Sarah McLachlan - Wintersong

For me, tied up unceasingly in the traditions of Christmas is the music that goes along with it. Our bodies are hard-wired to create music, and it is an essential part of who we are. The same is true of Christmas. Whatever particular tradition you celebrate, be it the birth of Christ, winter solstice, Chanukah, or even Kwanzaa, I think there’s something inborn in each of us that makes us transform a little around December. Christmas makes us happy, content, generous, and even makes some of us burst into song.

Sarah McLachlan’s Wintersong is the latest contribution to the Christmas music canon. Sarah is one of my favorite female singers, because she is able to create such a specific atmosphere with the power of her voice. She is incredibly talented, and no one else sounds quite like her. She brings a unique quality to everything she does, and Christmas music is no exception. On Wintersong, she covers the spread from hymns to pop classics to lost pop gems to original material. With this album, I am struck by Sarah’s ability to inject soft melancholy to something like Christmas, and to make me feel not sad about it, but contemplative. Her voice is haunting in places and soothing in others, and that is brought home especially when she performs this sort of material. Each artist can bring their own perspective to Christmas music, and therein lies part of the beauty of it.

Sarah’s rendition of “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” catches me as being particularly beautiful. The style and cadence of her voice lend itself to this song to bring out the effect of it twice as well as when John Lennon did it. Sarah McLachlan is on another level of entertainers, one of performers who use their fame for philanthropic efforts to help the less fortunate. On “Happy Xmas (War is Over),” she records with the Sarah McLachlan Musical Outreach Choir & Percussion Ensamble, and the kids add a whimsical element to the already wistful music. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and “In the Bleak Midwinter” are very nice and uplifting tunes. “River,” which was originally recorded by Joni Mitchell, has sadness and yearning in its gentleness, and Sarah’s one original tune here, “Wintersong,” is the most melancholy moment on the album. But like I said before, the lowness of the music doesn’t depress you; instead, it makes you quietly reflect on the true meaning of Christmas, and you realize that very little is necessary to truly enjoy it. Sarah pulls off a very neat trick here, making music that makes you feel sad, but a good kind of sad, a sad that makes you feel happiness all the more.

The most interesting moment on the album is “The First Noel/Mary Mary.” She very oddly chooses a minor key for this uplifting carol, and then adds deep drums and echoing voices to give the song an Arabian feel. It seems weird, but she doesn’t oversell it, and instead delivers a gently subtle performance, like everything else she does. It’s quite a feat, but Sarah makes you believe it 100%.

Sarah McLachlan has made a very pretty album with Wintersong, and its beauty is soft and subtle rather than vast and engaging. She doesn’t try very hard, but I don’t think she has to. I probably wouldn’t like this album nearly as much if it weren’t composed of Christmas music, and my estimation of it will probably go down a bit in the beginning of January. But for now, with Christmas almost upon us, I gladly add it to the canon of Christmas music.

Prime Cuts:
Happy Xmas (War is Over)
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
The First Noel/Mary Mary
Wintersong

22 Rating: 10

On behalf of all of us at Drop 22 (which is just me), I want to wish you and yours a very merry Christmas! May the joy of Jesus’ birth fill your heart!

Weird Al Yankovic - Straight Outta Lynwood

Parody bands are the best, bar none, at what they do. They have to play such a wide array of styles, and they have an energy not found in other mediums of music. Only wedding bands can rival them for proficiency, tightness, and endurance. And as far as parody bands go, Weird Al Yankovic commands the best one.

Weird Al has a pretty good gig. The ebb and flow of trends in the music world is crazy and unpredictable, and every standard artist runs the risk of becoming not relevant at the drop of a hat. Weird Al, on the other hand, rides on the coattails of the current trend, whatever that may happen to be. He will always be popular because the entire point of his music is to do a version of what is already popular. It’s really kind of ingenious.

His latest album, Straight Outta Lynwood, is his tightest, most cutting, most relevant album to date. Like only Weird Al can, he sweetly skewers the MP3 craze, hip-hoperas, American nationalism/superiority, and ridiculous litigation. Since the mid-nineties, he has been kind of hit or miss, and he’s fallen into an alternating good album/bad album pattern since Off the Deep End. Running With Scissors was pretty smart and witty, but Bad Hair Day and Poodle Hat were a little on the kitschy and esoteric side. Though as the years go by and he has tried more and more things, he constantly comes up with new ways to attack the parody animal. Even so, he remains the same on a few things, like his polka medleys. Straight Outta Lynwood contains his 9^th one, and the trend has not lost even a tiny bit of its irony or hilarity. “Polkarama!,” the latest entry into his polka catalog, successfully skewers/pays tribute to Weezer, the Killers, Snoop Dogg, Franz Ferdinand, Kanye West, the Black Eyed Peas and more. The opening track, “White & Nerdy,” is the best, though. It pokes fun at a section of society that revels in its ridiculousness, and wears it like a badge of honor: geeks. Parodies of nerds and nerd life are always well-received and embraced by nerds. All the things Weird Al mentions are elements of geek-world that geeks enjoy about themselves. As a player of Dungeons & Dragons, I must admit I got a charge out of the “Got skills, I’m a champion at D&D” line. I gladly admit that I’m a geek, and “White & Nerdy” celebrates the stuff I love about that distinction.

The rest of the album is nothing to sneeze at, either. “Canadian Idiot” is more than just the logical extension of Green Day’s “American Idiot.” It’s a commentary on a relevant social issue as well as being entertaining, like a good comic book. I’m amazed at Weird Al’s band’s ability to adapt itself to any style under the sun with such precision and accuracy, as “Close But No Cigar” (style parody of Cake) and “I’ll Sue Ya” (style parody of Rage Against the Machine) demonstrate. “Weasel Stomping Day” is an example of Weird Al’s twisted sense of humor, and “Don’t Download This Song” is a deliciously ironic statement about internet “pirates,” as well as artist “rights.” Then there’s “Trapped In the Drive-Thru,” a note-perfect parody of R-Kelly’s uber-epic “Trapped In the Closet.” The actual “Closet” clocks in at 42 minutes, and goes from a standard tale of infidelity to completely ridiculous situations over the span of its twelve parts, and doesn’t have even a shred of a sliver of a point. “Drive-Thru” is similarly pointless, or maybe the point of it is that it is pointless. It’s funny, but too long for me to actually listen to.

Hopefully, Weird Al is actually immortal, so he can go on making fun of music trends as long as there are trends to be made fun of. He is a vitally important presence is the music world, as he teaches us to not take ourselves completely seriously. Many artists have learned this lesson, and see a parody of one of their songs or their style by Weird Al as a high honor. As for those who haven’t, they just illustrate the point that Weird Al has been making all along.

Prime Cuts:
White & Nerdy
Close But No Cigar
I’ll Sue Ya
Polkarama!

22 Rating: 11

OK Go - Oh No

OK Go start playing, and I can’t help but be waiting for the catch. It seems too simple, too basic, too good to be true. Here we have a rock band that plays rock, and there’s nothing else. One part of me says “At last, a band with no agenda or plan!” But another part says, “That’s it?”

And indeed, that’s it. I’ll admit that rock and roll has become pretty cumbersome lately, with the likes of Coheed & Cambria and Green Day making high-concept metal and rock, almost qualifying as art. Then you have bands like the Killers, making rock that takes itself very seriously. That’s all well and good, but you need a little fun to balance all that out. OK Go provide the no-strings-attached jubilation necessary to create a break from the ponderous (but still good) rock music that has become all too common these days; the problem is that it passes away so quickly. It’s nice while it lasts, but that’s not very long.

OK Go bears a striking resemblance to the Cars, and their second album, Oh No, has a lot in common with that band’s pop niceties. Oh No is a very pop album, from the high-octave backing vocals to the pastel shirts of the band. The biggest example, however, is in the band’s video for the big single off this album, “Here It Goes Again.” At the base of it, this video is not much; just a stationary camera with no special effects or CGI. It involves the members of OK Go doing an elaborate dance on eight running treadmills, arranged in a 4x2 square, with alternating directions. It’s a little hard to explain, but unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past four months, you’ve already seen this video. It got released on YouTube the day before it premiered, with an insane number of people viewing it the very first day. The dance created such a buzz that many people don’t know that it’s actually the band doing the dance, or even that it’s a music video at all. The dance itself is pretty amazing, and it reminds me of the Mentos and coke thing that some people did, synchronizing the coke explosions to music. If that’s not a pop phenomenon, I don’t know what is.

Oh No begins on a pretty tight and intense note with “Invincible,” a light-hearted superhero story with a dirty groove. Most of the rest of the album sticks pretty closely to that formula, with the deviations (“Let It Rain,” “Maybe This Time”) being kind of haphazard. OK Go is a pretty simple-minded band, and for the most part, they stick to what they have expertise in. It’s when they don’t that things start to fall apart. They don’t exhibit much in the way of originality, either. The guitars and vocals only have two tones (loud and quiet), and the two aren’t really all that different from each other. Like any album of such a specific color, it starts to unravel toward the end. “A Good Idea at the Time” and “The House Wins” are fun and bouncy anthems, but other tracks, like “Television, Television” and “Do What You Want” have a lot of intensity but not much grace, tunefulness, or even pop appeal.

This is only OK Go’s second album, but they should have learned a few tricks of the trade by now. They can’t be expected to be fall-down awesome like the Smashing Pumpkins and the Decemberists were at this juncture in their career, but they are expected to at least progress a little. All in all, Oh No isn’t groundbreaking or world-changing, but it does make you snap your fingers and nod your head a little. There just wasn’t anything to make it very memorable.

Prime Cuts:
Here It Goes Again
Invincible
The House Wins

22 Rating: 3

Death Cab for Cutie - Plans

Transatlanticism left me begging for Ben Gibbard to let his inner rock star out. 2 years from the release of that album, he seems to have taken my advice and done the opposite. Gibbard and crew have made one of the prettiest, most touching, and emotionally affecting albums in a long time… so why do I feel like I’ve been cheated out of something?

Basically, Plans is the work of a man who is really not all that ambitious. I can understand that, since I’m not all that ambitious either. But every single track on Plans makes me think that Death Cab for Cutie could have done so much more. I realize that Death Cab got a lot of media attention super-quickly because of Transatlanticism, and all that pressure can cause some people to withdraw. I think that’s what happened with Plans. There was so much hype surrounding it that Death Cab purposefully made it underwhelming, as if to say “We’ll make whatever album we want to make, and we won’t be swayed by the likes of you.” You gotta respect that.

Chris Walla is a masterful producer, I must say. His style is very understated, subtracting elements rather than adding them, and that suits Death Cab for Cutie very well. Sometimes he goes as far as to have just Ben and an acoustic guitar, as on “I Will Follow You Into the Dark.” Plans is a very quiet album, and Death Cab doesn’t grasp for anything throughout the entire proceedings. The problem is not that it doesn’t shoot for the moon, but that it doesn’t even shoot for the tops of the trees. It’s pretty, but it doesn’t challenge or captivate us the way some of their previous albums did.

The bouncy fun of “I Was a Kaleidoscope” and “Death of an Interior Decorator” is only present on one song (“Crooked Teeth”), as the dark intensity of “We Looked Like Giants” only shows up on “Someday You Will Be Loved.” “Crooked Teeth,” while the big single, doesn’t have the mark of lyrical excellence that we’ve come to expect from Gibbard. It’s a little like those two songs were only included as hold-overs so Ben could get back to the ponderous beauty of the rest of the album. There is beauty, but it’s a schmaltzy beauty, and even a cheap beauty in places. I’d rather Death Cab didn’t try for beauty at all if it’s going to be cheap. The exception is “What Sarah Said,” which is marvelous. Here, all the elements come together in exactly the right way to create a song that is filled to the brim with pain, sadness, and unbelievable beauty. It represents a moment where the protagonist’s understanding shifts to a higher level, one that can only be reached when you have a brush with death, be it your own or that of someone you love.

Speaking of death, there seems to be a lot of it on Plans. However, that’s a point of credit to the album, because it’s evident that Gibbard has an understanding of death that not a lot of other artists have. I myself have been very close to death, so that resonates with me in a very special way. Gibbard has said in interviews that Death Cab for Cutie’s other albums have been about looking back in sadness, but that Plans was much more optimistic. After all, to make plans, you have to have something to look forward to. It is optimistic, but it’s odd that an album that is so optimistic would be so concerned with death. The album is nice, but it feels incomplete, and I feel like I only got half the story. With the exception of “What Sarah Said,” the whole thing feels kind of like a joke you don’t really get, but laugh at anyway. Your joke has a good build-up, Ben. I just hope that with the next album, you give us the punch-line.

Prime Cuts:
What Sarah Said
Soul Meets Body
I Will Follow You Into the Dark
Brother On a Hotel Bed

22 Rating: 9

(Just for the record, Transatlanticism has increased in my estimation from a 10 to a 13.)

Same great product, brand new packaging!!!

Just to let you all know, I will be posting under my main identity, which is Particle Man. Don't be alarmed when the reviews don't come from Gamgee anymore; it's still the same person.

National Novel Writers Month

November is National Novel Writers Month, or NaNoWriMo. All that is required is a quick sign-up on the website (www.nanowrimo.org) and you're good to go. Just write 50,000 words by the end of November, and you win! I will be participating, and thus will be concentrating on my novel, and not writing album reviews for the month of November. But not to fret, I will be back with some great reviews of Death Cab for Cutie's "Plans" and Metallica's "Master of Puppets" in December! Check back with me then, for I will be ready to review like never before. Wish me luck with my novelizing!

Evanescence - The Open Door

My dad likes to plan vacations and never take them. He plans every single detail of a vacation, has every minute down on a specific schedule, but then never actually does the things he planned. Don’t get the idea that he doesn’t follow through with things; that’s definitely not true. No, he does it on purpose. He never has any intention of going on these trips. He likes the planning. He gets so much more excited over the build-up to a trip than the actual trip, that he figures he can plan vacations and never take them. It’s a good plan, actually. The excitement beforehand is what he enjoys, not the actual event. With the release of The Open Door, and the entire hubbub beforehand, I finally understand what he means.

I cannot express enough how absolutely great an album Fallen was. Evanescence was a fresh face that breathed new life into the dismal world of goth rock. So naturally, the excitement for their next album was very high. I remember that for about three months beforehand, ever since “Call Me When You’re Sober” came out, I was so elated that the wait for a new Evanescence album was finally going to come to an end. And once it did, I sorta wanted to go back to those days.

Ben Moody has made a hasty exit, and with him went a lot of catchiness and pop sensibilities, I’m sad to say. The Open Door is really Amy Lee’s definitive work, and it sounds like a woman carving out her place in a man’s world, and that’s totally cool. Moody leaving the band was the best thing for the band on an interpersonal level, as Lee’s and Moody’s personalities had just grown too far apart. However, with Moody went a piece of what made Evanescence them. It’s just sad that Lee’s personal journey is better without Moody, but her musical capacity seems incomplete.

I’m making it sound like The Open Door is a terrible album when it’s not; it’s actually pretty good. It’s just that Fallen was so singularly awesome. When they’re compared to each other, which is not only unavoidable but appropriate, The Open Door comes up wicked short. “Sweet Sacrifice” opens the album on an intense but tuneless note. It’s clear that the beautiful creepiness Fallen had is still intact, and Evanescence still has that perfect mixture of the hard and soft. “Call Me When You’re Sober,” let’s be honest, could be better. I still like it, and it really is the best choice for a first single. But Amy Lee’s liberating honesty is great for her, but not doing a whole lot for her audience. “Weight of the World” and “Cloud Nine” have great guitar and keyboard parts, and the band really comes together as a unit on these two songs. On other parts of the album, though, it really seems like the Amy Lee Show. “Lithium,” the next single, is impassioned and heartfelt, but sadly has a lack of hooks. A lot of songs on the album are like that, actually. The intentions behind them are good, but they don’t quite do it. There is simply nothing on the album as poignantly heavy as “Everybody’s Fool,” as hauntingly beautiful as “Hello,” or as deliciously unsettling as “Haunted.”

Like I said, The Open Door is a good album, but a very disappointing one. The only reason it’s disappointing is that Fallen was so spectacular. It’s a case of the sophomore slump, pure and simple. So the next album will really make or break the deal. Typically, when the sophomore slump plays out, the third album is either stellar or even more disappointing. We’ll see which road Evanescence takes.

Prime Cuts:
Cloud Nine
Call Me When You’re Sober
The Only One
Weight of the World

22 Rating: 9

Aerosmith - Pump

These days, we don’t have records like this. What constitutes a “record like this,” you ask? By that I mean three things; sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Actually, the drugs part has been excised for Aerosmith’s eighth studio album, Pump, and as Steven Tyler himself said, “that leaves more room for the other two.” Indeed, sex in all its forms (except, oddly, the totally pure kind that exists in a loving marriage) is the centerpiece of this album, and there is no shortage of rock and roll. That’s one of the languages of sex, after all, so it’s not surprising. Heck, even Anberlin sings about the complications involved with sex, and they’re a Christian band. Sooner or later, it all comes back to that subject. It is, after all, one of the basic human drives (or so it is purported by some).

Aerosmith take a tack with it, however, that is sadly not really used anymore, and that is being so freaking clever about it that you only realize the incredibly bawdy nature of what he’s saying when you stop for a second to think about it. “She’s got a new kind of jelly in her jelly roll.” Innocent seeming, but when applied in a certain way, really gross. In a strange way, I long for the days when music artists actually did this; couched their libidinous words in metaphor and twisting avenues. Nowadays, the rap and R&B artists just state it plain, and that makes for not only a somewhat disturbing musical experience, but an uninteresting one, as well.

Pump starts off on a very high note, one that’s in fact the highest of the entire album. “Young Lust” is a real stomper, and you can’t help but be swept away with its intensity and driving beat. “Young Lust” also starts a trend that continues for two more songs, which is an unabashed celebration of sex. “F.I.N.E.” and “Love In an Elevator” both are jubilant, happy songs about a very base and simple subject, but they work because of the (sometimes) roundabout route that they take. Remember, Aerosmith are just five working class guys with pretty down-to-earth desires: they want chicks. They’re not brooding, tortured, or pessimistic. They did a brand of rock music that isn’t really done anymore: swaggering around like you’re the sexiest thing God ever created, his gift to women. But here’s the funny thing, the thing that most bands today forget: when you really and truly believe you’re the sexiest guy in the room, you are. Aerosmith had no shortage of girlfriends, let me tell you. Some may try to deny it, but that’s the initial aim of playing rock music in the first place. It’s why I went to the girls’ lounge with my guitar my first week of college. To get chicks.

However, Aerosmith cover more ground that just makin’ with the love. “Monkey On My Back” shows how far they have come, being an indictment of the drug culture. They were all totally clean and drug-free for this album and every one after it, as well as Permanent Vacation before it. “Janie’s Got a Gun” makes a strong if somewhat simple-minded statement about child abuse, and “What It Takes” shows that Aerosmith still know how to write a sensitive and tender song about a heart done wrong. And all the while, even though they’re dealing with somewhat weighty subjects, they never stop delivering the blues-based rock and roll that they’re famous for. Steven Tyler really only knows how to sing one way, so it’s good that he sticks to what he does best.

I was 8 when Pump came out, but I didn’t discover it till I was 12. I had to hide it from my parents that I even listened to Aerosmith, and had some major hell to pay when they found out. And you know, Aerosmith still has the appeal that they did back then. They remind me of a time when rock stars picked out a girl from the audience and gave her a smile, and that was all they had to do to make her swoon. If only it were that easy.

Prime Cuts:
Young Lust
What It Takes
The Other Side
Love In an Elevator

22 Rating: 12

The Decemberists - The Crane Wife

Certain albums are classic. By that I mean they capture the essence of something that transcends music, so much so that the music becomes more than music; it becomes part of our very lives. These albums have an elevated sense of artistry, but also capture a moment in time and make it timeless. Nevermind was such an album. So were The Joshua Tree, Revolver, The Downward Spiral, Rumours, and Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness. Albums like that mark the time because they contain a kind of zeitgeist that endures the passing of the ages. The Crane Wife may just be another one of those albums.

The buzz surrounding The Crane Wife’s release was considerable, most of it being concern about the Decemberists moving to a major label. For three albums and four years, they had been the champions of the indie movement, being the crowning achievement and the most quality export of any minor label. But the natural progression is a band making a name for itself in indie land, and then climbing up the ladder to a major label, meaning more exposure and money. The problem is once an act makes the transition from small to big time, that major label forces them into the mold of public acceptance, something indie labels don’t do. So concern was voiced everywhere that that classic story would be the Decemberists’ story, too. Thankfully, everyone was wrong.

The Crane Wife is a glimpse of the Decemberists and frontman Colin Meloy at their most creative, their most ambitious, and their best. Right off the bat, this album captures a beauty not found in this day and age. With the 4-part epic “The Island,” they call upon the gods of progressive rock, like Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis, Kansas, and even Jethro Tull. Even if they’re shamelessly indulging in the past, the lyrics still retain that Meloy-ness to them, something no one can duplicate. “Yankee Bayonet” has a guest spot from Laura Veirs, whom I had never heard of before. From the first second she came in, my ears pricked up. She has an incredibly unique voice, and it suits this song perfectly. “Shankill Butchers” is a bedside horror story, meant to scare kids into good behavior. “Don’t be naughty, children, or the Shankill Butchers will get ya!” The fact that a song like this exists at all is cause for celebration. “The Crane Wife 1 & 2,” along with its out-of-order companion piece “The Crane Wife 3,” draws upon an old Japanese folk tale of an act of kindness, giving the album a definition and sense of purpose that makes the strongest case for it being a classic album. And of course, the best is saved for last. “Sons and Daughters” brings it back to a place of beauty and timelessness. The final repeated phrase of “Here all the bombs fade away” is powerful but gentle at the same time. And the cymbal crashes and then the fade-out at the end only further illustrate the point.

I don’t know any other way to put it; this is the best album to come around in quite a long time. There isn’t a bad song on here, or even a ho-hum one. Each song is a splendid creation, but the album taken as a whole is really where it shines. It seriously could be one of those albums that fledgling bands hold up and say, “man, I wish we could be as good as that.” And it renews my faith in not just rock and roll, but music in general. When I listen to this album, I get the sense that it’s all going to be alright.

Prime Cuts:
Sons and Daughters
The Island
The Crane Wife 3
Shankill Butchers

22 Rating: 20

Panic! at the Disco - A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

You know, Panic! at the Disco’s A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out has made me realize something: I’m not a teenager anymore. This is not a shocking revelation to me, and now I’m thinking that it’s not such a bad thing. If this is where teenagers are at now, then I gladly leave those days behind me. Panic! at the Disco may be all the rage these days, but it really makes we wonder what they’re teaching in those schools of theirs.

The band pulls off a pretty good magic act, though. They make you think they’re saying something deep, and maybe even believe that they are. But they’re basically just a bunch of snot-nosed conceited kids who haven’t thought about the fact that they might actually be wrong yet. That’s what teenagers do, though, so it’s not surprising considering that Panic! at the Disco’s members are barely out of high school. For the most part, they are singing about things that seem really important to teens, and even to some adults. But their discourse about them reveals that they don’t have a freaking clue what they’re talking about. That’s not terribly surprising either.

It’s obvious that their influences are Nirvana, the Offspring, The Beatles, and the Chemical Brothers. For all the good history they take into consideration, they have learned none of those groups’ melodicism. This album has as many hooks as a bowling ball, a very bad thing for a punk band. The way they make their songs stick in your mind is through repetition and violently hammering them into your brain, since they’re fully aware that the riffs are unremarkable on their own. The tendency these days towards very long sentence-like song titles (Fall Out Boy is guilty of it as well) is supposed to be snarky, but instead is annoying. The incredible self-awareness of the lyrics makes me shake my head. This is a band that sings about being in a band to the point of wanting to tell them to shut the hell up.

“London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines” is very strong evidence that Panic! at the Disco came out of the womb being too big for its conceited britches. “Time to Dance” is the closest thing to a smooth groove, but it’s marred by the lyrics’ clumsy melody. “But It’s Better If You Do” portrays the world of cheap strip clubs pretty skillfully, but I can’t get away from the fact that the kids in Panic! at the Disco must be talking out of their collective ass, since none of them could have possibly ever been in a strip club. I appreciate the skewering of the fashion industry in “There’s a Good Reason These Tables are Numbered Honey You Just Haven’t Thought of It Yet,” but it has a song title that is too freaking long!!!! And on “Build God, Then We’ll Talk” they resort to ripping off The Sound of Music. Very classy.

What’s sad is that Panic! at the Disco probably think they’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. What’s even sadder is that the general public does too.

Prime Cuts:
Time to Dance

22 Rating: -12

Live - Songs from Black Mountain

By nature, I am a person who resists change. I’m really trying to work on this, and I think I’ve come a long way. Still, to hear an album like Live’s seventh effort Songs from Black Mountain makes me sad. It’s because when I was in high school, bands like Live were the tip-top. Now, ten years later, they’ve all either broken up or gone through some change, and my instinctual reaction is one of distress. Live may have matured in their growth, but part of me thinks they’ve gone a little soft.

Ed Kowalczyk and his crew can be considered the spiritual gurus of rock and roll. Groups like Creed can pretend, but Live’s spirituality goes a lot deeper than a few camera-ready Christ poses. They walk the wandering walk, instead of just talking the Jesus-like talk. The journey Ed Kowalczyk has taken in his lyrics and the place he has come to is fascinating to me, and does at least a little to help me form my connection to God and the spiritual world. But now, I fear the journey is nearing its end, as Ed seems to be getting more and more satisfied with each Live album. That’s great for Ed, but not so great for me. It’s good to be spiritually satisfied, but more often than not it makes for some pretty boring music.

But I’m being unfair to this album; despite some rather vapid spiritual revelations, it is pretty good. It’s just not of the caliber I’ve come to expect from Live. They’re one of my very favorite groups, so it’s a little disappointing to get an album from them that’s just okay. The problem is that when I wasn’t looking, they went and grew up. I could sense it a little on Birds of Pray. But that album still had enough bombast to make it appealing to my young eyes. That album worked because it combined high-energy anthem rock with deep philosophical statements. With Songs from Black Mountain, the deep ruminations are fully intact, but the rock part seems very damaged.

The song “Get Ready” is a perfect example. This has the potential to be a loud, triumphant Live-style anthem, but as it is, it seems neutered and stale. They’ve mellowed in their old age, and they’re still really good. But I miss the version of Ed Kowalczyk that drove to the hoop every night, that offered himself up as a living sacrifice to the gods of rock and roll. This newer, calmer version who’s a parent two times over is nice, but it makes me yearn for the past.

Unlike other Live albums, there are no really great songs, but instead a bunch of pretty good ones. It’s hard to tell them apart from each other, actually. “The River” is the first single, and it sets the tone for the rest of the record, with little deviation. “Love Shines” is basically a Sunday school lesson, but quite often the most meaningful statements are couched in pretty simple things. And “Sofia” is a good tribute to a woman we would all like to marry. Like I said, the album is good, even if there are no surprises. While from lots of other bands that’s pretty good, Live are held to a greater standard, and it’s sad to see them falling just barely short of it.

Prime Cuts:
Mystery
Sofia
Love Shines (A Song for My Daughters about God)

22 Rating: 7

Thom Yorke - The Eraser

Thom Yorke (much to his own chagrin, I’m sure) is a rock star. He’s been elevated to a level where millions of people admire him, and any weirdness he veers off into, his fans will embrace, if a little hesitantly. He probably doesn’t destroy hotel rooms or sleep with hundreds of groupies, but his originality and categorical distinctness are what make him so interesting. He makes music that forces people to sit up and listen or get left behind. I’m sorry, Thom, but that’s a rock star. You’re a rock star; get over it.

Separating himself from most of Radiohead for one album has done a few things for Yorke. One, he’s not as concerned with melody or consistency. Two, he’s a lot less reliant on guitars and is exploring the soundscapes seen on Kid A. The Eraser is a lot like Kid A, but more optimistic (ironic, considering Kid A contains a song called “Optimistic” that is anything but). He may be doing his own thing, to the exclusion of anything else, but his fans are going along with it. I think Radiohead fans like to be confused; that’s sort of the natural state for them. With a lot of pop acts, we like them at first, but the taste of them eventually sours over time. With Radiohead and Thom Yorke, we have the opposite. While The Eraser may seem incomprehensible and space-cadet at first, give it time. One lesson I’ve learned from my years of interaction with Radiohead’s music is that it needs time to grow on you. That’s true of Thom Yorke’s solo work, as well.

The title track begins the album, and it tells you instantly that this will be a difficult listen. A distorted piano playing a hard-to-follow rhythm continues throughout the whole thing, with a few key changes, just in case you weren’t confused enough already. But the genius of this song is that when examined closely, it’s actually in 4/4 time with a chorus. “Analyse” has a wicked cool groove to it, and is primarily beat driven. The music suggests that it is all about to unravel, and that things may actually be better once it does. In “The Clock,” Thom does that doomy/lilting thing that only he can do, marrying a sense of impending danger to a very soft and malleable melody. “Black Swan,” probably the album’s most single-worthy song, has a great sing-along chorus, or at least hum-along. The entire Eraser album seems like a logical extension of Hail to the Thief, with many of the songs seeming similar to the “I will eat you alive” and “You have not been paying attention” vibe. How strange that The Eraser can very logically follow both Kid A and Hail to the Thief, when those two albums aren’t very similar at all.

Many songs have guitar, but they just provide subtle touches instead of being the main feature of a song, like on The Bends and some of OK Computer. I actually think most of the songs were written on a drum machine; almost the entire album has a very strong beat, if a somewhat discombobulating one. Thom Yorke doesn’t deal in pop sensibilities or mainstream conventions. Amazingly, his popularity only seems to be growing, as is the respect that the music community has for him. What can I say? He’s a rock star.

Prime Cuts:
Analyse
Black Swan
And It Rained All Night
The Clock

22 Rating: 9

Dream Theater - Octavarium

Dream Theater have never been ones to rest on their laurels. The last four years have seen three studio albums from these dynamos, and they haven’t been just throw-away efforts, toss-offs with no distinction one from the other. Each has been a unique entity, a little different from the others. They’re probably the most famous of all the progressive rock acts of all time. Though that’s not saying much for their number of fans, the fans that they do have are quite a sight to behold. I can say from experience that you don’t just have a passing interest in Dream Theater. At times it’s stronger than at others, but you really have to fall into one of two camps: you either are wowed by them, or you don’t get it.

Octavarium is Dream Theater’s eighth full-length album, and they sound every bit as alive, excited, and mind-bogglingly proficient as ever. At the same time, Octavarium seems a little stale. I don’t think Dream Theater is losing their touch so much as their touch is remaining the same. Yes, they’re masters at their instruments. Yes, they do progressive metal better than just about anybody. Yes, John Petrucci has skills with the guitar that should be reserved for heavenly beings. All this we know. They don’t seem to have gone through the progression that most bands do of playing only passingly in the beginning and then getting better as they grow, eventually reaching excellence. Dream Theater seem to have skipped the “only passingly” part all together, and gone straight to excellence.

Even so, Octavarium has changes in other ways, as their previous albums do. The blackness and anger of Train of Thought is left behind, and it’s replaced by a more even-handed approach. “The Root of All Evil” picks up where Train of Thought left off, making the transition from one musical mode to the next. “The Answer Lies Within” is a little boring and simple-minded, but boring Dream Theater is way better than inspired Nickelback. Then there’s “I Walk Beside You.” This is a pretty odd song for Dream Theater. It’s quick, driving, upbeat, and even radio-friendly. GASP!!! You heard right.

Dream Theater must have thought they had to compensate for their moment of pop, so they did just that. Almost the entire second half of the record is taken up by only two songs; the 10 minute “Sacrificed Sons,” and the 24-minute epic title track. Dream Theater seems to have grown a social conscious, having one song on their last three albums explicitly about an issue facing our contemporary world. This time it’s “Sacrificed Sons,” the subject being 9/11. As far as number of tracks go, this is a very brief album, being only 8 tracks long. However, it’s 75 minutes long, which is almost all that a single CD can hold. Honestly, this is a lot like the classic albums from the 1970s, generally known as the heydays of progressive rock. The final title track, also, contains a section where Dream Theater pulls influence from every progressive source imaginable, from Genesis, Led Zeppelin, Yes, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, and Deep Purple, just to name a few. And this isn’t just my own interpretation; anybody with knowledge of those groups would be able to pick up on it.

Octavarium proves that Dream Theater are not going soft in their old age. They can’t get any sharper, because they’ve already hit the ceiling on that, but they aren’t losing even a miniscule amount of their edge. However, it can’t be too long till they start to… can it?

Prime Cuts:
Octavarium
I Walk Beside You
The Root of All Evil

22 Rating: 13

Nada Surf - The Weight Is a Gift

Back in 1996, the musical landscape was dominated by post-grunge and pop, and in the midst of it was the Little-Band-That-Almost-Could, Nada Surf. They strove for greatness, but only ended up a one hit wonder. “Popular” was a great song, but it got lost in the shuffle of “One Headlight,” “The Freshmen,” “Sell Out,” and “Only Happy When It Rains.” Even so, they pressed on and kept the faith, and it has finally paid off.

Most successful bands start off indie and then go mass-market, but the journey was actually opposite for Nada Surf, starting on Elektra Records but eventually moving to Barsuk, original home of Death Cab for Cutie. Journey is really the right word for what Nada Surf did, too. They began as a good but fairly anonymous pop-punk/post-grunge band, churning out melodies that were largely forgettable, “Popular” excepted. 2002’s Let Go did just that, releasing all the grunge elements in favor of delicate harmonies and lightly-strummed acoustic guitars. Now, 2005’s The Weight is a Gift marks the return of some of those rock and roll tricks, but Nada Surf is being much wiser in their choices. Matthew Caws was always a little on the willowy side with the vocals, and Nada Surf’s music in general was a little more positive, never quite fitting in with the likes of the Smashing Pumpkins or even the Verve Pipe. It’s so good to see them doing their own thing, really using Caws’ voice instead of apologizing for it.

“Concrete Bed” starts the record off on an upbeat note, with a catchy chorus and driving guitar work. One can tell that this is a faster, more intense record than Let Go, as pretty as that album was. Prettiness is not gone from Nada Surf’s repertoire, however, as “Always Love” and “Your Legs Grow” prove. They have improved upon the prettiness, morphing it into one that doesn’t whisper as much as it sings. “Blankest Year” and “Armies Walk” are probably the strongest examples that Nada Surf are embracing their rock roots, but they also utilize Caws’ voice to the greatest effect. And “Imaginary Friends” closes the album with the same flavor as “Concrete Bed” had opening it, bringing the album into a complete circle that is really quite nice.

The Weight is a Gift doesn’t seem like much at first, but it’s very comforting to have it there. It’s a very rewarding listen, getting a little better each time you listen to it. The thing that makes me sad about it is that not many people will really get to experience the gentle but insistent touch of the album, since the band doesn’t have much exposure. Despite that, they are one of the better rock bands out there today. Most of today’s music is really dishonest, as it’s either dismal heavy metal or produced on the American Idol assembly line. It’s good that Nada Surf has finally found their audience; one that’s grown weary of all the contrivances of mass-market music, one that’s ready to move on and take balance over chaos.

Prime Cuts:
Always Love
Do It Again
Your Legs Grow
Blankest Year

22 Rating: 11

Nickelback - All the Right Reasons

On an episode of Friends, the girls are waiting in their apartment for the boys to arrive so they can start barbequing. When Chandler and Joey walk through the door carrying a bag of charcoal, they speak in deep caveman voices saying, “Men are here. We make fire,” and then beat their chests. The girls give them withering looks, as if to say “whatever.” That’s what I feel like saying to Nickelback; whatever.

Chad Kroeger and company are like cavemen, grunting and shambling their way to success. It’s hard to believe that rock and roll that’s this ugly, incompetent, and childish makes the top of the charts, but it does. Nickelback is probably the most popular of all the traditional rock bands, and one of the only ones making a splash in any circles other than the avid rock fans. But why? Sweet Mother of God why? Nickelback makes a lot of the wrong choices, with a few exceptions. When they are really tender, when Kroeger lets all the walls of machoness down and becomes naked (in the metaphorical sense instead of the literal like he usually does), they actually dance pretty gracefully. But it’s the moments of over-arching maleness (and there are a lot of them) that sink this ship. And frankly, I take a little glee in seeing it crash to the bottom of the ocean.

All the Right Reasons is a lot like all their other albums. They’re 10 years into their career, and they don’t seem to have grown at all. The lyrics range from clumsy to disgusting, with lines like “what the hell is on Joey’s head?” leaving me not knowing whether to laugh or cry, at the same time as “it’s a little hard to leave when you’re going down on me” make me want to puke. The proceedings start off on a good enough note. “Follow You Home” has a good groove to it, and the lyrics are creative, if very stalker-like. “Photograph” also has a flow to it that is very nice, even if the lyrics are pedestrian and base. Then there’s “Savin’ Me,” the latest entry to the “How You Remind Me”/”Someday” sound-alike contest. Kroeger may be writing from his own actual perspective, but it’s one of juvenile delinquency, and only a limited number of people can identify with that. Also, some of the juvenile delinquency is celebrated rather than condemned, like in “Animals.” Besides talking about oral sex while driving (against the law, by the way) in the basest and simplest of terms, it describes the selfish and visceral actions of its two protagonists with the line “ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.”

Overall, the music is settled comfortably (read as boringly) in the post-grunge tradition of the mid- to late 90’s. While the lyrics are pretty sexually graphic in nature, the album does not carry an advisory label. Maybe Tipper Gore was asleep at the switch. Even so, it’s not without it’s good moments (“Far Away,” “Someone That You’re With”), but they’re just that: moments. They adhere to the exception rather than the rule. It makes me a little sad (and more than a little confused) that Nickelback’s audience is 75% female, considering that their music is so pig-headedly and chauvinistically male. Oh well, though. If a girl is really into Nickelback, that’s my first indication that she’s not the one for me. Actually, that’s pretty helpful.

Prime Cuts:
Far Away
Someone That You’re With

22 Rating: -8

An apology

Sorry for slacking on the updates. This month is pretty crazy for me, but I should have time to do some reviews after this weekend. Look for Nickelback's All the Right Reasons soon, and Nada Surf's The Weight is a Gift shortly after that.

Bullet For My Valentine - The Poison

I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. Sure, this world is evil and fallen and rotten and all those other things, but do we really need another band telling us that? Bullet For My Valentine’s debut album, The Poison, is laborious, aimlessly angry, and a little tiresome, but it’s also pretty cool. It is filled with tortured screaming and all the self-mutilating fun a guy could want, and you really have to be in the right mode to listen to it.

What mode is that, you ask? Well, you need to be feeling anger at the world in general, like your life doesn’t have a whole lot of purpose, and that you are helpless in the face of your own circumstances. And it helps if your girlfriend just dumped you. In truth, The Poison brings a lot of good things to the table. The guitar sound is simply awesome, the drums deliver gut-churning power (a requirement for any metal band worth their salt), and the vocals are sufficiently passionate, if being a little over the top… alright, a freaking ton over the top.

As much as it grooves, jerks, and jostles in a good way, the thing that turns me off is the screaming. Why do so many bands today feel it necessary to scream at the top of their lungs? And I don’t mean occasionally; all the freaking time! Never mind that the lead singer cannot possibly hope to do it every night without needing surgery in short order; it’s just not as good as singing. In Bullet For My Valentine’s case, they don’t scream to cover up the fact that they can’t sing, because they certainly can. Instead, it comes out of a passion and fervency for what they are screaming about. I can respect the idea behind that, even if I don’t like the particulars.

On the plus side, the thing that’s causing the songwriter so much trouble is one we can all identify with: love. Really, his reactions to the wrongs that love has dealt him are not the best (like the titular bullet), but we are all prone to them, and we have all had them at one time or another (in spirit, anyway). In that way, Bullet For My Valentine are making music that is pretty universal, whether we want to admit it or not.

In summation, I liked The Poison; I just don’t think I’ll really listen to it that much. In fact, I would be fine with never hearing Bullet For My Valentine again. Nothing on the album really grabbed me, so I’m fine just letting it pass by. Still, though, I appreciated it. The band is pretty skilled, both at the technical aspects and at making music people can believe in. It has a lot of passion, even if it completely lacks subtlety. At the end, though, I don’t know what they’re so upset about. Well, actually, I do know, but my first reaction would not be to scream about it; it would be to shrug. There’s no sense getting yourself all worked up over something you can’t change. Bullet For My Valentine are definitely getting themselves worked up.

Prime Cuts:
Intro/Her Voice Resides
Tears Don’t Fall
Cries In Vain

22 Rating: 6

The Flaming Lips - At War With the Mystics

Some records are really weird. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway? Yeah, that’s weird. The Life of Chris Gaines? Strange-o-la, though it’s more for what it was as a whole than anything on the record. We’re Only In It For the Money, or anything else by Frank Zappa? Off-the-charts weird. The key is to make it weird in a way that draws you in, not freaks you out; to make it intriguing enough to get people to wade through all the layers of psychosis, and hopefully find something worthwhile on the other side. Those two elements are essential to any exercise in weirdness: intrigue and substance. The Flaming Lips, who before have made some of the most hauntingly beautiful music ever, fail on both fronts with At War With the Mystics.

I know, I know, everyone and their brother has heard and loved “Do You Realize??” to the point where it’s incredibly cliché. But consider this; clichés are what they are because they’re usually true. “Do You Realize??” is one of the most marvelously gorgeous ballads of our time, and it shot the Flaming Lips from cult band to superstars at warp speed, 17 years into their career. But success like that brings the entire world anticipating your next effort with bated breath. Critics wet themselves over Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, as well as their previous album, The Soft Bulletin, as they no doubt will over At War With the Mystics. But here’s my question to them: does unique always equal good?

The obvious answer would be “no, it does not,” and that can be greatly seen on At War With the Mystics. The Flaming Lips have sort of become the spokesband for the anti-Bush movement, though exactly how they did is a subject of perplexity to me, and probably to them as well. That being said, the lead-off track, “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song,” can be read to be an anti-anti-Bush song, actually. The message of this song seems to be “sure, we have rotten leadership, but none of us could do any better had we all the power.” The next song, “Free Radicals,” can again be interpreted as dissing the political left, but that could be just my slightly conservative eyes interpreting it. The music is like disco done badly (which is actually better than disco done well, but that is neither here nor there), and clearly illustrates the weird-but-not-good thing.

The album, as a whole, is not as bouncy or optimistic as the opening tracks would have you believe. In general, it’s a pretty subdued and lackluster affair, but people will praise it just because it’s different. The fact that people comment just on how an artist says a thing, and not on what he actually says, I find to be pretty insulting to the artist. On the other hand, the Flaming Lips don’t really care what I think of their art, or what anyone else thinks, for that matter. If they did, they would not have continued with they 21-year career of absolute singularity in terms of what they were doing. I have to have a little respect for their chutzpah (the pure audacity of Zaireeka! simply blows my mind), but nothing says I have to like their music.

Prime Cuts:
The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song
Mr. Ambulance Driver

22 Rating: -6

Anberlin - Never Take Friendship Personal

I know what you’re thinking, because until recently I was thinking the same thing myself. You’re thinking, “rock and roll is dead,” or if not, it’s at least severely injured. The turning of the millennium was a dismal time for music, where the Britney Spearses and the Backstreet Boys reigned supreme, and we even had the Nickelbacks making rock that was honest, but blazingly incompetent. It was like that for a few years, with the rock kids left to wail and gnash their teeth. But thankfully, the storm has ended, and we can all breath a little easier. Rock and roll is back.

For a prime example, one must look no further than Anberlin’s sophomore effort, Never Take Friendship Personal. This is a fresh and young approach to a form of music that has lasted 50 years, and I thought this type of optimism was dead and gone. Thank God I was wrong. Anberlin is just one of many groups taking rock and roll and making it new again by simply adhering to what makes rock and roll great. They sound like they don’t even know that Christina Aguilera exists, and the music is all the better for it. Along with Hawthorne Heights and Taking Back Sunday (both of whom Anberlin are currently touring with, coincidentally), Anberlin comes charging out of the gates, taking over the world in the name of rock. Whether they have the chops and constitution to get the job done is still to be determined, but they sure are putting on a good show.

There’s a lot to praise on Never Take Friendship Personal, though it’s alarmingly simple. The straightforward approach to rock and roll that the album takes is not snazzy or complicated, nor is there any overarching message to be communicated. Anberlin is not revolutionary, ambitious, or border-pushing, but they are very good. Stephen Christian is an exceptionally good singer, and that is a little surprising for this type of music. Young rock tends to have passion in spades, but not a lot of skill; Anberlin has both. Taking Back Sunday often lets their enthusiasm get the better of them, but Anberlin keep their childlike tendencies carefully in check. They have the fervency of emo, but the polish of pop. Everything they do, they do right.

Even so, the record is not as good as it could be, even if it’s still very good. I get the feeling that it’s as good as it can be with the band in its current state, before they have had an opportunity to fall flat on their faces. In my experience, good bands usually put out their best record shortly after their worst one, and Anberlin doesn’t yet have a characteristically “worst” record. The song titles are refreshingly esoteric, with the kind of weirdness that’s not off-putting. “Paperthin Hymn” is a blazing piece of pure rock and roll, with just enough edge and sense of danger to make the stakes seem higher than they are. “Audrey, Start the Revolution!” is amazingly optimistic and sunny in its regard for love, without being sappy or charming. And “The Feel Good Drag” and “A Day Late” present the other side of the love coin, showing that it’s not all roses and bunnies. And if that’s not enough, “Dance, Dance, Christa Päffgen” presents a very down-to-earth picture of addiction, in all its forms (even if the song is a little long-winded). Can an album this wise really be from a band that’s so young?

Anberlin and bands like them make me excited for the future of music, and that’s something I haven’t been in a while. I guess the Hegelian dialectic is finally coming back around my way. Oh, and did I mention that the band is Christian, as well?

Prime Cuts:
Paperthin Hymn
The Feel Good Drag
A Day Late
Audrey, Start the Revolution!

22 Rating: 13

Garbage - Bleed Like Me

In times like these, I’m reminded of the immortal words of Iago the Parrot in the movie Aladdin: “I think I’m gonna have a heart attack and die from not-surprise!” Don’t get me wrong; that’s not bad. After a four-year hiatus, Garbage are back, and it doesn’t seem they think any time has passed at all. In fact, they still seem to think it’s 1996, bless their hearts. It’s funny, because back in 1996, they were a little bit odd, eschewing some of the conventions of modern rock in favor of more pop elements and a dash of techno. Slowly, rock took their lead and started becoming more soft-core. Garbage, however, remained exactly the same. Version 2.0 sounded precisely the same as their eponymous debut, as the title indicated. Then, after the behemoth failure of Beautiful Garbage, they faded away into the night. Now that they’ve returned, it’s a lot like they were cryogenically frozen.

Some would call it consistency, others a lack of originality, but I think both are a little off the mark. Garbage isn’t stuck in one sound and laboring in vain, as other bands are. Instead, they’re taking their time mining a particular time period of music long after the rest of the music world has moved on. The mid-90’s were a great time for music, and ten years later, Garbage are the only act that really retain that polished filth aesthetic that the 90’s had captured. It’s so very odd, however, since when they first came out, they were the most un-grungy of grunge bands.

Garbage can always be relied upon the provide a sweet bit of nostalgia, and Bleed Like Me does not disappoint. The first track makes it very clear that we can check our iPods at the door. Also, Shirley Manson successfully pulls off the catty, ever-so-slightly slutty persona she got down to a fine art in the mids-90’s, driving all the ugly grunge boys nuts. Her sultry voice is soft enough to make it very appealing, but edgy enough make you squirm in delicious dirtiness. “Run Baby Run,” the best track on here, combines beautifully the hard with the soft, and is just impassioned enough to sound honest. The first single, “Why Do You Love Me,” takes that formula a bit to far, but the head-banging quality of it brings the memories back to me in a flood, and with it, I smile. Honestly, when was the last time you heard a band that made you want to head-bang? Could it be 1996?

Garbage’s blast from the past is nothing but fun, though it means that they have absolutely no opportunity for growth. Really, though, this band has very little growth potential from the very beginning. Three of the four members were over 30, so that makes them over 40 now. They were producers and studio musicians that found a good public face, one that is not only intense and energetic, but young and sexy as well. Even so, Shirly Manson is not merely a pawn. She takes just as much responsibility for the band’s writing and musical direction as any other band member. What results is a band that sustains a musical movement that is worth sustaining, and Bleed Like Me is just another in the progression. There are no surprises here, but no let-downs either.

Prime Cuts:
Run Baby Run
Right Between the Eyes
Sex is Not the Enemy

22 Rating: 11

Arcade Fire - Funeral

Probably the most “different” band I’m into is the Decemberists. They’re pretty much unlike anything else I’m really into, but I love them in a big way. So I was searching allmusic.com for bands similar to the Decemberists, and figured I’d try a few. The first one I tried was Belle & Sebastian, and I didn’t like them at all. At first I thought my love of the Decemberists was just a fluke, but I decided to give it one more go, and tried listening to Arcade Fire. There, I struck gold.

What makes Arcade Fire so good is their passion. They’re not good-looking, appealing, or well-noted, and they don’t even play their instruments extremely well. Win Butler arguably doesn’t have a very good voice. I get the feeling that he could have a good voice if he took lessons, but as it is, it is very raw and untrained. No, none of those things apply, but they play with such abandon, like their very lives depended on the next note. That’s not to say every musical moment is intense and loud; sometimes quite the opposite. But even the quiet, contemplative moments communicate great importance. It’s as if they are saying, “this life is all we have, so we’re going to say what needs to be said.” Their music works because they believe in it 100%, at the cost of everything else.

That attitude is put forth very strongly, both lyrically and musically, with the first track, “Tunnels.” It builds gradually, as a lot of their songs do, starting out in subtle gentleness, eventually reaching such heights of urgency that you would wonder if it’s actually the same song, if the melody weren’t consistent. The next track, “Laika,” has an awesome accordion part (never thought I’d say that…), and a percussion part that is insistent, and drives the song. Much of their music is beat-driven, and I’m struck by how strong their rhythm section is. “Power Out,” the album’s crowning achievement, is an anthem, a call to arms, a one-song revolution. The power is out/in the heart of man/take it from your heart/put it in your hand. Man, that makes me want to go out and change the world. How about you?

Perhaps what makes this band so urgent and now-centered is the tragedies that befell them at the beginning of the recording of this album. Three band members had close family members die in a short period of time, inspiring the album’s title, and the music reflects that. That is not to say it’s dark or depressing; quite the opposite, actually. At its best, the music is warm, life-affirming, even beautiful. And even at its worst, it’s just saccharine and a little boring, not cringe-inducing or laughable like some other bands of the same emotional color. This is music with a heart, and the experience is softly empathic, like a lover sleeping next to you. Arcade Fire doesn't take their cues from rock and roll, or any mainstream music for that matter, but somehow they still come to a place that is universal. It may take a while to grow on you, and you really have to be a little open for it to work for you, but Funeral is a very rewarding album, and I think you’ll find yourself, like I do, returning to it again and again.

Prime Cuts:
Power Out
Laika
Rebellion (Lies)
Tunnels

22 Rating: 13

Death Cab for Cutie - Transatlanticism

I’m really kind of torn. On one hand, I want to praise Death Cab for Cutie for being passionate and driven while still being even-handed. They don’t over-sell their message (whatever that is), and instead come at you from the back, slowly sidling up to you so you wonder if they weren’t there all along. So many bands, especially young indie bands like Death Cab, tend to be so attention-grasping that it’s a turn-off. On the other hand, I KNOW that they can be a really bombastic, really anthemic, really good rock and roll band. I just know it. Somewhere under Ben Gibbard’s melancholic exterior is a blazing rock star just aching to get out. But my fear is probably the same as his: what will happen if he releases him?

In 2003, Death Cab for Cutie was comfortably settled in indie land, making underground music that people were crazy about. As they slowly became more mainstream, both in popularity and style, they didn’t lose that thrown-together feel that all indie bands wear like a badge of honor. Transatlanticism, their fourth album, is probably the most mainstream of their indie albums, and it’s also their last before they became media darlings and everybody knew their name. And it’s also their best. We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes was a massive leap forward for them, as they perfected the live-in-the-studio feel, but it wasn’t ambitious enough. The Photo Album was a bit louder and made a bolder statement, but there was not a hook to be found anywhere in a 700-mile radius. With Transatlanticism, they finally hit just the right note.

The opener, “The New Year,” is their most ambitious number to date, with a huge sound contrasted against Gibbard’s willowy voice. It’s ridiculously anthemic, and it’s not even the most anthemic song on the album. Its lyrics set a tone that continues through the entire proceedings. “Title and Registration” has even more of that think-really-hard aspect to the lyrics, and is beautifully understated. The drum machine’s relentless beat gives it a mechanical feel, at the same time that the guitar and bells inject humanness. “The Sound of Settling” is driving and surprisingly poppy. The ba-ba chorus makes me think “this is an indie band that actually wants to be mass-market.” And then there’s the title track, which I didn’t like the first time I heard it. It might have been because my mind was occupied with other things, and I didn’t have enough attention to catch the subtle nuances and incredibly slow build. This is an exercise in the most amazing kind of restraint, and is something that every band could learn from. Instead of hurrying, it takes the time to enjoy itself, and its lush and rich textures have the space to really stretch out. “Transatlanticism” will surely be a live favorite, with lighters lit all around the arena. Amazingly, however, that song is in the middle of the album, so it’s not done. “We Looked Like Giants” is the hardest rocking song they’ve done yet, but the hard rock quality of it is not what you’d expect. This is where I suspect the most that there is a rock star hidden under Ben Gibbard’s submissive demeanor. It’s doomy like a metal band, but gentle and tender at the same exact time. And “A Lack of Color” closes the album, making us itch uncontrollably for the next album. It’s too bad Plans made a lot of the wrong choices, favoring schmaltze over substance.

When it’s over, Transatlanticism is a very satisfying experience. It’s strange, then, that the album taken as a whole doesn’t add up to much. Death Cab for Cutie are just so understated that they often come across as saying nothing at all. They make their listeners work very hard to get any satisfaction out of their music. While that’s admirable, it forces their constituency to be relatively small. Even though they’re in the mainstream now, I don’t think they’ll stay there for very long. At their heart, they’re an indie band, and indie by definition is not mainstream.

Prime Cuts:
Title and Registration
Transatlanticism
A Lack of Color
We Looked Like Giants

22 Rating: 10

Foo Fighters - In Your Honor

Back in 1994, Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins said that the idea behind the Smashing Pumpkins was “loud music and quite music and putting it all together.” Well, the idea behind the Foo Fighters’ In Your Honor seems to be loud music and quiet music and keeping them completely separate. After hearing the whole thing, I can say it was very very VERY bad idea to separate them, simply because it makes for an achingly uninteresting listening experience. The reason for that isn’t just the separation of the two styles. That in and of itself is fine, I guess. The trouble with In Your Honor is that the two styles could have been represented with just 2 songs as well as they are in 20. As expansive as this album seems, it really only strikes two notes. It’s a retard in a genius’ clothing.

At the start, it’s promising enough. The song “In Your Honor” doesn’t really offer much, but it suggests very good things to come. Then, for the next 9 tracks, it’s just heaviness and more heaviness. Dave Grohl has a pretty good voice, but when he gets up to a certain register, he really strains his voice so it just sounds like a scream. That’s okay, except that he spends most of the first disc in that register. The loud half just seems clumsy where is should be passionate, and it doesn’t seem that a lot of thought or effort was put into it.

The quiet half has the same exact problem, though not in the specifics. The opening track, “Still,” has a very doomy and sinister feel to it, again making us hopeful for what lies ahead. We were disappointed before, however, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that we are again. The subdued flavor of the second disc is nicer than the confused mess of the first, but it quickly gets old. A lot of the loud songs seem like they could have had quiet versions, and vise versa, and we would not have known the difference.

What I said earlier about the album only striking two notes was not quite true. There are a few touches of brilliance here and there, but they’re hidden among the mess of the rest. “Resolve” is a great number, and the one place where they loud/quiet thing really comes together. “Virginia Moon” has an interesting Brazilian café, Girl From Ipanema thing going on, probably injected by the Norah Jones guest spot and her influence. And the closing song, “Razor,” reminds me of “The Gymnast, High Above the Ground,” with its syncopated acoustic guitar work. So there are a few flashes of something really interesting, but then they’re gone and we’re back to the mess. The intriguing moments are not nearly frequent enough on a double album. Dave Grohl had a pretty good idea that broke down the second he tried to put into practice. I can appreciate the spirit of experimentation, but a veteran like him should have known when to pull the plug.

Prime Cuts:
Resolve
Virginia Moon

22 Rating: -4

Korn - Follow the Leader

I must admit, I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for Follow the Leader. I don’t really like rap-core, as it tends to be heaviness without class or substance, and vulgarity without purpose. Thusly, an album that I understand to be as influential to rap-core as Follow the Leader is does not inspire feelings of anticipated greatness in me. For a large part, I’m right. But Follow the Leader does have more appeal and subtlety than pretty much every other album in this genre, though that is not saying a lot.

Korn are masters of one thing: sound. They write adequate songs, play their instruments passingly well, and John Davis has an impressive repertoire of voices, if you like that sort of thing. But where they really excel is in finding new an interesting ways to create sounds, sometimes sounds that you would not expect to hear in music. As I understand it, all the sounds come from the musical instruments of the band, and nothing more, which makes it even more impressive. Like Jimi Hendrix before them, they are pushing the limits of what a guitar can do and what it can sound like, though admittedly not as far or as hard as Jimi did.

Korn has progressed beyond the incredibly laborious ground that they covered in their first two albums. The utter darkness of child abuse and the damaging effects of pornography are weighty subjects, such that the weight becomes unbearable if they’re presented as explicitly and as often as Korn did. Thankfully, they are exploring themes of loss of self (“Seed,” “Freak On a Leash”), passive-aggressive-ness (“It’s On!), and parental expectations (“Dead Bodies Everywhere”) on Follow the Leader. The grinding crunch of their guitar work goes right to the gut, and Jonathan Davis sings with passion and urgency (though not grace or fluidity). He says a lot of bad words (and I mean a lot), but he mostly uses them in their appropriate context, and they usually illustrate his point. And the overall sound creates such a specific atmosphere, and that’s something that most bands simply can’t do.

Okay, I’ve spent the last two paragraphs highlighting Korn’s best points, so the album is probably great, right? Well, not really. For all their good attributes, Korn sabotage themselves by being a part of a movement that is one of the worst things to happen to music in the past 20 years (trumped only by disco). Rap-core is the domain of teenage boys who are frustrated by their parents, want to have sex but can’t, constantly misplace their anger, and know too many euphemisms for the male genitalia. Linkin Park excepted, all rap-core groups feed into and affirm that thinking, and Korn are no exception. Ice Cube’s guest appearance on “Children of the Korn” gets the prize for the most unnecessarily vulgar and needlessly disgusting moment on the album. And then Korn dissolves into a gross-out and insult competition between John Davis and Limp Bizkit’s Fred Durst on “All In the Family.” This combined with the fact that the album runs out of steam near the end make me not really able to recommend it. I can, however, respect what it tries to do, and admire its adherence to an idea, even if I find that idea to not be a particularly good one.

Prime Cuts:
Freak On a Leash
It’s On!
Justin

22 Rating: -2

Weezer - Make Believe

Weezer’s a pretty odd duck, especially Rivers Cuomo himself. He defies all the conventions of rock and roll stardom, both in appearance and attitude. He makes serious rock music that anyone can embrace, but he also represents a demographic that mostly goes unnoticed. The geeky, awkward, frail and painfully shy guys who get the sand kicked in their face at the beach, and retreat to their bedrooms to play death rock and fantasize about the head cheerleader.

Weezer’s fifth album, Make Believe, is a synthesis of the two sounds and attitudes they have taken in the past. On the one hand, it’s very pop-oriented and catchy, and even a little happy. On the other hand, its emotional blood-letting and gushing sentimentality are enough to rival any emo band. Pinkerton had that going on, but the music was angry, visceral and gutsy, whereas Make Believe is mostly positive. I’m not sure how much I like this new flower-sniffing, I-have-erectile-dysfunction-but-I’m-still-smiling Rivers, but I guess it’s a little better than the bitter, misogynistic variety. What made Pinkerton so great, despite its over-arching maleness, was its honesty. Make Believe seems just a little bit too contrived, and I don’t think I buy it.

Rivers has definitely matured as a lyricist since The Blue Album, as his lyrics have a bit more eloquence to them than usual. Also, his guitar skill seems to have grown in leaps and bounds. The Green Album had me seriously worried, as all the guitar solos mirrored exactly the melodies sung in the verses. Maladroit assuaged that fear, but the songs weren’t very good, with a few exceptions. In truth, Make Believe isn’t a whole lot better, but there’s an honesty that was missing from the previous two albums, and a willingness to work through the problems rather than hiding behind big guitars. The problem is that he can’t seem to make up his mind between saying “I’ve got problems” and “I’ve got the solutions.” All the songs paint either a very grim picture, or a sickeningly cheerful one.

“Beverly Hills” starts off with a wicked good beat, and has a sense of fun that is pretty rare in this day and age. Weezer can always be counted on to provide a healthy dash of fun. The best example is the video for “Keep Fishin’,” which resurrected the Muppets from the dusty vault of TV history, and reminded us all that rock and roll can and should make you laugh. That fun drops off after the first track, but thankfully it’s replaced by eloquence and even-handedness. The gentle flow of emotions quickly becomes a rushing river, however, and by “Peace,” you’re wishing you had a life preserver. A good example of the sweetness making your teeth ache would be “My Best Friend,” which has a great sound to it, but the lyrics simply stab it dead. Its sappy sentimentality kills any chance of it rocking us, and we just end up wondering if Rivers has gone completely soft. Does Rivers really expect us to believe that he’s NOT a tortured soul when he just spent 7 of the last 8 tracks convincing us he was?

Rivers Cuomo is very smart, and he walks a fine line between sugary pop and grinding heavy metal. Sometimes he slips up, but experience serves him well. I just wish he would let down all the walls, and make an album that really told us how he felt. As it stands, though, Make Believe comes closest to the mark.

Prime Cuts:
Beverly Hills
This is Such a Pity
Perfect Situation

22 Rating: 8