Bits For Rent

Just two months and ten days into the calendar year, I can already say that 2010 is looking to be the next 2008 in terms of killer music releases. The amount of quality releases so far has been nothing short of astonishing, and the prospect for the next four months alone looks good enough to make a top 10 list for the whole year out of it. So I thought I’d use some spare time during an unseasonably chilly afternoon here in Barcelona to jot down a few thoughts on some of the music that I’ve been listening to, and why maybe you should be joining me in doing so. There is no chronological order to this, but it will follow a sort of earliest-to-latest progression in terms of when I started listening to it. Anyway, let’s get down to the brass tacks.

5. Vampire Weekend – Contra

Before you read anything I have to say about this, if you have heard Vampire Weekend before, you have already formed some sort of opinion on this album. There are, as I see it, two categories of Vampire Weekend fans. First are those who enjoy the band’s first eponymous album, but found that it too often delved into quirky, unfamiliar territory. Second are those that lapped the album up, start to finish, with nary a complaint and would happily stand in line a la Oliver Twist to say, “Please, sir, may I have some more?” Well… maybe they would complain about “One (Blake’s Got a New Face)” because that song can reach all new levels of sonic horror, but that would be forgiven. The point is, if you’re one of those fans that falls into the second category, this album is for you. Everyone else, newcomers included, might be better off listening to the first album some more before switching over, or sticking with the band’s syrupy-sweet singles from the new LP, such as the fantastic “Giving Up the Gun”.

Given that I’ve already blabbered a bunch without saying anything substantive, let me be a bit more terse here, Hemingway-style. This album is really freaking good. (Did Hemingway use “freaking”?) It’s a pureed delight of pop sensibilities like only VW (the band, not the car company) can deliver. The album starts off with the dreamy, chime-based nostalgia-stirrer “Horchata,” which is subject to frequent harmonies break-downs and funk-outs. The “Oohs” spiral down as the chimes and drums and other instruments which have been lying dormant during the verses come to life, and suddenly there’s a whole new sonic landscape unfolding before you. Truly, a beautiful and telling way to open the album. What follows is, for the most part, no less brilliant. The following song, “White Sky,” takes us back to familiar Vamp territory, with a percussive rhythm and pitchy falsettos from frontman Ezra Koenig that would have been completely at home nestled between “M79″ and “Campus”. The trend continues, ad nauseam: “Holiday” packs that island-style steel drum backing that has, for reasons I cannot decipher, always made me want to compare the band to Fine Young Cannibals. Don’t ask me why. “Taxi Cab” has a wonderful hand-clap and piano background behind a rather understated vocal (for Ezra, that is, though the lyrics are just as sweater-vested as ever), and “Run” is something equally traditional. What is interesting is how the album places its higher tempo songs, “California English” (try to decipher the lyrics on your own… it’s near impossible thanks to the rapid fire delivery and use of auto-tune) and “Cousins” at roughly the 1/3 and 2/3 marks for the album, almost tri-secting it. Interesting, because the album certainly hits the brakes when it gets to its two closers, “Diplomat’s Son” and “I Think Ur a Contra”. Overall my two least favorite tracks, the pop and carefree sugar rush that brought us through 8 tracks suddenly fizzles out — like any true sugar rush, I suppose — and we’re left with the somber, serious Vampire Weekend. This is not the Vampire Weekend I want, nor do I think it’s the VW that most fans want. And yet, I suppose we must let the artist have their way. Hey, at least they put these two at the end, where they are least likely to be heard.

Overall, a very solid sophomore effort, and one that I have played many, many times since its release.

4. Yeasayer – Odd Blood

To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure that I have listened to this, Yeasayer’s second album, for long enough to have formed a valid and fully justifiable position on it. However, I will recommend this album for one reason, and that reason is track two: “Ambling Alp”. This song combines two very awesome things: a bass guitar effect pedal that turns the bass into this warbling, flute-like main instrument for the whole song, and also, it’s a song that is loosely structured around boxing. What more do you need? A video? Ok, here’s one of that song plus “Tightrope,” which is an even better (!!!) song by the same band that they contributed to the Dark Was The Night album. Granted, the audio quality isn’t stellar on that clip, but at least it’ll send you to YouTube where you can get the job done right. That album, featuring the likes of The National, Grizzly Bear, and The Decemberists, is also very freaking good. Are you noticing a trend yet?

Anyway, the reason I say that I cannot give a completely honest and straightforward opinion on this album is that I haven’t listened to the entire thing as a whole enough times to really get a grip on what it is this band is trying to do. I’ve learned the following: they do pretty solid harmonies, the lead singer’s voice has a crapload of charisma behind it, and they use a great good deal of effects in their sonic spectrum, giving them anything from ’80s-era drum kits to the aforementioned awesome bass-warbling. The result is something like Bowie’s psychedelic pop-funk, only much more modern and probably more synth heavy overall. I can say that not every track is a winner, but there’s a handful on here, like “O.N.E.” and “Rome” that continue to keep me entertained. Overall, the first half of the album is definitely the better, so I’d suggest looking into that first. And, of course, “Tightrope,” which should be mandatory listening at this point.

3. The XX – xx

What, this album released last year? Quiet, you. This makes it on to my 2010 list because it wasn’t until just a few weeks ago that I ever heard of anything by the XX. After that first blush, though, I knew I needed to hear their whole album. This is how you do minimalism right, folks. You’ve got four band members, two of whom I believe only work drum kits and synth machines. Well, after a quick Google, apparently the keyboardist left from exhaustion, so it’s a trio. Anyway. The others are guitarist Romy Croft and bassist Oliver Sim. The latter contributes a bit under half of the vocals on the album and frequently harmonizes on the choruses, but his contributions — a low, slightly-lisping tenor — pale in comparison to Croft’s, who sounds like some pillow-talking seductress no matter what it is that’s coming out of her mouth. Now, as many people know, I am not by any means a fan of female vocalists. I shirk them whenever possible. But the XX have such beautifully arranged songs, and the tag-team dynamic of the lyrics makes that typical impasse little more than a slight bump in the road. Really, I can’t stress how impressed I was by this band, who came out of nowhere for me and have instantly hit my daily rotation on the commutes to and from classes. The best thing I can suggest is to watch this two-song set at Pitchfork.tv and determine for yourself if you’re interested. Otherwise, this is just going to turn into me delivering the text equivalent of foaming-at-the-mouth blabber over how good this band is. Best tracks: “Basic Space,” “Night Space,” “VCR,” and “Islands”.

2. Spoon – Transference

Predictable, right? A Spoon album makes it on my top 5 list. But wait! This one really is pretty awesome! I pr— okay whatever, you probably stopped reading after the first paragraph anyway.

Ahem.

This really is a unique Spoon album, even though it is in many ways a very by-the-numbers Spoon album. Allow me to explain. First, the similarities. This still, sonically, is the same band. They are still led by catchy, short, three or four chord guitar riffs and a Dum-Ba-Ba Dum-Dum-Dum-Ba drum line. The lyrics range from shoegaze stream-of-consciousness to exclamatory revelations (“I Saw The Light”) to a lover’s soulful moping (“Goodnight Laura”). There’s also the Spoon that the masses have fallen in love with after Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, the band who had everyone cheering to “The Underdog” and “Don’t Make Me a Target.” You’ll find your Spoon as consistently gruff and coolly settled in its style of rock’n'roll as you ever will. “Got Nuffin” and “Written in Reverse” are two such examples, although many of the tracks here could easily withstand such a comparison. The point is, simply, that this is the New Spoon, same as the Old Spoon. Or is it?

You see, there’s also a hidden layer to this album that doesn’t seem to be getting as much attention in album reviews as it should, and when it does it’s usually a passing mention. But what Spoon wants you to know, and what I want you to know, is that this is a raw album. About half the songs presented here have had very little clean-up done to them, and quite a few of them end abruptly, as if singer Britt Daniels and drummer Brian Eno sat down after recording to produce and just decided to flip a switch when they got bored with the songs. The track lengths will often mimic that feeling of hurriedness or urgency. Most of the songs are under 4 minutes in length, and those that extend are jaunty affairs with heady concepts (“The Mystery Zone“) or receive the chop-and-stop treatment. Overall, though, the raw, unfiltered sound of the band, after the smooth and heavily produced last outing (see: “The Underdog”), is a welcome reprise. The cuts are sudden but never shocking, and the next track kicks into business before you can even question the artistic motivation behind purposefully producing an album in a way that many could mistake for a rough cut or demo leak.

In the end, though, none of that really matters. This is Spoon, after all. If you’ve heard the band before and enjoyed what they do, then you’re probably going to really like this. Casual fan of Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga? I think there’s plenty here for you to like. Really, it’s such a solid, quick, and relatively light rock affair that it almost behooves you to sample it. So, get to it already.

1. Gorillaz – Plastic Beach

If you didn’t expect Spoon, then I hope you sure as hell saw this. Released yesterday but having been available online via NPR’s website since last wednesday, the latest Gorillaz album is nothing short of an aural triumph. Is it better than Demon Days? That’s too early to say. It does not have a “White Light,” but it does have “Glitter Freeze,” which is just as easily skippable. Frankly, though, Demon Days has been such a seminal album for me that it will almost impossible for me to love anything Damon Albarn does more than that record, whether he records new material as Blur, The Good, The Bad, & The Queen, Gorillaz, or something else. “El Manana,” “Every Planet We Reach Is Dead,” “DARE,” Feel Good, Inc.” … the list is just too long. So let’s hold off on comparisons and talk about Plastic Beach on its own, which is what it deserves.

The first thing you will realize is that this album follows a very similar format to Demon Days (d’oh!). Both start with a mood-setting intro that is almost devoid of spoken word. In the latter’s case, we were given a dark, foreboding warm-up that hinted at the coming themes of child desensitization, war, death, exploitation of natural resources, and drug usage. Here, the music is light, airy, but somehow still disquieting. Perhaps because it is rather quiet. There’s something in that lack of a first punch, that soft massage when you’re expecting a blow to the ribs, that is so profoundly effective. Even the second track, “Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach,” is disarming. Here we have Snoop Dogg sounding very unlike Snoop Dogg: relaxed, controlled, and definitely toned-down. Perhaps he was taking the beach theme a bit too far while recording? But then we get to the third track, and suddenly Gorillaz’s third outing starts to show signs of life.

“White Flag” isn’t a great Gorillaz track, but the verbal back-and-forth between the guest emcees is certainly engaging enough, and the island sound influencing the beat keeps us on that holiday track. Which is why I so very much love how the album suddenly kicks its own ass and gives us all the Gorillaz track we were waiting four songs to get to: “Rhinestone Eyes.” Wow. What can you say about this song without the other person having heard it? It would be like describing a painting by Picasso without someone ever having seen Cubism before. All I can say is that the track is exactly what you would expect from Damon Albarn in his post-Think Tank era, building on the piano-rich and synthesizer-heavy style heard in TGTB&TQ and Demon Days. It is a beautiful track, and surely to become a fan favorite.

The two singles on the album are then wedged in next to one another, and could not be more divergent. “Stylo” is an out of control Bobby Womack-voiced soulfest about the electrical power of love (Mos Def and Albarn contribute a few lines to open and close the song as well). It is nothing at all like the saturday morning cartoon commercial that is “Superfast Jellyfish,” a new De La Soul track that is about as sugary and the food it starts out describing. It is incredibly catchy, but both feel a bit out of place. One, too heavy and disco, the other, too poppy and zany. In the context of the album, they are ripples in what is otherwise (almost) a glassy-still pond. The other exception? “Glitter Freeze,” as previously mentioned.

The rest of the album flows so well, in fact, that I’ve found myself simply starting my listening at “Empire Ants” and continuing on from there, full ahead (save for one skip). There is so much depth and beauty in these songs… “On Melacholy Hill” is an early favorite for best track, but “Plastic Beach” has some heavy-synth ’80s power pop going that is as infectious as, well, something you probably don’t want to catch. Only this one you do. It also features Mick Jones and Paul Simonon on guitar and bass, so… yeah, it’s pretty effing fantastic. And there are so many other great listens here, “To Binge” and “Cloud of Unknowing” especially, that continue to grow and grow and endear themselves each time you hear them. Whereas Demon Days approached its subject matter with an air of morbid fatality and “too little, too late” warning calls, Plastic Beach uses its serene setting and lighter motifs to ease up on the guilt trip without dialing back the message. These are still songs that hit hard at consumerism and disposability. Almost all mention some sort of recyclable (predominately the titular plastic), waste, or loss. Even songs that mostly seem to be about a lover’s want are somehow a metaphor for our overreaching hunger for wasteful production. I won’t beat you over the head with the message: it’s there if you want it, and if you don’t, just enjoy the music for what it is — another brilliant Gorillaz album.

I love this CD, and it will probably finish in my top 5 this year. That is, assuming the competition doesn’t escalate too much… Which could be tricky, considering what is still to come.

Coming Later This Year: A LOT of Great New Albums

1. Band of Horses – Infinite Arms
2. Caribou – Swim (Single: Odessa)
3. The National – High Violet
4. LCD Soundsystem
5. The Hold Steady
6. Interpol
7. Thom Yorke/Radiohead Project
8. Broken Social Scene (I think)
9. Lupe Fiasco – Lasers (OMG A RAPPER! Yeah, a rapper. Deal.)
10. The New Pornographers – Together

And albums already out i haven’t mentioned, such as those by Joana Newsom, Four Tet, Animal Collective, etc. I haven’t mentioned them because I refuse to believe, based on what I’ve from each artist, that they are as good as the hype that surrounds them. Well… Four Tet isn’t that hyped, but definitely not buying it for the other two. But, hey, it’s only March. They may make a believer out of me yet.

And so that last sentence left me at 2,800 words. What do YOU have to say about the music you’ve been listening to lately? What are you looking forward to? I’d love to know.

In a perfect world, this essay would cover solely ‘90s music, as my last retrospective was intended to be my first and only reflection on the 1980s. But, like so many things in the world, you really just can’t ignore 10 years of music evolution. Particularly because so much of the music that came out of the early ‘90s was a reaction to the previous decade—much like the arena rock and punk of the ‘80s were two very different types of reactions to the 1970s (the former building on the showmanship and sensationalism and the latter tearing the music back down to its dirty, parents-be-warned roots). So as I begin my diatribe on the musical movements of the ‘90s, I find myself once again surprised to find that, yes, there was music made in the ‘80s that I can enjoy.

Hip-hop, for one, owes a lot to its genesis in the very late ‘70s and early ‘80s. It was a revolution for music in many ways, but three factors stand out to me the most. One, it was almost exclusively the domain of lyrical performers. There are very few bands in hip-hop (The Roots perhaps being the most famous), and even if the group should choose to play its own instruments, the focus remains first and foremost on the lyricism and not the melody behind it. Sure, you can easily argue that there have been plenty of pop artists in past decades that only sang and did not have to play instruments to be famous, but the style of delivery in hip-hop—rapping as opposed to singing—completely changes the nature of performer. It was no longer a matter of whether or not you had a good voice; it was only a matter of whether or not what you were saying resonated with the listener as it flowed over the beat. The connection had to be more personal (note: I’m referring to early/actual hip-hop and not “rap”, which is first and foremost beat-oriented and usually contains garbage for lyrics). Two, it marked the first real rise in African-American culture. We had seen a few black stars in music prior to the introduction of hip-hop (Chuck Berry, Jimi Hendrix, Little Richard), but the music they played was always within the realms of either a predominantly white medium, or a variation on the blues. Hip-hop was the first time since the ‘50s really that black music broke new ground. After establishing rock and roll and having it been adopted by the mainstream, hip-hop was the voice of a new generation of African-Americans, and one that was and is almost impenetrable by any other culture. Finally, and most importantly, hip-hop was the first real alternative to rock and roll the country had seen in over two decades, when Motown and folk music had seen the end of their heyday. Amazingly enough, in many urban locations it has now even surpassed rock as the mainstream music of choice (more so if you lump in R&B and rap, which have merged more and more together of late). For all of these reasons, and without even going into detail on the rise of gangsta rap and crime rap in the early ‘90s, it is plain to see why there is still one more thing we have to thank the ‘80s for—in marked a major shift in our musical and cultural evolution.

Let’s switch gears for a second though. It’s easy to slog on and on about how great hip-hop is or how rap changed everything, but why am I so keen on doing so? For most of my life, and even more now in my college years, I’ve listened more to rock than I have to rap (rap music being terrible lately doesn’t help matters). But in my adolescence, hip-hop grabbed a hold of me and there was hardly anything in my CD player or, later, iPod that wasn’t rap in some form or another. Something about the style of music, whether it’s the gritty subject matter, the fact that parents still hated it in the ‘90s, or maybe just the fact that you have never heard that style of vocal delivery before, seems to really click with Americans in that 13-18 age bracket. I was certainly no exception. In fact, I loved going on my music-stealing service of choice and finding new artists and old artists and hearing the evolution of the genre. Of course there was the west coast rap, the southern rap, and whatever happened to be big at the time, but I also got to hear amazing groups and rappers like Mos Def, A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, and Talib Kweli – rap that may have once been popular but was past its time or that was underground and received no radio play. It was incredibly insightful and opened me up to a world that, as white kid in private school in a predominately white town, I would never have known about otherwise.

I suppose that rock works the same way nowadays. There’s just as much terrible pop music on the radio now as there was in the ‘90s, we just traded Ace of Base for the Jonas Brothers (shudder) and Mariah Carey for Miley Cyrus (though Mariah’s got a revival going on right now). Discerning listeners are still going to be able to sift through the music and find music that suits their own tastes. Which brings me again to that wonderful part about living in the ‘90s—the Internet. For good or ill, being able to get a hold of music online has been critical in the growth of the music industry. Bands can now afford to stay indie and underground for years and years thanks to vast networks of fans spreading across the country. Before technology gave us this wonderful power, artists lived or died by two things: word of mouth and their label’s marketing efforts. If you didn’t have people going around raving about you, and you weren’t getting airtime, the future was not bright for you. Now, we have Pandora, Last.fm, Grooveshark, iTunes’ Genius recommendation engine, and a host of other resources that look at music you like and find you more of it. It’s an incredible thing to behold, but it makes me wonder about something: if we’re all plugged in to our own separate sounds, how will musical movements pan out in the future?

Let’s look at grunge music, for instance. Here you have a sound that originated primarily in Seattle as a reaction to the general mediocrity and boring materialism of the ‘80s, and with its rise we had the birth of the melancholic and rebellious 1990s. Combined with alternative music, grunge was setting the tone for a new “new wave” – one taking the ideas of punk and melding it with the counter-culture sentimentality to create what would be in effect a brand new style of mainstream music. But could you imagine that tonal shift happening now? The rap/R&B scene has been relatively the same for the past few years (though there is a noticeable rise in the use of auto-tune), and pop music burnt out after the boy band/girl band crush only to be replaced by Radio Disney. Is there ever going to be another disaffected generation if all the disaffected are just downloading My Chemical Romance off iTunes? It’s a question that worries me, because for so long music and culture have gone hand in hand with one another. I look at my grade school days and I think of the kids who liked Green Day and NOFX and Soundgarden. They were listening to those bands because they knew that if you wanted to seem like the rebel or the “cool” kid that was the type of music that would get you the wary eye from the teachers. But now, is there any chance of that kind of one-to-one relationship?

Honestly, I wouldn’t even know. I am more than guilty of being plugged in to my own musical world, and have been proud of my isolation from the noise for the past four or five years. Maybe the same technologies that refer us music we like are also referring us music that is part of some larger movement. It’s hard to tell, especially since MTV doesn’t cover music and I don’t have TRL to tell me what’s hot and what’s not, but perhaps we have to leave it to the artists to tell us where our culture is heading. Take Bon Jovi, who went from ‘80s mega stars to being relatively quite in the ‘90s to having a huge resurgence in 2000 with “It’s My Life” to making a country record. Country is the undying bastion of music, and I think only country and Christian rock are genres in which sales can pretty much be guaranteed. But then there’s also Metallica, which went from the height of thrash metal to being America’s favorite metal band to being an alternative band for dads to something that is trying to return back to its glorious former metal days. Or Green Day, a band that used to get a ton of hate for their unconventional sound that released an anti-Bush album and blew everyone out of the water.

Perhaps music is, and always will be, inescapably a product of our culture. Maybe we’re just swept up in the changing tides without even knowing it anymore. Like I said before, I don’t really have the answer, but I do know one thing for certain: regardless of whether or not we see another genre born or another shift in mainstream sound, music is still evolving; it always has been and will continue to do so for as long as humankind exists. So as I leave this class and graduate this semester, I look forward to watching, and hearing, what comes next. I just hope it’s not ‘80s cover songs.

One of my favorite sayings goes something like this: “I may have been born in the ‘80s, but that doesn’t mean I’m proud of it.” To me, the ‘80s are a time where American culture found itself carried away with excess and glamour; people worried more about the pomp and circumstance than they did about pressing issues. Maybe it was the bad economy. Maybe they were just tired of the feel-good ;70s. Whatever the reason, the big hair, power ballad ‘80s are a time very much unto their own. With all that preening and posing, it’s easy to see why the grunge movement took off in the early ‘90s – people got fed up with all the synths and electronic drum kits and commercialism and wanted to make something as raw and emotional as they could. But that’s a topic for a different paper.

Truth is, ‘80s music is not as utterly wretched as I or some others might lead you to believe. Certainly this class has shown us that there was a lot to enjoy about the ‘80s, at least when you’re comparing the music of the decade among itself. For instance, singer-songwriters did manage to stay above the rising tide of pop music for the better part of the early ‘80s, with bands such as Dire Straits and artists such as Bruce Springsteen building on their work in the 1970s to produce some truly significant albums. Born in the USA is, after all, one of the top selling records/CDs in the world, and Dire Straits was able to cleverly weave pop culture allusions (“I want my MTV”) into matter-of-fact anti-consumerist, anti-commercialism lyrics (too provocative to quote) with their hit “Money For Nothing”. Plus, some of the big stars were pretty good too.

It goes without saying that Michael Jackson, Madonna and Prince have had an enormous influence on the world of music as well as the evolution of pop culture over the past twenty five years. Jackson made music about so much more than just the words and the rhythm – he turned it into a visual, physical, and auditory art form, gracing each part with a touch of his unmistakable genius. Off the stage, he has since provided us with dozens of “Wacko Jacko” antics, fueling countless water cooler discussions and serving as a great example for rising pop stars of what not to become. Still, dangling babies and questionable conduct towards children aside, we can’t help but have a soft spot for the King of Pop. May he someday find his senses.

Madonna and Prince are another story, however. While it’s certainly possible that Madonna may now be just as criminally insane as MJ, I have to say I was never a fan of her music. This is most likely because I have an older sister who has been obsessed with Madonna since I was old enough to know what music was, but I like to think it has more to do with the fact that I am just a very discerning listener. Either way, I got my sister back by blasting the soundtracks to Ghostbusters II and Batman, both movies nearly as old as me that I watched religiously as a young boy (ghosts and Batman, come on). So I guess that means that I couldn’t hate ‘80s music as much as I might think I do. Then again, I had no idea that almost every song in Batman was by Prince until maybe middle school, so I can’t say I was much of a music “gormandizer” at that point.

Now that I have that knowledge, though, I can safely say that Prince was a pretty awesome guy. “When Doves Cry” is perhaps one of the best pure pop songs to come out of the ‘80s, and if it wasn’t for Prince the world might never have been introduced to Carmen Electra – hard to imagine, I know. All in all, a pretty awesome guy that unfortunately couldn’t escape the ‘80s pop artist mid-life crisis curse. To recap, the victims known to have suffered this curse are: Michael Jackson, who after the mid-‘90s found himself falling apart, mentally and physically; Madonna, who turned into some sort of techno-Kabala groupie around the year 2000 and has since gone on to help destroy Major League Baseball, one love affair at a time; and Prince, who decide to turn himself into “The Artist,” aka “weird sex icon thing,” and make mediocre music for about ten years. He’s been on the mend since his millennium celebration concert, though, so I hope we can see the same from some other successful groups that I liked.

The Police, as one such example, rallied together to perform once more as a trio just last year, and word is that the concert tour was a big success. For a band that helped to bring reggae mainstream and had some absolutely killer albums in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, I think that’s absolutely terrific. Very few bands are able to pull off, as we called it in the first part of this class, “the second act”. The Police are poised to do just that, and I’m looking forward to it. Personally, I always though Sting was a bit of a weird guy – and he played a pretty nutty sadist mercenary in that old sci-fi movie Dune – but my Dad listened to him and the Police a lot around the house so I guess I have a bit of a soft spot for him. I’m just glad that I can look back on one of those groups I was sort-of forced to listen to as a child and say, “Oh, the Police, I really like what they did on Reggatta de Blanc and Synchronicity. I hope they get back into the studio soon.”

Unlike a lot of ‘70s bands (I guess the Police are a ‘70s band, technically), I didn’t listen to much of the music from the ’80s and retain what I was hearing. Bands like Eagles and Led Zeppelin really stood out to me and made me want to spend my hard-earned allowance on their greatest hits collections, but I think the only ‘80s record I bought as a kid was Genesis’ self-titled album. (For the record, I will state that I think Phil Collins was a good musician back in the day. I’m just not sure I’m ready to add him to my iTunes yet.) I laugh about it now, but since my exposure to the old decades were mostly what I heard on the radio – Whitney Houston, Genesis, Steve Winwood, Madonna… what you’d expect from easy-listening stations – and computers were not yet advanced enough to allow me to browse through online music catalogs to find my own personal taste, I was pretty short on options.

And that gives me pause. One thing I’ll be envious of the next generation of music listeners for having is the utter ease with which they will be able to find new music. I personally didn’t seriously start defining my own taste until after the rise of the MP3, and even then I was reading Rolling Stone and half a dozen music websites just to try and track down artists similar to those I knew I liked. Now, I can just select a song in iTunes, and the Genius sidebar in the program will give me 20 or so suggestions. My greatest hope for the Millennials is that they have the good sense to opt not to listen to the pre-packaged Disney schlock being hurled at them from all directions and instead seek out their own favorite artists and groups. At least, after this class, I could tell them that, hey, the ‘80s aren’t such a bad place to start. Because if it weren’t for the ‘80s, with all those synths and electronic beats, Radiohead might not have delved into electronica to make OK Computer, Blur wouldn’t have made albums like Parklife or Modern Life is Rubbish, Trent Reznor may have had nothing to rebel against, and we would never have been able to roll our eyes today at those ‘80s holdovers like Ace of Base and Savage Garden. Does that sound like a life worth living?

The Hazards of Love is the latest album from the indie rock group The Decemberists, and much like their previous efforts it features an incredibly dense and interweaving narrative that spans the length of the entire CD. Whereas in the past the band’s use of this format has been limited to brief, three or four song compositions — or even the singular long-form song, such as “The Bagman’s Gambit” — Hazards strikes new ground by literally enveloping the entire album with this singular theme of love and its consequences. This is no Crane Wife or Tain; it’s probably closer to “Crane Wife”, “O Valencia!”, “A Cautionary Tale”, and a dash of others all blended up and wrapped into on incredibly mesmerizing concept album. Beginning with this post, I will attempt to summarize the stories this album tells. I hope that reading them will encourage you to listen to this CD, or — if you already have the CD — grant you a new, clearer perspective of what these titular “hazards” are. We begin, appropriately, with marriage.

The Rake’s Song

This is perhaps one of the foulest, most filthy songs you will ever hear — and you probably would never know that if you were only a casual listener or just playing the record through as background music while you browse Facebook. The story told here goes a bit like this: a young man, aged 21, decides to get married as a way to satisfy his carnal desires without resorting to lewd or sinful acts (use your imagination). Unfortunately, he picks the wrong kind of woman as his wife (is that sexist?), and before he knows which way is up, she’s popping out kids one after another. Their names are Eziah (Isiah), Charlotte, Dawn, and the stillborn Myfanwy. The last child unfortunately (or mercifully, according to the narrator) kills the mother in childbirth, leaving this young, fiery, lustful man to raise three children. Only he doesn’t want the baggage.

What follows is a morose and macabre list of how the narrator perpetrates the murder of each of his children. Charlotte, he kills with a dose of foxglove. Dawn, he drowns in a bath. Isiah, he fights and kills in a struggle, burning the boy’s body out of anger and most likely a sense of self-abhorrence. But then again, the chorus to the song is “All right, all right, all right!” Maybe remorse isn’t too high on this guy’s list.

The Hazards of Love III

This is perhaps the most clever of all of the songs on the album. After a brief return to the main storyline, we come back once more to the story of the Rake, and his poor, slain children. Each verse, sung by a children’s choir, is a cry of help from each of the children shortly before they perish. Of course, it is Isiah’s verse that is the most important, as it foreshadows (3/4 of the way through the album, lol) the story proper. The thing is, Papa decided to put the boy’s ashes in an urn and leave it in the forest.

Now, as any good ghost story will tell you, a soul that dies before its time or while fighting to stay alive is doomed to roam the earth. Hurm… what would the spirit of a vengeful boy want to do? We’ll find out soon enough.

The music of the 1970s consists of a collection of some of the most diverse and challenging rock and roll music recorded in perhaps all of the genre’s history. Whereas the ‘60s were a decade when rock first found a mainstream audience, the ‘70s were a time when rock began to stretch out and find new forms of expression— encompassing both classical styles as well as the latest in recording technology, such as synthesizers and electronic instruments. Whether it was the birth of heavy metal, the growth of the art/progressive rock movement, or the success of an idea as crazy as a rock opera, the ‘70s didn’t just open the door for new opportunities in rock and roll, it blew the whole wall down.
Granted, most of this progression began in the late ‘60s, with artists such as the Beatles and the Beach Boys creating dynamic and incredibly complex studio efforts in albums like Pet Sounds and Sgt. Pepper. This movement, which began with the artists themselves, sought to make the most out of what an album could be. By capitalizing on the freedom of the studio space and the ability to layer so many textures of sound over the traditional arrangement of vocals and instruments, rock music began to travel down several exciting new paths.
The first of those was almost a return to rock and roll’s roots – only much, much louder. You could say that it began in the 1960s with the Yardbirds, which included many of the ‘70s most prominent heavy rock group. But Led Zeppelin wasn’t merely carrying on the legacy of its past success; its tremendous success is evidence enough that this was not the case. Rather, Zeppelin took blues music and made it rock music. Much like how Elvis Presley could take a country song and make it R&B, Zeppelin could take a classic blues song and turn it into “When the Levee Breaks.”
Likewise, the Eagles did much of the same with their own enormously successful sound. Their early works, in particular the Desperado album, showed not only that could country music be harnessed to create massive pop classics, but also that there was a whole world of Americana and Western-tinged storytelling to be explored through the channels of music. These two bands, each self-contained, no-frills acts, represent the heart and height of rock music in the early-to-mid ‘70s. They relied on only the merit of their artists talents and inspirations, and carried the traditional “rock band” from its heyday in the ‘60s to, well, we’ll talk about the ‘80s another time. Either way, the ‘70s were more than just guitar, drums, and bass. There were breakthroughs to be made.
Onward and upward. By definition, these are the things we would associate with progress. In the 1970s, however, the term began to take on its own meaning. Progressive rock was a movement by the artists to bring more to rock and roll music – more sounds, more diversity, new subject matter, more exploration of the new technology. Like most of this decade’s musical styles, progressive/art rock began in the 1960s with the psychedelic movement. Relying on heavy guitar distortion and abstract lyricism, this style of music saw great success in the hands of groups such as Cream, Jefferson Airplane, and several other San Francisco acts. However, something special happened in the 1970s. Music was no longer about how to best express yourself to the listener in the form of a vinyl disc; it was about actually performing that music to the listener. And to accomplish that, the live show became an extraordinary affair.
Forgive the digression, but this is something that I feel has been mostly overlooked by this class, or at least never directly discussed. The artists of the ‘70s put on absolutely astounding shows. The technical level of production required for the light shows and synchronized fireworks displays alone are mind boggling. Heck, Pink Floyd could only do so many shows for its The Wall tour because the set cost too much! But it wasn’t just the progressive artists, such as Pink Floyd, Yes, and Genesis. Soul and funk music, largely African-American genres, had artists such as KC & the Sunshine Band and Earth, Wind, and Fire putting on just as extravagant, if not even more outrageous, performances. And then of course there is the world of heavy metal. If the antics of Ozzy Osbourne and Alice Cooper weren’t enough to get you fired up then, you must not have really been alive. Simply put, there was no better time to see a band live, particularly because there were so many great bands performing, than in the 1970s. Again, we’ll talk about the ‘80s another time.
Speaking of heavy metal, though, we find still more evidence to prove that the 1970s were some of the best years for rock and roll. Not since the ‘50s had the world seen the birth of a new major musical genre (doo-wop, soul, and psychedelic were all still heavily reliant on their forebears). Somehow, though, I don’t think that anyone had expected the next child to be Heavy Metal. Here we have a genre heavily influenced by the baroque and classical musical styles, often draped in layers of the demonic and morose, that just happens to conveniently be loud as all get-out. Perhaps not quite The Who loud, but, well, Rodney James Dio and Ozzy would probably care to argue about that. Even Led Zeppelin is often slotted into this category, though given their lyricism and musical inspirations, I would wager this is largely due to a combination of “Stairway to Heaven” and people being jealous of how awesome Jimmy Page is. Anyway, metal is a truly brilliant, beautiful thing to behold, even if you despise what it sounds like or what you may think the songs may or may not be about. In its infancy, Black Sabbath wasn’t much different from a group such as Fleetwood Mac. While the latter group chose to address its internal strife through its records, Sabbath chose to address the world’s strife through its songs. The result was an initial release of several great records, namely 1971’s Paranoid. Though the band was still “limited” (as some might argue) by Ozzy’s vocal abilities, the lyrics were dark, direct, and on-point. War-commentary (“War Pigs”) melted into social anxiety (“Paranoid”), and it became very clear very quickly that Heavy Metal was here to stay. As for the other acts we studied, such as Deep Purple, Thin Lizzy, and Judas Priest, all are equally commendable for exploring the genre and releasing some tremendous bodies of work, but Metal for the most part belonged to Sabbath in the ‘70s. The next decade may or may not be another story, however.
There was a whole lot more music in the ‘70s than what I was able to jot down in just a few pages—I almost feel remiss for not touching on Steely Dan and Billy Joel – but that just proves how explosive the decade was in terms of musical output. Forget what you thought of the ‘60s, that was all just Beach Boys, Beatles, and Motown by comparison. As America entered the decade of its 200th anniversary, the fountains of creativity both here and across the pond were overflowing with hit after hit after unbelievable hit. There was no “Dark Side” of the ‘70s, just Dark Side of the Moon, Hotel California, Paranoid, Tommy, The Stranger, Physical Graffitti, and so, so many other great LPs. On the other hand, I guess I may have forgotten about disco.

This has been a surprising year for music. I think it is, undoubtedly, the first time you could actually say that video games have had an influence on the genre beyond a passing mention in one of a billion lines sung or rapped by artists each and every year. Musicians and mainstream media have been conscious of video games for a long time. Ever since The Wizard came out and that kid from The Wonder Years used a Nintendo Power Glove to hack things and fight bad guys, it’s been hard to ignore how those inconspicuous consoles have solely taken over more and more of people’s free time. Heck, even in the ’70s people were messing with Pong and their Atari 2600s. The desire to enjoy games has always been there, it just took a little while for technology to catch up to demand.

Fast forward to 2008. Rock Band 2 is released for PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360, following up on the immense success of the original title. To date, well over 200 songs are available for the game through the game’s online store (each track costing $1.99 or $.99, with a few free tracks as well), and over 130 were released on the disc copies of Rock Bands 1 and 2. Guitar Hero, a more established music game series, also received a new edition this yes, entitled Guitar Hero World Tour, in response to the demand from consumers for more instruments (both games allow you to play guitar, bass, drums, or vocals) and more variety in the track selection. World Tour, however, took the competition to a new level by providing a complete set of music production tools on the game disc, allowing users to literally create their own recordings should they choose to do so. Perhaps more interestingly, though, is that the games are doing something that critics have scoffed about for years: they are encouraging kids to try playing real instruments.

Retail sales reports indicate that guitar sales have seen a significant spike this holiday season, as many fans of either game have decided to try their hand at the real deal and pick up a cheap electric guitar. Perhaps even more telling of the success these games have had at introducing the joy of music to a new audience is that Best Buy, most famous for being a category killer in electronics and boasting enormous CD catalogs in each of its stores, has begun opening departments in its stores that sell Fender guitars, full drum sets, keyboards, and a wide array of related products. Anecdotally, the new section in the store in Gainesville is almost always busy, with amateurs and even experienced musicians wailing away in the drum room or plucking a few chords out on the floor. I’ve yet to join in on the fun, but each time I visit the store I wander back to listen and watch as strangers put on a show for passers-by.

More importantly, though, may be the impact which Rock Band in particular has had on the music industry. The record business has struggled for years to find a way to be profitable amidst the waves of internet piracy and peer-to-peer file sharing, and has only just begun to come to terms with the iTunes method of doing business. The world of music listeners has turned into a strange, duel-headed beast: one the one side you have the rise of experimentation and curiosity that large hard drives, 120GB iPods, and easily found .zip and .torrent files that hold entire discographies rather than single tracks has brought about; on the other, you have the return to an era in which artists see success in releasing singles, not albums. A quick look at a CD on iTunes will show disproportionate amounts of downloads for one or two songs on a CD, showing just how easy it is for consumers to digest a $.99 purchase that they’ve heard (and can even sample right then and there) and know they like. In comparison, the business model in the ’90s was largely: get a catchy, fun pop song out that will generate interest and sell an otherwise mediocre if not poor LP. (Eminem famously released a kitschy, nonsense song as the first single for each of his four albums, a sly wink to fans who detest this industry practice.) However, technology soon made that method of business impractical, and soon record execs saw their profit margins dwindling.

With the advent of this new, interactive form of enjoying music, though, that trend is beginning to reverse. People have voted with their wallets, and the results show that we are, in fact, willing to pay for the music we want to listen to, as long as the value of the product matches the price. For under $2, in this case, you and three friends can get 3-5 minutes of enjoyment from a song that could be the latest single from your favorite band or a track from 40 years ago by a rock legend. Even obscure, niche, and indie tracks have been offered, expanding the palette of players and helping the fortunes of struggling or overlooked acts. But what’s most amazing is the effect Rock Band has had on classic rock groups.

In this year alone, three legendary bands have released their first album in many years. Motley Crue began the resurgence in April, when it released its latest album in stores and as a full download expansion for Rock Band. The version of the CD sold in the game’s online store actually outperformed the retail copy, and is only playable in the game! Next, AC/DC came out with Black Ice. To celebrate the album, they released a collection of songs recorded from their live performances over the years for Rock Band as a retail, disc-based expansion. The compilation, called the AC/DC Live Set, has sold very well. Finally, there’s Axl Rose. Axl has been promising to release a new Guns n’ Roses album for 14 years, and finally did so in November. The album, which required an army of studio guitarists to replace former member Slash and was recorded in 8 different studios, included its first single in Rock Band 2, titled Shackler’s Revenge. Based on the positive feedback, more songs from the CD, and perhaps some songs from the band’s heyday in the ’80s, will be available for gamers next year.

It’s almost as if being able to enjoy music in a new way has awakened the rock-loving part in all of us. Thanks to these games, we get to relive and even reimagine the classics in our own living rooms. And thanks to our love of what great music it is that we get to now be a part of, though we’re only playing with a couple of silly plastic instruments, long-slumbering musical giants have awoken to release some excellent new music in a very short span of time. Even better, the experience of playing along with a song you love has sparked a desire to actually truly be a part of the magic that is making music, with many young people adopting their first drum set, guitar, or keyboard. These are truly special times we are living in. With any luck, the fountains of creativity that are just now being tapped will, in five or ten years, be creating the next wave of Top Ten hits. But I think the most important message is this: we may not all be able to be Rock Gods, but music is a fundamental part of our day-to-day experiences. When we find a new way to shape and share those experiences, we do, for in the end it shapes us. Thanks to a few music-based video games, the way in which we experience life is being changed. The music that we love so dearly is being changed. We are being changed. And as we move forward, some new tool will be invented that changes everything all over again, as if we were snowflakes in a snow globe, constantly fluttering in motion, never allowed to truly settle. And these changes in our lives and in the songs we use to define our ever-changing selves, much like that precious snow globe, are a mesmerizing sight to behold.

This is it. This is the moment that Rock and Roll took over the world. This is the moment in which rockabilly and swing and country western got a major kick in the pants and the world fell in love with a quartet of mop-topped Brits. February 7, 1964. The day the Beatles arrived in America.

The Beatles weren’t a perfect band, but they were the best band and came around at the best time possible. Paul McCartney and John Lennon had a fantastic ability to write simple, poppy rock songs that soon blossomed into one of the most fruitful singer-songwriter collaborations the world of music would ever see–certainly the best the ’60s ever got out of just two people (if we consider Bob Dylan‘s work to be the best they ever got out of one person).

It all started off so simple: “Please Please Me,” “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” and “Love Me Do.” Three of their first major hits that took rock music back to the basics–your high school crush, the boy or girl of your dreams, and the youthful spirit of love. In the same way that Chuck Berry was the Pied Piper of the high school rebels and the greasers, the Beatles were the new Elvis, making excellent mainstream rock for a new generation of adolescents.

They were also the first “true” rock group to come around since Buddy Holly: the first foursome to sing, write, and play all of their own works. It wasn’t a new practice to do so, but in the ’60s it was becoming a recurring sign of a successful artist or group. The Beach Boys, the Beatles, Bob Dylan… if you weren’t in Motown, you weren’t a major recording artist unless you were truly a talented group. Maybe it had something to do with the times people were living in; certainly the Sixties would have given anyone plenty to write about, so why not write it as a song?

But the Beatles weren’t necessarily a part of the political/current event scene that Dylan so dominated, or the surf scene, or even the free love scene that came at the decade’s end. They were just writing their own unique series of hits, and no one could touch them. Even as they matured as a group and began to tackle more challenging material, moving from more bubblegum material to, say, any or all of Sgt. Pepper’s, they never really faltered. Sure, some of it wasn’t as good as the rest–Help! was as much a respite from the toils of touring for the band as it was a call for fresher material to write about–but a dwarf among giants is still a giant among men.

I think what the Beatles proved wasn’t just that great talent can see phenomenal success. They stood up and showed the world that, yes, rock music can be more. It can be a love song; it can be a catchy jingle with wafer-thin lyrics; it can be an allegory for drugs or sex; it can be an escape; it can be a destination; but, most importantly, they proved that it was and would continue to be the form of music that could be understood around the world, universally. Elvis put Rock on the map–the Beatles took the map and redrew it all from scratch.

It’s not just coincidence that four guys from Liverpool were able to become the most successful artists in the history of the world. They had the talent, they had the appreciation for the music that birthed the genre, and they couldn’t have been any more charming if they tried. The world may never see a group like the Beatles again, but we will forever be in their debt. They united a generation in a time when the world seemed to be falling apart, with songs about girls, love, and holding hands. And isn’t that what life’s always been about anyway?

So… Motown. The name brings to mind a few things: the 1960s, African-American vocal groups, dancing raisins, bubblegum pop songs… we’ve all heard Motown before and we all know whether or not we like it. Well, I think it’s fair to say that Motown, or at least one Motown artist, is almost universally loved. Sure, the songs are sugary and often rehash the same material over and over again, but the power of the talent behind each record is a force to be reckoned with. Motown, in a time when the Beatles were setting a new standard for rock and roll and Bob Dylan was bowling over the country with informed lyricism, was a musical powerhouse.

In class, we discussed how Phil Spector and the folks at the Brill Building, a sort of sweatshop for Atlantic Records, could crank out hit after hit without each one sounding like a me-too ploy for play time on the airwaves. The songs they were making during this time period were certifiably brilliant works of art. And as much as you can argue that it was the talent, the singer or group, that sold the country on these songs with its stirring renditions and charm and swagger, there is no doubt in my mind that the real genius of this era came from the songwriting teams. That was the case in Phil Spector’s studio, that was the case with the Beach Boys, and it was most certainly the case with Motown.

You have to hand it to Berry Gordy, the founder of Motown, though. He assembled a beautiful assembly line when he built his company, and staffed it with only the best of the best workers: Diana Ross, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, the Temptations, the Four Tops, Smokey Robinson… if they all recorded together instead of individually, you would have the ultimate definition of a “supergroup” on your hands. But as great as they were, it was the writing teams that made them stars.

In Hollywood, they say anyone with a pretty face could be the next big thing, whether they’ve got talent or not. Phil Spector even teamed up with an obscure Vegas lounge act to prove a similar point. Heck, Disney has an entire arm of its company tasked with finding talent, teaching them to act and sing, and milking the parents of young girls for everything they’ve got. If the talent behind the talent truly wasn’t the most important part of a production, how could the ploy work so well for so many and for so long?

Like I said before, Gordy was a smart guy. He put out hit after hit, group after group with a trio of excellent writing teams. And everyone ate it up–even today, we look back at Motown and can’t help but admire the quality of the product. That’s saying something. It says, sure, music may sometimes be a bunch of smoke and mirrors, but just because you don’t see or hear everyone involved in the production, just because the mixer or the cymbal player doesn’t get to be on the album cover or in the liner notes, is the experience and the enjoyment you receive from hearing the song diminished? Music is a powerful force, and it should not be the realm of a chosen few who can sing, dance, write, and produce a record all on their own. Motown was the proof that music needed to be informed by a much larger audience, just as Bob Dylan was the proof that music had a much larger role than just being something to dance to. Sometimes, it’s important to remember just how special music can be.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from this class, it’s that great musicians refuse to let themselves be pigeon-holed into a stereotype sound. Elvis blended styles early on in his career in an attempt to alter people’s perceptions of how a song must be categorized (is it R&B? Country? Pop?), or even if we should categorize it at all; Chuck Berry, despite his gimmicky guitar licks, was a prolific lyricist that could tell the story of a whole demographic in under four minutes; the Beach Boys refused to fade into obscurity even after falling out of favor in the late ’60s and saw a renaissance in their music and in themselves with the arrival of the ’70s; Bob Dylan went electric and practically shunned his whole fan base in the process, and never gave a straight answer to a reporter’s question because he refused to let anyone nail him down — a habit that grew to include bitter tongue lashings on the back end of his stunning rise to fame.

Just about anyone who’s ever been influential to music since the ’50s and has lived long enough to get that second wind has proven this formula to be true time and time again. Does it say something about the nature of these individuals, that they are progressive and ever-changing and evolving, or is it instead simply the nature of the beast — that is, to be a rock star means that you must adapt, react, and transform into more than just a “song and dance man?”

I’ve tried to apply the theory to modern musicians, and I’m beginning to believe that it may perhaps be more of the latter. I will admit that there are certainly some individuals and groups that can redefine themselves better than others (Radiohead and Beck, to name two), but the sheer number of groups who have altered their sound over the past two years alone is remarkable. Then again, most of the stuff I listen to is from smaller, less commercial acts, so perhaps this is something that only the “true” artist is able to achieve.

Anyway, examples: Arctic Monkeys have, in recent side projects and even on their last CD, Favorite Worst Nightmare, begun to accept that they are, in some ways, England’s second Beatles. The songs are still short little punk-pop numbers, but the lyrics are growing more personal and varied from the simple pop, ballad, alternative combo punch that most bands go for. Heck, the lead singer is even sporting a George Harrison-style mop-top.

Another example: Panic at the Disco!, a band I don’t even particularly care for much, went from a me-too Fallout Boy soundalike debut album to their latest record, which sounds like a mix of ’60s lounge music and some odes to transcendentalism. Maybe emo is just, uh, getting in touch with nature?

Bloc Party is also a huge fan of change. From their first CD, the punk funk Silent Alarm, they’ve gone from experimental prog-rock to complete Radiohead disciples. Their latest, Intimacy, sounds like the result of a week spent sitting in a dim room listening to nothing but Kid A and In Rainbows — the record was even released on their website before going to retail! If that mix sounds bad, though, don’t be fooled: there’s some truly brilliant stuff going on here. The album may be a bit hit-and-miss, but the fact that a band who’s been moderately successful is trying something so stark a contrast to the upbeat, funky style that made them famous is undeniably admirable.

It shows, more than anything, that there’s still a lot left to be done in the world of rock. It’s been about 60 years since it truly began, sure, but as the old saying goes, there’s still a few roads we haven’t traveled down yet.

It was a short week of rock and roll history with only two classes (bless you homecoming and the wondrous thrashing we heaped upon Kentucky), so I will respectfully keep my comments brief and filled with as few tangents as I can allow. I really would love to discuss Bob Dylan and Rock Band 2 and how influential the music of the era we are discussing in class right now is and has been for the past 40-50 years, but I think that’s a topic best saved for next week, when hopefully we will have fleshed out a bit more fully the awesomely twisted legacy of Mr. Dylan, his peers, and his controversies. But for now, something a little more current sounds pretty good to me.

I mentioned last week that I wanted to get a chance to listen to TV on the Radio‘s Dear Science more, and I did get a chance to do so, although not enough to form a full opinion. Some bands, I give them maybe five tracks before I’ve decided whether or not I like the albums. Others, such as Portishead or, more recently, Keane, I listen to as many times as I can before I’m willing to write them off. TV on the Radio falls into the latter category because, as was the case with Keane, I know that the band is full of talented musicians that have done some complicated, engrossing work in the past. In TV’s case, Return to Cookie Mountain was a mixed bag of a CD in my own opinion, but the album was honestly one of the most unique set of recordings I’ve heard in the past few years. It was very clear to me that the band was trying out a lot of things and not really sure what direction they were prepared to head in.

In the music world, when an artist or group releases an album that contains an overarching theme or employs the use of a persona, they call it a “concept” album. TV on the Radio did almost the exact opposite their last time out, offering the listener a musical equivalent of paint swatches — take your pick of what you think is best and enjoy them as they are. I titled this entry “Music, Tapas Style” because I aimed on being brief in my discussion of what I listened to; however, it’s actually quite appropriate doubling as a description for TV on the Radio, whether it be Cookie Mountain or Dear Science we’re discussing.

The trouble I have with Dear Science is that again the band seems incapable of maintaining any coherence among their songs. Now, an album in which all the songs sound similar is not necessarily a good thing — hello, pop artists! — but you should be able to define a band by the albums on which they express themselves. Consider it like an actual artist, a painter: they may have a “blue” period or a “shapes” period, but the works produced are able to be categorized as either A) belonging to that artist or B) belonging to that period in which the artist was producing said style of works. TV on the Radio’s problem is that they are really only able to be pinned down via method A. While Dear Science is an album that sounds different from its predecessor, the band hasn’t done enough to “put its mark” on the sound they’re creating. Perhaps something to aspire to in the future?