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