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Review: Britney Spears' "Blackout"

October 30, 2007 3:46 PM

For many of us, Britney Spears is the ultimate symbol for everything that's wrong with the music industry.  She’s made her career peddling factory-spawn gloss with little substance, set up for a dumbed-down audience happy with cookie-cutter idols, void of any genuine musical inspiration.  She’s become more famous for her life being more chaotic than her records. 

Some have tried foolishly to compare Britney to Madonna, but that is indeed a misinformed comparison.  Madonna was a scrappy, dance-crazy punk who knew how to market herself well and dominate the world.  From the start, she approached everything like a businesswoman.  She even penned her own early hit “Lucky Star.” 

Britney, on the other hand, has always come off as a mindless product, thrust upon us as part of an American crossover scheme engineered by a Swedish pop conglomerate.  She never had a shred of credibility. Her music has been made up of big, sugary hooks so poisonously infectious that they burn off a piece of your soul, with their sickening overly produced beats and shock-value levels of sex appeal.   With Madonna, the latter seems to come naturally. With Britney, it all seems forced. 

So, with Britney all over the tabloids for her problematic marriage and divorce, lack of mothering skills, strange behavior and nifty handiwork with an electric razor, all eyes are now on “Blackout.”  Does it really matter?   Since the beginning, more emphasis has been put on her sex-bomb image. The music has always been an afterthought -- and maybe it should stay that way.

Let’s start with the horrible album title. It’s not a good one for someone who has lately been acting so strangely. Does she not remember recording the album? One listen to it, and it sounds rather sterile -- not in a “clean” way; it's sort of like it hasn’t been touched by humans.  Even by electronic and dance music standards, this sounds remarkably artificial. 

The tracks here suffer from a soul-crushing sameness.  Each track is skeletal with a low synth-driven bassline.  Britney groans and moans throughout.  Attempts to sound sexy just end up sounding seedy.  Her voice is heavily treated to give it a computerized sheen. 

For the most part, production of the record is divided up between Danja and Bloodshy & Avant, with a few stray exceptions.  It’s upsetting to see Pharrell Williams and the Neptunes listed on the final track, “Why Should I Be Sad.”  Sure, the Neptunes built their name thanks in part to their collaborations with Britney, but they’ve done enough cool, edgy work with so many superior artists that their presence here seems like they're slumming it.  Listen to the Neptunes' work on the new album by their friend Kenna, or for that matter their N.E.R.D. records, and you will understand why they should really stay away from Britney. 

The single “Gimme More” is 90 percent bounce and groan and 10 percent actual song.  To make things worse, the formula is repeated almost exactly a few songs later on “Freakshow.”

On “Get Naked (I Got a Plan),” what is supposed to be a seductive groove is drowned by a strange slowed-down voice singing the chorus.  Just because it sounds different, doesn’t mean it’s actually good.  The creepy voice sounds like something from “Eyes Wide Shut.”

“Piece of Me” is Britney’s attempt to fight back against her tabloid attackers, but its message gets lost in its juvenile double-entendre refrain of “You want a piece of me,” complete with a moaning in the background. Once again, the sea of digitally slowed-down voices kills the track.  It makes it sound like she is trying to imitate Madonna circa “Music.”  But it’s a pretty toothless attempt.   The pictures of her with a priest in the liner notes of the album also recall the Material Girl, but Britney just comes off like a follower trying to stir things up.

The blips and bloops on “Radar” get annoying quickly, as does the way Britney says “on my radar” as what sounds like “oh ma raida!”  As on many of these songs, the chorus is surprisingly minimal and more about ridiculous phrase repetition.

“Toy Soldier” is not a cover of the Martika song.  Instead, it is a hefty dance number fully merging army imagery and the previously mentioned moans and groans.  It’s almost as if it was imagined strategically with the Army product placement in mind for future promotional use.  With her coos of “I need a soldier,” one can imagine it being used in an ad for the armed forces.

“Hot as Ice” is the closest thing to a sunny track here with a traditional chorus, but it is ruined by lines that she can’t pull off.  She uses phrases like “handling her binn-ness” and “holla if you hear me!”  Once again, it doesn’t sound natural for her. 

“Ooh Ooh Baby” is a generic sex vamp, complete with the not-so-subtle lines of “Touch me and I come alive / I can taste you on my lips, / I can feel you deep inside.”  Not only is it not original; it's also not executed very creatively. 

“Blackout” is indeed recyclable.  It’s the product of a society run amok with shallow glory and tabloid rage.  In the post “American Idol” world, musicianship and skill in the pop realm are taken even less seriously than before.  Every pop star is replaceable with a younger, fresher face willing to sell it all out and become the next glittering gimmick. The idea is “if you give the kids enough shiny things to look at, they won’t notice that the music is sub par.”  Stars are lined up and knocked down without thought to the human cost.  Vultures make money off misfortune and we get to be weaker and weaker as a society.  The more we celebrate this sort of behavior, the bigger the bruise on humanity.   

Britney has not only continued this cycle, she has also been an unfortunate victim of it.  “Blackout” is a waste of precious shelf space. It is the work of an increasingly sad tabloid target angling to relocate a pop voice that wasn’t that strong to begin with.  She should be left alone and allowed to get her affairs in order without being scrutinized. 

There are a lot more serious things happening in the world right now.  This record is a waste of your time and an insult to your intelligence.

October 30, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (41)

Review: Dave Gahan's "Hourglass"

October 29, 2007 12:40 PM

As lead singer of Depeche Mode, Dave Gahan has often been savaged by the critics.  On his band’s early cheeseball techno-pop classics like “Just Can’t Get Enough” and on the heavy-handed but well-meaning social commentary of “People Are People,” he has been the mouthpiece for a band that many mean-spirited hipsters thought wouldn’t last.

Not helping matters was the fact that for more than two decades, he’d never written a song for the group he sang for.  On the band’s 1981 debut, songwriting was left to Vince Clarke, who, shortly after that album’s release, departed to form Yaz and then later Erasure.  Ever since then, Martin Gore had picked up the slack, writing everything that Gahan would sing. 

In 2003, Gahan got the urge to finally write on his own and released his debut solo album “Paper Monsters.”  It was a decent record with a few downright stunning moments.  The single, “Dirty Sticky Floors,” was a gritty, darkly glorious sleaze-fest befitting its title.  But it was the mellow, slow-loving waltz of “Bitter Apple” that really showed Gahan at his peak potential.  Go back and listen to that track, and bask in its magnificent romanticism. 

On “Paper Monsters,” Gahan proved he could match Gore as a songwriter (even if he was writing with collaborators), and so when the band got back together in 2005 for their album “Playing the Angel,” he was allowed to write a few tracks.

So now in 2007 Gahan returns as a solo artist with “Hourglass.”  Sadly the record isn’t quite as enjoyable as its predecessor.  The opener, “Saw Something,” has stunning build, and by the third listen, it sticks with you.  It’s definitely the defining moment of the record.

But then, for a while, things go downhill.  “Kingdom” is a decently anthemic new-wave groove, but it’s bogged down by Gahan’s attempt at wishy-washy pseudo-gospel. 

“Deeper and Deeper” becomes an exercise in self-parody with its overdone gravelly sounding “rock-dude” yelling.  It’s not as much of a song as it should be.  It doesn’t go anywhere.  Sure, there are lots of cool blips and blurps, but it doesn’t take the listener anywhere.  It’s like a quick run around the block. 

“21 Days” is weighed down by its noisy guitar crashes, and the “Oooooh yeahs” throughout add nothing positive to its structure.  The way-too-fleeting piano solos are the best part of the track. 

“Miracles” could’ve been a monumental song if it had a decent backbone to hold it up, but it doesn’t.  The arrangement of atmospheric, ambient muck causes the song to lose what could’ve been a sense of coherent, cohesive structure. A similar formula is used with much better results later in the disc on fascinating “Insoluble.”

“Use You” has an angry drive that recalls Gahan’s work on Depeche Mode classics “Never Let Me Down Again” and “I Feel You.”  It works well despite the dead-serious, determined way Gahan shouts, “We have each other/You are my brother.”  It’s like he’s leading a chanting, unruly crowd.  His level of earnestness delivering these lines is oddly giggle-inducing.

“Endless” is built around a repetitive, throbbing synth effect.  It works for a minute or two, but then becomes monotonous.  In addition, its nearly six minutes prove its title to be quite apt. 

“A Little Lie” is thankfully a fantastic standout due to its interestingly catchy riff. Unlike earlier songs, here, Gahan is able to put his sense of lyrical drama to good use.  This track is definitely single-worthy. 

The record’s closer, “Down,” is slow but appealing once it picks up.

Overall, the record is a little unbalanced.  It’s a mixed bag with some fine highlights and a few other songs you may forget completely once they hit your eardrum.  “Paper Monsters” was also mixed, but its high points were higher, and they showcased Gahan’s skills more effectively.  If you are Depeche Mode fan, you should still seek this out. It has some strange missteps, but Gahan has proven his worth time and time again.  With some slight arrangement augmentations this would have been an excellent record. There’s nothing here that can’t be redeemed. 

Oddly, despite this record’s flaws, Gahan has never given off such a complex energy.  As he’s gotten older, he’s shed his early-'80s bubblegum, techno-pop image to reveal a much darker, much more fascinating presence.  There’s no question that given the right moment of inspiration, he could prove all his naysayers wrong.  I really hope he does. He’s been around so long because he really is worthy. Here’s hoping his third solo album will be a classic.   

(Note: “Hourglass” is also available with a bonus DVD with a documentary, a music video and a look behind the scenes in the studio.  This version is recommended for Depeche Mode completists. )

October 29, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (5)

Review: Robert Plant and Alison Krauss' "Raising Sand"

October 24, 2007 3:26 PM

When buzz around this record started to circulate a few months ago, it seemed a little like a joke. Taking the lead singer from Led Zeppelin, a hard-rock pioneer, and pairing him with a popular bluegrass performer seemed like an unusual combination. 

The weirdest thing about the experiment is that it actually worked. 

Plant and Krauss sound surprisingly good together.  They meet at the stylistic middle-ground of their influence, mostly sticking with a blues-driven sound.  And their album is a well-planned collection of covers. 

Those looking for Plant’s signature wail aren’t going to find it here.  All throughout “Raising Sand,” he sings at a soft and gentle vocal tone.  Only on the bluesy reworking of the Everly Brothers’ “Gone, Gone, Gone (Done Moved On)” does he even work up a little bit of a sweat. But that’s fine.  Maybe less is indeed more.

The opening track, “Rich Woman,” finds the two harmonizing tremendously well over an echo-infused watery guitar part that sounds like it was lifted from a spy-movie score.  They sound like a toned down version of the Raveonettes. 

“Killing the Blues” is a sweet country number complete with slide guitar, where the two once again merge their voices together effortlessly.   

For the majority of the record, though, the two remain separated, alternating as they see fit with the other providing occasional punches of vocal backup.  Krauss’ rendition of Sam Phillips’ “Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us” is a haunting track fueled by a slightly ever-so-uneasy tin-pan-alley vibe.  Elsewhere she delivers more typical country fare like “Through the Morning, Through the Night,” and softy haunted blues on Tom Waits’ “Trampled Rose.”

Plant has his own stellar moments, all of them somewhat hushed.  His stirring version of Gene Clark’s “Polly Come Home” is the kind of slow, sonic intoxicant you might hear playing in a road-house bar at last call, while blearily downing a last shot of whisky. 

On “Please Read the Letter,” perhaps the album’s best track, Plant is actually covering himself.  The original version appeared on Jimmy Page and Plant’s 1998 album “Walking Into Clarksdale.”  This down-tempo, relaxed version is sweet, and Krauss’ soft vocal harmonies emphasize the song’s romantic sentiments. 

The Plant-fronted cover of Naomi Neville’s “Fortune Teller” has a vaguely trippy, delta-blues funkiness. It’s one of the few tracks that really rocks out, ending with a rollicking guitar solo. 

On their cover of Townes Van Zandt’s “Nothin’,” Krauss’ fiddle is placed in front of a guitar wall, which sporadically gives way, making room for Plant’s deeply ethereal vocal work. 
“Raising Sand” was produced by veteran heavyweight T Bone Burnett.  Burnett is no stranger to bluegrass -- he was one of the driving forces behind the “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” soundtrack.  He’s also made many records with classic rock stars, so his rootsy touches suit both Plant and Krauss quite well. 

In all, “Raising Sand” is a fine record which will definitely find its niche.  It sounds strange on paper, but on disc it is indeed a great combination.  Krauss does some fine work and it’s some of Plant’s best material in years, despite his lack of venom.  This is a collaboration worth investigating. 

October 24, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (10)

Review: Underworld’s "Oblivion With Bells"

October 19, 2007 3:06 PM

Thanks to its raver anthem “Born Slippy” getting front and center exposure on the “Trainspotting” soundtrack, Underworld was a top-tier act of the mini electronic boom of ’97.  With its bits of synths, its hard, pulsating, aggressive beat and seminonsensical, woozy beat-poet lyrics, the track typified the group’s sound at the time. 

In 1999 the band followed that success up with “Beaucoup Fish,” a somewhat repetitive record with a few minor standouts. By the time 2002’s mellower “A Hundred Days Off” arrived, the band was back down to its original core duo of Karl Hyde and Rick Smith, because of Darren Emerson’s departure.

“Oblivion With Bells” is even softer and mellower than its predecessor.  Earlier records had hard, long, monotonous passages that were often bewildering, fascinating and boring depending on the mood or the moment.  This record is very chilled and not at all pretentious.  If “Born Slippy” was a banger for the dance floor, most of this record is designed for a zoned-out subway ride or a cinematic club crawl.  It’s mostly designed for the coolest comedown ever. 

It opens with the seamless double dose of “Crocodile” and “Beautiful Burnout.”  Together the two tracks last a solid 14 minutes.  Sure, there’s the typical dance beat in back of the whole thing, but it’s much more subtle than before.  Crystallized synthesizers punctuate throughout in order to optimize the groove and Hyde’s spaced-out electro-assisted vocals float above everything.  It’s a continuous pulse until “Beautiful Burnout” gets a cool dose of complexity with the addition of some jungle-esque drums.  I can only imagine how much fun remixers could have with these tracks. 

“Holding the Moth” is low-key spoken-word techno complete with a supper-club-ready piano solo, while “To Heal” is an ambient track recalling Moby’s fine work on the second disc of his album “Hotel.”

“Ring Road” is the most essential track.  Hyde is almost rapping with what sounds like a sampled, tweaked-out flute snippet coming and going.  But beneath the ominous boom-bap beat, there is a sunny sense of melody.  Lyrically, the song is an odd observational piece, but it’s completely intoxicating.  This should definitely be a single. 

Back in the ambient realm, we are thrown deep into the atmosphere of “Glam Bucket.”  If it doesn’t calm you to sleep, it just might blow your mind.  Epic soundscapes like this are destined to score movies. 

“Boy, Boy, Boy” is a surprisingly bluesy meditation, while “Faxed Invitation” is backed by a glitchy bass line and ticker.  The latter is led by Hyde’s creepy, slowed-down vocals.  It makes for a truly weird but good listen.   

“Good Morning Cockerel” is a classically sparse piano piece showcasing Underworld’s true sophistication. This element is usually buried and lost in the mix.   It is wonderful to hear it exposed. 

The record closes with “Greatest Mamgu Ever” a bass-driven, slow-walking strut with extremely subtle vocal work.  It sounds like the soundtrack for the walk home after an adrenaline-filled night of clubbing.  It caps off what very well may be Underworld’s most consistent and wonderfully restrained albums to date.  This is one of the best electronic albums of the year and a must-hear for any forward-thinking music fan. 

“Oblivion With Bells” is also available with a bonus DVD containing some fittingly cool art-house-style music videos.  The best of the bunch is a rainbow light show set to a live version of the band’s classic track “Rez.”  I imagine it would be perfectly suitable viewed while sitting in the dark at four in the morning and spacing out after a long, hard week.  I plan to test out my theory this weekend.   

October 19, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (2)

Review: Jimmy Eat World's "Chase This Light"

October 17, 2007 3:18 PM

In 2001, Mesa, Ariz.’s oddly named Jimmy Eat World broke free into the rock mainstream with their fantastic record “Bleed American.”  (Some post 9/11 consumers may know this as a self titled release.) 

To this day, the record, with its massive sense of eclecticism, stands as one of the best and most lovable mainstream rock records of this decade.  Jimmy Eat World’s song “The Middle” became a huge hit, the massively aggressive title track won over legions of critics and “Sweetness” became a bankable favorite. 

In 2004, the band returned with “Futures” a sturdy follow-up, which while not quite as much of a knockout, had some fine standout tracks of its own -- namely “Work,” a love song featuring Liz Phair, perfectly designed for that pivotal moment at the high school dance. 

The band’s new record, “Chase This Light,” finds them doing more of the same, which means that it is every bit as pleasing as those last two records.  The sonic range is still present.  Brutal guitar-work often sits side-by-side with softer ballads.  Singer Jim Adkins’ emo-boy voice, with its occasional doses of drama and vibrato, is still intact. 

Jimmy Eat World’s strength has always been their ability to combine elements.  Emo intensity, sugary washes of power-pop and unapologetically catchy hooks are all part of the equation. 

Opener “Big Casino” is a strong arena rocker on which drummer Zach Lind sounds somewhat unhinged.  That emo sense of pity and nostalgia is fully present (Sample lyric: “Back when I was younger I was someone you’d have liked.”) and balanced out by a soaring chorus. 

Like “Bleed American,” this record is a collection of soon-to-be singles.  It’s an endless string, from the thoroughly likable “Let It Happen,” to the new-wavy “Here It Goes” to the softly reflective title track.

“Dizzy” is the kind of lovelorn track teenagers have been locking themselves in their rooms to listen to for decades. It’s destined to wind up on many mix CDs compiled for new crushes.

Adkins’ uncharacteristically soft, high, whispered vocal performance and sense of quiet urgency on “Gotta Be Somebody’s Blues” is not unlike that of the late Elliott Smith.  “Firefight,” with its suffocating guitar attack and its strong chorus recalls the greatness of “Sweetness.”

The best track on the disc, however, is “Electable (Give It Up),” a politically-minded punker with a spunky guitar line, a very eighties “oh-oh-oh” vocal hook and enough infectious power to keep the average listener spinning for weeks.  On the track, Adkins sings about “Talking points from talking heads with automated smiles.”  Cynical indeed, but this is just another smartly written gem.

In lesser hands, emo can be cloying.  Jimmy Eat World are amiable masters -- less gimmicky and flashy than followers like Fall Out Boy, without the irksome, self-consciousness and flamboyant over-abuse of punctuation of Panic! At the Disco.  Jimmy Eat World’s emo is thankfully very different from those bands. It shouldn’t even be considered the same genre.   It’s much more pensive, well thought out and mature.  It’s more authentic.  Their sincerity, earnestness and song-writing ability set them apart from the rest. They make many of the current emo crop come off like whiny kids looking for a quick cash-in.

“Bleed American” is still Jimmy Eat World’s highest water-mark, but “Chase This Light” is pretty substantial.  It’ll be the kind of record I will want to keep in regular rotation for months to come. 

October 17, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (1)

Review: Band of Horses' "Cease to Begin"

October 10, 2007 4:31 PM

The vast landscape of indie-rock is crowded with bands led by singer/songwriters with high, nasal voices and odd facial hair.  From Built to Spill to the Flaming Lips to My Morning Jacket, there are many important and influential examples of this phenomenon. 

Many critics would argue that these bands are born out of some sort of Neil Young fascination.  There have been few reviews that haven’t made such a comparison.  It may be true, but it also may be due to coincidental vocal similarities.  All these bands’ singers sing much better than Neil Young ever will.

Band of Horses is among the best of these groups. Singer Ben Bridwell has a strong, sweetly angelic voice.  It may take some getting used to, but it will win you over. 

The South Carolina band with Seattle connections is signed to Sub-Pop.  Once the home of loud, rollicking metal-infused fare like Nirvana and Soundgarden, the label now boasts a somewhat quieter, more sensitive roster including bands like the Shins and Iron & Wine.  Band of Horses fits right in with the label’s current sound.

“Cease to Begin” is the band’s second album, following up last year’s “Everything All the Time.”  For fans of that first record, this definitely won’t be a disappointment.  In fact, it betters its predecessor. 

The tidy, 34-minute, 10-track disc is front-loaded.  The first four tracks are top-notch. 

It starts with “Is There a Ghost,” a simple, swelling, anthemic rocker, which despite having only three repeated lines (“I could sleep / When I lived alone / Is there a ghost in my house?”) is anything but monotonous. In fact the way it rises and builds recalls the last album’s stellar standout track “The Funeral.”

Next up is “Ode to LRC,” a chunky rocker which gives way to a soft and beautiful chorus in which Bridwell sings, “The world is such a wonderful place.”  When you hear him sing this, it’s impossible not to believe him.

“No One’s Gonna Love You” would make perfect crossover radio candy.  If it’s ever a single, it could be the band's ticket to the big-time, and it possesses all the qualities that make Band of Horses such a great band.

“Detlef Schrempf” is an odd title for such a chilled-out, Southern-gothic bit of mellow roots rock. It is one of the best tracks the record has to offer. 

Throughout the album, the band also gives us quick doses of alt-country.  “The General Specific” and “Window Blues” are both effective and likable.  “Marry Song,” on the other hand, stands as the record’s only minor misstep. My guess is that it is meant to be a sentimental song about marriage and love, but it recalls that rare kind of Counting Crows track where Adam Duritz tries his best to add a down-home twang to his whiny warble.  It’s not appealing.  Both bands can do better. 

“Cigarettes and Wedding Bands,” though, is another highlight and potential single, with its crashing guitar-wall opening and its infectious chorus.    It’s one of the best songs Bridwell has ever been able to summon. 

One of the more fascinating tracks here is a 50-second instrumental called “Lamb on the Lam (In the City.)”  The song sounds nothing like the rest of the record.   It’s a mysterious snippet, sounding like something the “Disintegration” era Cure would’ve built a song around.  Its placement somewhere in the middle of the record is also rather odd -- as if it is meant to serve as an intermission.  Nevertheless, it serves as a necessary addition. 

Before “Cease to Begin” was recorded, Bridwell changed the entire lineup of the band, essentially making him the only consistent member to appear on both records.  This is surprisingly not a noticeable change.  That in itself is a testament to Bridwell’s reliable writing style.  It also helps that both records were produced by veteran indie-rock, uber-producer Phil Ek.   

The album also has one of the nicest album covers I have seen all year -- a picture of the moon and its reflection in water below.  Much like “Everything All the Time,” instead of a typical CD booklet, the disc is packaged with a stack of tasteful arty photographs. 

On “Cease to Begin,” Ben Bridwell and his Band of Horses shoot for the stars and completely avoid any notion of a sophomore slump.  Let’s hope it pays off.   

October 10, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (5)

Review: PJ Harvey's "White Chalk"

October 05, 2007 3:41 PM

Polly Jean Harvey is an extraordinary shape-shifter.  Since her debut about 15 years ago, she has constantly shown remarkable range -- one moment bellowing off a rocked-out, fuzzed-up blues riff and the next cooing softly over a stark backdrop. 

If you don’t count the collection “4-Track Demos,” “White Chalk” is Harvey’s seventh studio album and it finds her in the latter category. The loud, authoritative rock side is AWOL, allowing for a nice dose of quiet time. If you are looking for PJ Harvey, the respected guitarist, look elsewhere. Her raw punk edge is temporarily in hiding.  This is a piano record all the way through.   

Sometimes the instrumentation can be quite minimal. 

These are soft anthems of isolation -- a perfect soundtrack for sitting alone in a dark room while watching snow falling outside a nearby window. 

With titles like “Dear Darkness,” “Broken Harp” and “Silence,” this is not the feel-good record of the year.  This is, however, a bold collection of strangely haunting melodies as captivating as they are beautifully morose.

Harvey has always made awesome use of empty space.  She can do more with a sparse backdrop than a lot of bands can do with a 20-piece orchestra.  Turn up your stereo and listen to these tracks loudly and you’ll understand.  Less is more, but atmosphere and mood are vital here.  Her piano playing consists mostly of bare-bones minor-chord structures, allowing her voice to lead the way. 

Highlights include the first single, “When Under Ether,” which exhibits all the qualities listed above.  It may haunt your dreams (in a good way, of course).  In comparison, the record’s opener, “The Devil,” with its steadily paced rhythm, sounds downright plucky. (It’s pretty dark as well, so that’s saying something).

The title track finds Harvey singing with an echo effect over her voice.  It sounds like a lullaby sung from atop a fiber-glass mountain.  Strange indeed, but moving as well!  There is a demolike fuzziness to the track.  Harvey is one of the few artists with enough coolness and credibility to pull this off as a stylistic move.  In lesser hands it would just seem like a slap-dash symbol of laziness.  She turns it into an art form.

One look at the liner notes and the people behind the production and it’s immediately evident that this is anything but a demo.  As usual, Harvey is again paired with her longtime collaborator John Parish.  They co-produced the record with Flood, the sound architect famous for his work on far more elaborate records by the likes of U2, Depeche Mode and Smashing Pumpkins.

If you were among the many who really got into Thom Yorke’s album “The Eraser” last year, “White Chalk” might be your record.  Take away Yorke’s record’s electronic elements, and you have a similarly uneasy tone.  Harvey and Yorke have worked together before on several songs from her polished 2000 masterpiece “Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea,” and quite frankly he is her most obvious cultural counterpart.  They both are as mysterious and mesmerizing as they are brilliantly confounding. 

As with Yorke’s most challenging work with Radiohead, not everything on “White Chalk” will be for everyone.  I sense some might have a problem with the slightly screechy caterwaul Harvey uses to bid adieu at the end of the record’s final track, “The Mountain.”  I feel sorry for those people.  For the rest of us this stands as another one of Harvey’s growing list of classics, not only adding to her fine legacy, but showcasing some impressive musical growth. 

“Down by the Sea,” Harvey’s only real radio hit, was 13 years ago on her album “To Bring You My Love.”  This album most likely won’t change that, but it does prove that she’s a classic, worthy songwriter who deserves better. It’s nice to know that the “50 ft. Queenie” is still alive and well even if she is a little quieter these days.

October 5, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (3)

Review: Bruce Springsteen’s "Magic"

October 03, 2007 12:57 PM

First thing’s first.  The Boss deserves a great deal of respect for his enduring legacy.  He is one of the most iconic American songwriters around.  However, as with Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones, too many critics tend to give him a free pass with his records, declaring every new one a classic upon its release. 

This is not one of those reviews.

That said, his latest with the E Street Band, “Magic,” is surprisingly vital. Take the record’s first single (and the album’s opener) “Radio Nowhere.”  Bruce Springsteen doesn’t sound like himself at all -- he sounds like a cross between Mike Ness of Social Distortion and Eddie Vedder. (This is even weirder considering Vedder’s new soundtrack to “Into the Wild” finds him mining folkier terrain in the vein of Springsteen’s “Nebraska” or “The Ghost of Tom Joad.”)

In fact, it isn’t out of line to declare that “Radio Nowhere” is by far the best and catchiest single Springsteen has come up with in more than 20 years.    The fact that guitarist Little Steven van Zandt is such a Garage Rock enthusiast has always kind of struck me a little weirdly -- until now.  “Radio Nowhere” possesses some unexpected crunch.  It is a very welcome surprise. 

Nothing else on “Magic” has quite the same kick, but there are many Springsteen anthems waiting to happen.  No doubt, “You’ll Be Coming Down” will be a huge hit with longtime fans.  It has a nice end-of-summer sunset vibe. 

“Girls in Their Summer Clothes” is observational like Springsteen’s classic “4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)” but it lacks that song’s attention to lyrical detail.  But it is highly infectious and could have hit potential.

It’s interesting to compare this record to 2002’s “The Rising.”  That was praised at the time, but it's possible that people were embracing the sentiment behind the record rather than the record itself.  It seemed rather humdrum and like generic Springsteen for long stretches.  This record is less bloated and has a little more of an edge.  It is much more interesting and rewarding. 

Maybe the amps are turned up louder than before, but it gives the band more of a drive than it has had in years.  Springsteen has got real determination in his voice when he’s forced to shout over the walls of guitars on “Last to Die.”  The tension in the song seems genuine. 

“Long Walk Home” is exactly the kind of fare you’d expect from this gang.  It doesn’t add anything new to the band’s scope, and it’s slightly in the middle of the road, but it should sound familiar enough to please fans.   

Of course then there’s “Livin’ in the Future” which sounds a little like an attempt to remake “Hungry Heart.”  It’s actually somewhat successful despite these similarities. 

“Gypsy Biker” is an odd bit of ever-so-slightly Celtic-tinged country blues.  The title track finds the Boss in contemplative politically minded troubadour mode. “Your Own Worst Enemy” has a vague whiff of a “Pet Sounds” vibe. 

Clarence Clemons is a skilled sax player, but sometimes he makes the tracks sound dated.  It isn’t his fault.  I don’t care how many Dave Matthews Band fans you ask, but his kind of saxophone soloing went out in about 1988. However, Clemons is an important part of the band and it ultimately doesn’t matter what’s hip or not.

At this point, Springsteen will probably never have another album as epic as “Born in the U.S.A.” ever again, but this is a shockingly inspired effort.  “Magic” is one of the hookiest records he’s delivered in a long, long, long while.   

October 3, 2007 | Permalink | User Comments (5)