in a DC record store, visiting my girlfriend. The plump record store guy took me into the makeshift listening room, put on “Pattern Recognition” and started studying my face for traces of emotion. Couldn’t help but smile amidst his “sounds like apples if oranges had lemons babies!!!” Nope: disgruntled guitar smack pissed off and complacent simultaneously, whiny neon valley girl vocals from Kim, dreamy hot-guy vocals from Thurston, tuff noise stains, on, on, on. Another great Sonic Youth record.

20. Tom Waits – Real Gone – Anti-

Weird belchy blooze, another swift left turn for Mr. Waits. Making the most of the mouth, this record gets rid them bossy drum kits. Sounding like it was recorded by some insomniac down the hallway, Waits gives us some full-flavored late night admissions, complaints and tall tales that never sound so sweet, seductive and scary. This is garage rock – guitars all covered in oil, vocals choked on carbon monoxide, built out of scrap metal.

19. Jack Rose – Raag Manifestations – VHF

Rising above the chaotic fingerpicking of Mr. Rose’s Octopus Hand is the sweet, sweet sound of melancholic bliss – a wonderfully hopeful sadness. He plays fast, fierce yet serenely at the same time – I’ve never heard anything quite like it. Jack Rose is an unbelievably great talent set on transcending the listener’s experience of both middle-eastern and American folk guitar music. As organic and breathtaking as daybreak.

18. Sightings – Arrived in Gold – Load

Not nearly the furiously bloody Michigan Haters, and thank goodness (panic attack). NYC’s Sightings have taken a step back – there’s actually space here, not the full bore, senses assault noise of previous efforts. We get still get that freaky shit, just more time to think about it: rusted razor-wire strung guitars gagged and shoved in a wah pedal, bass played inside the cabinet with exposed electric wires buzzing at 10,000 Volts threatening to electrocute (you can hear them), and drums like pistons pumping black rotten blood, not oil/cymbals made from ban saws. This is Metal, Son.

17. TV on the Radio – Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes – Touch & Go

The amazing thing that I keep forgetting about this album is how seductive a simple song can be. Most of the songs off of DYBTB are nothing really more than a 4-note fuzz-bass line and a drum machine. But, FUCK, this is some dank, dirty dog shit. Them gettin all funky and sweaty to some doo-wop! They hot like that barbershop shit dawg! Takin the breath out my chest! Soul music never really left, but its back.

16. Interpol – Antics – Matador

No need to elaborate on this one, you’ve all heard this before even if you haven’t. Midnight pop music for the city Gotham.

15. 90 Day Men – Panda Park – Southern

Never have I seen cover art so perfectly fit a band’s sound. This band freaks me out with how right on they were with their field + pink flowers + acid-drop sky. The music is at once pastoral, naturally sculpted and psychedelic in the best late 60’s, early 70’s sense of the word. The music is prog, but is at once fluid and poppy, not strenuous, over-bearing or pretentious. Space music – needs to be tech-savvy to get up there, but once it does: zero gravity.

14. Liars – They Were Wrong So We Drowned – Mute

Worlds different than their debut, They Threw Us All In a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top, this concept album about witches was fucking gonzo. Ramshackle instrumentation, organically forming in Northern New Jersey finally stabbed dance-punk in the bleeding heart. The songs are all dark and gloomy and don’t stand alone well—except for the jam “There’s Always Room on the Broom”. That shit was hott. The parallels to a modern-day witch hunt are obvious, but no one went as far. Some gloomy, scary stuff in here.<>

13. The Streets – A Grand Don’t Come For Free – Vice

I never thought I’d want to hear this album. Some honky yapping about the most banal parts of the day over beats jacked outta what sounds like 1996. But Mike Skinner’s unbelievable storytelling is the key here. He makes the most boring the most important, cause it is, when its happening. A wonderful story of conflict, self-questioning, vice, love, love lost, and redemption. Books on tape.

12. The Futureheads – The Futureheads – Sire

I question the fact that there’s a better power-pop album that came out all year (I didn’t hear The Slow Wonder.) Undeniable 3-part harmonies are the captain driving this cigarette boat right through the swimming area. Guitars are the fuel, going 100 miles only to stop on a dime. Everything here seems to be going in a different direction, but came together so damn perfectly. Undoubtedly one of the best singles record of the year, could’ve been released in 1982, but wasn’t. I can’t wait to see this band live. If you haven’t heard it check: “A to B”, “Decent Days & Nights”, “The City is Here For You to Use” and “Hounds of Love”, but listen to it all if you can.

11. Joanna Newsom – The Milk-Eyed Mender – Drag City

Another great acoustic folk records coming out this year. Newsom’s voice is one of the strangest, best things to ever happen to music. Part 12-year-old innocent, part scary 80-year-old mystic, it never fails to color her collection of lush, organic, harp-driven songs. Close to being the most human record I’ve ever heard – it takes a heartless bastard to not well up with emotion at the sound of “The Sprout and the Bean”.

10. Animal Collective – Sung Tongs – Paw Tracks

After people heard last year’s Hear Comes the Indian everyone expected big things. But probably not a sunny California drum-circle freak out. Sung Tongs came out of left-field from a band I thought was going further underground, indulging pop-sensibilities with avant-psychedelia so charming you turn gay. The Animal Collective stowed their fluorescent electronics and picked up acoustics to make music flowing like water showing all its power, expansiveness, life, uncertainty, and fascinating beauty. [Panda Bear’s Young Prayer was excellent too – I didn’t listen to it enough though.]

9. Modest Mouse – Good News for People Who Like Bad News – Epic

Ok. Mr. Brock stopped being depressed? Not really. The music got more accessible? Not much. Modest Mouse had a hit record? What? How this happened, I’ll never understand. Granted, “Float On” is a rock-solid song, should’ve always been on modern-rock radio. But it still makes no sense. Is the world getting it? This record for all its semi-optimism finally makes me think that it’ll be ok, we’re not all that dumb. It’s a record, like Emergency & I before it, that deals with maturity and acceptance – something everyone can get down with every once and a while. America may not be changing too much, but at least we got a sweet record on the radio because of it.

8. Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti 2 – The Doldrums – Paw Tracks

John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats wrote that this record was “re-encrusting the diamond.” As hard as I can think, I can’t come up with a better way to say what this sounds like. The songs sound exactly like they came out of a dream – I’ve heard them: they’re 80’s roller rink slow songs, 70’s lite disco pop, muzak, something familiar but so distant. I don’t know how fucked up Ariel Pink is, how much of a genius he is, but its damn scary how perfectly he nailed a soundtrack everyone’s heard but no one owns. Every song is covered in layers of bad production, detuned guitars, ghetto Casios and choppy structure, but shining through is the work of an unbelievable songwriter ruining my late nights.

7. Brian Wilson – Smile – Nonesuch

For a record that birthed an entire indie label, Elephant 6, the hype and expectation surrounding Smile had to be huge. Was it going to be weird, avant music? It’s a teenage symphony to God – is it going to be (gasp) Christian? Is it going to be nothing what it should have been now that its 37 years later? Is it going to be bad? Put the record on and suddenly all those questions disappear. Brian Wilson’s got his shit together, can still sing like a bird, and can put a song, make that record, together like no one in rock music has ever been capable of doing. Is this the way Smile was really envisioned back in the day? Hell if I know, but if this is it, it sounds great to me.

6. Devendra Banhart – Rejoicing in the Hands & Nino Rojo – Young God

The gypsy guitar ballads contained on these volumes are all the resin these ears need to get stoned. Psychedelic folk music has never sounded so fluent and organic – Mr. Banhart has an undeniable gift for the cerebrally comforting. His voice is another strange mixture, this time a crow and man, but succeeds better than anything in conveying the universal message in singing a song about teeth or spiders. His songs are meant to send you onto a different plane, but still keep you grounded in the fascination with the natural beauty of music. “At the Hop”, by the way, is one of the best singles released all year: a beautiful tune about returning home, even if you can’t.

5. Comets On Fire – Blue Cathedral – Sub Pop

For all the psych music I listened to this year, no one made as cohesive a statement as Comets On Fire’s Blue Cathedral. The album starts out like any good rock album should: threatening to tear your tits off. But real sly-like, the Comets stop every once and a while stroke your inner thigh. It’s a perfect album: hott riffs, damp, spacey lows, and mind-bending psychedelic guitar willing to takeoff or float you along at its will. You have no say at this record’s mercy. The Comets take their cues from all good things psych: tye-dyes and bellbottoms, 70’s prog, Sabbath, Haight-Ashbury acid tests, heavy metal, Inna-Gadda-Da-Vidda organs, caterwauling vocals, echo, echo, echo. For anyone that has ever taken a bong hit: this is the dank shit.

4. Madvillain – Madvillainy – Stones Throw

Often times collaborations fail. Something about the star power or egos of two (or more) people colliding usually leads to underdeveloped, but promising things. Fortunately, none of that is even remotely seen here. There’s no overshadowing, there’s no dominant force and there’s virtually no failure here at all. What could have been a huge swing and a miss for hip-hop turns into a sexy new step in the right direction for all music. At first we get the prerequisite warm up (“The Illest Villains”) followed by the unreal one-two of “Accordion” and, my favorite, “Meat Grinder” (dig that fat bass thunder, guitar slides and tipsy percussion). Madlib’s beats are mostly taken from lost jazz and soul looking through an outer space lens, perfectly fitting MF Doom’s “buttery flow”. Listen to this one: no one can put words together like Doom can (“Whip up a slice of nice verse pie/Hit it on the first try/Villain/The worst guy”), and no one’s ever been ever to sonically match that flow as well as Madlib has here.

3. Iron & Wine – Our Endless Numbered Days – Sub Pop

Sam Beam plays simple American folk music that could’ve been written at any time. Its sound is lost in time. His voice sounds like it’s covered in dust. He’s an everyman that sings of the world he sees in the terms he sees it. His music is birthed in the South, but doesn’t just exist there. Mr. Beam isn’t reinventing anything with Our Endless Numbered Days. But he is creating the most beautiful music I’ve heard all year. His songs are about God, our land, family, escaping, death. Oh. And love.

2. The Arcade Fire – Funeral – Merge

Who hasn’t written about this record? I’m at a loss for words, for trying to say something new. After all every damn website has an opinion on this “emotional masterpiece”. You all know the back story, where the band is from, how well they’re doing, etc. So what more can I say? In truth, I don’t want to write about this. For me, it’s an amazing record that everyone should hear. Something that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck every time you hear it. This is the record that got you excited about music in the first place.

1. Wilco – A Ghost Is Born – Nonesuch

Maybe I missed the boat this year. Maybe this was an album of undercooked ideas with grand ideas. Maybe they shouldn’t have started with such a slow song. Maybe Wilco had their day in the sun, its time to turn to something new. Maybe they’re not the great indie hope. Maybe they’re too all over the place for their own good. Maybe they’re not perfect. Maybe Jay Bennett was integral to the band. Maybe they should stick to what they were good at: pop songs, not 10 minutes of noise.

Pretty much all I heard this year about this album can be summed up in “it’s not as good as Yankee Hotel Foxtrot”. No, no it’s not. But it isn’t YHF. It isn’t striving to be YHF. It’s striving to be something so completely different.

A Ghost Is Born is a beast of an album. It’s too big, its erratic, its heavy-handed, sometimes its too light, etc., etc. But one thing you can’t deny: it’s wholly American. Like the proverbial melting-pot that America was supposed to be, Wilco have taken every influence from every place they could find, distilled and poured it into a single disc of music. Like all strange and amazing American art it’s hard to define, it doesn’t make immediate sense, it doesn’t fit in with a scheme, there is no resolution. No matter: the sheer largeness of this album will influence for decades. It will continue to inspire people to create, to challenge, to expand, to further everything and anything we know. Boundaries have been set; an album like Wilco’s A Ghost Is Born will continue to push those boundaries illogically and without warning. It will scare us, thrill us and put us in our place.

And for that, I am thankful.

People Get Ready

I agree with a recent reply by Mr. Pete B, please read it. The last post I had was written in a fit of frustration at two things: 1) Pitchfork is annoying me a bit because it holds so much influence over the music world; and 2) the Morrison album really isn't that good after all. Oh well.

So I'd be lying if I said I didn't read Pitchfork. Every day. It's a great source for knowing what's out there, what might be good, and what things might sound like -- I don't live in a vacuum. I agree that comparing a review with another is the way to go, the way to make a smart purchase. I would be lying if I said that half of my collection isn't from Pitchfork: it is. I just get disgusted by Pitchfork sometimes when it seems that an artist progresses or evolves in a direction Pitchfork will deem uncool or dissimilar from their previous output. And it is getting out of control sometimes. The Barsuk website had to counter the "0" Travis got for Travistan...that just doesn't usually happen from a bad review in Spin. Pitchfork welds crazy power over the indie world.

That being said, Pitchfork will continue to influence the way I look at music whether I like it or not. No other magazine or website is as comprehensive and complete as Pitchfork. And the articles from Dominique Leone alone are worth visiting the site every single day.

For those of you that don't want to visit the site, here are some alternatives:

Stylus Magazine
Dusted Magazine
Last Plane to Jakarta
Aquarius Records (it's a store, but they do a good job and there are sound clips)
Perfect Sound Forever (jury's still out on this one)
AllMusic
PopMatters

If anyone reading this has any other sites to view, I'd love to hear of them. Drop me a line at the end of this article.

ALSO!!! I will soon be posting my top 20-25 albums of 2005 list. (Hypocrite, yes. But, Brett how can you rank albums when you don't like a number system...) I am a huge fan of most listened to, most influental, best of lists and I, along with every other chinstroker/bore in the universe will be putting art in a numerical order to feel like I did something with my favorite albums of 2005. If there is something you think I should listen to, please post it in the comments section below. Thanks!

I always hated you

I really don't like the idea of PitchforkMedia anymore. They are undoubtedly becoming more anal-retentive with their increased popularity, directly a result of their new tastemaking position in the Rock Proper world. An album championed by Pitchfork will usually go on to be championed by countless others. An album detested by them will become trash elsewhere.

For example, two great albums have come out this year have recieved poor ratings. One was Pedro the Lion's Achilles Heel. Pitchfork gave it a 4.7. Why? What does a 4.7 sound like, anyways? Sure, I agree, like anyone, that there are good albums and bad albums, good art and bad art. But an album that genuinely captures daily frustration, ethical dilemma, and mental anguish as precisely and plainly as Achilles Heel is not a 4.7.

The other example is more glaring. It is Travis Morrison's Travistan. Now don't get me wrong, I was a HUGE Dismemberment Plan fan. I was expecting greatness. I got an album full of great relevance in today's political, social and personal enviornment. It wasn't perfect by any stretch, but what is? (Blueberry Boat, 9.6? I don't know...)

Pitchfork gave the album a 0.0.

What?

According to Pitchfork this album has no relevance whatsoever. This album holds no artistic merit. This album is UNLISTENABLE. This album is worse than Helmet's new one.

Sure you can take the lyrics out of context, as Chris Dalhen does in the review, and they'll sound cheesy. Travis Morrison's lyrics have always sounded cheesy by themselves. Just because Morrison isn't stringing post-modern non-sequiters together, doesn't mean he hasn't succeeded. His lyrics are more simple then ever but not worse for it.

I can't help but think that because this is from "that guy from the Dismemberment Plan" Dalhen gave this a horrible score. He wanted a Plan record and he got a relatively mainstream dance-pop record. Indie police to the rescue!

In essence I really see something dangerous going on. Pitchfork are finding it easier to blast relatively popular artists and bands than praise them. (See: Wilco, Pedro the Lion, Ted Leo). It's truly boils down to a frustrated writer with a national outlet and a fucking rating system for records. What is that?

The hype-machine that Pitchfork has become is reaching monolithic levels. Let's hope they use their power wisely.

[For a better, much more well-informed article about this same subject, please click here. It is written by former Pitchforker Chris Ott.]

An open letter to my job

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Voice of God

The voice is perhaps the most underrated instrument in all of rock music. Look through any bookstore and you'll notice: 4-5 guitar magazines, a couple bass mags, a few drum books, but typically zero vocal magazines.

Why?

My only reasoning is that people feel as they can change the way they play an instrument, but cannot change the way they sing. The voice is naturally formed and virtually unchangable, the only change being from the wear and tear of age. I don't know how old Jim James (of My Morning Jacket) is, but there is absolutely no sign of any maturing, just the golden vocal chords of God Himself.

On record, I've always been attracted to James' voice. Through numerous EPs (Chocolate & Ice, Split w/ Songs: Ohia) and a couple albums (At Dawn, It Still Moves--I don't have the Tennessee Fire) I've enjoyed a whiskey-sweet, floating voice capable of a mood I've never heard before. His voice is one that can fill enormous spaces and still be soft. It can fit perfectly into every song, but stand out at the same time. It is a voice that (for me) stands for the lush South on the brink of fall, that feeling of disappointment of another summer gone but simulateous excitement. James' voice is the only one I've ever heard capable of sadness and uplift at the same time in the same word.

While the records are great, James' voice is even better live. Now, I've never seen them, but their new record, Acoustic Citsuoca, captures the greatest possible picture of the band ever. Nothing but acoutic guitars, minimal backing and that golden voice. As the EP winds through backing gets more sparse leaving more room for James to sing. Even when he hits a sour note, it's not because of his voice, but his body that seems like it's unable to keep up with his voice. A voice frozen in time and perfect.

Of language

The man said:

"When I golf,
I don't need a pen,
but a pencil
with an eraser."

How many more times
will I hear this,
before I die?

Journey to the Center of the Universe

I would like to write of some new albums I have gotten, but I haven't completely absorbed all of them as of yet. To whet your appetite: Canned Heat - Cookbook, Issac Hayes - Live at the Sahara Tahoe 1973, Interpol - Antics, Hot Snakes - Audit in Progress, Lakeside - Fantastic Voyage, Joanna Newsom - The Milk-Eyed Mender, Devendra Banhart - Nino Rojo, My Morning Jacket - Acoustic Citsuoca, The Arcade Fire - Funeral, Jack Rose - Raab Manifestos, Necrophagist - Epitaph, Sunn 0))) - White 2...

But now...

I recently watched High Fidelity, a wonderful movie. It is undoubtedly among my top 5 favorite films, if not number #1. It's not a movie that is extremely unique to look at (see Steven Frears' 2003 entry, Dirty Pretty Things), but it is an incredible story based on a book by Nick Hornsby. I have never read the book and I don't really intend to. I don't need to.

For those of you who have not seen the film High Fidelity is the story of a man, Rob Gordon (John Cusack) who finds himself destined to be rejected by women, time and again. He sets himself on a journey to discover exactly what the cause may be.

Ironically, the cause is there the whole time. Instead of acknowledging fault or accepting responsibility for failure, Rob skirts the issue--himself. Rob's story is one of the contemporary adult male's all too common solipsistic tendencies. Rob can never remember how a relationship ends, only that he is the one hurt--end of story. Rob views himself as the subject of the sad pop song, continually wronged. The clincher comes when, after asking Laura if she slept with Ian, he sleeps with Marie DeSalle and asks, "What did Laura mean by, 'I didn't sleep with Ian yet?'"

Rob's situation is not too hard to imagine. Any person that exists in a relationship occassionally puts the blinders on, only viewing themselves and their emotions. It takes a long time and, sometimes, a big moment to understand that there are two people: a relationship requires push and pull, give and take. I only hope I can be so lucky.

A vote for the democrats...

...is a vote for more drugs! Look at this. The Kerry/Edwards campaign is offering, in their gear section, a daily pill holder. Take note that the pill holder is the first item under the "accessories" tab. This pill holder also reminds geriatrics with alzheimer's who to vote for.

Brain Bleed

At this current moment I am infatuated with guitars. Of course these comes in many, many shapes and sizes. From the pruned and polished pop-punk of Bad Religion or the Decendents, to the seemingly random napalm blasts of McLusky, the guitar is capable of many beautiful shapes and forms. But never does it seem as deadly, destructive, psychedelic and spinning tightly out-of-control as it does on Comets on Fire's blast from the past Blue Cathedral.

See, the guitar here is taking a sexy form. It's saying I will not be confined to a single noise and become a one trick pony. No, I will become what you most fear. I will become a person. I will stalk the earth and seem normal. One moment, I will spazz out, blasting you against the wall drenched in endless fuzz or freaking out like a kid having a hissy fit at a toy store. The next, I will buy you fields and fields of flowers, take you for a picnic. I'll sit and stare at the stars with you. Aren't they nice? I thought you'd like them. But I'm' not through. I don't like staying in place for a long time. That's why I'LL FUCKING RAM MY COCK DOWN YOUR GODDAMN THROAT, BITCH! Strap onto my fucking Harley, cunt, I'm gonna take you for a ride down to fucking Whiskey River. I'll do a fucking wheelie on your face, pussy.

Ok, I'm cool. Yeah, the Quaaludes are good. Needed that downer. Been so wired offa crank in the last couple a months, I never know what day it is. So, I'm bored, what's there to do? Acid. Yeah, I'll take a tab. Whoa this is nice listening to those organs....ooooohhhhhh fuuccccckkkkkk........that grape I was peeling, man, its turning into an eyeball, oh fuck they're all in my stomach all turning and burning and trying to fucking get out, man, i'm getting attacked by this fucking brutal sun its in my stomach oh shit. oh shit. the fuck is almost here man, man i can't stand it anymore its getting outta control nothing stops here anymore my fucking hair is made of snakes and spiders are in it trying to fucking kill me. no no no no chainsaw massacre fucking death blood maggots eating the silver eye of God.

Until I hit outer space. Then it made sense. Heightened, tightened. Yeah, its just like us, the Brotherhood of the Harvest, hanging out, growing together until we all have to blast off man, yeah. Wow. This shit is great,

It's nice to sit in silence.

I think It's wearing off, take a cruise in Sweet J's Camaro. Yeah, the main drag. Drag. That's it. All neon and no gas, man. Fuck it, I don't need that shit anyways, I'm my own man, right? Yeah, shit gets heavy, its always heavy. So why the fuck should I dig that cycle of heavy, man. Eat me, world. I'm light as helium. I'll have that happy ending, man. I'll be here for me if you'll be here for you, and vice versa. Yeah, ride it out right through the Blue Tomb. We'll never die, never. We're making it.

Hot Shyte

1. Spin writes, about R&B powerhouse Prince:

"In an interview with Dick Clark following a 1980 performance on American Bandstand, the Minneapolis iconoclast responded to a question about his career by inexplicably holding up four fingers and saying nothing."

Now that's some great research.

Also, download or buy "I Would Die 4 U".

And "Raspberry Beret".

While you're at it, maybe even check out "Diamonds and Pearls".

Actually, yes definitely check that and "I Wanna Be Your Lover".

2. Please check out this link and freak the fuck out. (Includes gnarly photos that may not be permissable for the work enviornment.)

3. Bad Religion have put out a new album The Empire Strikes First. Bad title, great pop-punk. I missed listening to this band. They sound like 7th grade (in a good, non-awkward, gonna-try-to-skateboard-and-meet-chicks way).

(I will be writing more in about a week after I visit my honey dips in Winston-Salem. I have found a job and will start work the day after Labor Day which will settle me into more of a schedule.)

Nationalism Whut, What?

[I recently finished reading Walter Abish's fantastic How German Is It for a second time. It is a book that deals with the issues of a country 30 years past WWII attempting to embrace a new attitude while still retaining something that is altogether German. Of course, there are problems with this, and Abish masterfully deals with exploring these inconsistencies, unavoidable Germanisms, and those things that aren't specific to any culture, but, at times, considered "German" or "American" or "x-ian". The following are some thoughts that I had while and after reading the book.]

-Nationalism is an idea used out of both pride and convenience. Something may be declared "German" when there is a group of people wanting to share in something. That is, when one is considered timely or precise, it is often times considered a distinctly German characteristic. But cannot another be as precise as a German engineer? Surely, these national characteristics are often times complicated by those who embrace them because they enjoy seeing themselves as exactly that. Convenience also becomes a simple way to explain things nationally that may not be done in more complex terms. It is a simple way of not thinking: "Why precision is a German trait!"

Nationalism is a difficult idea because many people subscribe to it on these blind terms that may be misleading. More and more, people in our contemporary society are seeing themselves this way, that, nationally, people act a certain way, that it is written into their DNA. This eliminates deviation and embraces stereotype, a difficult and dangerous notion. Also, anyone of any power can manipulate this idea of nationalism, hence, the way this novel ends with a hypnotism.

-Capitalism and democracy are two conflicting ideas that need to work together idealistically, but never do. The working force, responsible for daily labor and helping our country run, never exist in a visible manner until their voices are combined. Those that are in more vocal and powerful positions, of course, are more wealthy and always have the benifit of being heard. Therefore, democracy is essentially not in effect, capitalism is. (This is not to say I think its wrong. It just exists this way.)

-The nature of a thing: what is it composed of?:

"...What is omitted?
What is distorted?
What is clarified?
What is sensed?..."

Seemingly, all these things (plus many more) tend to comprise the actual make-up of something. But usually, something will remain left out, misunderstood, not comprehended, etc.:

"The passer-by took it for granted that Ulrich spoke German. He also, Ulrick assumed, took it for granted that what he had just witnessed was an accident, just as Ulrich took it for granted that it was not."

This miscommunication of sorts leads me to believe an absolute existence of something may not be true. How may we know of something if not everyone agrees, when there are multiple angles to view, when no one can be correct?

Now, there must be some absolutes. But are there? Is not a car a automobile, a lump of metal, a sculpture, and many other things? So particularly, with notions of personality, such as nationality, how can one be labeled German when they may, in fact, be American, but act stereotypically German, or be a German ex-pat? This labelization is not proven effective or necessary. This shows the limits of an imperfect language--the only possiblity is to encounter all possibilities, which, of course, is impossible.

Wake up!

"Three Flags"

So, I recently (on Tuesday) got back from traveling throughout Europe. It was a hell of a trip. I started in London and went to Brugge & Oostende (Belgium), Amsterdam, Prague, Vienna, Munich, Interlaken (Switzerland), Paris, San Sebastian (Spain), and Madrid. Two of my friends (BC and Jason) and I made the trip in about a month meeting up with two other friends of mine for about two weeks (Jesse and Anthony). We had a blast full of drinking great beer, seeing great things and meeting great people.

The best part was definitely meeting people. Since we were unknowing Americans, never having spent a signifigant amount of time outside the United States we felt it to be out duty to meet as many local people as possible from each place. While each person had a different outlook on life, most held the same view of the US: They fucking hate Bush.

Don't get me wrong: I hate him too. Only, mostly, their ideas are formed from a media very opposed to Bush, much like our ideas were formed around a Bush-biased (or used to be) media. That is, much of Europe is consuming their media in the same way people here watch Fox News: only, the stance is more lefty than ridiculous. It's incredibly interesting to see this happening all while these people proclaim that "most Americans are stupid".

That last comment gets to me. Fuck you! Europeans are just as uninformed as many Americans. Most of the Europeans I met were only concerned with bashing the current state of America without knowing enough to actually make intelligent arguments. Rather, it was a popular course of America-bashing most likely due to the fact that we are the most powerful country in the world, 30 years ahead of everyone, and they are not.

Repeatedly we would hear, Americans need to "get out of their bubble". I agree, but its not so simple. Other cultures and countries are not a short, cheap train ride away. We live on a different continent where plane rides are extremely expensive and only a very lucky few can experience what I just experienced. We don't have media outlets that prefer to cover international happenings because, really, the national media is concerned with what is happening nationally. That's what sells papers and gets viewers. (I didn't forget: the media's angle on fear is horrible and misleading. But that is an issue for another time.)

So, when I talked to a kebab cook about his feelings about his opposition to the Bush empire I started to understand something: it is now our time to step up to the plate. If you are informed (that means both sides of the political spectrum!) you must speak to people about politics. We cannot have blind agreement, we must be learned. America is a place that first made this possible, we must follow through. America is still beautiful, we cannot view our country as lesser because of one man. Don't listen to Michael Moore (though his movie has some very skewed points), read the newspaper. It's all there. Talk to people about this, make them listen, create an argument, admit when your wrong, and make your opponent submit when you outweigh him.

No one paying any attention to many forms of media these days will vote for Bush. So get them to do just that. Pay attention.

Five Alive! (No. 6)

This will be my last (sporadic) post before I will be gone for at least 5 weeks. I am traveling to Europe and will be incapable of making blog time. Have a good one.

1. Jackie Brown: This movie is absolutely fantastic. While many will say that its runtime is a bit long (only because the action isn't as well balanced as Pulp Fiction), this movie is never boring or over-staying its welcome. The storyline, based on Elmore Leonard's Rum Punch, never stops delivering top notch dialogue. The theme of adult love is expertly handled by Tarantino, with what it fully encapsulates: money, lust, and, most importantly, loneliness. Plus, add to that another impeccably chosen soundtrack (See: Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street"; the Delfonic's "Didn't I Blow Your Mind"), Samuel L. Fucking Jackson, numerous references to shitty blaxploitation films (Dolemite is my favorite although its not referenced -- the worst (best) movie ever made) and I think you have a film that can stand solidly along side of Fiction.

2. David Cross - It's Not Funny: While some of his political stances aren't extremely sturdy, David Cross is undeniably funny. Basing most of his schtick around pissing on conservatives (Bush, Santorum, Lott, Christians, etc.) could be boring and trite. I'll admit it, sometimes it is boring and trite. But, when Cross gets a joke across, it is fucking hilarious. Like when he talks in Trent Lott's voice about how he had to talk on BET for his racist comments: "WHHHAAATT! The niggers have their own TV network? What kind of science fiction, Year 3000 bullshit is this!" Or his electric scissor and Family Circus bit. Or his bit about moving to the moon. Yeah, its pretty great, take my word for it. (See also: Mr. Show)

3. Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead: I am in love with this book. I haven't read something like this in such a long time. I can't put this guy down. I don't really want to describe it because you should read it. Plus, I'm not done.

4. Guided By Voices - "Glad Girls": What a great nugget of pop this is. Off of Isolation Drills and their greatest hits package. Nothing really much to this song, just one of the more well-produced, radio-friendly (among 100's of others) songs in Robert Pollard's career. "Hey, hey glad girls/I only want to get you high!" Oh, yes.

5. Iron & Wine - Live at the Khyber in Philadelphia: I went to this show with my brother and was absolutely blown away. I loved Sam Beam's records and, I have to say, I was very nervous about what he'd sound like live. Luckily, it was one of the best shows I've seen. Ever. Check this man's music out, it is fantastic. And check him out live, because he'll make everyone feel like they're transported to a barn somewhere in northern Alabama. Lovely.

Five Alive! (No. 5)

The Download These Songs Edition

1. Souls of Mischief - "93 'til Infinity"; Mos Def - "Umi Says": I had completely forgotten about these songs for a few years. The first: I was floating around on my computer and I ran across Modest Mouse's celebrity playlist on iTunes. On it there is a Tribe song and Isaac Brock (I assume) says my favorite is not this Tribe song but SOM's "93 'til Infinity". Undoubtedly, this is one of the best hip-hop songs of all time. Laid back and smooth like A Tribe Called Quest and sooo smooth. This is a perfect jam for the summertime. The second: I was at Buffalo Billiards in Philly with my brother playing some pool. We decided to play some music on the jukebox and I ran into Mr. Def's Black on Both Sides. I don't know much about the rest of the album, but I did really love this song (you may remember it from the Nike commercial). There's not much rapping going on--in fact, it's more of a jazzy/funky song. Another summertime hit--the vocals float like a cool summer breeze, smooth and easy.

2. DJ Shadow - "Midnight in a Perfect World": An absolutely unbelievable and essential track. This is a documentation of a man perfecting his art: it is a distinct possibility it is a documentation of a man perfecting the art of DJ-ing. (I can hear the X heads groan.) I'm slightly unfamiliar with the rest of Shadow's Endtroducing..., but I'm pretty sure most of the downtempo tracks on The Private Press were trying to grasp what this track fully realized. The slowly lumbering pace is perfect, the title is perfect, the creepy vocals are perfect, the orchestrated build-up is perfect, the vocal cuts ("Now-n-n-n-n-ow approaching midnight!") are perfect. This is, quite possibly, the untouchable pinnacle of (downtempo) instrumental hip-hop because, well, it's perfect.

3. Jackie Wilson - "(Your Love Keep Lifting Me) Higher and Higher": Who the hell is this Jackie Wilson character and how did he sneak so swiftly into my playlists? I've never heard another track by him (maybe I'm uninformed), but goddammit, this is right up there with the best of them: Green, Gaye, Mayfeild, whoever. I can see why some wouldn't like it: after all, it is kind of the optimist's anthem. But holy shit! I get fucking goosebumps when I hear this shit! "Com'on, sock it to me!" Once that bass gets rolling, man, everything just fits right into place. Smooth Soul strings and horns, smooth yet powerful vocals, and that addicting tambourine. Even if you don't like this song, put it on a mixtape. She'll love it.

4. Bob Marley - "Could You Be Loved": One of my favorite Marley tracks. Instead of starting out with the requisite Marley intro ("Pop! Puka, Puka.) of drums, this track (off of his last, Uprising) starts with that sexy little guitar line that ends up following the song wherever it goes. It gives the song that bouncy, I-know-your-swinging feeling. But then, as good as the verses are, the chorus comes. Music doesn't get much more life-affirming than this. One of the most pleasing parts to any song. I prefer the 12" version because its 1:30 longer.

5. The Clash - "Police and Theives": One of their best tracks, without a doubt. I first heard it in The Royal Tenenbaums (I think its when Eli Cash goes to score drugs with Margot in the car) and it immediately sounds like something you've heard before. But it isn't. It's a pretty perfect mixture of punk and dub. Another track whose 6 minutes do not seem long enough, I could listen this over and over.

Five Alive! (No. 4)

It's been a long time since I've done this, I know. But I've now graduated school and can devote some more time to it. Until, I get bored, that is.

1. Family Guy: This show is so damn clever. I know it's pretty typical to like it as every frat boy will tell you, but really it's one of the most entertaining things I've ever seen on television. I have the first two seasons on DVD, and I watch them almost every night before sleeping. Just hearing Quagmire's "All Right!" is worth the admission price alone.

2. Beans - Now Soon Someday: The hotness. I saw Beans with Prefuse 73 back in the fall of 2003 and I thought he was pretty good, but had a weird rhyming style that was hard to follow. He still mumbles his enormous vocabulary, but on record, I must say he sounds a lot tighter. The mix is much better than it was live and his production is much better than I could have expected. I got this after I saw the "Mutescreamer" video which freaked me out in a real great way. Only problem is, I neglected to see that the version I heard was not on this record. In its place are two remix versions by El-P and Prefuse 73. Let me tell you, these two songs alone are worth the price (a scant 8 dollars for 9 songs!). Really a great hip-hop record that doesn't overstay its welcome.

3. Religion in art: Been really getting into stuff that crosses the two boundaries. In particular, I've been reading Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory and listening to Pedro the Lion. Graham Greene is an incredibly masterful writer who depicts a "whiskey priest" in southern Mexico during a time of Communist rule when Christianity is forbidden. Ironically, Communism simply makes the country poor and limp while Christian goodwill strengthens a person's outlook and is more successful in creating a communist state than communism is. Pedro the Lion (like The Power... before it) uses religion not only as a source for salvation but of frustration. Control is a great album for this. (I haven't really absorbed Achilles Heel yet.)

4. Philadelphia: I really love my home. I've been with my girlfriend and we've been going in and out of the city. I must say, there are so many fun things to do and see here and not nearly enough time to do it. The city really has an energy all to itself that cannot be found anywhere else. The architecture is not particularly sexy, the people are sort of ugly, but somehow the city is really fun to be in. That and the people are ridiculous. And the accents. Ask a Philadelphian to say "street" or "oh yeah". They come out so dirty: "Oah yeh, it's oaver on fifth shtreet."

5. America's "A Horse With No Name": Even though it may be a complete rip-off of Neil Young this song is pretty hot on its own. The "La da da da da da da" chorus sends me for a loop every time, like I'm floating through space. Man, I can only imagine what this song was like in the early 70's...

Five Alive! (No. 3)

1. Vashti Bunyan - Just Another Diamond Day: I picked this up on a trip to San Fransisco and have been really getting into it recently. She's got a really soft, mystical sound to her songs along the lines of Fairport Convention or the Incredible String Band. The thing I really like about her sound is that it's so stripped down, yet it still sounds incredibly full and orchestrated.

2. Television: Not the band, but the device. In the past couple of weeks, I have been watching a lot and enjoying every bit of it. I know it's not good for you, it adds little to my life, and all that, but there is nothing better than watching The Fifth Wheel or Elimidate.

3. Jefferson Airplane - "Volunteers": I absolutely love this song. I really wish that I had the chance to live in the '60s to be a part of a revolution that never happened because the time made some of the greatest music that these ears have ever seen. "Volunteers" isn't the most mindblowing song, but a great radio anthem. I could imagine tons of high-schoolers loving this song.

4. Faces - "Ooh La La": I love iTunes. I was downloading some music and I couldn't figure out the name of the song I wanted, but I knew it was on the Rushmore soundtrack. (This song is at the ending credits, and one of the best uses of a song in a movie ever.) I clicked through the songs they had, and eventually got a 30 second clip of this. As soon as I heard it I got chills all over my body. So good.

5. The Election Year - Aren't elections exciting? I really can't wait to see all the coverage the presidental candidates are going to be getting in the next few months. Regardless of who you want to vote for, the sense of power the people are given through voting is awesome. Isn't democracy great?

Five Alive! (No. 2)

1. Dirty Pretty Things: I saw this one sometime last summer. At the time, I thought it was pretty good, nothing all that special. On the second (and third), times around, this movie really starts to fully reveal itself as an incredible multi-layered work of art. The story is based around a human organ trading ring, that is owned an operated in London's The Baltic Hotel. The movie slowly unfolds two characters lives and how organ trading is seen as an entrance in to the Western world by the means of acquiring a passport. This one is truly interesting (no matter if its false) and, with fantastic acting, very entertaining to watch.

2. A fresh tuna sandwich with provolone, lettuce and tomato: The tuna was unbelievably fresh, cooked just the right amount, so it was a nice soft pink in the center. The cheese was melted over top. This sandwich was so fucking delicious. Like a tuna melt, but a thousand times better.

3. Hunter S. Thompson: This writer is so fun to read. Most of his early stuff is not only entertaining but actually has the stuff good, well-informed journalism should have. I don't think I've ever been able to start one of Thompson's articles and have an idea of where he was going to take it.

4. Bonnie 'Prince' Billy - Greatest Palace Music: So what's wrong with this? Pitchforkmedia.com, the indie superstore gave this one a bad rating for really no reason at all. What's bad about it? Bascially, Will Oldham has taken his back catalogue (that was under the name of Palace Music) and has recorded some fans' favorite songs in a very Nashville way. The songs are well planned and more orchestrated, only ocassionally sounding too slick. For the most part, the disc is very solid and any emotional impact is not lost in the rerecorded versions.

5. Sleep: I need some, and I haven't been getting it well lately. So everytime I do, its fantastic.

Five Alive! (No. 1)

1. Iron & Wine – Our Endless Numbered Days: I still haven’t stopped listening to this one yet. Everything, from start to finish, on this record is great. Soft and soothing, yet intricate and artistically developed. Like having a tall glass of lemonade with Bob Dylan (see #3).

2. Misery: I had forgotten how great this movie is. Kathy Bates plays the most disturbing role I’ve ever seen so perfectly—she definitely deserved that Oscar. The film does a really good job examining celebrity, middle-America ideals, and one’s reluctance to change. It’s certainly not the best movie I’ve ever seen, but you could do a lot worse.

3. Bob Dylan – “Lay, Lady, Lay”: Holy smokes. This song is so damn good. Simple, yet so classic. I listened to this about 15 times on today—I was trying to figure it out for the guitar, but I just got sucked into it over and over again. I hadn’t really heard this song before last weekend when I spent Easter in San Francisco. My family and I had just hiked a bit in Muir Woods, looking at some tall Sequoias and beautiful lush greenery. We were coming back in our rented silver Mustang, and it came on. I recommend listening to this song in that environment—crusing on a windy Californian road, about 60 degrees, overcast, the faint smell of burning wood in the air.

4. The Flamingos – “I Only Have Eyes For You”: Another one that I heard in San Fran. This time I was in a throwback diner, eating eggs benedict. There’s an incredibly huge sound to this song even though it’s not much more than a few drums, guitar, bass, and voice. Phil Spector must have produced this one—that watery reverb is spattered all over this song. It makes me want ice cream sundaes.

5. Kill Bill Vol. 1: I saw this on Wednesday night for the second time. It was so god damn good. Some of the most exciting action sequences I’ve ever seen, plus really great writing by Tarantino. Lots of really cool gender dialogue going on here (i.e. women’s roles, male sexuality, etc.). I cannot wait to see the next one tomorrow.

Note

Hi.

Starting tomorrow, Thursday (and, most likely, every Thursday thereafter), I will be creating lists of five things that are currently grabbing my attention. The focus will be music as always, but will not be limited to just that. I will quite possibly discuss films, books, magazines, and foods.

Until then, I remain your hopeful informant and entertainer,

Brett Baxter

::Iron & Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days::

The south has had a lot to offer to music. If one looks close enough, an argument can be made that the American south was actually responsible for a very large portion of pop music; namely rock n’ roll, blues, folk and country.

But one large question looms: why is it that music that sounds like it comes from the South often not even geographically close?

For example, Credence Clearwater Revival were formed in El Cerrito, Calif. Most of the “southern gentlemen” I know would take this group as one of their own.

But the list doesn’t stop there. The Band was from Toronto, the Grateful Dead was from San Francisco, the Byrds were from Los Angeles, and so on.

That brings us to Sam Beam, better known by his alias (and group’s name) Iron & Wine.

He too lives outside of the south, finding a home in Miami, Fla. But the music he creates is undeniably southern, using every slide guitar and finger-picked melody to its fullest potential.

Our Endless Numbered Days has truly advanced Beam as an artist. His last album, The Creek Drank the Cradle, was a more grainy, hushed affair that sounded personal yet distant at the same time, sacrificing modern production methods for a more timeless sound.

This time around, Beam has given up the four-track and has asked the tremendous producer Brian Deck to produce the album.

The effect is immediately evident. At once, the record feels more intimate and thought out because the warm blankets of fuzz are no longer there to hide behind.

Guitar parts are clearer, different instrumentation is immediately distinguishable and there is much more importance placed on percussion, which was practically non-existent on Creek.

The percussion gives Days an interesting vibe. On the opener “On Your Wings” and “Free Until They Cut Me Down,” we see a bluesy side of Beam that, until now, has been underdeveloped.

The result is something that sounds like Gram Parsons covering Captain Beefheart – occasionally becoming weirdly funky but still remaining down-homey.

While the percussive element is interesting, the most alluring element of any Iron & Wine song, by a long shot, is Beam’s fantastic voice. He sounds like a happier, breathier Nick Drake, but he can harmonize as well, if not better, than CCR.

On songs like “Sodom, South Georgia,” “Naked As We Came” and “Sunset Soon Forgotten,” Beam makes an impressive case for how powerful the human voice can be in creating emotion through tone and sound alone.

In addition to these timeless melodies, Beam writes lyrics capable of coming from any time period.

His characters face enduring issues from love to death to Christianity to war, things most anyone has dealt with and things that can be explored over and over. Iron & Wine’s Our Endless Numbered Days is as timeless as the area it borrows its sound from.

While the south may not have the most visible artists ever (although there are many exceptions), it can be proud of always inspiring some of the best art.

In this case, the brilliant traditions of Southern blues and folk music have come together seamlessly to create a simple masterpiece.

Sorry...

Sorry, I've been missing in action for about a month. Here's three reviews...I hope you forgive me.

::Madvillain - Madvillainy::

Back when Ornette Coleman practically invented free-jazz in the late 50’s, early 60’s, it resulted in a huge shift in the world of music. In the years following his most commercially successful album, The Shape of Jazz to Come, the more musically outlandish followers of Coleman (and Thelonius Monk, among other innovators) fell further and further below the radar, while the more accessible, traditional players found continued mainstream acceptance.

Looking at the state of hip-hop, one gets the sense that the same thing seems to be happening. The underground is deservedly receiving a huge amount of critical acclaim, but still cannot find a stronghold in the mainstream.

MF Doom and Madlib, the two men comprising Madvillain, have, for years, been part of this underground. But rather than attempting to water-down their sound to increase record sales and public approval (Black Eyed Peas or Jurassic 5, anyone?), Doom and Madlib have followed in their jazz torchbearers’ steps and have made their music more exciting and experimental with each record. This is expertly proven with Madvillainy, a record of incredible depth and artistic integrity.

Madlib, as usual, handles most of the production and uses his comprehensive knowledge of jazz to his advantage, laying down unrecognizable yet great jazz and soul records to sound somewhere in between Sun Ra to Philly Soul, as strange as that may sound. As Doom says on “Money Folder”, “He flipped it like Madlib did an old jazz standard.” Tracks like “Meat Grinder” and “Sickfit” have the power to prove to any doubter that, yes, sampling can be incredibly dense and captivating stuff.

But as good as Madlib’s production is (and if we’re comparing them to their peers) Doom’s rhyming truly destroys any competition. He’s funny, surreal, aware, poetic, and any other number of praising adjectives you can think of.

More than anything, Doom is extremely entertaining to listen to. He uses words to their full effect, playing with their sound, meaning, and rhythm to make him, quite possibly, one of the most original MCs ever. Take “Rhinestone Cowboy”, for example, where Doom exclaims, “We rock the house like rock n’ roll/Got more soul/Than a sock with a hole.”

While this may not seem too impressive on paper, hearing the spoken rhythm allows Doom’s rhymes to take off over top of Lib’s production that perfectly complements Doom’s dry attack.

Although MF Doom takes the microphone for most of the record, Madlib’s split-persona does show itself as the helium-voiced Quasimoto. His appearance on “America’s Most Blunted” is amazing—schizophrenic and hilarious, even if the subject matter is dumb, making the track to be one of Madvillainy’s best.

Even though some of the tracks on Madvillainy may be better than others, you’d be really hard pressed to find a bad track. As a whole, the record is unstoppable and, quite possibly, better than any other hip-hop record released this decade.

Madvillainy has potential. It can make a commercial splash and have some of the same influence that Coleman’s Shape had. If it does, we can look forward to an incredible future of progressive underground hip-hop.

::Kanye West - College Dropout::

The American Dream.

Kanye (pronounced Khan-yay) West, producer and rapper from Chicago, pretty much has this one thing on his mind. Only, it’s not the American Dream most people have of money, success, and happiness. While West’s idea does encompass these three touchstones of the American Dream, it dives a bit deeper into the fray surrounding this abstract notion.

When immigrants first arrived on ships into Ellis Island, being successful in the United States was not something that had to be achieved through education. Gradually, as the 20th century began to wear on, education almost became a necessity for anyone seeking class movement. Especially in today’s world, one must attend college to become successful as evidenced by our enrollment in Wake Forest.

Kanye West wants to eliminate this preconception. Even before you listen to the record, you kind of know what you’re getting yourself into. After all, you are buying a CD in a record store called College Dropout. This guy is letting you know “even though I didn’t go to college, I’ve made myself successful. Eff the system.”

Once the record hits the needle, it’s a bit different than the uninitiated listener might expect. He’s not a cocksure or brash in proclaiming “I’m #1”, because he constantly checks himself by confessing his weaknesses. It’s incredibly exciting to listen to College Dropout because Kanye is a man who is arrogant yet mindful. In other words, he’s someone the listener can relate to.

The best tracks are the ones that illustrate this duality. “All Falls Down” is the first track we see this, when he says, “Man I promise I’m so self-conscious/That’s why you always see me with one of my watches”. “Jesus Walks”, on the other hand, is a view of an actual cry for help, something almost unprecedented in the hip-hop world and one of Dropout’s best songs. Pair this subject matter with West’s smooth, simplistic (but not half-baked) flow, and the record becomes almost unstoppable.

Unfortunately, as a whole, the record does lose steam at some points. Most of the skits are unnecessary and truly boring. They serve no purpose to the record. Just keep that finger on top of the fast forward button when they come up.

Thankfully, this lull in quality throughout is more than made up for with West’s dominant production. West was a producer before he decided to step up to the mic, having helped on Jay-Z’s “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)”, Ludacris’ “Stand Up”, and Talib Kweli’s “Get By” (all three appear on Dropout). His studio experience is mesmerizing as he easily weaves 70’s soul and jazz reminiscent of A Tribe Called Quest into soon-to-be (or already, like “Slow Jamz” with Twista & Jamie Foxx) club tracks.

Kanye West’s debut is an incredible one. He, with a few missteps, has created an incredibly successful album bridging the underground and the mainstream. West is living the American Dream, but he still remains insatiated, wanting to conquer even more real-estate. He’s there, but not yet.

::Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand::

As soon as I saw Franz Ferdinand’s press kit, I knew I would hate them.

I mean, look at these nerds, dressed up like Interpol without ties, trying to be all cool and hip.

These guys haven’t got a chance in hell.

But my job is to review music, not wardrobe and image.

I put the record on and immediately, I thought, “You’ve got be kidding me with this post-punk crap. That garbage was sooo 2002.”

Of course I wasn’t really listening. I was still thinking about how much I hated that one dude’s moustache. It wasn’t ironic or good-looking. What was he thinking?

Music, not wardrobe.

Focus, okay?

All right.

I let a few days pass and eventually I sat down with the record, attempting to divorce myself from my preconceptions.

And, hell, I was wrong.

I heard one of the best records I’ve heard in a long while.

The thing about Franz Ferdinand is that they’re not really that new.

Rather, they tend to be a synthesis of everything that draws one into an addiction with rock music.

They keep their head in the future and their feet in the past.

Franz Ferdinand’s all-encompassing knowledge of worthy music is impressive, but their tightness is even more astounding. Every song is so securely wound that it feels like it could unravel at any moment and leave the listener with an incredible sense of urgency.

While each member plays perfectly in time with one another, they, at the same time, aren’t afraid of going in four different directions, which they almost always do.

Franz Ferdinand’s urgency can’t be simply measured by how fragile they sound. One needs to, of course, mention those damn disco beats.

It sounds like they’re playing at Studio 54 where someone lit them on fire and told them the only way they could put it out was by playing with a greater sense of urgency and by making everyone dance faster and weirder.

Not only would Franz Ferdinand make a great Studio 54 house band, but they’d probably fit in there as well.

All over their record they make an effort to sound creepily androgynous like early Bowie or Suede, especially on “Michael.” Singer Alex Kapranos blurs sexual lines allowing everyone except the homophobes to come along.

While Franz Ferdinand do sound kind of disco, they more frequently tend to stick to the rock end of the spectrum.

They find a comfortable niche in between Interpol and Hot Hot Heat (see “Take Me Out,” “Cheating On You,” or “This Fire”) but thankfully sound nothing like either.

Other times, like on “Tell Her Tonight,” they sound like Wire or even the Pixies.

In the end though, Franz Ferdinand doesn’t sound like a conglomeration of these torchbearers but a completely new band - and a fantastic one at that.

So I learned a valuable lesson. Don’t judge a book by its cover, or its press kit, because you might lose out on the content.

Unless that book looks like Good Charlotte. In which case you should discard of it immediately because there is nothing redeemable to be found in those pages.

::Liars - They Were Wrong So We Drowned::

“Fear is a very powerful emotion.” Or so says the first sentence of Liars’ press release.

I’d tend to agree. After all, we’re fed fear every day. Glance at Fox “News” and most of the time you’ll get some sort of mention of an orange/purple/green alert. Why? To scare us into watching more? To see what kind of duct tape we should purchase? To see when Bill O’Reilly predicts the world is going to melt?

Although the media does play a large part in the American consciousness, it’s not completely their fault that we are terrified of everything. I’d like to point my long middle finger at the Bush administration for the rest of the blame. Sure, everyone should have felt uneasy and, well, terrified after 9/11, but the extent that the Bush administration went to was ridiculous. What they have taught us, by example, in the past few years is absurd: every middle-eastern non-U.S.-supporter is a potential terrorist whether they prove to be an imminent threat or not. What the hell happened to innocent until proven guilty?

Liars, like many other skeptical Americans have watched what has happened to our country for the past few years with a weary, firsthand eye. They are from Brooklyn, minutes away from where this all began (or did it?). Rather than take the blatantly easy route by screaming personal politics over sharp-edged discopunk, (see They Threw Us in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top) Liars have created something different.

Liars have taken America’s history of fear and turned it into an uncompromising work of art. They have proved that our earliest fears run parallel to our current paranoia. That’s right; Liars have created a concept album about witches.
The United States has a history of witch hunts. They date as far back as the literal Salem witch trials to the McCarthy “you’re a communist” era all the way up to now, and the Bush “you’re not patriotic” era. These times have created a paranoia uniquely American, one that is dutifully captured on Liars’ They Were Wrong So We Drowned.

The album in question is one that takes sound and uses it to create the aural equivalent of a Pollack painting. Synth bleeps, collapsible drums, and lacerating guitars arise chaotically and sporadically creating dark and forceful sound collages reminiscent of terrified confusion and dread.

Although Liars have allowed their sound to become noisier and less-accessible, their old post-punk resonance is not completely gone. Songs like, “There’s Always Room on the Broom” and “Hold and It Will Happen Anyway” revisit familiar territory that is both recognizably welcome respites and forward-thinking at once.

They Were Wrong, So We Drowned is not for everyone. This is a record interested in social commentary through art, and difficult art at that. This record will polarize many crowds like most abstract contemporary art does. But if you allow yourself to get into it, you will find, as the Liars’ press release says, “Fear is a very seductive emotion.”

::Air - Talkie Walkie::

In the early 90’s, I used to watch Back to the Future, Part II repeatedly. There was something that was so exciting about jackets that were hair dryers, watching 12 television networks at once, and having a flying skateboard. As I got older, Michael J. Fox’s face was gradually replaced with a faceless Hal 3000 computer from 2001: A Space Odyssey. My innocent, hopeful vision of the future had slowly begun to change into a more paranoid idea of the unknown.

Air, like those films, have found themselves evolving in the same manner. For their past two full-lengths the electronic/acoustic French duo has been creating a time that does not suit them. Their sound seemed stuck in some kitschy 70’s vision of the future, a time when space travel is common for anyone and everyone, a time that finds us miniscule and in awe of a huge universe.

Ultimately, this sound quickly wore itself out. Moon Safari, their debut and the album most consider their masterpiece, after a few listens seemed too tacky and absurd; too innocent a picture of the unknow. While “La Femme d’Argent” and “Sexy Boy” were great, the rest of the tracks failed to explore very different ground. 10,000 Hz. Legend, their sophomore effort, fared even worse by testing out paranoid experimental soundscapes that were found to be flat, claustrophobic, and uninteresting making them sound like some new-age bores.

Talkie Walkie, I figured, would continue down this road to self-destruction, eventually resulting in an Air track on some gross Ibiza “chill-out” compilation. Surprisingly, Air has not only reclaimed the magic of Moon Safari, but has stripped Safari’s sound to its core, resulting in simple, minimalist compositions. Particularly on “Alpha Beta Gaga” we see an incredibly mature band finding the silence between the notes to be more deadly than the melody.

That is not to say that Air has given up their sense of melancholy, dreamy pop. Every one of Talkie Walkie’s tracks float in those soft harmonies that made Air so memorable in the first place. This time around, the band places those sexy synths and plucked guitars against little more than a dry drum-machine or no rhythm at all. On “Universal Traveler” and “Cherry Blossom Girl” Air uses this exact method of restraint to achieve breathtaking results.

While their sense of melody is approaching impeccable, their sound also finds an impressive cinematic center. “Alone In Kyoto”, a song used in Sofia Coppola’s Lost In Translation and the album’s centerpiece, is exactly this—a song that undeniably evokes imagery. What, exactly, that is remains up to you.

Because most of the lyrics on Talkie Walkie are about rockets, planets, and space travel in general, there is no doubt that Air is attempting to evoke a visualization of the future. With their simple, mysterious production and nearly perfect sense of spacious melody Air has finally found how to straddle the line between an absurdly glamorous prospect and heavy-handed apocalyptic outlook resulting in a repeatedly enjoyable vision of the next century. I can’t wait for the DVD.

::The Descendents::

Let's talk about pop music for a minute.

Ok.

The Descendents are pop music. Yes. We agree.

Words like, "I like food/food tastes good." Yes, everyone can get along with that. Understand that.

But the genius of the Descendents is not easily seen by everyone.

They're a punk band.

[Crowd Groans]

Stop and listen. The Descendents are genius. They exist in the same realm as any great pop band. Ever. Yes.

That means they can be compared to The Beatles, Beach Boys, Byrds, Beulah, Beachwood Sparks, etc.

A Descendent's song rarely consists of more than 3 chords, inane lyrics about something anything a high-school dropout could have written (note: Milo Aukerman, the singer, is a Molecular Biologist when he's not in the band), and a fucking unbelievably catchy hook for the chorus.

This is enough to make any person a fan of the Descendents. Even if the lyrics "Sienfeld, Simpsons, My So-Called Life/Seen the reruns 20 million times" make you cringe. I mean after all, you've seen all those shows too, haven't you? You sad bastard.

Yes.

So, go buy the new single 'Merican. You know what you're going to get, you know you're going to like it, and you know it's going to be money well spent.

Just so you know.

Hello...

Hello,

I wanted to thank some of the readers of this rag for a moment. Also, I would like to let everyone know that many of the things that I print in the upcoming weeks will be printed in The Old Gold & Black at the same time (Wake Forest University's school paper). You can see that here.

While you're reading about music, why not see what's happening in the world of film (and music, too)? I have a great website for you to turn to here. It's called Math Industries and its published daily by a friend named Paul Bullock. He's a smart and reliable fellow. Check it out!

The Math Industries website is quite sexy, don't you think? Yes. Well, another friend of mine has helped design it, and he also has his own website here. His name is Chad Pugh and he is extremely creative. At that website you can check out his work. Check that out too!

Okay, that's it for now, I'll talk to you soon!

Love,
Brett

::The Walkmen - Bows and Arrows::

The Strokes. Yeah, the Walkmen kind of sound like the Strokes. They both have that wildly crooning singer that seems really impassioned yet bored at the same time. They both dress well. They’re both from New York. And, in the last six months, they both put out records that are much more impressive than their predecessors.

The comparisons between the Strokes and Walkmen pretty much end in their specific locations, the Strokes are from downtown Manhattan while the Walkmen call uptown home. Where the Strokes are all parallel lines and Mondrian-esque, the Walkmen take a crescendo and make the song to melt into itself like grilled cheese (see “No Christmas While I’m Talking”). Also, where the Strokes seem pleasantly grimy, the Walkmen actually embrace a weathered songwriting approach.

That’s not to say that their chops are underdeveloped and woefully scratchy. Rather, the Walkmen’s production, which they mostly do themselves, allows their songs much more space to breathe than the Strokes’ airtight veneer.

While the Strokes are good, the Walkmen are better. The thing about the Walkmen is that they don’t care about the garage-rock thing that much anymore.

In the late 90s three of the five Walkmen were in the superb Jonathon Fire*Eater, which predated pretty much every half-rate “rock revivalist” that M2 deems “buzzworthy” (screw you, Jet). They’ve taken the standard three-chord songs as far as they can go and now challenge themselves to embrace more orchestrated and difficult territory.

The outcome is nearly perfect. While their last album Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone, with a song in a Saturn car commercial, was simply catchy; Bows and Arrows, on the other hand, is even more accessible, memorable and rewarding all at once.

Songs fluctuate between brink-of-disaster rockers like “Little House of Savages” and the utterly fantastic “The Rat” to the mood-oriented and rhythmless “Hang On, Siobhan.” The fact that they seamlessly fluctuate between sweat and sweetness is impressive. After all, can you say that for their colleagues in the Strokes?

Nay.

The only problem encountered with the different types of songs is that the fluidity of the album is compromised. Twice the listener’s heart rate is brought up only to be suddenly cut off in heart-wrenching laments. Of course, this is only a minor problem in the long run, because individually the songs stand up separate from the whole.

The more and more I think about it, the Walkmen don’t really sound like they should be related to that god-forsaken/holy place that is known as New York City. Their sound is too natural, too dreamy. There’s an environment that lives in this record and it’s not the high rise, fashionista life of the East Village, but the snowy, cold winters experienced all along the eastern seaboard, looking from the inside out. While the Strokes can and will always have New York pegged with Room on Fire, the rest of America can embrace Bows and Arrows as the soundtrack to the East Coast’s muffled landscape of winter.