Radiohead - In Rainbows

Just when you thought you had reached the limit of human ingenuity, Radiohead proves you wrong again. Honestly, who’d have thought of releasing a new studio album completely on the internet, and letting the consumer decide the price? That enterprise flies in the face of a long history of capitalism and consumerism, and makes you (or me, at the very least) think, “They can’t do that! …Can they?” They can, they did, and they were hugely successful doing it. Mind you, “successful” is not the same thing as “$ucce$$ful.” I admit I got the new album In Rainbows the day it came out for £0. I imagine most people were like me, thinking that if the album could be had for nothing, why not? But success is not measured in money amounts, but in number of people who have heard, and like, your music. That’s a pretty revolutionary idea, and there’s no one better than Radiohead to give it a try.

In addition to being an innovative marketing scheme, In Rainbows is a thick and challenging album, as any Radiohead album is expected to be. It starts off with a distorted synthesizer percussion sound, the opening of the song “15 Step,” which has a 5/4 time signature. Indeed, odd beat numbers are not new to Radiohead; I’m still trying to figure out “Pyramid Song.” No, what makes this song unique is that it’s infused with an energy and optimism not heard from the band in a while. In comparison to the rest of Radiohead’s work, “15 Step” is downright gleeful. Then comes “Bodysnatchers,” where the energy becomes even more pronounced. They haven’t done music this caffeinated since “Electioneering” on OK Computer, and that was 10 years ago. Finally, Radiohead has connected with that youthful spirit that possessed them on Pablo Honey and (to a more measured degree) The Bends.

With “Nude,” “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” and “All I Need,” things slow down and get calmer. In general, the album floats between heavy and soft, balancing the two in such a way that you don’t even notice where one ends and the other begins. Not every song works, though, and at only 10 tracks, that’s costly. “Faust Arp” is really too short to make much of an impact. “House of Cards,” which is gentle and whispering, is also pretty bland. However, it’s worth noting that it starts off with the lyrics “I don’t want to be your friend / I just want to be your lover.” While this may seem like standard fare for any other band, this represents a completely new direction for Radiohead. Songs about actual human relationships?!? Surely you jest!

“Reckoner” is relentless and doomy, and “Jigsaw Falling Into Place” moves forward in a way that most of the album does not, refreshing you near the end. Closing the album is “Videotape,” which sounds straight out of the Kid A/Amnesiac sessions. It’s malleable, haunting, and kind of beautiful, in a very Radiohead way.

As always, In Rainbows takes a few listens to really gel. Except this time, I thought it was pretty good on my first listen, and by the 10^th listen, I realized it was almost genius. All other Radiohead albums are very good in an individual way, but this one is special because it covers all the bases, sounding like a beautiful amalgam of every album. It’s a unique animal among Radiohead’s discography, but I realize that every Radiohead album is unique, which only reinforces my statement about this being an amalgam. In Rainbows leaves me wondering where Radiohead can possibly go after this, but I do it with excitement. I can’t wait to see what brand new territory they’ll push themselves into next.

Prime Cuts:
Bodysnatchers
Jigsaw Falling Into Place
Nude
Reckoner

22 Rating: 18

NaNoWriMo

Just like last year, I plan to participate in National Novel Writer's Month. Because of that, I won't really have time to blog. Wish me luck, and I'll be back in December!

Jimmy Eat World - Chase This Light

Jimmy Eat World, the little band that could since the mid-90s, have trekked to areas their emo and punk rock contemporaries wouldn’t go. They’ve dared to evolve and grow when the rest of the emo world was reveling in their pain and suffering. Emo is, after all, the domain of the adolescent, and that description doesn’t fit Jimmy Eat World anymore. It hasn’t for a while. Unlike Dashboard Confessional and My Chemical Romance, they’re not trying to pretend they’re still sad, tortured and tormented.

JEW’s last album, Futures, was a near-perfect mix of intensity, softness, danger, and cosmic beauty. It was kind of an accident, sure, but I think anything that marvelously wonderful has to have a certain amount of “we weren’t aiming there, but okay” to it. Chase This Light seems to have gone back to the frenetic energy that made Bleed American so wildly successful. While the beauty of Futures was splendid, it’s probably good that it was left behind. An album as spectacular as Futures really can’t be duplicated. Something as simple as the straight-ahead approach of Bleed American can, though, and the band does a pretty good job with Chase This Light.

The album starts off with a bang with “Big Casino.” Though this is really the best song on here, it doesn’t feel as though JEW has spent their wad early. “Big Casino” features great and thoughtful lyrics, and an exciting beat that borders on nervous. Like I said, the measured and subtle tone of Futures is generally gone, though one can see it has been learned from. “Let It Happen” sounds a lot like the previous track, but not as hooky. In general, this album is more simple-minded and focused than previous efforts. “Carry You” and “Dizzy” slow the pace down just slightly, trading acoustic guitars for bombast, though they retain that insistent beat that permeates almost the whole record. The only slow and moody song on the record is “Gotta Be Somebody’s Blues,” which has an echoing undercurrent that lends it a sense of danger on the edge of your senses. This is a very nice break to an otherwise one-note record, and were it not there, that would get very old.

“Feeling Lucky” and “Electable (Give It Up)” are slight throwbacks to JEW’s early days, only a lot less sloppy. Many people have lamented that Jimmy Eat World has gotten more polished and professional, leaving behind the youthful exuberance of their past. The way I see it, with that youthful exuberance came sloppiness and mess. Yes, they played with fervor, but they played like total amateurs. I like this tighter, cleaner approach much better. Not only do they sound better, but the fervor isn’t gone at all. “Electable” proves that they can play with a glossy sheen and still kick out the jams like they used to. Producer Butch Vig (he produced two grunge classics, Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream and Nirvana’s Nevermind) definitely likes the glossy sheen, and uses it liberally.

“Here It Goes” seems a little too youthful, and comes off as immature. And “Firefight” is a good song, but demonstrates that JEW is a little afraid of branching out. Futures was treated with as much scorn as praise by critics (I honestly can’t imagine why…), so they’re obviously retreating a little. While that’s fine for now, I sincerely hope they go back to the melancholy exploration of Futures. As it stands, they seem to have taken a step back. Chase This Light is a bit of a let down after that excellent album, but I don’t think it would have been if it followed Bleed American; it’s a logical extension of it. Luckily, they were stepping from something great to something good, and it wasn’t a very big step down. Also luckily, Smashing Pumpkins have taught me that my favorite bands very often don’t live up to my expectations, and that’s okay.

Prime Cuts:
Big Casino
Gotta Be Somebody’s Blues
Feeling Lucky
Always Be

22 Rating: 13

They Might Be Giants - The Else

One of the biggest cults in current activity is that of They Might Be Giants. They have a fan club, a vibrant internet life including a wiki, and throngs of geeky college students, as well as seasoned music veterans, who absolutely adore them. Ever since I heard them, I’ve been hooked. Part of the secret to their success is their very close connection to their fans, and they’ve never let them down.

The Else is their first full-length adult album (they had two children’s albums before now, No! and Here Come the ABCs) in 3 years, and they’re clearly adapting to the times quite well. The Else enjoyed an iTunes-only release long before its CD release, letting a few people in on it, mostly avid fans who pay close attention. Indeed, this is not new to the band; their album Long Tall Weekend is only available online. More than just a novelty this time, the product is quality, too; The Else is one of their best.

At the start, it seems as though TMBG has acclimated to the norm enough that they can sound just like it. “I’m Impressed” is a driving, slightly techno rock song, which would fit in with songs you would hear on pop radio. “Take Out the Trash” is a straight-ahead rocker with a danceable beat, but no TMBG frills other than the vocals. So after the first two tracks, it leaves you wondering if They Might Be Giants have left silliness and quirkiness behind them. But then we have “Upside Down Frown,” which restores the listener’s faith in TMBG’s left-field aesthetic. This song, while nothing special in the scope of the band’s entire body of work, is a beautiful archetype of what makes TMBG them (I also very much appreciate the obscure Cream reference).

Even so, The Else is more straightforward and simplistic than their previous work. That’s not a bad thing, however. The Giants wear simplicity very well. Like John Henry and Factory Showroom, this is pretty muscular and hard-edged. It also deviates from the TMBG norm by having a standard amount of tracks (just 13). Many fans felt at first like they were being cheated out of something by not having lots of songs, but I actually like the Giants’ “quality over quantity” approach. Factory Showroom is a close cousin to The Else (both are 13 tracks, and both rock pretty hard), and that album had a very definite sense of album identity that other albums lacked. Most other TMBG albums were little more than collections of good songs. The Else has more cohesion, and gives a more complete feeling when it’s over. This is at the cost of track numbers, but I think it’s a more than fair trade.

“The Cap’m” features a fantastic groove, and demonstrates the uniqueness of TMBG’s lyrics. “With the Dark” is very cool with its genre-shifting, but there isn’t a lot in the song you can grab a hold of. It’s also the strangest choice for a debut single in… well, ever. Then there is “The Shadow Government,” another full-steam-ahead rocker. When I say this album rocks pretty hard, understand my meaning. It’s not particularly intense, but what intensity is there seems to go a long way. The Else is peppered generously with horns, and that only increases the classic rock and roll feel to the entire album. “Withered Hope” is another danceable tune, and probably the hardest-rocking on here, using the horns to the best degree.

Up until this point, The Else is satisfying only one aspect of the TMBG experience, and that’s musical excellence. The oddity aspect has been approached, but ultimately neglected. Well, the last 3 tracks have silliness in spades, and move the album to a nice middle-ground between classic rock and cartoon rock. By the ending track, “The Mesopotamians,” you are marveling at the long journey you didn’t know you were on between “I’m Impressed” and this. “The Mesopotamians” sounds like a theme song for a Josie and the Pussycats kind of show, only on a whole lot of cough medicine. Also, you can’t get the frickin’ song out of your head.

The Else is a strong effort from a strong band, one who has remained strong for 21 years. And like it should be, none of TMBG’s fans are surprised that they put out a great album; it’s par for the course. That seems like a very high standard to live up to, but They Might Be Giants do it without even seeming to try. Let’s hope they do for a long time after this.

Prime Cuts:
The Cap’m
Withered Hope
Take Out the Trash
The Mesopotamians

22 Rating: 15

James Blunt - All the Lost Souls

The first time I heard James Blunt, I heard him on the faceless medium that is radio, and I didn’t know his name was James. I swear to God, I thought he was a woman. And I thought he was one of those weepy, pathetic women at that. When I saw the video for “You’re Beautiful,” my jaw hit the floor. “You gotta be f***ing kidding me!” He wasn’t a weepy and pathetic woman at all… He was a weepy and pathetic MAN! The correct word for the experience is “cognitive dissonance.”

Needless to say, I don’t really respect James Blunt. Not allowing Weird Al to parody one of his songs (even though he did it anyway) really soured me on him. In my opinion, if Weird Al chooses you to aim his darts at, you should consider it an honor. At the very least, it means your record garnered the attention of a very musically savvy person. I sorta grew to like “You’re Beautiful,” if I imagine Ben Gibbard singing it instead. The idea of appreciating beauty just for the sake of it, without thinking what that beauty means as it applies to you, is very appealing to me. But as far as I’m concerned, James Blunt’s reason for existing ends there. Everything after that is unnecessary, and is in fact detrimental.

“Everything after” consists of his brand spankin’ new album called All the Lost Souls. The cover image of a photomosaic of James’s face seemed like an egotistical move, till I read that James actually requested that a photo of him NOT be used for the cover, and his art people played a little practical joke on him. “1973” is the first track and first single from All the Lost Souls, and it sounds like the rebirth of disco. As such, it’s one of those incredibly ugly babies, the ones their parents think is adorable. I can just see James Blunt getting his disco freak on to this song, complete with polyester pants and multi-colored lasers. Is this an image that makes anyone else want to vomit?

“One of the Brightest Stars” has a bit of a Paul McCartney chord progression going on, but I never really liked Paul all that much; I’m a John man myself. “I’ll Take Everything” is the closest James comes to his voice actually working in a song. The soft piano mixed with the insistent beat is kinda nice, and I appreciate the Holy Spirit reference in the lyrics. “Same Mistake” starts off with the “weepy and pathetic” thing in full force, but after a minute or so turns into a decent melody.

“Give Me Some Love” and “Annie” qualify for the Stuff I Wish the World Hadn’t Been Exposed To list. “Give Me Some Love” is a lame attempt at intensity, fraught with clumsy drug references. In “Annie,” he’s as crass as to ask “will you go down on me?” It’s an attempt at irony, but he doesn’t even try to sell it as such, so it just comes across as sleazy. “I Really Want You” is fairly catchy, but has an achingly stupid title and lyrical hook. “No matter what I say or do / the message isn’t getting though.” Oh, I think it is, James, and it’s time for it to stop.

A problem that the entire album has is that it’s boring. At the heart of it, it’s a lot of catchy hooks bloated into full songs until they’re hardly recognizable as what they were. There wasn’t much to work with at the beginning, so James just repeated himself and repeated himself, revealing his lack of originality. He’s completely a one-trick pony. Mind you, he’s not like Anberlin or Garbage, exploring a genre and mining it for all it’s worth. Rather than mining pop, as James Blunt has the opportunity to do here, he swings his mattock two or three times and says, “that’s good enough.” Well, it’s not good enough for me, and I hope the album sales say it’s not good enough for a lot of other people. I didn’t really expect ol’ Jimmy to deliver the goods, though. I’m surprised that castrated choir boy voice of his has carried him this far. Can we get to some good music, please?

Prime Cuts:
I’ll Take Everything

22 Rating: -12

Guster - Ganging Up On the Sun

For 16 years now, Guster has been one of the most consistently good bands of the decade-plus. They’ve also represented a friendly, home-grown, crunchy granola type of aesthetic; they could be neighbors knocking on your door to gift you with vegetables grown from their garden. They’ve carried that very early 90’s attitude into the new millennium, and no one questions it because they wear it so well. Even so, they have evolved in their own way, so that their sound is never boring, but always Guster.

2006 finds them with a new record, Ganging Up On the Sun, and continuing to evolve and get better at their craft. When they started, they used all hand drums (bongos, congas, and the like), and had no traditional drum kit to speak of. That tradition went out by their fourth album, Keep It Together, and I’m pretty sad to see it go. However, they started using the kit in such a way that I didn’t even notice until my third or fourth listen to that record. Ganging Up On the Sun basically picks up where Keep It Together left off, with a little more cynicism and darkness thrown into the mix. Darkness is not an unfamiliar thing for Guster; their first hit was “Airport Song,” one of the doomiest and most disconcerting tracks of the 90’s. On the average, however, Guster’s music falls into the category of “bright and hopeful” rather than “dark and depressing.” Even “Airport Song” wasn’t depressing. It just had this slightly evil undercurrent to it that made your skin crawl.

Ganging Up On the Sun starts off unlike most other records of this day and age. The typical pattern for other bands is to come storming out of the gates, but Guster chooses to sneak in while your asleep. “Lightning Rod” is a quiet and whispered intro, minor-keyed and troublesome. A good way to think about it is that “Lightning Rod” is like waking up to a soft alarm clock at 4 in the morning while the land is still dark, and the track that follows it, “Satellite,” is like getting in your car, still half-asleep, and driving down the highway just as the sun is coming up. “Satellite” starts off with a solo acoustic guitar, but eventually escalates to a point where you would be fully awake, being exciting and rollicking. “One Man Wrecking Machine” (a single), is basically a rehash of the Keep It Together track “Homecoming King” (not a single), though a first-person and much more cynical treatment. Both songs present a very bittersweet feeling to looking back at high school, and suggest there is a very fine line between reminiscing and living in the past.

“The New Underground” is about as intense as Guster gets, outshining even the Keep It Together track “Red Oyster Cult.” “C’mon” shows that life isn’t nearly as bad as Guster is making it seem. This song is bright, exciting, and invigorating, and gives the album a balance that serves it very well. If “C’mon” is the best on here, it’s seconded very closely by “Dear Valentine.” This appears to be what “C’mon” was balancing, as it’s a beautifully soft and melancholy song. “Hang On” closes the album competently, and says that the tough times are almost over with; that's a pretty comforting message.

Throughout their five albums, Guster has very few bad or even meh songs. They don’t have a plethora of great songs, either, but they’ve gone their entire career being consistently good, which is more that a lot of bands can hope for. It’s a little surprising, but Guster has quietly, calmly, and patiently built up one of the best discographies since their inception. Ganging Up On the Sun is not as good as Lost and Gone Forever or Keep It Together, but that just shows how great those records are. My message to everyone is this: if you're not into Guster, you should be.

Prime Cuts:
C’mon
Dear Valentine
Satellite
One Man Wrecking Machine

22 Rating: 14

Cake - Fashion Nugget

I first heard “The Distance” when I was in high school, shortly after it came out. I didn’t like it, mostly because it was a little more than my novice understanding of music could handle at that time. I liked my music loud, depressing, obvious, or some combination of those three. Cake is none of those things; Cake is cynical. But they pull off a neat trick in that they are cynical without being angry. Now that I’ve grown older (and maybe more cynical myself), I very much appreciate their snarky rejection of anything “cool” and their daring originality. In high school, I thought they were weird (the bad kind) because of their devil-may-care attitude with trends and current fashions. It tricked me, but I have since seen the light.

Fashion Nugget, and indeed all of Cake’s music, doesn’t have a reference point that would mean anything to its audience. Lounge music and Nancy Sinatra are the closest things I can think of, but even those hit the nail off-course. I mean, a funky and ironic cover of a disco/women’s lib classic sung by a man? How do you even begin to find derivatives of that? In the tradition of Frank Zappa, Cake takes forms of music and styles, mutates them like a team of mad scientists, puts them through a meat grinder, and tries to play the twisted and mangled remains. The thing that makes this good music instead of an experiment gone horribly wrong is that it works every time.

Well, okay, not every time. There are a few songs on Fashion Nugget that don’t really work. “Daria” has a bit too clumsy of a melody to be catchy. I wonder about this song’s connection to the MTV cartoon of the same name. I can appreciate what “Sad Songs and Waltzes” and “Stickshifts and Safetybelts” try to do, but I don’t really like the songs themselves. “It’s Coming Down” has a pleasing melody and guitar part, but I don’t like how the title is repeated over and over again. Other than that, though, it’s really just one deliciously snarky song after another. This album is a little darker and more pessimistic than others, but still has that off-kilter oddness that sets Cake apart in high gear.

“Frank Sinatra” is a smoky jazz tune that starts the album off beautifully, putting us into the right mode to expect the unexpected. Immediately after comes “The Distance,” which is a perfect example of Cake doing what they're best at: the beat. This song features a vicious one, as well as a powerful guitar riff that makes the song simply scream “single.” “Nugget” features the same monstrous and inescapable beat, and has an intensity and dance-ability about it that makes it one of the best on the album. Songs like “Open Book” and “Friend is a Four Letter Word” display a darkness and pessimism in the music, but the bouncy groove can fool you into not seeing it right away.

In a formalist sense, “I Will Survive” is another song with a strong beat and cool groove, perhaps with somewhat more obvious and less obtuse lyrics that every other Cake song. Compare it to the original, though. Back in disco’s heyday, Gloria Gaynor got famous and rich with this one song, as it became an anthem for woman empowerment. Almost 20 years later, Cake ignores its historical significance (and the fact that the 70’s version sounds terrible), and makes a whip-crackingly ironic statement. Doing the song at all was a really screwball idea that turned into one of the gutsiest moves the music world has ever seen.

Cake is an awesome band because they think of very unique things to do; nothing is out-of-bounds, and no idea is too moronic to work. They combine that "anything goes" energy with a flare for the dramatic and skill at musicianship to make up something more than the sum of its parts. Without question, they are one of the most fascinating bands making music today, and rank with the most intriguing bands of music history.

Prime Cuts:
The Distance
Nugget
Italian Leather Sofa
I Will Survive

22 Rating: 13

Smashing Pumpkins - Zeitgeist

The Smashing Pumpkins first entered my consciousness when I was 12, when I saw the video for “Today.” I thought it was pretty weird (what’s with the guy in a dress?), but loved the song. Later, when I was almost 16, I bought Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and fell head-over-heels in love. For someone who listened to music so freaking much, I showed an alarmingly small range. The Smashing Pumpkins constituted about 50% of the music I listened to. I even had a website archiving their lyrics (this was in the internet’s adolescence, before Google or Wikipedia).

Billy Corgan broke up the band after their artistically marvelous but commercially disappointing MACHINA project, so new music wasn’t available from them. I went to college, and my taste expanded a ton, but Billy’s band still did and always will hold a special place in my heart. That being said, I admit that I wasn’t all that excited when I heard the Pumpkins were reforming. After the very underwhelming Zwan and Billy’s terrible solo project, my hopes weren’t high, especially when I heard that only Billy and drummer Jimmy Chamberlain were returning with a brand new second guitarist and bass player. I just kinda thought, “Oh, that’s nice. Good for them,” and it went no further than that.

With low expectations from me, Zeitgeist meets them, and doesn’t rise above them very much. “Doomsday Clock” is a perfect choice for an opener, because the question on every post-Pumpkinhead’s lips is “do they still have it?” “Doomsday Clock” answers with a resounding “almost,” which is the best they can do. It has mountains of pop appeal, and makes the album come blazing out of the gates with unbelievable force. The only thing that mars the song is Billy’s voice. It’s just a little too willowy for this energetic metal style. “Bleeding the Orchid,” is a doomy pop gem that brings me right back to 2000 and the MACHINA days. Then comes “That’s the Way (My Love Is),” a fantastic modern rock song with a very pop groove to it. This song is great because it finds a very nice middle-ground between many styles, all of which the Smashing Pumpkins have tried in the past with one song or another. My prediction is that this will enjoy great success as a single.

During “Tarantula” and “United States,” the Pumpkins wear their influences on their sleeves. “Tarantula,” the first single, is simply dripping with classic metal aesthetic, sounding like a lost Black Sabbath song. It even has a rip-roaring and incredibly self-indulgent guitar solo, the likes of which haven’t been heard in 10 years (coincidentally by the same guitarist that produces them now). As Sabbathy as that song is, it’s nothing compared to “United States.” That song is doomy, crunchy, dark, disturbing, and intense; all lessons Billy learned directly from Tony Iommi.

After that, they start to stumble. “Neverlost” is an attempt at dreamy synth-pop, but it lacks a good hook, and is out of place on a mostly heavy rock album. Also, Billy’s voice is really showing wear on this song, as it sounds a little annoying. “Bring the Light” is well-intentioned, but quickly got old due to a lack of lyrical originality. “(Come On) Let’s Go!” seems like a leftover from the Zwan sessions, but has a good melody and groove. “For God and Country” has a strong and consistent beat, but is frustrating because it doesn’t seem to have a real time signature. Couple that with a melody that’s really uninteresting, and it’s just not worth the effort.

One expects overt political content from the Pumpkins with song titles like “Doomsday Clock,” “United States,” and “For God and Country.” Why not? Every other artist is unoriginally spouting “I hate Bush!” like a broken record. Even the album art on Zeitgeist suggests it. But Billy wisely sidesteps this issue, choosing to give an incredibly subtle comment instead, unlike many other musicians. The Smashing Pumpkins have never been about delving into social issues, so now is no time to start.

Ending the album is “Pomp and Circumstances,” which won’t go down in Pumpkins history with “1979” and “Disarm,” but is definitely the most interesting listen to come around in a while. It marries an ethereal and grandiose sense of gentility to another Iommi-like guitar solo. It’s not necessarily good, but very intriguing.

All in all, Zeitgeist is a good trip down memory lane, and provides some much-needed intelligent heaviness to a world diluted by genre-mixing. Zeitgeist recalls a simpler time for rock and roll, but is not really up to the Smashing Pumpkins’ standards. They made some of the most important and daringly original music of the 90s, and were a watershed band for that era, so it’s a little disappointing to see them languishing a bit in the new millennium. Even so, Zeitgeist is a lot better than most other comeback records, so there you go. I was just expecting a little more from a band and a man who had achieved demigod status in my eyes when I was a teenager.

Prime Cuts:
That’s the Way (My Love Is)
United States
Tarantula
Doomsday Clock

22 Rating: 7

Linkin Park - Minutes to Midnight

Minutes to Midnight is to Linkin Park as a finger painting is to a pre-school kid. They put a lot of effort into it, and when it’s finished, they run to you, presenting it to you with a beaming face. “I made it for you,” they say. Of course, you smile a big smile, say “thank you so much,” hug them, and hang it on the refrigerator. But part of you is saying, “it’s just a bunch of smears of badly mixed color on crumpled construction paper.” The artist is so incredibly proud of it, but from a completely objective standpoint, it kinda sucks. That’s what I think of Minutes to Midnight; it kinda sucks.

Just kinda, though. Linkin Park has a few brilliant moments on here, but mostly when they are staying conventional, not when they’re exploring unfamiliar soundscapes, which they do a lot of on this album. Yet for all their creativity and branching out, they’re sticking alarmingly close to home. “Leave Out All the Rest” sounds a lot like “Breaking the Habit.” “Bleed It Out” is the new “Faint.” “What I’ve Done” has strong echoes of “In the End.” They’re not just recycling old material, mind you. If they were, I’d be a lot more disgusted with the album than I am. But I think that they’re so entrenched in their particular style that it’s impossible to get away from, even when they try really hard.

And try they do. From their choice of producers, I’d say they’re being pretty inventive. Rick Rubin has produced some diverse material in the past, from Run DMC to the Red Hot Chili Peppers to System of a Down. I have a feeling his work with the Beastie Boys is the reason he got the chair for Minutes to Midnight, since they represent part of what Linkin Park is striving for: white boy hip-hop, a mix of suburbia and the streets.

The opening track, “Wake,” suggests pretty epic and classic-rock things to come, which the album doesn’t deliver on. It feels like a fragment of a good song, but it’s a really small fragment. The song that follows, “Given Up,” was a very large disappointment to me. Throughout the early 2000s, Linkin Park was a unique bright spot among a literal sea of rapcore bands, all of which spouted profanity like it was going out of style. I’m not against profanity as a rule, but using it with as much frequency as the rapcore movement did shows a vast lack of originality. Linkin Park was different because they didn’t use any profanity; not a single objectionable word. Alas, those days are over, as the f-word pops up on multiple songs, “Given Up” being the first. As I said, I have no problem with profanity being used in its place, but I’m sad at seeing what made Linkin Park stand out fall by the wayside. Oh, and apart from the swearing, “Given Up” is a clunky and bad attempt at a classic rock groove.

“Bleed It Out,” the second single, feels like another fragment as the song seems unfinished. The high-octane energy is cool, but the melody quickly gets grating. Then there’s “Shadow of the Day,” which is haunting, melodic, mature, and so completely NOT Linkin Park. It sounds more like Snow Patrol temporarily changed their name or something. It’s great, but seems very out of place. “Hands Held High” shows some understanding of the current world climate, but the rhetoric it presents, while applicable, sounds exactly like what we’ve heard from a million other musicians who hate Bush and the war. It’s become so clichéd to include some political element in your record nowadays, and I’m getting pretty sick of it.

Linkin Park show their rather obvious Metallica influence on “No More Sorrow,” with some splendid results. And “The Little Things Give You Away” finally gives a little of that epic-ness that we were promised on “Wake,” but it feels forced and incompetent. They score points for trying, but they should just stick to time signatures they’re comfortable playing.

Minutes to Midnight, while having one of the coolest album titles in recent memory, is a disappointing affair, and shows that change is not exactly the same thing as growth. It’s kinda like a college girl who’s out from under daddy’s watchful eye for the first time and decides to try lesbianism. In most cases, it’s just a phase, Minutes to Midnight included. This album was so delayed, and Linkin Park spent so much time and energy on it, that I was expecting something a lot more earth-shaking. A for effort, guys, but how’s about you play “One Step Closer” for us one more time?

Prime Cuts:
Shadow of the Day
No More Sorrow

22 Rating: -4

Anberlin - Cities

The climate in music today, while better than it was in that 4 year period between 1998 and 2001, isn’t ruled by any particular genre, but rather by individuals having a somewhat wide array of tastes. People are a little into a lot of music, rather than a lot into a little. Consequentially, individual genres tend to be a little more watered-down and general, as the average music listener can’t handle things going very deep, mostly because they don’t have the time to devote to a particular genre.

So isn’t it great to see a band like Anberlin that’s taking the general and doing grand things with it? A music aficionado like myself thought that excellence of this caliber was only achievable by bands seasoned in their genre, not upstart pop-punk bands who look pretty. But Anberlin reveals a vast understanding of what makes rock and roll great, while still staying very accessible.

Their third album, Cities, continues their musical maturation, if a bit slowly. When I first heard Never Take Friendship Personal, I knew right away that this was a band of a different stripe than the Panic! at the Discos or Fall Out Boys. They fit in nicely with the aforementioned groups, but stand above them, as if called up to a higher place. The intro to the album suggests a more epic feel than we’re used to, and the first real song, “Godspeed,” is the most frenetic and excited song on here, and indeed that the band has ever done. The high-octane energy doesn’t stop till we’re about a third of the way through, however, and perhaps a more modulated approach would have been better. Still, though, “Adelaide” and “A Whisper and a Clamor” are great and catchy songs, especially the latter.

Then Anberlin shows how much they have grown with “The Unwinding Cable Car,” a delicate acoustic song with a fantastic vocal part. The only “slow and sensitive” material on their previous album was “the symphony of (blasé),” a track that while nice, seemed inappropriate between two high-energy songs. Now, they have learned how to make a quiet song that’s both powerful and doomy while still being pretty, and is not saccharine or clichéd.

The second half of the record loses a bit of steam. “There is No Mathematics to Love and Loss” is interesting, but lacks a compelling melody. “Hello Alone” seems like single-worthy material, but actually got old pretty quickly. I definitely like Anberlin’s experimentations with the synthesizer, though, as on “Mathematics” and “Reclusion.” The synth, in this day and age, is only used really well by progressive rock groups; in other places, it seems like a hammy 80s throwback. But Anberlin use it in a subtle way that isn’t extravagant.

Then there is the final track, simply titled “(*fin).” It’s a little frustrating that the best song on the album doesn’t have a real title. This song reaches such heights of epic-ness and melancholy that it does more than just pull at the heartstrings. The acoustic opening (which lasts two and a half minutes) features a great melody and heartfelt vocal delivery, making it a beautifully despairing song. Then, the song instantly escalates into a full-on epic rock song, complete with a boy’s choir intoning a chorus of such marvelous beauty. Clocking in at just under 9 minutes, everything about “(*fin),” from its arrangement on down to its production, make it the BEST song to come out this year.

Cities demonstrates that music can be exciting, deep, and soul-enriching, while still being poppy and accessible. It also demonstrates that Anberlin is only getting better with years.

Prime Cuts:
(*fin)
The Unwinding Cable Car
A Whisper and a Clamor
Godspeed

22 Rating: 14

Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank

Oftentimes I think the music world at large is getting into a rut. Thankfully, at this most recent time, along came Modest Mouse to show me that not everything is just the same old boring filler. They renewed my knowledge that music can be daring, original, and boundary-pushing.

A little-known band since 1996, Modest Mouse finally broke out big-time with their 2004 smash Good News for People Who Love Bad News. After that, critics everywhere were anticipating their next effort on the edge of their seats. But part of what made them get so excited by Good News was that it was quirky, off-beat, and deliciously indie. Modest Mouse was commendably ignoring the fact that they had been on a major label since 2000. Actually, I’m surprised that a major label stuck with them for as long as they did. Having your first album with them be a flop, and then taking three years to make another one, is usually a recipe for getting you unceremoniously dumped. I guess it was luck that they weren’t.

The record label’s patience (as well as that of the audience) paid off, however, since they matured into one of the tightest bands of the new century. They caught the attention of the Smiths’ Johnny Marr, who became a full-fledged member of the band for 2007’s We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank. Here the band straddles the line between mass-market sensation and quirky indie act. And amazingly, they do an astounding job. Record companies seem to have caught on that when they acquire an indie act like Modest Mouse (or the Decemberists), they shouldn’t clutch at them with dollar signs in their eyes. If they just leave well enough alone and let the bands keep their originality and artistry intact, the dollars will just come. After all, The Crane Wife was one of the most successful albums of the year. I imagine Epic is hoping We Were Dead will follow in its money-making footsteps.

Indeed, Modest Mouse’s off-kilter-ness is intact from the very first note, which is produced by an accordion, of all things (no longer uncool, thanks to Arcade Fire). The biggest stumbling block for me is Isaac Brock’s voice. It turned me off initially when I first heard Modest Mouse back in 2005. For certain songs, he seems to be going for an insane Cookie Monster growl, and it’s pretty distracting. I just had to give it time, though. “March Into the Sea” has Brock’s weirdness cranked to 11, and it’s actually a very off-putting way to kick off the album. But that just seems to be the Modest Mouse way. It took a few listens for this song to actually grow on me, as it did for the entire album. “Dashboard” follows as the catchiest and bounciest song Modest Mouse has ever done. This song had me nodding my head and singing along very quickly, the mark of a pop gem. “Parting of the Sensory” has a great apocalyptic and troublesome vibe to it, such that you really get into it. Brock’s lyrics remain inscrutable, being more like free-verse poetry in places. Johnny Marr shows his influence on “Missed the Boat,” which is nicely polished and melodic. In the face of the daring (and messy) originality of the rest of the album, some would say this track doesn’t fit in, but it’s actually one of the most accessible songs here, while still retaining the aforementioned originality.

“Fly Trapped In a Jar” falls off the tightrope into a sea of confusion, “Education” is a bit boring, and “Steam Engenious” doesn’t have a compelling melody. Other than that, though, the whole album successfully walks a fine line between originality and accessibility. It’s just catchy enough to draw you in, but just strange enough to make you stick with it. I think we can expect more acts like Modest Mouse finding mass appeal, since people seem to be expecting more and more from their music.

Prime Cuts:
Dashboard
Invisible
Missed the Boat
Parting of the Sensory

22 Rating: 12

The Fray - How to Save a Life

I’m sure the members of The Fray are very nice people. They probably love their mothers, love their wives, don’t run stop signs, don’t cheat on their taxes, and never leave the toilet seat up. But there’s one area where they’ve committed a very heinous sin: they make music that’s ordinary. Music is an art form, and it should always stir in us some emotion, be it positive or negative. With How to Save a Life, the debut album from The Fray, it may as well not be there at all.

The Fray are basically exactly like Counting Crows (without the passion), or Matchbox Twenty (without the pop sensibilities), or Coldplay (without the British-ness). They don’t distinguish themselves from the huddled masses of piano-and-guitar soft rock bands at all. Actually, that’s not true. What makes The Fray different from the previously mentioned bands is that The Fray play with absolutely zero conviction. In all fairness, How to Save a Life makes no huge mistakes, but that’s because it takes no risks. Every song plays exactly the same, even having a similar structure and runtime. Nine of the twelve tracks are within 40 seconds of each other in time, all in the four minute range. The album gives new meaning to the word “safe.”

Things start off well enough with “She Is,” but that’s just because it’s the very beginning, and we don’t have a “rest of the album” to make it sound like it’s the same as everything that came before. The lyrics apply 6^th-grade workmanship in “she is everything I need that I never knew I wanted / she is everything I want that I never knew I needed.” “Over My Head (Cable Car)” is the first big single, and with good reason, because the lyrics are the sharpest and most telling of the whole album. However, the song suffers from a lack of catchiness and Isaac Slade’s terrible voice. “How to Save a Life,” the second single, has all the bad points of “Cable Car” and none of the good. And from there, it’s just all the same, as if it were performed by robots.

“All at Once” is of a slightly higher level that the rest, almost on par with Counting Crows. “Little House” is the closest thing to true rock and roll, but that’s sadly far from the mark. And the rest of the album is just boring, standard, uninspired, achingly ordinary, and ultimately forgettable. Well, it would be forgettable if radio stations weren’t playing so much of “Cable Car.” The song’s even been adopted by a few television gurus. I could see Dawson’s Creek making The Fray very big, if that show was still on. Hopefully, though, one of two things will happen. Either The Fray will grow some originality, or they’ll soon fade away into the night. Whatever road they take, I have a hard time caring.

Prime Cuts:
All At Once

22 Rating: -1

Fall Out Boy - Infinity On High

I can kinda-sorta sympathize with Fall Out Boy. After all, they were rather suddenly thrust into the spotlight. But honestly, if they didn’t want that to happen, or even didn’t think it ever would happen, what were they doing this whole rock and roll thing for anyway?

To their credit, Fall Out Boy is incredibly self-aware, and constantly keep themselves in check. No one laughs at themselves more than Fall Out Boy. They lampoon themselves at every opportunity, not the least of which is the video for “This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race.” The whole thing is a ribbing of all things FOB, some things that only avid fans or people who pay very close attention would know about. But at the same time, they seem to be giving themselves things to make fun of. That is illustrated no more than on their new album, Infinity On High.

It starts of with rapper Jay-Z (yes, Jay-Z) doing a shout-out, just like a rap album. This set off dozens of alarm bells in my head. The track that follows it, “Thriller,” is a very poppy slice of punk rock, so much so that it almost made me sick. Like a lot of tracks on Infinity On High, I like it, but I don’t like that I like it, if that makes any sense. It’s polished to a high mirror shine, even as the lyrics of the album seem to be rejecting that.

Next comes “The Take Over, the Break’s Over,” which perpetuates the “shiny garbage” modicum. However, they come right back with their new “Sugar, We’re Going Down” with “This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race.” This song illustrates everything I love about FOB; strong, catchy and punchy. Pete Wentz lyrics are so clever that he might break his arm he’s patting himself on the back so hard. He’s got to be pretty proud of his song titles, too. They dangerously dance back and forth on the line of ingenious and incredibly annoying. “You’re Crashing But You’re No Wave.” “I’m Like a Lawyer With the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off.” “I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers.” Riiiiiiiiiiiiight. This is only trumped by the lead-off track of their previous album, “Our Lawyers Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued.” Song titles like that make me smile and shake my head, make me laugh and cry at the same exact time.

Songs that they experiment on (where they play against type) generally don’t work. Their forays into the pop and hip-hop worlds are ill-conceived, but interesting nonetheless. It’s when they stick to their modern rock roots that they really shine. “Hum Hallelujah” is a pretty good punk song, though the rip-off of Rufus Wainright’s “Hallelujah” is a little over the top. In the context of the entire album, tracks like “The Carpel Tunnel of Love” and “I’ve Got All This Ringing…” seem like filler and hold-overs from the last album, but they’re some of the best on here.

Infinity On High is even more smarmy and self-aware than From Under the Cork Tree, and if you like Fall Out Boy at all, I think you’ll like this, or at least appreciate it. But I find that people generally fall into one of two groups when it comes to FOB: love ‘em or hate ‘em. So if you’re in the second group, stay far away from this album, because it will only piss you off. But if you’re under 17 and in the “no one understands me” phase, then by golly this is the album for you.

Prime Cuts:
This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race
You’re Crashing But You’re No Wave
Hum Hallelujah
I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers

22 Rating: 6

Arcade Fire - Neon Bible

Arcade Fire’s new album wasn’t met with quite as much fanfare as I expected, them being “Canada’s hottest band” and all. And if you want my personal opinion (which you do, or you wouldn’t be reading this blog…), they didn’t get even an iota of the fanfare they deserved. Funeral was blazingly awesome, and it’s a pretty tough act to follow. Being cognizant of this, I would say my expectations for Neon Bible were fairly reasonable. Fortunately for Arcade Fire, my expectations were met and then some.

Funeral was the work of a band in turmoil, in the midst of personal tragedy. It made for an album that was, above all, passionate. Passion is a little dangerous, though, because it generally doesn’t concern itself with neatness or efficiency, and tends to make a mess. Funeral’s mess was very beautiful, though, and the band’s pain was palpable on the record. With Neon Bible, however, Arcade Fire wisely doesn’t try to duplicate that oeuvre. Instead, they take a more measured and careful approach, and it pays off. The music is still odd, and sometimes comes out of left field, but instead of just taking a scattershot approach, like on Funeral, they opt for steady shots with a steady hand.

Normally, that approach makes for a pretty stale record, especially for a band whose hallmark is beauty that is untamed. But amazingly, Arcade Fire make all the right choices, with the timeless beauty remaining intact with a very different approach. “Black Mirror” makes known that Neon Bible is not only a subtler album than Funeral, but a darker one, too. The immediacy of “Wake Up” and “Power Out” are generally gone, but in their place is a strong impassivity. “Black Mirror” is a good opening track, though not quite as strong as the second track, “Keep the Car Running.” It has very catchy verses, and is a shoe-in for a single. As on the last album, Win Butler’s voice is clumsy as not technically proficient at all, but it suits the material. “Intervention” continues the theme of featuring strange instruments, as a pipe organ plays the lead part. I again am struck by Arcade Fire’s uncanny ability to make the weird sound beautiful, eliciting a reaction of wonder rather than discomfort. The best track, “Ocean of Noise,” highlights the measured approach that the whole album takes, as it has a very subtle, Death Cab-like undertone to it.

On “(Antichrist Television Blues),” Win Butler seems to be channeling Bruce Springsteen, both in the musical style and the vocal quality. Near the end, Arcade Fire reworks a song from early in their career, “No Cars Go.” It’s slightly obvious that this song represents a younger band, as it’s a little nervier and more excited than the rest of the album, and doesn’t quite fit the general tone of it. However, I’m glad they finally put this great song on an album, so it can enjoy mass consumption. “My Body is a Cage” takes a little while to really get going, but eventually crescendos to a point that nearly equals the closing power and emotional punch of “In the Backseat.” It also leaves you hanging at the end, awaiting the third album.

A lot of great bands suffer from the sophomore slump, but Arcade Fire just laughs in that concept’s face. Neon Bible isn’t as emotionally affecting as Funeral, but it seems incorrect to compare the two, since they have pretty different tones. Really, they represent two points on this band’s journey, and hopefully, it will be a long journey indeed.

Prime Cuts:
Ocean of Noise
Keep the Car Running
Intervention
My Body is a Cage

22 Rating: 12

Nine Inch Nails - The Fragile

Did this really need to be a double album? I mean, seriously, Trent, the fact that you have so much art coming out of you (rather like puss from an open sore…) is great, it really is. But have you ever heard of the philosophy “less is more?” Wouldn’t it have been better to keep it concise, and in the process save your listeners a little money?

Double albums are a little bit tricky, because you need to do several things with them. First off, you need to make sure that you have enough to say to actually fill two album-lengths. Secondly, what you have to say better be pretty freaking important. Thirdly, you have to keep your listener’s attention through the entire 90 to 120 minutes of the proceedings. Bands usually do this by switching it up a lot, like on those two masterpieces, Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness and The White Album. Other times, they do it by having an honest-to-God story, like on Tommy and The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway.

Nine Inch Nails’ The Fragile falls just short on the first two things, but remarkably succeeds at the third, but not in either of the previously mentioned ways. No, The Fragile holds your attention by being so gosh-darned interesting that you can’t look away for long. I don’t think, however, that that feature makes it worthy of being a double album. It could have been every ounce as interesting if it had been an ordinary, 55-minute, single-disc album. Not only does The Fragile not have enough to say, it doesn’t even say anything new. Reznor basically covered the area of “my life sucks” ad nauseum with his first three albums. Like I said in my review of With Teeth, the main reason The Fragile was such a disappointment over The Downward Spiral was my age. I was 14 when The Downward Spiral came out, and 18 for The Fragile. That four years made a world of difference. I had grown up in the intervening time, and at a much faster rate, apparently, than Reznor. He was still stuck in the “oh woe is me” stage, though he had gotten a little subtler and smarter about it. The one leap forward he made, however, was that he no longer saw suicide as cool or romantic, as he said in interviews.

When you zoom out and look at The Fragile as a whole, you see that it’s a pretty ambitious effort that really pays off in its own weird way. It’s when you look too closely at individual moments that it starts to break down. But it’s a double album, so it has enough absolutely great moments to balance out the ho-hum and bleh ones. It takes quite a bit of effort (not to mention a sizable time commitment) to get much out of it, though. There’s really no sense in highlighting individual songs, since most of them have the same emotional color. The dirgy crunch and cold industrialism of this type of music is surprisingly aided by this album’s increased use of guitars and other stringed instruments. Trent Reznor has said that stringed instruments are imperfect, unlike computers, which will execute what you tell them to without error. That element fell exactly in line with what he was trying to accomplish with this album, and Reznor really has some intriguing sounds on it. Taken as a whole, The Fragile is a very good addition to NIN’s discography, even if it’s really long-winded and not very lyrically original. But to really enjoy it, you can’t think too hard about it. Trent wins points for expanding the definition of “music” a little, but loses a lot of them for not knowing what to keep and what to discard.

Prime Cuts:
Into the Void
The Wretched
Where is Everybody?
We’re In This Together
Just Like You Imagined

22 Rating: 7

(Incidentally, today is the first birthday of Drop 22!)

Jet - Shine On

It does this old soul some good to see an old-fashioned rock n’ roll band out there, especially when so many bands nowadays are rock bands plus something else. Don’t get me wrong; I like all the frills and complications that modern groups bring to the table, or at least most of them. But it’s also good to get back to basics every once in a while, and that’s exactly what Jet does with their sophomore album, Shine On.

It doesn’t get off to a great start, though. The opening track, which is just 23 seconds long, is also the first 23 seconds of the closing track, lifted precisely from it. I don’t see why it’s necessary. The first real song, “Holiday,” sets the tone for most of the rest of the album, which is simple, gritty, and down-home rock and roll. Unfortunately, “Holiday” has kind of a clunky chorus, and is not powerful enough to be a good opening track. The next one, “Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is,” more than makes up for it, however. In my opinion, the album really starts here. This is a blazing rock song with an awesome groove and vocals done with utter conviction. When it’s over, you want to hit repeat and play it again. Things follow in the same pattern until “Kings Horses,” which is a softer side of the band, but not very memorable.

Then we have “Shine On” at the mid-point of the album. This song combines a good melody with soulful delivery, and one can tell that a lot of emotion and feeling went into the recording. Nic Cester wrote this song from his father’s point of view after he had passed away, as a sort of message to all those that he left behind. It’s a beautiful sentiment, but the sentimentality of it doesn’t diminish the band’s muscle or machismo.

“Come On Come On” and “Stand Up” are good Stones-esque rockers, and “Eleanor” is a sweet ballad that has very strong echoes of the Beatles. Indeed, those same echoes are present throughout the album. I’m struck by how similar Jet is to Oasis, another band that idolizes the Beatles. They both have brothers in them, one of which is the lead singer. The first single from this album is called “Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is,” and Oasis had a song on Standing On the Shoulder of Giants called “Put Yer Money Where Yer Mouth Is,” that had generally the same tone to it. Also, “Shine On” seems to be an amped up and just plain better version of the recent Oasis song “Let There Be Love.” The big difference is that Jet represents Australia, and Oasis is so British it hurts. Their similarity is noted by the bands, as well, as they toured together a few years ago.

While Shine On is a good slice of simplicity in a not-so-simple rock music world, it has its problems. For one thing, it’s a bit too long. I think the album could have benefited from shortening a few of the songs, cutting some songs out, or both. Much of it seems like filler, and that’s not necessary. With a band like Jet, where rock and roll is a very down-to-earth, accessible thing, the wiser choice would be to keep it short and sweet. Still, though, Shine On is a breath of fresh air, and an album I will retreat to when things get too complicated.

Prime Cuts:
Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is
Shine On
Come On Come On
Eleanor

22 Rating: 8

Switchfoot - Oh! Gravity.

I was at my friend Andy’s house, and I just happened to notice that he had Switchfoot’s new album, Oh! Gravity. just as I was leaving. He said, “You wanna borrow it? It’s really bad.” I thought sure, Andy. Switchfoot couldn’t possibly be bad. All their other albums were at least passable, so they couldn’t possibly make a switch that was so dramatic. So what’s the worst that could happen? How wrong I was…

My first thought after listening to it for the first time was that it would be awesome if we had a time machine, so we could go back to before this record came out and either convince the members of Switchfoot that putting this record out was a bad idea, or kill them. Kinda savage, I know, but if that’s the price we have to pay to have this horror NOT unleashed on the world, then so be it. That was just a visceral reaction, and obviously my hatred of this album has lessened some. It is not, however, enough to keep me from anti-recommending this abortion with extreme prejudice.

From the very first second of the record, Switchfoot takes a wrong step. The song “Oh! Gravity.” sounds like a throwback to the worst part of the 80s, the part with wild hairstyles and spandex pants. The title is horrible for the song, let alone naming the album after it. After that comes “American Dream,” one of the only listenable tracks on the album. I kind of appreciate the disillusionment he expresses on this and “Circles,” but it’s getting a little old, as that was the central idea behind Nothing is Sound. “Dirty Second Hands” has a discombobulating and inconsistent groove to it, and while it does kind of intrigue me, it’s just too sloppy to be worth it. “Awakening” harkens back to the days of Learning to Breathe and The Beautiful Letdown, and the respite is welcome. And “Head Over Heels” has a mournful aspect to it that is kind of nice, even if Jon Foreman shouts where he should whisper.

I haven’t touched on the incredible ineptitude and presumption that the album displays, however. My first example is “Amateur Lovers.” First off, this song is an attempt at a carbon copy of the Nothing is Sound track “Easier Than Love,” which is a horrible enterprise at the very start. “Easier Than Love” smartly took an abstract and personified it, and that leaves “Amateur Lovers” with nowhere to go. Jon Foreman must have been trying to make up for the lack of ideas by upping the intensity of the song, but he sounds like an over-excited tuberculosis patient when he does that. I don’t understand the shift towards gruff intensity that Switchfoot has taken in their last few albums, since they do subtle beauty so much better. This song is horrible, and I’m surprised that Switchfoot thought we were stupid enough to fall for it.

My second example is “Faust, Midas, and Myself.” This song has problems up the Yangtze, from tune (unmemorable) to rhythm (grating) to lyrics (shut up, just shut up) to variety of sound (it has none). The lyrics represent Foreman’s tendency towards very cerebral and philosophical songwriting gone awry. The song has an absolutely wretched title (that makes two), and the music is wrong-headed and infantile. My third example is “4:12.” When I saw the title of this on the back sleeve, I thought it was a reference to a Bible verse, and some warning bells went off in my head. Switchfoot’s Christianity has always been very subtle, and that’s one of the few areas where they haven’t taken a misstep. I was wrong in my original guess, and it’s not about a Bible verse; the sin of this song is much, much worse. “4:12” is a reference to the time on a digital clock, as in four hours and twelve minutes. That in and of itself is fine, but the track clocks in at exactly four minutes and twelve seconds. Switchfoot is basically saying, “Aren’t we clever? We are; we’re so clever. We deserve a pat on the back; several, actually. I’m sure our audience thinks we’re really clever, too. I’m sure they don’t hate us for thinking they’re of sub-standard intelligence.” Not buying it, guys.

I better wrap up this review before I get too angry. When the anger fades, however, there will only remain disappointment that Switchfoot has hit their first low. It’s one of inept musicality, and worse, derision towards the audience.

Prime Cuts:
American Dream

22 Rating: -15

Muse - Black Holes & Revelations

For a couple years, I had heard whispers about Muse, that they were the new Radiohead and such. Now that I’ve gotten the chance to actually listen to their music, I can say that it’s completely not true. To suggest that Muse is just Radiohead-lite cheapens Radiohead and Muse both. It cheapens Radiohead because nobody sounds like them. They’re one of the only entities in music that’s totally unique. It cheapens Muse because they aren’t just a cheap knock-off of another band, though they owe debts to Duran Duran and Depeche Mode. Matthew Bellamy sounds eerily like Thom Yorke in his Pablo Honey/The Bends days, but that’s really where the similarities end. They’re lyrics make way too much sense to bear any comparison, and their music is pretty poppy and catchy. Radiohead is neither, “Creep” excepted. If you’re looking for a Radiohead clone, don’t look here. In fact, don’t look anywhere, because it’s a waste of time.

Muse’s fourth album, Black Holes & Revelations, finds them just as weird, but a little more tuneful, daring, and optimistic. Techno blurs with rock and roll to create a sound that is very reminiscent of 80’s synth pop and goth rock. It’s clear that Muse’s goth beginnings have not completely left them, but they also take elements of Queen and the like for a rather splendid combination.

The strongest thing I can say about Black Holes & Revelations is that it gets a little more interesting on each listen. Bellamy’s fascination with the planet Mars is not overbearing, and the album cover is just cryptic enough that it makes you stare at it intently instead of turn away in disgust. I must say, though, that I’ve never heard as much vitriol and bile spewed at George W. Bush or Republicans in general as Muse does here, not even by Rage Against the Machine. It could be they’re pissed off at Tony Blair, too. Naturally, one can understand their frustration at the leader of a superpower that’s mucking everything up, but from listening to the words of “Take a Bow" and "Exo-Politics,” you would think that Bush murdered Bellamy’s puppy and then had sex with his mother. “You will burn in hell for your sins” doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for forgiveness. “Starlight” provides the most pop moment on the album, and is also the closest thing Muse has done to a happy song. The song is a perfect lead-off single, as it has a relentless beat and a great melody. “Supermassive Black Hole,” clunky title aside, is similarly relentless, and has a groove to it that swims with sweet nastiness. Bellamy sings in a sexy falsetto, and the outer space imagery provides an interesting point of view to the slightly bawdy lyrical content. “Map of the Problematique,” the album’s best song, is lifted almost directly from the Depeche Mode playbook, bordering on plagiarism. But I guess if Weird Al can do it, there’s really no problem with it.

“Soldier’s Poem” has echoes of Queen in it (a band I hate), “Invincible” is a bit too rosy and manufactured for me, and “Hoodoo” can’t make up its mind about what kind of song it is. However, “Knights of Cydonia” more than makes up for all of those. It’s a driving, intense and rocking song that closes the album in a perfectly splendid way. But to really appreciate the awesomeness of this song, you need to see its video. It’s a combination sci-fi adventure/spaghetti western, and has all the requisite elements that would make George Lucas and Sergio Leone proud.

Muse has made a very intriguing album here. They’re not always good, but they at least hold your interest throughout the whole thing. They may be British and ironic, but they refuse to be your new Radiohead.

Prime Cuts:
Map of the Problematique
Knights of Cydonia
Starlight
Supermassive Black Hole

22 rating: 12