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Review: Elvis Costello and the Imposters’ “Momofuku”

April 23, 2008 10:38 AM

  Until yesterday, I hadn’t bought any new vinyl in probably 20 years.

In 1988 I had switched to cassettes because they were more portable.  Like many other music fans, I now see the error in my ways considering the sound quality of vinyl is superior to that of those flimsy, chewable walkman-cloggers.  In 1992 I switched to CDs and never looked back. 

Why do I mention all of this? Elvis Costello decided unusually to release his new album “Momofuku” (his 24th proper one at my count) on vinyl only.  Before you longtime fans panic and worry about whether your dusty turntable has a needle that’s up to snuff, fear not.  For a mere two weeks it is available on vinyl only.  A CD version will be released on May 6th.  Plus when you buy it on vinyl, you get a code to download a digital version.  That code won’t work though until the first of May.  Thus, for a nice change of speed, I had to review this album the old fashioned way. 

If you will pardon me for a moment, I’d like to say something about the medium itself.  I’d forgotten how glorious records truly are.  Sure, they are big and clunky, but as I first gazed at the immense “Momofuku” in all its purple-y goodness, I was awe-struck.  Suddenly my childhood memories of being virtually glued to my old record player came flooding back.  Sure, they are kind of a pain to turn over, but records have a strange sense of nostalgia to them.  I remember being excited as a small boy wondering what every label would look like.  (Maybe I was a strange kid in that way.) 

Anyway, enough reminiscing.  You really are here because you want to know how good “Momofuku” is.  It’s excellent!  One of his best!  I don’t say that lightly, either.  It’s obvious on first listen that the reason why he decided to set the record off with an initial vinyl-only strategy was because this is a classic-level Elvis Costello record.  He surely wanted to remind his listeners of the first time they listened to “My Aim Is True” or “This Year’s Model.”  This is not Elvis Costello experimenting with his classical side.  It is an old-school Elvis Costello record with occasionally loud guitars, plenty of bile and a bit of punctuating organ here and there.  Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a full-tilt rock album, because it does have its softer, more reflective moments, but so do the two classics listed above.  Costello is a songwriter and he tends to like to write lyrically dense material.  Sometimes you need a softer backdrop to tell a story.  Like his 2002 masterpiece, “When I Was Cruel” and his 1994 rocker “Brutal Youth,” this album finds Costello in a very familiar comfortable place.  All the albums I have just listed each have their own distinct sound, and “Momofuku” continues that line, but the truth is, each one has showcased Costello the rock star.  (Albeit, a rock star who can write more literate rock songs than your average seething curmudgeon-y social critic.)

“Momofuku” moves in waves.  It shows his stunning range well in that way.  Interestingly enough, the progression almost shifts with each record side.  The album has 12 tracks spread across 2 records.  Thus, there are 4 sides with 3 tracks per side.

Side one shows him at his rocking best.  “No Hiding Place” sets the pace well as one of his most melodic rockers, delivered sweetly one moment while telling someone off the next.  Such moodiness is summed up well within the first few lines. “In the not very distant future / When everything will be free / There won’t be any cute secrets / Or any novelty.”  His tone is accusatory, telling his subject at one point “Whatever I said about you, I couldn’t say it behind your back.”  The angry man is back and he’s just as sharp as ever.  Thankfully, he hasn’t aged that much either.  It helps that the band is as tight as they’ve always been.  After all, his current band, the Imposters are really just the Attractions minus bassist Bruce Thomas.  In his place is one-time Cracker bassist Davey Faragher.  With drummer Pete Thomas pounding away and keyboardist Steve Nieve playing his Wurlitzer, it’s almost like old-times. 

“American Gangster Time” begins a punked-up romp through Clubland 2008.  It starts with his subject  casing a woman offering him pills.  His descriptions are somewhat acerbic and coated in unforgiving detail.  He’s an observer but he obviously isn’t too keen on where he is.  All at once, the lyrical tone recalls both “(I Don’t Want To Go To) Chelsea” and “This Year’s Girl.”  Again as the guitars get louder, his ace melody  remains indelible.  The chorus is full of good old-“Radio Radio” organ pep.  The subject changes throughout the track, but the refrain of “I’d rather go blind for speaking my mind,” proves to be his credo.  Thankfully, he has never had a problem on that front. 

“Turpentine” continues the rock-show.  It goes back and forth from skim-worthy sonic murk to a grade-A, rousing chorus.  In fact, the chorus gives the track one of the most memorable melodies on the record.  Then it devolves wonderfully into a loud basher.  It’s as if Costello built up something beautiful just so he could gleefully destroy it.  Such a progression is strongly executed. 

Like many others on this record, “Turpentine” features Rilo Kiley front-woman Jenny Lewis on harmony vocals and singer-songwriter Johnathan Rice playing with the band.  According to “Billboard,” this album stemmed from Costello’s work with Lewis and Rice on Lewis’ upcoming solo album.  Costello is a giant who has never been afraid to work with other people.  He has great taste in collaborators, thus it is no doubt an honor.  I’m reminded of his great work a decade or so back with Aimee Mann.  He only tends to work with the best, and on Rilo Kiley’s last album “Under the Blacklight,” Lewis proved herself worthy.  It’ll be interesting to see what their collaboration brings. 

Now it is time to take a breather and turn the record over.  People used to have to do this all the time before 15,000 song ipods!  As I get up from my chair, I momentarily find that little factual nugget staggering!

Side two offers the first monumental change.  “Harry Worth” does not rock.  Rather, it is a sort of slow-ish samba, tropicalia-infused number with wonderfully cheesy organ work.  It’s the kind of track you can imagine an old couple dancing to in a bright-yellow motel room.  Maybe the reason I picture a couple is because that’s exactly who the song is about.  It begins “I met them first on their wedding night.” It describes this couple’s married life, with a knowing sense of impending darkness.  (“Do you hear that noise?  Well that once was our song!”) It makes pretty clear that this couple is doomed.  In lesser hands, the song could have come off schmaltzy, but Costello gives it an appropriate amount of venom, thus counter-acting the pitch-perfect old-school back-up chorus of vocalists.  It’s a stunner with all its kitschiness intact. 

“Drum & Bone” plays like a softer sequel to Costello’s hit “Monkey to Man” from his 2004 album “The Delivery Man,” even down to its rockabilly tone and references to human evolution.  It worked well the first time and it works well here again. 

When I first read the title “Flutter & Wow,” I thought of Stereolab’s song “Wow & Flutter,” but the two are of course very different. Costello’s “Flutter & Wow” is a majestic attempt at a classic soul love ballad.  It’s the kind of thing Otis Redding excelled in.  Costello scores quite well. He constantly challenges himself and comes out on top. Showing his often scarce sweet and romantic side, he delivers yet another winner. 

Time to switch records and begin what is effectively the third side. 

“Stella Hurt” is a full-blown rock song, which initially sounds like a revved-up answer to Hendrix’s “Foxey Lady,” and then becomes a rhythmic dance number.  No wonder it is so funky, the song features drum-work from both Pete Thomas and his daughter Tennessee Thomas who drums in the buzz-worthy band the Like. Within the first few lines Costello is at his word-find best mentioning everything from “red galoshes” to “gutters full of suicides.”  By the end of the track, it becomes an interesting, angry sounding noise experiment, until very abruptly, it ends with little advance notice.  As always, such volatility is welcome. 

Next is “Mr. Feathers.”  The change is tone is remarkable from one track to the next.  “Stella Hurt” is like a bunch of kids loose in the garage whereas “Mr. Feathers” is the kind of old, tin-pan alley-style number the Beatles would have maybe put on “The White Album.”

“My Three Sons” is not a saxophone number. Odds are if it were to have a music video, it wouldn’t merely consist of animated toe-tapping.  Instead, it is a first rate, reflective country-tinged ballad.  Within one side, Costello has taken the playbook and thrown out any sort of formula.  This is the exact reason he still, rather consistently continues to make quality work. 

Time to turn the record over again for the forth and last side. 

“Song With Rose” borders on alt-country but stays mostly in the mid-tempo singer-songwriter mold.  If this were the mid-eighties, this might have been some sort of over-produced pop number on “Punch the Clock.”  Thankfully, Costello’s current taste in instrumentation is much more natural, earthy and timeless, thus the song is left alone and delivered in an unfussy way.  Stylistically this is the closest the album gets towards the softer side of Rilo Kiley. 

Next is “Pardon Me, Madam, My Name is Eve,” a standout track depicting Eve about to throw-down on a woman trying to steal Adam away from her.  It’s somehow both mildly comical and sad at the same time.  It’s heartbreaking when Eve realizes she’s probably being pushed away. “In another time of life, when I was his only wife./ When I was his only bride. / Before I was torn out from his side.”

On his first three albums, Costello always went out with a hit single.  “My Aim Is True” closed with “Watching the Detectives.”  “This Year’s Model” closed with “Radio Radio.”  “Armed Forces” closed with “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding?” (That last one may have been last because it was tacked on, considering that the track was originally credited to “Nick Lowe and his Sound” and wasn’t originally supposed to be on the album.)  On “Momofuku,” Costello continues this line of single-worthy closers, with “Go Away.”  The track fades in and is built around an organ line delivered by “Farmer” Dave Scher.  It sounds like the kind of soulful organ exercise one would come up with after listening to a lot of Booker T. & the M.G.s. Here, Costello and Jenny Lewis sing together a perfect upbeat kiss-off. (“Go away! Go Away! Why don’t you go Away? Why don’t you come back, baby? Why don’t you go away?”) It would’ve been a fun Blues Brothers number.  Leaving on such an upbeat high note leaves you wanting more, almost guaranteeing immediate repeat listens.   

In closing, there isn’t a weak track on “Momofuku.”  It’s Elvis Costello completely in his element.  It’s a clear five star example of a legend adding to his stack of classics.  Here’s someone who has worked for the past 31 years with no large, significant breaks, honing his craft, creating a diverse catalogue for the ages.  “Momofuku” is a worthy addition to any Elvis Costello fan’s collection. 

Oh, and my guess is that you are probably wondering about the name.  In a Billboard interview posted just yesterday on their site, he claims that the album is named after Momofuku Ando, who invented the first cup noodle.  He states the album happened very easily, saying, “All we had to do to make this record was add water.”  That quote is strikingly cornball for someone who usually is so cerebral.  One could also take it with a sort of bitingly snotty, almost patronizing edge, but the truth is, Costello and his band make this album seem so wonderfully effortless, that somehow you don’t doubt him in the least, no matter what absurd thing he tells the press. 

The return to vinyl makes for a surprisingly improved experience.  Perhaps Costello’s trying to make a statement in a download-obsessed world.  The physical product is getting to be almost a forgotten joy.  We must not lose it!  Perhaps there’s an off-chance he’s also trying to make it easier for some forward-thinking hip-hop producer like Danger Mouse to merge his song “American Gangster Time” with some unused Jay-Z verses.  (If that were to actually happen, that would be pretty funny!.)   

I’m glad that in a week I can download the album in digital form.  I’m also glad that in two weeks it hits CD racks.  By then, I’ll probably have begun to wear out my vinyl copy.  It’s that good!

April 23, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (9)

Review: Phantom Planet’s “Raise the Dead”

April 21, 2008 5:16 PM

  Phantom Planet are most definitely most known for two things – the theme to the “O.C.” (the ubiquitous “California”) and for having Jason Schwartzman as their former (founding) drummer.  The truth is, the band has a pretty consistent catalogue of occasionally rollicking power-pop, and they deserve to be known for more.  Their 2002 breakout album “The Guest” showcased lead-singer Alex Greenwald as a keen pop-smith.  Before “California” opened “The O.C.” it made the rounds on radio. 

In early 2004, the band released a self-titled record which I believe to be their true masterpiece.  Shedding the delicately-crafted nature of “The Guest,” the band delivered a 35-minute garage-rock assault which out-did the achievements of both the Hives and the Strokes.  If it weren’t for Green Day’s “American Idiot,” that would have been my favorite record of the year.  It was on that album where Schwartzman bid farewell (in order to focus on his acting career) and the band welcomed new drummer Jeff Conrad. 

Last year on Mark Ronson’s fantastic covers album, “Version,” Greenwald helped deliver a killer horn-infused cover of Radiohead’s “Just.”  The track actually had been recorded a year or so before for a Radiohead tribute album and essentially became the stepping point for Ronson’s whole record.  Until that point, all had been quiet in the Phantom Planet camp for a while. 

So, “Raise the Dead” is the band’s first album in four years.  It’s also their first recorded for Fall Out Boy bassist, Pete Wentz’s Fueled By Ramen label.  I’m glad the band has a home, but this makes them unmistakably the best band on the label.  Phantom Planet are leagues ahead of Fall Out Boy and Panic at the Disco in their song-craft and their performance.  (Plus Phantom Planet aren’t prone to songs with run-on sentences as titles, insane amounts of punctuation or irritating emo/poppy, feaux-punk tendencies.) 

“Raise the Dead” is a good album on the first listen, and a great album by the tenth.  It isn’t quite the immediate massive rocker its predecessor was, but it is still worthy.  It effectively fuses the polished sound of “The Guest” with dustier, creakier moments reminiscent of the last record. 

Let’s begin with the single, “Do the Panic.”  The song should sound familiar to longtime fans considering that a live version of it was featured on the bonus disc packaged with the first pressing of “The Guest.”  It’s nice to see the song revived especially since it always seemed to me to have hit potential.  The song is every bit as good as “California,” and I can imagine its catchy guitar-riff and “ba-ba-ba-bop-bop-sha-dooby-do” refrain in the background of many future movie trailers.

Equally appealing is the hand-clapping go-go fueled number “Dropped.”  Greenwald double-tracks his vocals in different octaves to a great effect.

Another highlight is “Leader,” a tongue-in-cheek look at life in a cult, complete with a playful children’s chorus. Greenwald sings, “We’ll put you in a uniform, / Everyone will be reborn, / Wear us over where your heart is, /Now you’re new life with us has started.”  It would make a good single if it wasn’t a little sick.   

In fact, much of the music on “Raise the Dead” is rumored to be fueled by a fascination with cult activity and the music of cult leaders.  Greenwald is definitely on an odd jag here. Hopefully this started with some sort of innocent fascination with cult behavior and its causes.  I would like to think there was some brand of academic-style study going on here, considering the uncomfortable nature of the subject. 

Sickness is a recurring topic. On “Quarantine” Greenwald tries to “keep the sickies out.”

The songs sound sunny but this is a dark record. References to mortality are everywhere, whether on the troubadour-like, anthemic title track, or on the keenly drum-tastic “Too Much Too Often” where Greenwald sings, “out of the cradle and into the coffin.” 

“Geronimo” is either about a suicide pact or a diabolical madman about to push a victim off a cliff.  It throbs and screams with visceral tension.  It’s among the record’s most punked-up moments.

“Confess” is written from a similar point of view. “I’m out of touch,/ You’re out of breath. / Have you got something to confess?”  This very well may be the cult leader asking a suspicious (non-Kool-Aid drinking) follower “Do you think I’m crazy? I’ll show you crazy!!”

“Demon Daughters” is a moody number about majestic witches.  Again death and destruction are everywhere.  Unpredictable rock squalls appear and recede as tension rises and falls. 

Thankfully near the end of the disc, the thread gets a little lost, with the Byrds-ian/Monkees-esque guitar riff on “Leave Yourself for Somebody Else,” and the jaw-droppingly fantastic closer, “I Don’t Mind.”  On the latter, Greenwald proves to be a master of the slow-build.  So often on the record, you find him screaming as if he’s demanding to be heard.  Here, he delivers his lines in an intimate near whisper.  It’s reminiscent of “By the Bed” which was a main highlight of the last album.  More than before, this quartet of musicians (Greenwald, Conrad, bassist Sam Farrar and guitarist Darren Robinson) have become an expertly-honed vessel. They have recovered well from the recent departure of guitarist Jacques Brautbar.

With each one of their four records, Phantom Planet have added a new dynamic to their sound.  This album brings forth a lyrical level of detail and darkness which wasn’t as present in their previous work. “Raise the Dead” is a uniquely twisted and likeable record, far, far removed from “California,” but nevertheless well worth your attention.   

April 21, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (1)

Review: Mariah Carey’s “E=MC2”

April 18, 2008 10:19 AM

  Mariah Carey calling her album “E=MC2” seems about as likely as Jessica Simpson calling an album “3.14” until you realize that it’s her nauseatingly cutesy way of calling this “The Emancipation of Mimi 2.”  The first title was lunch-tossing enough.  (Pop stars shouldn’t refer to themselves by nicknames in album titles, if you ask me.  It seems rather narcissistic, but then again, we are talking about Mariah.) 

The big deal surrounding “E=MC2” is that Mariah just broke Elvis’ record for most #1 Billboard hits by a solo artist. (She has 18 now!)  Does it really matter?  Just because something is a hit, doesn’t mean it is good.  Mariah has spent the last 18 years proving that! During that time she’s been consistently polluting our radios with sub-par dance-numbers and insipid ballads.  She has vocal talent.  That’s undeniable.  It’s just been massively misused.

Back when she debuted in 1990 there was a slight glimmer of hope things would be different.  There was a jazziness to “Vision of Love” and “Vanishing.”  On upbeat numbers like “Someday” she came off like a “How Will I Know?”-era Whitney Houston. But for every glimmer of soulfulness, there was something working against her.  She has always had a powerful voice with a lot of range, but the fact that she insisted on showing off her highest octave, (probably breaking many mirrors over the years) didn’t help her. (It’s so high, it hurts!) Sometimes less is more!  She took a gospel-fueled voice and used it to sing the lowest grade of pop-songs.

Although she has reclaimed her pop stature in the years since her much publicized breakdown and “Glitter”, all is not well musically for her.  “E=MC2” is R&B pop 101 in the worst sort of way.  Any one of these tracks could have been sung by Janet, Rihanna, Ashanti, or for that matter any nameless pop flavor-of-the-month.  This isn’t real R&B.  It’s shiny, glitzy sugar meant for your niece’s sweet 16!  It goes in one ear and sticks in the pit of your stomach until it makes you feel queasy.  The sad thing is that this is what’s on pop radio!  Better, more authentic R&B singers like Angie Stone and Erykah Badu are sadly considered “fringe” in comparison.  Such moves mark the death of culture.  This explains the cookie-cutter nature of “American Idol.”  The show wants more malleable singers like Mariah Carey.  It seems to me like they want someone faceless, lacking edge (or any sort of unique weirdness) who they can just build a backing track around.  It’s not good for music in general.  It takes a rare singer who can balance a real soulfulness with a pop sensibility.  The truth is that only Alicia Keys comes to mind in that rare category. 

“E=MC2” opens with “Migrate,” Mariah’s duet with T-Pain.  It begins with her signature squeal.  (Wow!  That hurts!)  It’s the kind of plodding, fake-string infused track that has been all over radio ever since 50 Cent dropped “In Da Club.”  For the most part Mariah keeps her voice low.  But most shocking of all is that she sounds like she’s using a synthesized effect on her voice.  T-Pain’s part sounds all synthetic, but on him it is less surprising. (If there’s anyone who shouldn’t need vocal enhancement, it’s Mariah!)  The track will probably be a hit, but it may not be remembered it in 5 years. 

Next is the record-breaking single, “Touch My Body.”  It’s a run-of-the-mill smooth-lovin’ track.  It lacks personality, and Mariah seems hushed.  There’s nothing special about this.  It’s a bland finger-snapping groove loaded with come-ons which are truly lacking in seduction.  It is another dose of factory-produced pop.  The track is boring.

“Cruise Control” is next – a duet with Damien Marley where Mariah tries on a reggae groove unsuccessfully.  The beat’s got some bounce, but she kills the momentum trying to fit into a pose she can’t quite pull off. 

“I Stay In Love” is Mariah in mellow ballad mode.  Once again, the track is a sterile groove.  Any R&B singer could sing this ballad.  The song sounds a little like “Slow Jamz” by Kane West, Twista and Jamie Foxx.  Unoriginal, indeed!

Mariah brings in Young Jeezy next for “Side Effects.”  It’s another half-hearted, down-trodden love song.  This is another uninspired track that will probably be a hit.  It’s lethargic.  Plus, once again it sounds like there is something over her voice. 

“I’m That Chick” tries to be a low-level disco groove, but it too lacks spark and personality.  This could’ve been on Janet’s disc easily.  Her hook of “I’m that chick you like” only brings out all the worst diva-centric qualities of her image. 

Jermaine Dupri, (Janet Jackson’s boyfriend) makes an appearance on “Love Story.”  It’s another uneventful love ballad.  Like most of the album, the lyrics are delivered in a syncopated way.  It’s like Mariah’s got some strange Nelly influence all of a sudden. 

“I’ll Be Lovin’ U Long Time” would almost be half decent if its chorus didn’t bring to mind 2 Live Crew, and if again, Mariah’s voice didn’t sound treated. 

Jermaine Dupri is back again for “Last Kiss.”  Again, the track’s got a rather standard R&B production palate. Dupri’s insistence to put himself on the tracks he produces, shouting back phrases and going “yeah, yeah” along throughout is irksome.  Did he and Diddy go to the same school of annoying rap-producer habits?  Sometimes you need to be quiet and just stay behind the boards! 

But Dupri keeps on blathering on the next track, “Thanx 4 Nothin.’”  You’d think it was his album!  It’s like he thinks he’s toasting, and he’s even more irritating than before.  It’s hard enough to  handle Mariah’s over-the-top, love gone wrong delivery, without Dupri going “oh, oh, oh” continuously over the beat.  It sounds like something that should’ve been edited out in post-production. 

“O.O.C.” stands for “Out Of Control” and it has an odd almost Eastern quality.  The words and singing are layered all over the place.  Perhaps this was done on purpose to mirror the title, but it really makes the track just sound like a major mess.  There’s a distorted piano somewhere in the mix which is vaguely interesting, but you can barely hear it over the noise. 

“For the Record” is another marginal ballad.  Mariah specializes in these tracks.  Nowadays, she can’t make a hook memorable for her life.  Throughout this record it is like she is searching to find her identity, and she won’t find it delivering this vacuous tripe!

“Bye Bye” is a track designed for the sad times.  It’s shall we say “a very special” track.  I’m sure it was written with all the best intensions and maybe someone will get comfort from it, but on its bare surface its chorus of “This is for my peoples who just lost somebody” just seems like shameless pandering for the sympathy vote.  (A weird touch is the oddly-placed “HEY” in the background at the most tender moment of the track! Way to ruin a soft moment! It’s as if someone’s saying, “This is a sad track, everyone, but, don’t worry, because it’ll still sound great bangin’ out of your speakers or at the clubs.”  It’s inappropriate.)

  The album finally comes to a much anticipated end with “I Wish You Well.”  It finds Mariah in a gospel-driven, piano-bar mode.  You can tell that this is her attempt at a “credibility” track, but it fails on every count. This is the kind of song Alicia Keys can do in her sleep three thousand times better.  In Mariah’s hands, it’s a surprisingly awkward, occasionally deafening exercise.  A few seconds in, I found myself wishing it would stop.  When it finally did, I found my own little momentary sense of inner peace. 

“E=MC2” is not a great album, in fact, for long stretches, it’s an awful, punishing experience, but the state of pop music today is in such a shambles that no matter what I say, it will probably sell through the roof.  Mariah has her share of detractors who will no doubt agree with me, and her share of loyal fans who will disagree and say this is one of the best albums of the year.  That’s fine.  Everyone’s entitled to an opinion. There’s much better music out there, though.  There’s much more substantive pop and R&B out there with an earthier, more authentic feeling.  That brand of music is much more satisfying than anything on this forgettable placebo of an album.  I think Mariah has had so many hits because she just happens to get a lot of airplay.  (If you think airplay has anything to do with quality, you are mistaken!)  Top 40 radio has trained the youth to embrace mediocre music, especially as it gets more consolidated.  Music that makes you think might turn you off and make you not want to listen to the radio anymore.  It’s because Mariah fits this empty, soulless mold that she now finds herself in the record books.  She can sing, but the bottom line is that she’s simply lucky and has the right connections.  We as music fans deserve better.    

April 18, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (21)

Review: Jim Noir’s “Jim Noir”

April 17, 2008 5:25 PM

  Jim Noir is a British singer-songwriter with a distinct production style and sound.  He combines elements of sixties pop with later, often lo-fi, rather rinky-dink sounding electro elements.  The resulting combination is often captivating.  Two years ago, Noir debuted with his album “Tower of Love.” Now he returns with his second album which is self-titled. 

In Jim Noir’s world, lyrics are often fuzzy sounding, but the harmonies are always tight.  His albums are mixed in stereo extremes. Often the vocals and guitars are on one side and the bass and drums are on the other. 

The album begins with a one minute intro called “Welcome Commander Jameson.”  Combined with the cartoon spaceman on the album’s cover, it’s hard not to think of “Commander Jameson” as a Saturday morning alternative to Bowie’s Major Tom.

As Noir ends Jameson’s fanfare, a Beach Boys’-esque choir comes in, ushering in “All Right.” The track is full of robot voices and electronic beats while still having sixties-style harmonies.  Imagine a perfect middle ground between Chad and Jeremy and Zapp and Roger. 

“What U Gonna Do” sounds like a tweaked and remixed mid-career Beatles tune, complete with a sudden tempo shift and minor guitar freak out.

If there is a crossover hit on this disc, it is “Don’t You Worry,” a catchy track built around a sturdy four-chord guitar pattern.  Noir knows what made the British pop music of the sixties so special, and all those elements are present here, but the track is also coated in keyboards, and the beat moves at a slow hip-hop-flavored groove. 

“Ships and Clouds” recalls the Zombies with its vocal harmonies, but the backdrop is very moog-y.  This album would make fascinating roller-rink music.

“Happy Day Today” sounds like grade-A Casiotone, which then gets a fun layer of guitar fuzz.

 
Noir’s strength is his attention to texture.  It looks from the album credits like he’s a one-man band.  These songs are whimsical with a child-like sense of creativity and joy..  How refreshing this is in a world of heavily calculated “hit” records.  These songs are made out of love.

Noir’s also a witty observational writer.  It’s fascinating on the song “Look Around You” when he’s discussing all the things he’s never seen or done. He sings, “I’ve never seen a violent punk or an interesting drunk.” With some of these observations he comes off more as a biting cultural critic, especially analyzing conventions like the love of professional sports, “I scream at television more than I can. / I’m an armchair man. / I call myself a fan.” 

“Good Old Vinyl” is song about the industry’s insistence that CDs are going to be a dying format.  Noir is skeptical as he claims, “That’s what they said about good old vinyl!”  He also bemoans the weak sound quality of cassettes.  No word on what kind of digital format he likes best. 

Take out some of the electronic elements in “Same Place Holiday” and it could’ve been an upbeat hit for some British equivalent to the Association. 

“Day By Day By Day” is shockingly sharp in its electronic layers, and even sports some old-school “Speak’n’Spell” action, but the old British Invasion pop formula still remains. 

“Welcome CJ” brings us back to our apparent main character, Commander Jameson. As it turns out, Jameson is actually what Jim is short for, so Noir is actually Commander Jameson!  (He’s essentially then recorded two tracks welcoming himself! It’s a quirky touch!)   Here he gets a full song in his honor.  There are probably six or seven vocal tracks harmonizing with each other over a psychedelic guitar-line and keyboard voice which sounds something like an electronic harpsichord.

“On A Different Shelf” is a rich, slow-builder with all the previously mentioned elements, plus some nicely placed sound effects.  The laughing children echoing across the track add a particularly bizarre, inspired quality. 

To close the record, Noir gives us “Forever Endeavor.”  This is wordless track packed with ambient sounds.  It begins with static, then a “Close Encounters”-like spaceship effect, then birds and church-bells.  Indeed Noir has given us just about everything he can.  He’s tossed everything at us in hopes of pleasing. 

This self-titled second album is an adventurous record for anyone still looking for an artistic thrill in their music.  Jim Noir combines the old and the new effortlessly.  He is a production master.  This second album easily stacks up next to his also great “Tower of Love.”  Turn the volume up and let yourself get lost.

Commander Jameson, your mission has been accomplished!

April 17, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (2)

Review: Clinic’s “Do It!”

April 14, 2008 10:12 AM

Is Radiohead’s most recent album not strange enough for you? Do you need to hear something different and weird? Behold Clinic in all their glory! Are you familiar with Clinic? They are a four-man band from Liverpool who deck themselves out in surgical masks onstage. They spastically rock along in a tightly-wound bundle of tense apprehension, while lead singer Ade Blackburn squeezes his words out in a high-voiced, nasally, garbled manner. (It can’t be easy to sing through the mask. Perhaps mask-removal would give him a desired level of clarity. But in all truth, it isn’t clarity that the members of Clinic want.)

“Do It!” is Clinic’s fifth album and actually their most enjoyable since their 2000 debut. The band enjoyed a brief moment of fame when the title-track to their second album “Walking With Thee” became a staple on MTV2 (back when that channel was still cool) and their albums since (“Winchester Cathedral” from 2004 and last year’s “Visitations”) found them charging along in a sort of same-y dirge somewhere between art-punk and what can only be described as some sort of frenzied klezmer influence. “Do It!” is a calmer record with more variety. It doesn’t feel like 11 variations on the same formula like some of its predecessors.

“Memories” begins with what sounds like someone tuning a harpsichord, giving way to a loud, chant-along guitar riff, and then Blackburn sings above a serene sounding organ. The track is moody and if you aren’t prepared for the trip, it can make you seasick, but if you are prepared (which I was) it is exhilarating!

“Tomorrow” takes a stuttering acoustic-guitar line and pairs it was an ominous harmonica. Blackburn actually sounds less alien on this track than he usually does. The track still sounds a little like a Western theme from an alternate universe, but maybe that’s because you can hear every time Blackburn takes a breath.

“The Witch” is a psychedelic guitar-romp that wouldn’t sound out of place on the next generation of “Nuggets” compilations. It is an appealing rock track, but it probably won’t please the radio-listening public.

“Free Not Free” begins like it wants to be a strange acid-rock track, then morphs into something that sounds like “Crystal Blue Persuasion” soaked in ether. (I never thought I would ever be comparing Clinic to Tommy James, but the similarity is undeniable!)

“Shopping Bag” is a psychotic, quick rock-track complete with woodwind screeching. (Surely there must be holes in some of the surgical masks!)

“Corpus Christi” is a moving and eerie piece. This is Clinic at their best. In fact, it is the best track here. The title is whispered over and over a spooky, slightly surf-infused backdrop.

“Emotions” begins with a woman speaking and then a siren-like sound which ushers in a slow, lounge-y, but occasionally ominous tune. Yes, indeed on “Do It!,” for once it seems like Clinic have decided to focus on their songs as much as they’ve focused on strange moods. It makes the record not only edgy and cool but more enjoyable as well.

“High Coin” sounds like a lot of songs on Clinic’s earlier records. It’s a formula they have used over and over again, but here it sounds better on an album consisting of a wider range of sounds.

“Mary and Eddie” sounds like some sort of low-fi, folk song that someone would sing while walking through deserted green fields even though it has cryptic words about its title characters in “warm sand.” If anything the warm sand is more likely to be in the desert than on a beach. The mood is deadly.

“Winged Wheel” is also a more typical Clinic rocker, but it’s got more elasticity than the band usually showcases. It is much looser.

The disc closes with “Coda.” No, it isn’t any sort of Zeppelin nod. It actually sounds like tripped-out, nightmarish circus music. The lyrics don’t come in for a while, and when they do they are spoken. The speech is strange. “This record is a celebration of the 600th anniversary of the Bristol Charter,” it begins. All this sounds even more bizarre backed by something that sounds like whimsical, drunken Ferris wheel music. It all comes crashing to a halt when some church bells slowly fade in. Indeed a weird ending to a weird disc.

As I have said, Clinic are a strange band. If you aren’t in the right frame of mind, you may never be, but I actually found this album to be odd but satisfying. Indeed, Clinic did indeed “Do It!” Now, there are new, more twisted things to do on their next album!

April 14, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (1)

Review: The Breeders’ “Mountain Battles”

April 09, 2008 5:40 PM

She may never get the credit, but Kim Deal is one of the most important women in modern rock music history.  As the bassist for the Pixies in the late eighties, she helped spearhead the nineties rock revolution.  In 1990, while still actively in the Pixies, she teamed up with Throwing Muses’ Tanya Donelly and Perfect Disaster’s Josephine Wiggs and recorded the first Breeders’ album, “Pod.”  “Pod” is now considered an alt-rock classic in some circles.  Shortly afterwards, Donelly left the band to form Belly, and Deal’s twin sister Kelley took her place. From this point on the Deal sisters would be the only mainstays of the often-changing lineup. 

1992 found the band releasing the under-rated “Safari” EP.

  In 1993, the group hit it big with their album “Last Splash” and their monster single “Cannonball.”  All was good for them until they were sidelined by Kelley Deal’s 1995 visit to rehab after being arrested for having drugs.   In her absence, Kim assembled a bunch of Dayton, Ohio musicians (including then Breeders drummer Jim MacPherson) and recorded a very, very rough sounding record under the name The Amps.  Shortly after her release from rehab, Kelley Deal released two records of her own.

In 1999 the Breeders’ cover of the James Gang’s “Collage” appeared on “The Mod Squad” soundtrack. It was their first new work in six years. 

All was then quiet in the Breeders’ camp until 2002 when they resurfaced with a drastically different lineup (still anchored by the Deals of course) and released the album “Title TK.”  It was a difficult beat-driven record, very different from “Last Splash,” but it was also excellent in its own strange way. 

A few years ago all of the original Pixies made peace and toured around the world, reclaiming the glory they deserved but never really had when they were originally together.  It was nice to see such underground heroes get their due, especially when their formula had made so many other bands rich.

“Mountain Battles” is the first post-Pixies-reunion Breeders album, thus it is possible that it could boost them back onto the Billboard charts.  It has no intension of courting any sort of pop audience, but it’s a chugging, churning, muscular record.

Right off the bat, Kim announces the band’s triumphant return by shouting “I can feel it!” over a massive backdrop of beats and fuzziness.  She sings like a warrior shouting from the top of a mountain.  Considering the album’s title, this opener surely sets the mood. 

“Bang On” is a boom-bap-driven, machine-like dance groove in the same vein as Trio’s classic “Da Da Da.”  (Both tracks rely on catchy repetition.)  Even though it is only 2 minutes long, it’s infectious enough to become a left-field hit.  It’s hard not to sing along to the words, “I love no one and no one loves me” over and over again. 

There’s a dark, mournful element to the band’s sound that appeared on the last record.  (Listen to “Off You” on “Title TK” and you’ll see what I mean.) This mood continues to be a part of the band’s sound on the ironically titled “Night of Joy.”  It sounds like a soundtrack for a good crying fit or at least the theme to a really dramatic movie.  In any case, it has the sort of musical sophistication tune-wise that the Breeders of the “Last Splash” era might not have been able to muster. 

“We’re Gonna Rise” continues with a similar tone.  It was the first track on the album to surface, and though it is slow, it is a moving and perfect single.  There’s a timeless element to it. Kim Deal suddenly has great expertise in crafting what sound like unsettled lullabies, yet beneath all of the feelings of discontent, there’s a feeling of warmth throughout.  Her voice adds a lot.  It has always set her apart from the rest.  In the last 20 years it has gained a little rasp, but it still is a unique, sweet, downright awesomely likeable instrument.

Things pick up for “German Studies,” an earnest rocker, which true to its title is sung in German. 

“Spark” once again sounds rather sad and sparse but there is an explosive element to the way the track quietly seethes.

“Istanbul” is an Eastern-tinged slow-burner, sounding for a moment, a little bit like a minor-key take on the Amps’ track “Bragging Party.” Then the spoken part begins. “Where you going?  To the city! Where you going? Istanbul!” A distorted organ enters midway for a rather druggy, atmospheric solo. 

“Walk it Off” is the closest to an old-school Breeders single here.  It’s built on a bass-heavy three-chord crunch.  Anyone looking for something more familiar and accessible on this record will enjoy this song.  It’s a good reminder of why the band was so loved in the first place. 

The record takes an interesting left turn with an astounding and unexpected cover of Roberto Cantoral’s “Regalame Esta Noche,” which is sung with an uncharacteristic level of operatic, dramatic gusto.  Very nice and romantic, indeed!

“Here No More” finds the Deals in acoustic-guitar strumming folk singing mode, thus making “Mountain Battles” their most eclectic album to date. 

“No Way” is a wonderfully off-putting churning rock piece. The track is wonderfully off-putting at first.  It takes you by surprise when it takes off in a mighty garage-rock driven rumble.  Main producer of "Mountain Battles," Steve Albini has produced 3 out of 4 of the Breeders’ full-length albums and he knows how to capture their raw energy.  In fact few producers are able to capture raw energy, in general, quite like Steve Albini. 

“It’s the Love” is another cover.  The song was originally recorded by the band’s friends The Tasties.  The song gives the album one last upbeat burst. 

The closer is the title-track.  If you liked the “Last Splash” track, “Mad Lucas,” you’ll love this.  It is mostly just Kim and an organ.  Every now and then you get a bit of guitar action, but mostly it is a bare piece of work full of extended notes from the lower reaches of the organ’s scale.  If you don’t listen closely, you might be maddened by the track, but you should really turn it up and let it wash all over you.  Only then will you hear its unique beauty.  A distortion-laden musical line punctuates the last minute or so, giving it a nice sense of texture. 

“Mountain Battles” isn’t just any Breeders album – It’s among their best.  Anyone who passes this up thinking it’s going to be the work of a band past their prime will be missing something.  The Deal sisters (along with current band members Mando Lopez and Jose Medeles) have created a fully dynamic record.  It may be hard to say whether it will click with the buying public, but this record is every bit as good as their breakthrough, “Last Splash.”  Kim Deal has yet another reason to be proud.  She is someone aspiring rock musicians should study, for she remains a titan in the world of indie-rock.  It’s time for the Breeders to have massive success again.  If promoted through the right channels, this is the perfect record to reintroduce them to the skeptical, hungry masses.  It is not a trendy, pop-driven record.  It feels free to experiment.  It feels free to rock. It is everything a good, edgy rock album should be.  Let the battles begin!

April 9, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (2)

Review: R.E.M.’s “Accelerate”

April 02, 2008 5:48 PM

  Let’s face it.  If R.E.M. had never formed, “alternative rock” or “college rock” as we know it wouldn’t exist.  Sure other bands kicking around in the early eighties (like let’s say the Replacements) deserve some credit, but R.E.M.’s continuing influence alone is positively immense.  Consider that elements of their sound can be found deeply embedded in the music of everyone from Nirvana to Toad the Wet Sprocket to Counting Crows. 

R.E.M. have yet to release a bad album.  I stand by that sentiment despite the fact that their last record, 2004’s “Around the Sun” was the weakest, most yawn-worthy of their career.  Cut them some slack, though.  That album may be slow and difficult, but if you give it some focused attention you’ll find that the band’s signature songwriting skills are still intact. 

Many would argue that the departure of drummer Bill Berry in the mid-nineties left them soft and lost.  The first Berry-less record “Up” (1998) gets a lot of criticism as being the beginning of the band’s downfall.  I would disagree.  In fact, like a synth-infused answer to “Automatic for the People,” I believe that record stands as one of their strongest, quieter statements.  Listen to “Falls to Climb” and tell me that isn’t a stellar track!  I dare you!  Also “Up” makes for an interesting companion piece to Radiohead’s 1997 masterpiece “OK Computer.” Of course, it pales in comparison, but listen to them back to back and you will find a common thread of haunted world-weariness and alienation. 

“Reveal” arrived in 2001, and it too was labeled difficult.  I must admit that besides the stellar single “Imitation of Life,” it took me more than a year to get into that record, and it was a year of hard work.  Once I did, I found myself entranced by the album’s hushed, almost Stereolab-esque atmospheric elements.

So when “Around the Sun” arrived and was universally greeted with a sense of apathy, many were fearing that R.E.M. would never return to their old selves.

“Accelerate” was recorded obviously to prove those people wrong, and it does.  (Does it ever!!) In fact, this new album shows us a side of the band not seen since the eighties.  It’s almost like a lost record recorded somewhere between 1986’s “Life’s Rich Pageant” and 1988’s “Green.”  At 34 minutes, it’s the quickest of all their 14 full-length records.  (Only their 1981 debut EP “Chronic Town” is shorter.)  Within that small time-frame though, the band delivers an economical batch of songs.  There isn’t a loser in the bunch!

It starts off with a bang, with “Living Well is the Best Revenge.”  The song is most reminiscent of the opener to “Life’s Rich Pageant,” “Begin the Begin,” only it’s about ten times harder.  Michael Stipe’s hoarse screams make him sound like a man just jerked awake by an earthquake.  Indeed “Accelerate” jerks the whole band awake.  Peter Buck’s guitars are louder and fiercer than before, and bassist Mike Mills’ shouted, melodic background vocals are holding up the back just like they did on the early records. Substitute drummer Bill Rieflin finally gets to flex his muscles a little bit.  (The guy was in Ministry! He is used to being able to be loud!  He finally gets his chance again.)

“Man-Sized Wreath” continues the punk-like awakening.  During the verses the vocals and the instrumentation work in a call and response pattern.  Stipe sings a line and the rest of the band switches keys and plays an instrumental measure or two.  It adds a sense of tension.  In addition, Stipe is in full-growl mode here; half singing, half talking, but all venom and fuzz.

The single “Supernatural Superserious” is next and it adds yet another classic to the band’s ever-expanding catalog.  Stipe is full of loopy references to “the summer camp where you volunteer” and “the séance where you first betrayed and open heart and a darkened stage.” Part of the joy of listening to R.E.M. records is trying to decipher his lyrical phrases.  No doubt “Supernatural Superserious” is the best ode to awkward teen angst a bald, 48-year-old man can write. It’s timeless, and memorable. He is one of the strongest lyricists of our time.

“Hollow Man” sounds like it would’ve gone well on 1983’s “Murmur.”  The only tell is that Stipe now doesn’t garble his words like he used to. 

“Houston” is a folkish song in the vein of the “Life’s Rich Pageant” track “Swan Swan H.”  Its heavy use of ominous organ recalls elements of “Green.”

The album’s title track is a dimly-lit rocker full of tension and woe.  “Where is the ripcord, the trapdoor, the key?  Where is the cartoon escape-hatch for me?” Stipe sings these words as if he’s really in dire need.  For a title track this isn’t the most anthemic, but it does carry a sense of lift. 

“Until the Day is Done” plays like a better, brighter version of the “Around the Sun” track “Final Straw.” On here, the slow songs still are packed with life and energy.  Maybe the response to “Around the Sun” scared them a little, or maybe the credit belongs with producer Jacknife Lee.  It is hard to say, but the band’s bounce is back. 

“Mr. Richards” is a hard-rocking, psychedelic swirler, in the vein of their hit “Turn You Inside Out” only sunnier.

“Sing For the Submarine” is another folk-driven lament, which is made by the almost possessed-sounding backing vocal chorus which comes and goes throughout. 

R.E.M. have hardly ever rocked as hard as they do on “Horse to Water.”  “Star 69” from 1994’s “Monster” comes to mind, as does that album’s angry “Circus Envy,” but this song goes from being really menacing to being really catchy in a matter of seconds, thus once again recalling the band’s earlier period. 

“I’m Gonna D.J.” takes the album out on a high note. It makes a profound statement for a band that has been so soft as of late to go out on a rocker. Reportedly this song has been kicking around since the “Around the Sun” sessions.  Had it been on that record, it probably wouldn’t have sounded nearly so alive.  It would’ve also stuck out like a sore thumb. Like  “It’s the End of the Word as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)” it’s a rambling, half-spoken vision of the apocalypse, only this time Stipe’s “collecting vinyl” to throw one big final party. 

“Accelerate” is reason to celebrate.  It stands as a late-career high point for a band full of career high-points.  Once again I say that they’ve never released a bad record, but this one is great! Not every song rocks hard, but they are all winners.  This is a must listen for any R.E.M. fan who thought they were through.  You should be impressed. 

R.E.M. are the most important American band still recording.  It’s good to see them back in fighting form. 

My question is now, what are the members of U2 now going to do to make up for the somewhat disappointing “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb?” (I say this placing “Vertigo” aside as an exception, of course!)  I suggest they follow R.E.M.’s lead and actually deliver the full-tilt rock album that that record was billed as but wasn’t. 

April 2, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (5)

Review: Moby’s “Last Night”

April 01, 2008 5:12 PM

Since he broke through to commercial audiences in 1999 with his mammoth album “Play,” Moby has struggled to repeat that album’s level of quality.  “Play”’s follow-up, “18” had its moments like “We Are All Made of Stars” and the “Bourne”-theme, “Extreme Ways,” but too often that disc found Moby lost in slow synth-string instrumental territory.  The same is true about the “18 – B-sides” collection, although that is worth getting just for the expansive, jam-packed bonus DVD.

   
On his last album, “Hotel,” three years ago, Moby gave us something completely forgettable and recyclable.  Luckily that album was also available in a double-disc form, with the second disc being a collection of ambient works.  Strangely, the second disc is classic!  In other words, if you can find the 2-disc edition of “Hotel,” get it, but don’t waste your time with the first disc!

It seemed like for the most part that Moby had lost his way.  Until now. 

“Last Night” isn’t as good as “Play” but it is his strongest effort in a long time.  His short essay in the liner notes of the album frames this as a tribute of sorts to his early days of sneaking out to clubs in New York City in the eighties.  Indeed from the sticky, glimmering synth voice and accompaniment that set off the album’s opener, “Ooh Yeah,” that influence is evident.  It’s not something we haven’t heard before on records by Daft Punk, Fatboy Slim or Mylo, but Moby puts his own spin on things. 

Even though his voice is rarely on the record, (I really only maybe hear it buried in the background of the single “Alice,”) this comes off as a very personal record.  The cover-art and music on the disc set the scene of an erotic world full of sexual enticement and excess, however, it isn’t sleazy.  It’s more of a celebration of comfortable sensuality.  This is a chilled-out party record, complete with the after-party come-down near the end.  It never breaks out into all-out club jams; rather it lingers in a comfortable realm for the Martini-sipping set. 

As stated before, Moby unusually leaves most of the vocals to others, here. Mainly, the songs are sung by mostly unknown female vocalists. 

“I Love to Move in Here” merges a Tropicalia-vibe with a soft, almost house-like beat.  When Grand Master Caz busts through in the middle of it all with an old-school verse, it cements the track as a keeper. 

“257.Zero” is a digitized, robotic number game.  Synthetic alien drones spout out lists of numbers over a synth-string laden club beat.

“Everyday it’s 1989” like many of the songs on “Play,” relies on a repeated vocal line over, and over and over again.  It gets monotonous, but much like tracks like “Honey” became more appealing with more listens, perhaps this will too. 

“Live for Tomorrow” finds vocalist Chrissi Poland playing the role of the hushed, sad disco diva.  The song gets some additional steam from the nice keyboard solo. 

As stated before, “Alice” is the single -- an ominous, espionage-fueled hip-hop groove led by rapper Aynzli Jones.  This has action-score written all over it.  The manic music video says it all. 

“Hyenas” sounds both alien and soothing, whereas “I’m In Love” and “Disco Lies” live firmly in the club.  The latter is a much bolder track, finding vocalist Shayna Steel reaching an almost Donna Summer-like intensity.

“The Stars” uses the “one-vocal-line-repetition” method better than before, but maybe that’s because the track is backed by a rather appealing piano part.  It is a highlight and an adrenaline-soaked dose of club-worthy goodness. 

The come-down begins with “Degenerates” and “Sweet Apocalypse,” two of the best, most movie-ready instrumentals that Moby has recorded in recent years. He really was meant to do score work!

“Mothers of the Night” continues in the same vein, but with subtler results.  It isn’t nearly as strong and gets repetitive, but yet on some level it still satisfies.

Vocalist Sylvia Gordon leads the album’s final cut which is also the album’s title track.  She sings it earnestly as if it were the official club-goer’s hymn of redemption.  Backed by a beatless, atmospheric soundscape she declares that this is the “last night on Earth.”  Indeed the party has ended.  It must be time to go back home and face the humdrum realities of everyday life. 

As an album, “Last Night” works just as well as a tribute as it does as a connected suite.  This is one of Moby’s most cohesive works to date.  Welcome to the party.  Please enjoy yourself responsibly while it lasts. 

April 1, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (1)