Best of 2009 … The Rest
Posted: 03.30.2010 Filed under: 2009, Air, Levon Helm, Mark Knopfler, Modest Mouse, Pearl Jam, Tegan and Sara, The Avett Brothers, The Black Crowes, The Flaming Lips, The Heavy, Them Crooked Vultures, Weezer 3 Comments »Where the hell did last year go? It seems like the latter half of 2009 wasn’t quite as memorable, music-wise, as the first half, in terms of new releases. Sure, we got the entire Beatles catalog remastered, but that doesn’t count as a new release – or at least, I won’t count it in this list, the defining, end-all be-all of music-related “best of” lists on music-related blogs that begin with “S” and end with “ound Round”.
Still, we got some pretty damn good music, and while I would rate only the top three albums against the list I came up with in the first half, they provide some serious competition, so watch out Regina Spektor and Neko Case – your gold and silver medals are in danger!
(Something I should clarify, even though they have nothing to do with this review: there was something confusing me about the Low Anthem’s Oh My God, Charlie Darwin, which would have been on any Best Of list if I’d heard it at the time. I kept seeing mentions of its 2009 release, even though I explicitly recall reading it had been released in 2008. I checked it out, and it turns out it was released first in 2008, and then re-released in 2009; despite my obvious love of the album, I’m going to consider it a 2008 release. Sorry, Low Anthem; knock me out with your new album, and you’ll be on this year’s Best Of list!)
Honorable mentions:
Weezer, Raditude
At this point in their career, Weezer can be expected to deliver a bouncy set of dumb and enjoyable pop-rock songs, and they do so with gusto on their newest album, the ridiculously titled Raditude. The Blue Album or Pinkerton it ain’t, but by that same token, The Red Album or Make Believe it ain’t, either; where else can you hear Rivers Cuomo sing earnestly of going on a date to see Titanic, or breaking out some mosh pit moves at a Kiki Dee concert? There’s little sincerity, and it contains two of the worst songs I’ve heard in a long, long while (‘Can’t Stop Partying’ and ‘In The Mall’), but it’s offset by loud guitars, crisp production, and a large dose of enthusiasm; still, the best song is the closer, ‘I Don’t Want To Let You Go’, a heartfelt ballad with more meaning in three minutes than the album displays in forty.
Defining song: I Don’t Want To Let You Go
Mark Knopfler, Get Lucky
To me, Mark Knopfler peaked with 2006′s All The Roadrunning, and he’s been milking a formula – no matter how winning it may be – since then. There’s little to differentiate Get Lucky from 2007′s Kill To Get Crimson, but he does what he does well, and that’s to write enjoyable Americana rock songs that allow his famed Stratocaster to sing more excitedly than his weathered baritone. The abundance of pennywhistle is a little overwhelming at first, but it’s the simpler songs – the bluesy growl of ‘You Can’t Beat The House’ or the delicate ‘Remembrance Day’ – that are the most effective.
Defining song: Remembrance Day
Top 10 Albums of 2009 … The Rest
10. The Flaming Lips, Embryonic
When the frontman of Flaming Lips, Wayne Coyne, says that their newest album is going to be their most experimental album to date, you know you’re in for a weird ride. (Zaireeka, anyone?) Embryonic is a sprawling, paradoxical double album, a song cycle without a narrative, a musical ejaculation without a real climax; self-contained weirdness while remaining uncontrollably familiar. It’s more advanced than Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots, and while there’s nothing as immediately accessible as ‘Do You Realize???’, it’s the kind of impenetrable musical statement that makes Sandinista! more exciting than London Calling. This isn’t an album that should be listened to in pieces, but as one continuous listen; perhaps the best song here is ‘I Can Be A Frog’, with Karen O literally phoning in her vocal performance, adding appropriate giggles and animal noises to Coyne’s lilting tremble.
Defining song: I Can Be A Frog
9. Modest Mouse, No One’s First and You’re Next
Anyone expecting these patented weirdos – I honestly believe Issac Brock to be the rightful heir to David Byrne’s lyrical weirdness – to reprise the commercial success of Good News For People Who Love Bad News are probably in for a disappointment with their latest album, an eight-track mini-album comprised of polished-up outtakes and B-sides. (It’s essentially a Tattoo You for the ’00s.) Polished-up outtakes and B-sides regardless, it’s still a great little collection of songs, and with me being the modest (heh) Modest Mouse fan that I am, it’s nice to get these songs on an album collection. I would give ‘King Rat’ the edge here, because of the awesome music video directed by the late Heath Ledger, or maybe ‘Autumn Beds’ because of its catchy banjo hook, but it’s the boozy brass band of ‘Perpetual Motion Machine’ that gets my most attention.
Defining song: Perpetual Motion Machine
8. Air, Love 2
I love a good bit of atmosphere in music, and in order to break up the tedium of some of the other albums on this list, I gave Air’s Love 2 a spin, and was refreshingly delighted with it. There aren’t any lyrics of any worth to focus on – any words are more murmured or chanted quietly – and the listener is rewarded with a truly airy (forgive the pun) experience. There’s plenty of synthesized swoops, swirls, buzzes, and warbles, and the beauty of the album is that it can be listened to as background music or with headphones on, and the result will be different either time.
Defining song: Sing Sang Sung
7. The Heavy, The House That Dirt Built
Why have I not heard of these guys before? The obvious classic song is ‘How You Like Me Now’, which has achieved a great deal of exposure in commercials and on Community (I’ll take full credit for exposing the world to the band), and with good reason. The Heavy is vintage rock revival at its finest, with enough riffs and fills to remind the casual listener of many of the better rock bands of the 60s and 70s. ‘What You Want Me To Do’ crawls with a Led Zeppelin crunch, and ‘Oh No! Not You Again!’ resurrects Jimi Hendrix for two minutes, but it’s delicate closer ‘Stuck’ that is the most affecting, with a country-tinged drawl and piano melody reminiscent of ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’. The words are pretty painful, detailing the purgatory of being caught in limbo “til you make your mind up”. After a half hour of good-time rock and funk, this is pretty honest stuff.
Defining song: Stuck
6. Levon Helm, Electric Dirt
There’s nothing I love more than Americana on a warm spring/summer/autumn day, and, despite ill-advised traces of misogyny and Confederate pride in their songs, the Band is the ultimate Americana band. So it’s no surprise that Band drummer and vocalist Levon Helm has produced a Band-like album, full of twangy – but not overbearing – guitars, and a nasally drawl that is distinctly his. The selection of songs is especially inspired, including opener ‘Tennessee Jed’ (written and first recorded by my nemeses, the Grateful Dead) and Muddy Waters’ ‘Stuff You Gotta Watch’ and ‘You Can’t Lose What You Ain’t Never Had’. But it’s the original composition ‘Growin’ Trade’, about a farmer who grows marijuana, and the gospel-tinged ‘I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel To Be Free’ that are particularly effective.
Defining song: Growin’ Trade
5. The Black Crowes, Before the Frost…Until the Freeze
When was the last time a rock band wrote and recorded a double album of new material in front of a live studio audience? I’ll give you some time to think, but the answer is “a really, really long time”. It could have gone badly, but Before The Frost…Until The Freeze is energetic, and an artistic triumph for these good-time southern rockers. If you have an hour and forty minutes to devote to this album, it’s certainly an essential listen; they still wear their influences on their sleeves, with the glory days of Rolling Stones embodied in the ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knocking?’-esque ‘Been A Long Time (Waiting On Love)’ and the four-to-the-floor disco thump of ‘I Ain’t Hiding’, but I still have a hard time getting beyond ‘Good Morning Captain’ and not hitting the repeat button. So what should be an hour and forty minutes of listening pleasure turns into nearly three hours – and I’m alright with that.
Defining song: Good Morning Captain
4. Tegan and Sara, Sainthood
I still think Under Feet Like Ours is their best album, but Sainthood is a refreshing departure from the more “mellow” indie rock of their debut. There’s an obvious debt to electronic rockers like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs here, but Tegan and Sara aren’t as confrontational singers as Karen O., and there’s more depth to the lyrics, as should be expected from this duo. What I like about this album is the contrast between the two writing styles: Sara is a little more introspective, while Tegan delivers upbeat, poppy tunes like ‘The Cure’ and ‘Northshore’. The relative brevity – 36 minutes – of the album is beneficial in these days of expansive, multi-disc albums, and Sainthood closes with the joyous ‘Someday’, a defiant cry of moving on after the end of a relationship: “Mark my words, I might be something someday”.
Defining song: Someday
3. Pearl Jam, Backspacer
In the grand scheme of Pearl Jam’s discography, this isn’t as revelatory or earth-shattering as their first couple albums; as far as latter-day releases go, it’s miles above their eponymous 2006 album, which was already pretty damn good. Eddie Vedder and co. all sound like they’re having a blast, and with nine upbeat and loud rockers, juxtaposed by two slower ballads, the listener would be forgiven for thinking there’s no diversity. Even though the guitars are cranked to 11, there’s enough here to maintain interest, and with a running time of just over 30 minutes, it’s the perfect soundtrack for an early morning pick-me-up on the drive to the office.
Defining song: Just Breathe
2. The Avett Brothers, I And Love And You
Having discovered the Avett Brothers on the seventh instead of the ground floor, I And Love And You is the kind of album that I’d been longing to hear at that moment: it was the beginning of September, and fall was just about to turn the leaves red, orange, and yellow. At times like that, my mind shifts from good-time summer music to restrained autumnal music, and I And Love And You filled that void perfectly. Rollicking rockers are counterbalanced by delicate, acoustic- and piano-tinged ballads, with the Avetts’ trademark rough-hewn harmonies still well intact. ‘Kick Drum Heart’ is a dumb bit of fun, much like ‘Squeeze Box’ on The Who By Numbers, but it’s the heartfelt title track, the muted ‘Ten Thousand Words’, and the swaggering ‘Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise’ that are the standouts. The production, by noted jack-of-all-trades Rick Rubin, is stellar, and while it doesn’t have the same joyousness as their earlier albums, I And Love And You is still an excellent major label debut.
Defining song: Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise
1. Them Crooked Vultures, Them Crooked Vultures
The year’s most-hyped supergroup delivers in spades. To be honest, it was a tough call between this and the Avetts, but this serious ass-kicking album barely, BARELY nudges the gentler I And Love And You from the top spot. There’s loads of riffs and loads of personality in these tunes, and the rag-tag trio of Josh Hamme, Dave Grohl, and John Paul Jones sound like they’re having the time of their life, but if you get to the halfway point of ‘No One Loves Me & Neither Do I’ – where the song stops briefly and kicks into a slower, grungier riff – and you don’t instinctively start nodding your head wildly and playing air guitar/drums, then you might want to invest in some Air Supply or Kenny G.
Defining song: No One Loves Me & Neither Do I
Modest Mouse: We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank
Posted: 04.20.2009 Filed under: 2007, Modest Mouse Leave a comment »
Back in 2004, I was introduced to Modest Mouse, though I’m a little ashamed to admit that it was via ‘Float On’. And it’s here that I will digress and say that there shouldn’t be any shame in becoming a fan of a band through their current hit single, despite the über fans who will maintain that their new stuff is total shit and the band was sooooooo much better before they sold out, got a major record label deal, and wrote a catchy song or two that received oversaturation on the radio circuit and late-night talk show rounds. People who think that are jackasses, and my minor shame that I mentioned in my introductory sentence isn’t because I discovered Modest Mouse via ‘Float On’, but was because I had known about them for a few years and yet neglected to really listen to them until ‘Float On’ became the biggest single in the spring of 2004.
Okay, digression over.
I always associate the beginning of spring with driving up and down River Road in my ’88 Accord, windows down, the cool air blasting through my hair, chilling me slightly but feeling so refreshing. My friend Chris and I listened endlessly to ‘Float On’ and Good News For People Who Love Bad News during the spring and summer of 2004, though I associate it less with the beginning of spring and more with the middle of summer, and it’s not an entirely happy association. In fact, I had retired Modest Mouse from my iTunes and car CD player rotation almost entirely, except for the odd occasion when it would pop up and I’d listen to it and not instantly regret doing so. In early 2007, when the follow-up to Good News made the rounds on those dastardly P2P network sites, my interest was piqued, especially after hearing the disco-infused ‘Dashboard’ and thinking it was definitely unique. But I instantly forgot about it and neglected to play the album at all, for reasons I can’t remember. (Considering this was just prior to my major iTunes Purchasing Surge of the spring of 2007, I’m pretty sure I had been listening to so much good music that Modest Mouse just fell under the radar.)
The album entered my subconscious once again this past autumn, when one of my former coworkers, Tom, had the album in his car’s CD changer, and while I wasn’t able to discern anything apart from Isaac Brooks’ distinct vocals, the seed must have been planted, because when I started messing around with iTunes’ Genius program and used Eddie Vedder’s ‘Hard Sun’ as the “lead” track, ‘Missed The Boat’ was the very next song, and holy crap if it wasn’t an amazing song. I decided that a listen of We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank was long overdue.
Upon reading the inital reviews of the album, or even trickles of news as it was being written and recorded, two things stuck out in my mind: Johnny Marr was joining the band, and the initial concept of the album was that a boat crew died in every song. Marr joining the band meant little to me, because I’m not familiar at all with the Smiths, but I liked the idea of nautical-based doom, but perhaps this was even too dark for Brock to successfully pull off. Maybe he just didn’t like the idea of such a blatant concept album, feeling it was too far removed from Modest Mouse’s trademark gloriously nonsensical songs. Maybe I should stop hypothesizing what Brock was thinking, because based on the lyrics that he writes, I don’t think I wanna get stuck in his thoughts.
Opener ‘March Into The Sea’ is a cacophonous display of prolix, with waves of words assaulting the listener as sea shanty-sounding instruments flail away in the mix. It dances the fine line between rough ‘n’ tumble clatter and a quieter, gentler calm, deliberately sounding like a boat being thrown about in a deep-sea storm. (I will try to refrain from making this comparison in every song, where applicable.) ‘Dashboard’ sounds like an attempt to create a ‘Float On Pt. 2′, albeit taken at a faster clip, like a band who had never heard of disco trying to make a disco record in their own style. It’s certainly distinct, but too slick and obvious an attempt to create a hit single; that said, I still can’t help tapping my foot at the rhythm, and digging the kitschy brass punctuations.
‘Fire It Up’ sounds like an attempt to be G. Love and Special Sauce: a laid-back groove song that will undoubtedly please midnight tokers and wake ‘n’ bakers. The “fire it up” refrain is cause enough to raise a disoriented cheer from festival goers, too busy stuffing their face with a makeshift bong than to focus their bloodshot eyes on the band onstage. Of course, misinterpretation is the name of the game; it’s actually a road trip song and the boredom that ensues when the car breaks down while waiting for some roadside assistance. ‘Florida’ sounds a whole helluva lot like a Talking Heads recording, circa 1978, while still maintaining a lot of the rhythm from ‘Dashboard’; this probably would have been a better song to issue as a single, especially with the addition of Shins frontman James Mercer on audible backing vocals.
‘Parting Of The Sensory’ starts off as an acoustic funereal dirge (appropriate, considering the song is about decomposition of bodies and the whole circle of life thing), with Brock shouting and cursing, “Aw, fuck it, I guess I lost”, all the while the song gathers in intensity, before turning into a sea-shanty hoedown. ‘Missed the Boat’ follows, and as I mentioned above, is one of the best songs on the album, with a percolating drum machine rhythm as strident acoustic guitars make it sound something like a campfire singalong. To “miss the boat”, of course, is a phrase where a person plays it safe and takes no risks, or someone who is so wrapped up in his or her own life that he or she misses all the fun things everything else has to offer. It’s a song of lament, for sure, but there are tiny flakes of optimism sprinkled throughout – you just have to go looking for them.
Juxtaposed with the delicate lament of ‘Missed the Boat’ is ‘We’ve Got Everything’, a stubborn declaration that everything has been figured out in this world, so there’s no point in devoting any more time or attention to it. However, it’s sung ironically, and chastises anyone who actually thinks this one – there’s nothing worse than complacency or losing the drive to innovate. ‘Fly Trapped In A Jar’ (which starts off with some neat guitar effects – including, yes, a fly buzzing around) is really two songs in one: the first half is a dark, minor key composition, with Brock screaming in his inimitable style, before kicking into a more upbeat, disco-sounding second half. The disco continues with ‘Education’, with a prominent bass line and danceable beat; again, Talking Heads is an obvious influence here, with a scratchy Telecaster rhythm guitar and some weird synth noises complementing each other well. On the other side of the coin, though, is Brock’s lyrics make more sense than David Byrne’s fragmented, drug-influenced stories; here, Brock sings of the uselessness of education as long as human society continues to revert to their primal instincts: “We could not help from flinging shit / In our modern suits and ties”. By contrast, relationships are dissected in ‘Little Motel’, with the band delivering one of their most gentle songs as Brock mourns the dissolution of a love and the sadness that ensues. But they don’t stay delicate for all that long: ‘Steam Engenius’, a neat little play on words, kicks up the funk in the only way that Modest Mouse can do it. God knows what the fuck Brock is on about, though.
‘Spitting Venom’ is a lengthy, eight minute song that starts off with Brock’s voice and a jaunty acoustic guitar, before kicking in with amplified instruments; it seems to be about another breakup, though the protagonist doesn’t seem all that broken up about it: “Cheer up, baby / It wasn’t always quite so bad / For every bit of venom that came out / The antidote was had”. ‘People As Places As People’ is about restlessness, be it either a physical place or finding one’s meaning in life. (Or at least that’s how I interpret it.) The album concludes with ‘Invisible’, and continues the theme from the previous song, though it adds slightly by saying that no matter what path you take, you can still be subjected to outside elements to alter your path. There’s an urgency to the music, which sums up the album nicely; and, just like that, the boat has sunk, seemingly for good: “We’ll get crushed by the ocean, but it will not get us wet.” It’s not Modest Mouse’s most flawless album, but it’s certainly a damn good one. Fame and a major record label deal has done nothing to hurt their creativity or oddball nature, that’s for sure.
Essential listening: Dashboard, Florida, Parting of the Sensory, Missed the Boat, Little Motel, Spitting Venom
