Best of 2010 … The Rest
Posted: 05.13.2011 Filed under: 2011, Belle and Sebastian, Eels, Elton John, Elvis Costello, Jenny Lewis, Leon Russell, Neil Young, Nick Cave and Grinderman, Ray LaMontagne, Robert Plant, Steven Page, Weezer Leave a comment »Having felt some pangs of guilt of putting off my Best Of 2010 … So Far for so long, I’ve made a personal vow to publish this one relatively quickly. But make no mistake – it’s not just down to personal goals and any kind of misguided guilt I may have! The albums released in the latter half of 2010 have, unlike 2009′s vice versa, been strong and of excellent quality, so the challenge was more difficult for me this time. And though the first half of 2010 was deservedly overrun with some more indie choices, it’s the old wave/well-established acts that really pulled out some heavy hitters for the second half; while the #1 result may be predictable to anyone who follows this blog (or, hell, anyone who knows me), it should be mentioned that there was some seriously stiff competition, and that every album in the Top 10 could have easily been #1.
So, I guess in a roundabout way, this is like me taking the easy way out and saying that you’re all winners.
Honorable mentions:
Weezer, Hurley and Death To False Metal
It seems like every new Weezer album should be placed not in “Honorable mentions”, but “Comedy option mentions”. Having long decided against returning to the halcyon days of Pinkerton (or even Maladroit – hey, it’s a good album, haters gonna hate!), Rivers Cuomo and company have instead fallen into self-parody after self-parody, leaving the listener unsure if they’re fully in on the joke or not. Hurley is the quickly-released update to Ratitude, though, surprisingly, there’s not much in the way of memorable melodies or hooks that were evident on its predecessor. Still, it’s a good-not-great album, not entirely worthy of the lashing it may have received, but not worthy of any overlavished praise, with only closer ‘Time Flies’ following in the footsteps of other memorable closers making any kind of emotional impact. Two months after the release of Hurley came Death To False Metal, an “odds and ends” compilation album composed of outtakes and studio cast-offs that has been officially classified as the logical follow-up to Hurley. And it’s a more engaging listen than that album, but, to paraphrase Oscar Wilde, to have one Weezer album on a best-of list may be regarded as genuine appreciation; to have two Weezer albums looks like a grab for pity. So, they are both here, because the combination of both constitutes a relatively decent release.
Defining song: Time Flies
Steven Page, Page One
Just like his former bandmates’ All In Good Time graced the “Honorable mentions” section for the first half of 2010, so too does erstwhile Barenaked Lady Steven Page’s first post-arrest/departure album Page One. He sounds more comfortable here than he did on BNL’s recent albums, where he sounded like he was sleepwalking through some truly half-assed songs; now, he’s awake, alert, and ready to prove himself. The arrangements are unique, the songwriting is good, and the performances are all strong, with a range of ballads and quirky pop-rock tunes gracing the relatively brief, 45-minute album. Page One is his By Numbers, but where Pete Townshend found cynical bitterness with his lot in life, Page looks back over the darkest period of his life and confidently regains control, emerging humbler, if not wiser.
Defining song: Over Joy
Top 10 Albums of 2010 … The Rest:
10. Ray LaMontagne and the Pariah Dogs, God Willin’ & the Creek Don’t Rise
I have a love/hate relationship with Ray LaMontagne. It doesn’t help that his thunder was stolen by the Low Anthem at a concert I saw in April 2009, but I find his shyness and lack of interaction with the audience to be way off-putting. However, his songs are so damn good that I’m willing to forgive his awkwardness. God Willin’ & the Creek Don’t Rise is marketed as a LaMontagne-plus-band album, though I can’t find any distinguishing factors between being “in a band” and his last three singer-songwriter albums, but when it comes to albums that are just perfect for putting on in the car and driving around the country on a warm and beautiful spring or summer evening, God Willin’ & the Creek Don’t Rise might as well have been designed just for that. There’s barnstorming rompers (‘Repo Man’, ‘Devil’s In The Jukebox’), mid-tempo shuffles (‘Beg Steal or Borrow’, ‘Old Before Your Time’) and sad country weepers (‘New York Is Killing Me’, ‘This Love Is Over’), and LaMontaigne’s raspy voice is best suited for all of them. It doesn’t so much progress as it does maintain the status quo, but when the status quo is this good, sometimes it’s best not to stray too far from the norm.
Defining song: Devil’s In The Jukebox
9. Neil Young, Le Noise
I so desperately wanted to put Neil Young’s Fork In The Road on the 2009 Best Of list, but it didn’t capture my attention quite as much as I’d hoped it would. The same can’t be said of Le Noise, a true solo album with Young, an arsenal of guitars, and Daniel Lenois’ trademark swampy effects to captive and capture my attention. The first listen is incredibly difficult, for Young’s disembodied voice, already so off-putting for many first-time listeners, hovers listlessly among the sonic noise, only occasionally bursting into passion, but pulling back the onion peels reveals a complicated and rewarding album. The electric guitar is in full blast on six of the eight songs, but it’s the weighty issue of a doomed America that makes the acoustic ‘Peaceful Valley Boulevard’ the heaviest – and best – song not only on the album, but perhaps in the last decade of Young’s career.
Defining song: Peaceful Valley Boulevard
8. Belle and Sebastian, Belle and Sebastian Write About Love
I love Belle and Sebastian, but I have a hard time listening to their albums for extended periods of time before their charmingly twee sound starts to test my patience. But, like allergies, it helps to be exposed to them in small doses to really get a true appreciation for them, and when my girlfriend fell madly in love with Write About Love, she played it non-stop in my car on lengthy drives. Because I had nothing else to do, I listened, and I too was guiled by its charms. The distinct mid-60s feel of the production and the adorable lyrics make this less surprising a release and more comforting that Belle and Sebastian are still delivering the goods, and among a list of musicians who are constantly redefining themselves, it’s good to have some familiarity. There isn’t much to distinguish this album from any of B&S’s others, but it’s a good, solid album, and a worthy addition to their discography.
Defining song: Come On Sister
7. Robert Plant, Band Of Joy
If there’s one thing that Robert Plant enjoys, it’s reinventing himself. Not content with being stuck with the “former vocalist of Led Zeppelin” tag, he’s consistently put out strong and engaging records, blending his love of English black country with Americana and folk, a sound he combined with 2002′s Dreamland and which peaked with Mighty Rearranger. Like 2007′s duet with Allison Krauss, Raising Sand, Band Of Joy (so named as a nod to his pre-Led Zep band) relies on covers, but this time there’s more of a contemporary slant, with Los Lobos’ infectious ‘Angel Dance’ leading off the proceedings, while two selections from Low – ‘Silver Lining’ and ‘Monkey’ – are ethereal and haunting. This time, Plant’s female foil is Patty Griffin, who provides prominent backing vocals on most of the songs, but it’s their emotional duet on Richard Thompson’s ‘House Of Cards’ that steals the show.
Defining song: House Of Cards
6. Eels, Tomorrow Morning
Following up his End Times, also released in early 2010 and an intimate (sometimes too intimate), heartbreaking work of staggering romantic failure, Tomorrow Morning is the morning-after chaser. Emerging with his pride bruised but not broken, E delivers a cautiously optimistic post mortem, and instead of sparse, acoustic songs, as on End Times, the optimism is underscored with loops, synthesized orchestras, and programmed drums. That’s not to say the entire album is a rush of guitars and happiness – there’s still quieter, acoustic moments – but the joy balances out the pleasure, and by the time ‘I Like The Way This Is Going’ comes around, wherein the shadow of a past, bitter relationship is completely forgotten in favor of a new, happier one, the mood is positively exuberant.
Defining song: I Like The Way This Is Going
5. Jenny and Johnny, I’m Having Fun Now
This almost-follow-up to Jenny Lewis’s wonderful Acid Tongue was entirely self-performed and recorded with her beau, Johnathan Rice (both, I might add, guested on Elvis Costello’s Momofuku). If it’s her shot at trying on the shoes of Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward as a hip, SoCal alternative to She & Him, then I’m Having Fun Now succeeds: it’s a rowdy, rambunctious record, with moments of ebullience that live up to its title. Lewis is a perfect counterpart to Rice’s muted vocal delivery, while Rice’s adds some slickness to Lewis’s ramshackle, out-of-control wild ride. Acid Tongue it isn’t, but where that album was a star-studded treat, I’m Having Fun Now is just two talented musicians letting their hair down.
Defining song: Scissor Runner
4. Cee-Lo, The Lady Killer
Try to find a review of this album that doesn’t immediately mention ‘Fuck You!’ (I’m aware of the coincidence.) It’s unfortunate that that song – amazing as it is – has taken on a life of its own, because it overshadows what is a genuinely excellent album, full of sweetly-sung tracks fusing soul and pop with funk and hip-hop. Cee-Lo is a masterful performer and entertainer, equating himself to a spy (of love? of lust? of fame? or maybe all three?) with the bookending ‘Lady Killer Theme’, and it’s the margins of The Lady Killer that make the listen worthwhile: ‘Bright Lights, Bigger City’ is a sleek and sexy ode to New York City, while ‘I Want You’ is an anguished ode to a romantic spark long since diminished. In which case, ‘Fuck You!’ might be a suitable reply.
Defining song: Fuck You!
3. Nick Cave and Grinderman, Grinderman 2
The primal and carnivorous sexual aural assault that was Grinderman was a raw and alarming experience for me. Just as I was getting into Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in 2008, my coworker (and fellow music appreciator) Sean said to me, “Hey, if you like the Bad Seeds, check out Grinderman – it’s on my iTunes.” At the time I was able to slip on headphones and rock out while working, and I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught that followed. Compared to Abattoir Blues / The Lyre Of Orpheus, my introduction to the Bad Seeds, this Grinderman was a different beast altogether. Frankly, I loved it. The lecherous old man feel continues on the follow-up, an equally primal and carnivorous album to its predecessor, albeit with a little more spit and polish. That’s where the album falters; it’s a bit slicker, sure, but there’s not enough to distinguish this from its debut. But hearing Cave croon such would-be awful lines as “My baby calls me the Loch Ness monster / Two great big humps and then I’m gone” and “I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar” with perverted glee as all the more worth it. And the slickness works on the delicate shuffle of ‘Palaces Of Montezuma’, which combines all of the raunch of Grinderman with the poetic beauty of the Bad Seeds.
Defining song: Palaces Of Montezuma
2. Elton John and Leon Russell, The Union
Having been more than a casual fan of Elton John, but not fanatical enough to know every facet about his discography, I’ve often found myself thinking, “When’s Elton John gonna put out his next album?” I was surprised to see on my last.fm page a recommendation for a song called ‘If It Wasn’t For Bad’, and so I promptly checked it out and liked what I heard. Further surprise came when it was a duet with Leon Russell, a legend in his own right, but a legend that I haven’t checked out that much. (That has since been rectified.) So I waited with anticipation for their album The Union, and upon its release fell madly in love with it. I’ve always considered Tumbleweed Connection to be John’s best album, so this cultural crossover between the true southern Americana of Russell and the British equivalent of John and songwriting partner Bernie Taupin sat just right with me. (The production by T-Bone Burnett didn’t hurt, either – he sure has been busy in 2010!) Astonishingly, unlike prior John albums, there isn’t any real hit single to be heard here, which falls in line with his assertion that he wants to concentrate on making proper albums again; The Union, then, is a proper album. The songwriting is strong, the interplay between Russell and John is superb, and the performances are wonderful. Not to mention the guests – Neil Young, Brian Wilson, and Booker T. Jones all make appearances, with Young contributing a gorgeous vocal to ‘Gone To Shiloh’; coincidentally, my favorite song of the bunch. Although this partnership is undoubtedly a one-off (Russell was always a musical hero to John, who instigated the union as a means to thank his mentor) I can only hope we’ll get some equally strong separate releases from both in the future.
Defining song: Gone To Shiloh
1. Elvis Costello, National Ransom
As a perpetual Elvis Costello fanboy, I can’t overstate my appreciation of this album enough. It’s a follow-up to 2009′s Secret, Profane & Sugarcane, which was a good-not-great first album with his new ad hoc string band, the Sugarcanes. While Secret falters with its muted approach, National Ransom shines, for not only are the Sugarcanes a well-oiled machine by now, but Costello does the smart thing and integrates members of his “other” band, the Imposters. Drummer Pete Thomas provides a huge shot to the arm, while Steve Nieve’s colorful keyboard accompaniments add much-needed variety to the songs. There are some weaker songs – Leon Russell flies in aimlessly for ‘My Lovely Jezebel’, and ‘I Lost You’, ‘The Spell That You Cast’, and the title track are all samey-sounding – but the gems here are exceptional: ‘Jimmie Standing In The Rain’, ‘A Slow Drag With Josephine’, and ‘A Voice In The Dark’ are playful character stories with an old-timey feel, while ‘Bullets For The New-Born King’ and ‘All These Strangers’ are serious, politically-charged songs, with simple but powerful arrangements. But to this fan, it’s ‘That’s Not The Part Of Him You’re Leaving’, a heartbreaking adieu to a friend who’s made her non-romantic intentions absolutely clear, that resonates the most. Costello can sing of unscrupulous politicians and bankers and ’30s-era caricatures, but it’s when he goes straight for the heartstrings that he really makes a profound mark.
Defining song: That’s Not The Part Of Him You’re Leaving
Best of 2008
Posted: 03.25.2009 Filed under: Brian Eno, Brian Wilson, David Byrne, Elvis Costello, Flight Of The Conchords, Jenny Lewis, Martha Wainwright, meaningless list, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Paul McCartney, Queen + Paul Rodgers, Ray Davies, She and Him, The Black Keys, The Fireman, Youth Leave a comment »On December 18th, I created an entry called “A totally meaningless list” where I listed what I thought were the Top 10 albums of the year. With a little more time and thought put into the list, I’ve decided to update it and expand upon it, because a list is great and all, but what’s the point if there’s no explanation to it?
First off is a list of 11 albums that could have been on the list, but I didn’t buy them for one reason or another, presented in alphabetical order by artist instead of numerical preference – because, really, I can’t rate something I haven’t listened to yet. You may wonder why I didn’t include albums like Black Ice, Chinese Democracy, or Death Magnetic, some of the biggest and best-selling albums of the year. The reason is simple: I have no interest in those albums.
Albums that could have been on here but aren’t (because I didn’t buy them):
The Black Crowes, Warpaint
Cold War Kids, Loyalty to Loyalty
Ben Folds, Way to Normal
Al Green, Lay It Down
Stephen Malkmus, Real Emotional Trash
Marillion, Happiness Is The Road
Mogwai, The Hawk Is Howling
Oasis, Dig Out Your Soul
The Pretenders, Break Up The Concrete
Sigur Rós, Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust
TV on the Radio, Dear Science
Now, we get into the reviews. Keep in mind that these are capsules, not in-depth reviews. Where applicable, I have included a link to the in-depth review, and will update this post as I finish the reviews. (As of today, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today and Attack and Release are works in progress.) Note that these include new, studio album releases only; live and compilation albums and reissues were not counted.
Also: while I don’t particularly condone downloading, the “Essential listening” subnote has been replaced by “Defining song” for this list, and subsequent lists, as the One Song I Feel Sums Up The Album Best. Usually, it’s my personal favorite, the one song that should be listened to if someone unfamiliar to the album or artist wanted to get into said album or artist. Of course, I recommend at the very least that the reader goes onto iTunes and purchases the song, or previews it first, instead of running to a filesharing program or site and illegally downloading the album; then again, I’m not the Internet police, nor am I your father, so do whatever you want.
Honorable mentions:
That Lucky Old Sun, Brian Wilson
Boy, does Brian Wilson love California. This album is his first since the artistically rewarding SMiLE in 2004, and That Lucky Old Sun suffers from a case of a far too specific subject matter. There are some good to great songs on here, but there’s a whole lot of uninteresting and sometimes embarrassing filler, especially the narratives. Wilson doesn’t sing, per se, but speak-sings, and listening to 19 songs (even though it clocks in at 38 minutes) like this can become a little tiring after a while. If he had gotten someone with the ability to sing to do the album, it could have been better, but even that couldn’t save the occasionally cringe-inducing lyrics. However, the album is worth picking up if you’re a Brian Wilson or Beach Boys fan, especially for the touching conclusion of ‘Southern California’, where Wilson pays homage to his brothers; elsewhere, if you’re able to disconnect yourself from the alarming state of Wilson’s vocals, the music has an enjoyable summertime quality to it, and what says summertime better than Brian Wilson?
Defining song: Southern California
The Cosmos Rocks, Queen + Paul Rodgers
The debut album from rock’s most confounding partnership – half of Queen plus the frontman of Free and Bad Company – is actually a decent little album, but it’s not great; as a Queen fan, this is disappointing, because these guys are capable of so much more, but there’s a heavy presence of Rodgers’ style here, and little of the familiar Queen sound. Still, these guys are excellent musicians, and there’s a whole lot of enthusiasm all over the record. Songs like ‘Cosmos Rockin” and ‘Call Me’ are so dumb that they’re infectious, while ‘Surf’s Up … School’s Out’ is a humorous, tongue-in-cheek nod to Queen’s bombast. The album never really takes off, though, and some of the best tracks – namely, ‘Time To Shine’, ‘Small’, and ‘Some Things That Glitter’ – are buried among some lesser material that makes Queen’s nadir look almost appealing. It could have been much more embarrassing, but it could have been a whole lot better, too.
Defining song: Surf’s Up … School’s Out!
And now…
Top 10 Albums of 2008
10. Flight Of The Conchords, Flight Of The Conchords
A comedy album, on a year-end Top 10 list? Well, stranger things have happened, but it IS a musical album, with clever lyrics and excellent arrangements … but it just happens to be funny, too. Flight of the Conchords is, of course, formerly New Zealand’s fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo a capella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo who got a TV deal with HBO back in 2007, featuring Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement; their songs are parodies, and even the titles – which include ‘Hip-Hopopotamus vs. The Rhymenoceros’, ‘The Most Beautiful Girl (In the Room)’, ‘Mutha’uckas’, ‘Robots’, and my personal favorite, ‘Business Time’ – illicit laughter and curiosity. If you’ve seen the show, you’ve basically heard the entire album, yet this doesn’t serve entirely as a soundtrack. In fact, it’s a bit confusing, because the songs are good, but on the show, the joke is that this band isn’t any good (except in their own minds). So is it a soundtrack album, a serious album, a comedy album, or some kind of weird amalgam? All I know is, it’s entertaining, and that’s good enough for me.
Defining song: Business Time
9. The Black Keys, Attack and Release
The Black Keys – specifically multi-instrumentalists Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney – teamed up with producer / DJ Danger Mouse for their fifth album, and it’s served as my introduction to them. What’s interesting is that Attack and Release was originally written with the intent of working with Ike Turner, though he died before they could begin recording it, so the songs suddenly became their own. The duo reinforces their classic rock take on latter day music, mixing a thundering drum performance with a lazy vocal inflection, while adding a swampy mix of banjos and jangling guitars where appropriate. I’ve seen them described as Delta minimalists, and it’s surprising how apt and attractive such a label is. Opener ‘All You Ever Wanted’ is sweet and beautiful, while the blues stomp of ‘I Got Mine’ – rife with a crunching guitar riff and tinkling cymbals – contrasts superbly. Danger Mouse gets a lovely sound here, but if you were to tell me last year that I’d be considering an album by an Akron duo produced by a hip hop DJ to be among the best of 2008, I’d've looked at you like you had three heads. All it’s made me want to do is go back in time and kick myself for not being more adventurous with my musical explorations – so thank you, Black Keys, for showing me the error of my ways.
Defining song: Things Ain’t Like They Used To Be
8. Martha Wainwright, I Know You’re Married But I Have Feelings Too
Following up on her excellent eponymous debut album, released in 2005, Martha Wainwright’s sophomore effort is a little slicker, a little more refined, but not as gutsy. Her acerbic wit and occasionally crude sense of humor still shines through, with a well-placed squeal or moan speaking volumes and adding a sexual flavor to the songs, though there’s something about the production – which places it squarely in the pop-rock vein – that’s a little alarming at first. Still, it would be foolish to have tried to reproduce the singer-songwriter sound of its predecessor, so I Know You’re Married But I Have Feelings Too (at the very least, my favorite album title of the year) succeeds in advancing Wainwright’s sound while compromising very little of her songwriting skills. There’s a handful of guest stars, too, including her brother Rufus, Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen, and Who else but Pete Townshend, contributing some scorching guitar lines to ‘You Cheated Me’, easily the album’s best song (and not only because of Townshend’s presence). There’s nothing as confrontational on here as ‘Bloody Motherfucking Asshole’, but it’s the nuances that make the deepest impressions, and that’s the best kind of way to discover and appreciate an album; otherwise, it’d just be inoffensive, easy-listening pap.
Defining song: You Cheated Me
7. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!
Nick Cave is one demented fucker, but his music is so good and his lyrics so clever that it’s easy to accept his twistedness as a muse. Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! is the first Bad Seeds album since 2004′s excellent Abattoir Blues / The Lyre Of Orpheus, and combination of that album with the Grinderman project from 2007: it’s raw, it’s sophisticated, and it’s uncompromising. Cave can twist his words in such a way that it can make your ears prickle, while sounding like he’s halfway through telling a very dark joke. The Christian apologist in him makes several references to religion, and even demands in ‘We Call Upon The Author’ that whoever wrote the Bible should have a talking to. ‘Night Of The Lotus Eaters’ is downright creepy, with an instrumental backing sounding like something Tom Waits would have written to accompany a scratchy horror picture. The star of the show, though, is not Cave, but Warren Ellis, who adds his own instrumental touches on a handful of unorthodox instruments that serves to alienate and alarm. He’ll do just fine as a Bad Seed.
Defining song: We Call Upon The Author
6. The Fireman, Electric Arguments
The Fireman is producer / bassist Youth and some guy named Paul McCartney (I know, I had to look him up too … apparently he worked with a band called The Beatles), and this is their third album together, but their first to feature vocals. With 13 songs recorded over 13 days (one song per day), the album is about as far away from a Paul McCartney solo album as it could get, with very little attempt to write a conventional song or write a conventional set of lyrics. It’s electronica rock, and with McCartney one of the most musically progressive ex-members of the Beatles – even more so than John Lennon – something like this would be expected, but who knew he could make electronica listenable and even enjoyable? The first 2/3rds of the album is excellent, with the guttural, bluesy ‘Nothing Too Much Just Out Of Sight’ and delightful skiffle romp of ‘Light From Your Lighthouse’ being the best tracks, though the album loses steam towards the end when it gets a little TOO experimental; the warning sign is the pan flute. While Chaos And Creation In The Backyard was McCartney’s finest latter-day album, Electric Arguments is the kind of music that McCartney would be putting out if he didn’t feel like he had to maintain an image – and that’s a damn shame.
Defining song: Nothing Too Much Just Out Of Sight
5. David Byrne and Brian Eno, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today
Nearly 30 years after last working together, David Byrne and Brian Eno – two of the weirdest guys to become rock stars – have teamed up again on Everything That Happens Will Happen Today, a sonically devastating album in all the right ways. Byrne claims that the songs were inspired by gospel music, and with the overpowering jubilation and optimism exhibited on this record, it’s hard to argue with him. There’s a rough hewn sound to the songs, while Eno makes full use of his experimental palette, offering up weird and wonderful sounds that Byrne gleefully plays off of. Opener ‘Home’ is a comforting way to begin the album, though it’s the electronic hymnal of the almost title track that’s most effective, with Byrne sounding like an angelic choirboy against a bed of church organs. Though Byrne is practically a toddler in terms of some of the other musicians in this list, his voice sounds as good as it did back when he was a Talking Head, especially at their peak – which was, incidentally, between 1978 and 1980, when Eno last collaborated with Byrne. Coincidence? Well, probably.
Defining song: Everything That Happens
4. Jenny Lewis, Acid Tongue
Rilo Kiley frontwoman Jenny Lewis released her second solo album this year, and it’s a far cry from her debut (Rabbit Fur Coat), with more of a mainstream appeal to them as opposed to the deep-rooted country & western feel of its predecessor. Her songs are fiery and passionate – sometimes a little too fiery and a little too passionate – but they’re a little more conventional than what she had released with her other band, currently on hold indefinitely. As I noted in my original review, there are some good songs, there are some great songs, and there are some not so great songs, but as a whole, it’s a rewarding listen.
Defining song: Carpetbaggers
3. She & Him, Volume 1
Actress Zooey Deschanel and indie singer/songwriter M. Ward, the respective She & Him, collaborated on what is essentially a Deschanel solo project. Unlike many actors-turned-musicians, though, Volume 1 is a surprisingly refreshing debut, with little in the way of vanity and a lot in the way of substance. Deschanel wrote nine of the 13 tracks on her own (a tenth original composition, ‘Sweet Darlin”, was a cowrite with Jason Schwartzman), and shows that she’s a talented songwriter who is less concerned with offering traditional songs, harking back to the days when AM radio ruled. The originals are delightful pastiches of the 1960s with a modern twist, while the covers are serviceable but not exceptional; Volume 2 is reportedly in the works, and it’ll be a hard act to follow, for sure.
Defining song: Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?
2. Ray Davies, Working Man’s Café
Sounding more like an easy-going pop rock album compared to the darker material of its predecessor, Other People’s Lives, Ray Davies’ Working Man’s Café has a lighter touch and a deeper sense of humor to it. Opener ‘Vietnam Cowboys’ is a biting prod at globalization, while ‘Peace In Our Time’ is a more sentimental plea for pacifism. Davies’ backing band is spot-on, tight, and uncluttered, allowing Davies’ finely-aged vocal cords to bring a great amount of emotion and tenderness that other musicians of his age (62 at the time of the recording) only wish they could possess. It’s not as instantly satisfying as Other People’s Lives, but coming from the man who once sang “I’m a 20th century man / But I don’t wanna be here”, it’s good to have Ray Davies around still.
Defining song: Imaginary Man
1. Elvis Costello, Momofuku
Even though it might be hard to believe, there’s always a theme to Elvis Costello’s albums, and for his newest album, Momofuku, that theme is simple: no fuss, no muss. Joined by the Imposters and a host of musical friends that periodically bump the roster up to a neuftet, there’s a lightness and airiness to the songs, though it occasionally gets gloriously murky, especially on the psychedelic acid trip of ‘Turpentine’. The arrangements are simple, the production unfussy, and the mood joyous; overdubs are minimal, errors are kept in, and Costello sounds rejuvenated, even thrilled to be recording in such a shambolic manner. The title is a nod to Momofuku Ando, creator of the instant noodle. The reason? All you need to do is add water, and Costello felt that this suited the mood of the songs perfectly. It’s hard to disagree.
Defining song: Turpentine
Jenny Lewis: Acid Tongue
Posted: 10.18.2008 Filed under: 2008, Jenny Lewis, new release Leave a comment »
I first became aware of Jenny Lewis in April 2008, when I picked up Elvis Costello’s latest album, Momofuku. He had joined her in the studio to record a track for her upcoming album, and it was at this session that he decided to start recording what became Momofuku. While I liked her voice, I was unfamiliar with anything else that she had done, so I did a bit of research and discovered she was the lead frontwoman of Rilo Kiley, a band that I liken to a more bubbly version of Pavement: more verbose and less abstract, of course, but that same kind of slacker rock that made Pavement so distinctive.
Anyway, one day I had an away message up that said something along the lines of me wanting to get to know the recorded sounds of Jenny Lewis and Rilo Kiley. My friend Laura happened to read that, and sent me a message that she has all of Rilo Kiley’s stuff and would happily burn copies of the albums for me. So, this summer I was introduced to the glory of that band, though I still hadn’t heard any of Lewis’s solo stuff. Luckily for me, at work we tend to share our iTunes playlists, so while perusing a fellow coworker’s list one day, I noticed that he happened to have Lewis’s debut solo album, Rabbit Fur Coat. I listened to it and was transfixed; I was then determined to pick up both that album and Lewis’s new album, Acid Tongue.
Having listened to both, I can say that they are markedly different from each other; Lewis shares top billing with the Watson Twins on Rabbit Fur Coat, turning in a remarkable debut with astounding vocals and harmonies, though it strays a little too close to country soul. (That doesn’t mean I don’t love it, of course.) Acid Tongue is a completely different approach, and is more in line with what Rilo Kiley, seemingly on hiatus after their lukewarmly received Under The Blacklight, had been doing on their albums. Lewis assembles a crack team of musicians for each track (Elvis Costello band member Davey Faragher plays bass on four of the tracks, while producer Jason Lader and Jonathan Wilson provide bass on the rest; drumming duties are split equally between Barbara Gruska and Rilo Kiley drummer Jason Boesel), and invites several well-known guests to provide some kind of accompaniment: Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward (see previous review of She & Him’s Volume 1) provide backing vocals and guitar, respectively, on a handful of songs; Black Crowes vocalist Chris Robinson also sings backing vocals on a few of the cuts; and Costello guests on ‘Carpetbaggers’. Production is handled superbly by Lewis, her boyfriend Jonathan Rice (who cowrote five of the songs with Lewis, and solely penned ‘Carpetbaggers’), “Farmer” Dave Scher, and Jason Lader – all of whom appeared on (or, in Lader’s case, produced) Costello’s Momofuku.
The album starts with ‘Black Sand’, a downbeat piano rocker that finds Lewis falling in love by the sea, though, this being Lewis, the lyrics quickly become dark: “He said who’s gonna love you buried underground, oh on the black sand”. The instrumentation was designed to provide the emphasis on her voice, though the last minute of the song introduces an intricate string trio arrangement. ‘Pretty Bird’ musically sounds like a Neil Young and Crazy Horse song, albeit far tighter, with some truly loud and grungy guitar work punctuating the verses. The real standout of the album, however, is ‘The Next Messiah’, an epic, nine-minute opus that twists and turns its way through various tempo and melody changes with relative ease; Lewis herself has said that it was originally three totally unconnected songs that she and Rice decided to weave together. Lyrically, it’s inspired by her father, as most of her songs are; it would be understatement to say that Lewis has parental issues, and that her music is her own way of therapeutically exorcising her demons. This is also evident on ‘Bad Man’s World’, bathed in strings ripped directly from early Elton John albums, where she chastises her father for his absence and poor parenting.
The title track finds Lewis accompanying herself on acoustic guitar, spinning a yarn of her formative teenage years when she dropped acid for the first (and seemingly only) time, while backing vocal support comes from Rice, Scher, Wilson, and Chris Robinson. Following this downbeat country ballad is the rough and raucous ‘See Fernando’, with a thundering drum performance from Boesel that threatens to kick in your ear drums on even the lowest volume setting. ‘Godspeed’ and ‘Trying My Best To Love You’ are two piano-based ballads, each broadcasting slightly different messages, but sporting similar melancholy moods; these bookend ‘Carpetbaggers’, easily the best song on the album – and I’m not just saying that because I’m an inveterate Costello fan, who lends his voice to a swaggering, ramshackle country rocker that sounds like something from one of his latter-day albums. ‘Jack Killed Mom’ is soulful, with a twinge of gospel (driven home by the backing vocalists, among them Deschanel and Blake Mills), though what’s surprising is the appearance of Lewis’s father, Eddie Gordon, on bass harmonica, who adds a certain “oomph” to the track. The album closes with ‘Sing A Song For Them’, a decidedly somber piano shuffle that channels the style and grace of Carole King.
For anyone who merely wrote off Rilo Kiley as feel-good, good-time bubblegum pop, with catchy melodies and infectious hooks, Lewis proves with her second solo album that she’s more than capable of challenging those misconceptions with her songwriting and arranging. Sure, the revolving cast of musicians undoubtedly inspired her (and she them), but underneath it all, this is an exciting rollercoaster of an album that is, dare I say it, far better than anything Rilo Kiley has released, with the possible exception of Execution Of All Things. As much as I don’t want to say it, I personally would not be surprised if Rilo Kiley decides to call it a day and Lewis pursues her solo career; much like Janis Joplin dumping Big Brother and the Holding Company for greener and greater pastures, the only way that Lewis will be able to expand her talents would be to call the shots herself. If she’s able to progress her approach on subsequent solo albums while still delivering material of this caliber, then sacrificing Rilo Kiley is a small price to pay.
Essential listening: The Next Messiah, Acid Tongue, See Fernando, Carpetbaggers, Jack Killed Mom, Sing A Song For Them … really, the whole damn thing
