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