It's easy to have a love/hate relationship with the singer-songwriter stuff. On one hand is the craft of the simple song, but on the other, singer-songwriters are a breeding ground for gratuitous backing tracks: dolt-simple drums and bass lines. So when something gets thrown into the singer-songwriter category, I tend to ignore it until someone gives me a good reason to go back to it.
Elvis Perkins' music reminds me of the more creatively presented simple songwriting of the early 90's like Michael Penn or Crowded House. There's no question is the product of A Guy Writing Songs, but not only are the songs strong, but there's the added benefit of this century's production, where there's a reverbed gauze draped over the songs but still enough Real Musicians grit and energy to give it a tangible feel.
"I Heard Your Voice In Dresden" has lessons learned from Neutral Milk Hotel, but without being as unhinged. The combination of a meandering arrangement with an excitable insistence makes even the slightly-trite exclamation of "glory glory hallelujah" sounds as impassioned as it's meant to.
Oh, and if don't know Elvis Perkins's background, you need to go read it. So fascinating and tragic that it's almost hard to believe.
Been digging through old Radiohead b-sides...its amazing how much quality music was deemed 'not album worthy' by the group over the years. 'Cuttooth' is probably one of my favorite RH tracks. Its a b-side off of Kid A, and upon listening, it is obvious why it was cut. Heavy on the guitars/piano/set drums...though, at times it feels like it could have been recorded at any phase of the band's 15 year career.
Patented Radiohead Orwellian Paranoia:
'As the tanks roll into town A little bit of knowledge will destroy you'
Of Montreal is one of the few bands whose changes you can track through its song titles. In their early, kazoo-laden bedroom pop days, the titles were twee but lucid, but as the career went on, the titles got more bizarre and impenetrable, advertising the darker sides of life that Kevin Barnes had seen. They went from "Springtime Is the Season" in 1997 to "Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse" in 2007; from "One Of A Very Few Of A Kind" in 1998 to "Triphallus, To Punctuate!" in 2008.
"First Time High" is one of the most brilliant editing jobs in history, or at least one of the few where we can actually see the before-and-after. The actual changes made are minimal, but the new song title acknowledges what the difference between the oblique and muddled original and the clarity of the reconstructed version.
The polish that Brion gives the song brings out the irresistible hook of the chorus, the contrast of the nostalgia of youth ("Do you remember? Our last summer as independents?") with the a relatively benign but still confusing and frustrating life of an adult ("I asked your friend if you were available, she answered, 'no, but yes, oh well oh well, yes and no,'"). The beauty and pure pop craft of this song was hid in Skeletal Lamping's scattered presentation, and this new version may lose the novel approach, but it's a better song in its more basic form.
I only wish Brion had redone the whole album, or at least take the middle part (0:50 - 1:50) of "Women's Studies Victims" and turn it into the dance floor electroclash raver that it's dying to be.
Funny that the man who, a decade ago, sang "I will be a good boy and never tell you the bad things that I think about, the nasty little things I'll keep them to myself", now sings, "I took her standing in the kitchen, ass against the sink."
Around this time last year, I was busy comparing 2008 to 2007 counting it didn't size up. Now I want 2008 back. It's not that 2009 has been a terrible year in music, but it's felt really pedestrian: lots of albums that are fine listens but nothing noteworthy. My two favorite listens lately are albums that were released in 2008, but I just didn't get around to: Nick Cave's Dig! Lazarus, Dig! and the self-titled album by Friendly Fires. Otherwise, it's been a meh year.
And so, as a protest noted by no one but me, I'm putting forward a lukewarm like on Saturday, because it's just not quite good enough for Friday.
Neko Case has become infuriating to me. After creating the "this is what country music should sound like" Furnace Room Lullaby in 2000 and then following it with Blacklisted, a spotty record that still contained some brilliant moments and one of my alltime favorite songs in "Deep Red Bells", she's gone a little wonky. Her last record and her new one could be flattered as, say, "patchwork quilts" or as exploring song structure, but they sound to me like unfinished works: moments of brilliant descriptive wordplay forced onto afterthought music and trotting out the same few melodic ideas over and over.
"Red Tide" is an odd song: when I play it at a quiet volume, it catches my ear and I think it's pretty good, but louder volumes don't bring out any depths of the song. It's a brooding song that kind of motors along with the vibe of a good song and it's a pleasant enough listen, but it still feels undercooked, and by the time it's over, I'm more in the mood to listen to something else.