Album Review: Bon Iver – “Bon Iver”

Look, I’m just trying to get the good word out on the music with this review. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anybody with my verbal dexterity (solid word….impressed yet?), keyboard adroitness (boo-yah, thesaurus), or even, oh I don’t know, my flippantly wanton description-rattling abilities (I don’t get that one either). It is NOT about that. However, it will be about how I can emotionally connect to this album more than anyone else with working ears. As someone with a blog (which is about everyone under 75), I am an artist. Well, no, actually I listen to artists who make art and then I explain how unique I am for “getting” the art. This is….my art. Now, onto the emotional purge. I hope I make it through.

Bon Iver’s new album, entitled Bon-Bon and the Electric Amoeba….wait, hold on. That must be a typo. Ok here we go…..yep, it’s just called Bon Iver. I thought the original title had some real sparkle. I’m over it. Well it’s sure to be one of the year’s best albums, otherwise I wouldn’t waste my time typing about it. First thing’s first, the lyrics make no gosh damn sense to anyone who isn’t the author, so there’s really no point in attempting to decipher them. They sound as if they were written by that Beowulf dude or something. You are a pretentious liar if you claim to honestly understand them. The way he weaves the words around his Cream of Wheat (TM) voice is quite pretty and perfect, and much more important that what his vaguely poetic lyrics are saying. I will say that the songs seem to be about heartbreak, struggle, longing, human relationships….and yeah we’re all shocked. This album is like a Terrence Malick film…the plot doesn’t matter as much as the overall experience.

“Perth” opens up said album with five seconds of gratuitous silence before any actual music begins. I swear, things ain’t what they used to be. Ace of Base never made me wait. The music finally starts with a slowly escalating electric guitar line and militaristic drumming off in the distance. Falsetto intact, Mr. Iver commands the band to a culmination thrust along by keys and battle horns. Now if only Braveheart had this in the score it might have been popular. The next track, “Minnesota, WI”, has a charming, jammy intro until it’s abruptly stopped by starry synths and delicate banjo/ukulele/mandolin picking. Some intense back and forth sing-versation (R. Kelly inspired word) between Iver’s falsetto and tenor leads the song to a boil before a sudden halt.

“Holocene” is one of the finest songs he has written yet. There is a simple outline: acoustic guitars are plucked, horns are hushed, a remote organ looms around his forlorn singing; all while marching-band style drums speed up the tension. It’s as beautiful as a song you’ll hear all year…unless you listen to a lot of 4 Non Blondes this year. The trio of songs that open this LP should be applauded for bursting all expectations any shut-in had for him to return to the woods and record another solo acoustic weeper. For Emma, Forever Ago was a once in a lifetime record made under unique circumstances. No one should ever expect him to even try to make another one of those again. Vernon can only move forward, and he has. Considering all the projects he’s been involved with over the past 3 years, no one should call this a giant leap in sound either. The “leap” is expected and necessary.

Pushing onward we have “Towers”, which is a little country/pop shuffle of a ditty a la Wilco circa when they mattered (I’m thinking “Hummingbird”). ”Michicant”, “Hinnom,TX”, and “Wash.” settle Bon Iver down into a patient lull. The songs seem to blend together into one piece, which may have been the reason for the sequencing, but it’s a refreshingly calming blend. After the prior bombardment of diverse instrumentation all hitting at once, it’s nice to be able to identify the sounds dropping in and out while Vernon’s vocals swirls around these songs. Reverberating piano plunks, dramatic violin swells, and atmospheric pedal steel highlight this section of the album.

“Calgary” gets us back on our feet….well, right after that funeral organ drone gives way to fuzzed out guitars and drums. One of his best and catchiest vocal performances ends up as a compact arena anthem followed by an acoustic comedown right where we started. “Lisbon, OH’ is just the ol’ ambient segue that seems like a popular choice with these “serious” artist types. It does flow nicely into the final track though, so do try to grind out that one minute and thirty seconds if you can.

“Beth/Rest” is a totally absurd concept if you haven’t heard Vernon’s recent work with Gayngs. Cheesed-out Boyz II Men keyboard, Top Gun guitar, porn horn, and a smidge of Auto-Tune top off this should-be train wreck. However, the typically earnest vocal stylings and the smart choice of throwing in pedal steel and real piano avert any such wreck. While sounding a bit out of place, it’s a great song made without any irony. Although try not to think of a fist-pumping Tom Cruise at the 3:41 mark. Impossible. I’ve most likely ruined the song for you.

Basically, the man’s general vocal/throat area (I excelled in science) can do no wrong, no matter the surroundings. He could sing Phantom of the F*cking Opera and I’d still probably enjoy it (note to my man Bon-Bon: please don’t actually do that). So Bon Iver is the culmination of his recent experience with Gayngs, Volcano Choir, and other sources he has picked up along the way. Even though the sound is much more diverse and expansive than his first album, he still has retained the general tone and structure of For Emma. Because Vernon is so talented and has so many ideas, it’s frivolous to compartmentalize the music he creates. He’s on a unique level by himself. It’s nice to see Helplessness Blues has a little competition this year.

NEW My Morning Jacket: “Holdin On To Black Metal”

“Circuital”, the first song released from MMJ’s upcoming new album could not have prepared me for this: wah-wah accented horns with a wailing female and/or children’s choir? What the HELL is this?? As much of a wide-open delight that first song was, “Holdin On To Black Metal” blows it up to an even more ridiculously huge degree. Gripping, dramatic, maybe a tinge sinister…..it’s a total blast. This will be a concert highlight.

Jim James’ slinky falsetto is back; but if it sounded strained and awkward at times on 2008′s Evil Urges, it’s naturally comfortable across this gleefully stomping backdrop. Think of swaggering psych-rock filtered through the warm-blooded sound of Curtis Mayfield’s early 70′s funk excursions. Similar to what the Black Keys successfully accomplished with last year’s Brothers, “Holdin On To Black Metal” crams almost every original American music genre into one awe-inspiring conglomerate. I do not know what lyrics the song consists of, nor do I care. Stuffed to the gills with so many colorful ideas, here’s another reason to believe My Morning Jacket could be releasing the album to own this year, on May 31st.

Click below to access the song via their Facebook page, and then “Like” the page to listen:

http://www.facebook.com/mymorningjacket?sk=app_178091127385

….and if you’re not connected to Facebook, I commend you, and wish you would convince my mom the same.

Stream Fleet Foxes “Helplessness Blues” NOW

This is mainly a ploy to trick people into reading the rest of the blog…..but click below to hear “Helplessness Blues” before it’s officially released on May 3rd!

http://www.npr.org/2011/04/25/135550848/first-listen-fleet-foxes-helplessness-blues#playlist

NEW My Morning Jacket: “Circuital”

LISTEN HERE: http://www.npr.org/blogs/allsongs/2011/04/12/135211734/download-my-morning-jackets-new-circuital-and-five-live-songs

I’m a couple shots deep right now….can’t think of a more perfect time to listen to the new My Morning Jacket song, “Circuital”. It may be of note that the shots were for Tetanus and Diptheria, but whatever. What’d you ever do? Back to the tune, man. This is a killer track. It starts out with delicately stunted guitar plucks and a barley-there keyboard to add to the spacey atmosphere. Jim James’ voice cuts through the fog with his usual angelic beauty. No surprises thus far, and it seems we’re in Z territory with this one. Then after about two minutes in, an acoustic guitar straight outta the book of CSN swirls in to take hold of the groove. Throw in some electric guitar power chord slammage, and this song lifts completely off the ground. Piano twinkles on top of galloping drums as James joyously belts out his verses. Of course, there are a few glorious guitar solos compacted throughout the lyric-less spots, but nothing gratuitous enough to knock the song of it’s feel-good course.

At over 7 minutes, “Circuital” ends just like it started, in the mysterious air of robotic guitar waltz and ominous synth. But we are better off having reached the destination. As this song proves, My Morning Jacket are still fully capable of blowing the roof off the sky with rock n’ roll. They don’t need to change or evolve anymore (such as on the interesting mis-step Evil Urges) in order for me to love them. After over a decade of establishing themselves as one of the best bands of a generation, it sounds like they just want to have some fun bringing people together. What’s cooler than that?

My apologies for the dirty hippie-isms.

LISTEN HERE: http://www.npr.org/blogs/allsongs/2011/04/12/135211734/download-my-morning-jackets-new-circuital-and-five-live-songs

Of Montreal: “The Past is a Grotesque Animal” (2007)

I did not write this song.

Music Picks: Week of 3/25/11

Sorry, to ya’ll my fans for my absence. If you know me, you know sometimes I get wrapped up in my monthly trips overseas. Whether it’s the fear of being incepted mid-air, or the non-stop loop of the Meryl Streep’s classic It’s Complicated, I just can’t seem to get any shut-eye on these flights anymore. It’s also been pretty difficult balancing faith with street cred lately, according to a CNN headline I read. Trying to juggle here, people. Now, here’s some music I haven’t heard yet but had some real nice write-ups in Pitchfork.

Akron/Family…Akron/Family II: The Cosmic Birth and Journey of  Shinju TNT (2011)

Yes, I’m aware of the ridiculousness of the album title. I too, feel like I’ve been lobotomized just by typing that. But before you jump to the conclusion that listening to this band is probably as enlightening as listening to a Phish fan wax poetic about “the universe”, try to drop the cynicism. Beyond the hippie psycho-babble of the title, this is another joyously mammoth explosion of sounds from a band that seems to have a bottomless supply of them. Akron/Family are ecstatic to be making music, and you can feel their wide-eyed wonder burst out of every patch-work seam in their music. I highly recommend this album to anyone who wants to reach a higher plane with the spirit world and…great, now I sound just as absurd and naive as the hippies who made this music. We should all be so lucky.

“Another Sky”:

 

Check out the scenic video to the beautiful “Island” here.

 

The Weeknd…”The Morning” (2011)

Now that this group has been typed to death by every relevant publication in the race-to-post-first blog world, I can finally talk about them. The Weeknd are generally suspected of being four producers/musicians (same thing?) from Canada who make moody R&B music in the mold of Drake, except slightly more adventurous. Combining the cavernous melancholy of Portishead with the widescreen vacuum (that may be an oxymoron) of Burial does not equal the music of The Weeknd. Those are some pretty hip names to drop though. No, The Weeknd aren’t as exploratory as the trip-hop and dubstep genres, but you can tell they use them as reference points.

My favorite track on their FREE House of Balloons mixtape, “The Morning”, is all bee sting guitar with zero gravity synths and lyrics about the tribulations of having money and regrets of the morning after the party. Don’t worry, I informed my local Red Cross about the situation and a charity fund is soon to follow. Although the lyrics aren’t exactly revolutionary, that’s never been a major complaint while bumping and grinding to R&B slow jams. These guys have the opportunity to be huge out in the real music world. Kanye’s 808s & Heartbreak is looking like a landmark right about now.

Music Picks: Week of 3/9/11

Moments before I posted the picks for this new week, I was informed that “this new week” actually is taking place the very same week as last (this) week’s picks. My apologies, folks. When you don’t have a full-time job, everything in your world gets confusing and lost in the non-shuffle. East is west, left is right, Up is a movie about an old man flying a house, and you start attending your former elementary school’s “Bingo Night” with the hopes of winning that coveted waterproof stencil set. So let’s just call it my first annual Ash Wednesday Musical Bonanza. See you in 2012! Or later this week.

(click the links below the descriptions to hear songs)

Ride…Nowhere (1990)

One of the high points of British psychedelic guitar music (we in the biz call it “shoegaze”…over your head) that certainly bled through to Oasis’ early recordings. With vocals pushed to the front of the mix, Ride’s catchy sound had a much closer kinship to the pop music of The Stone Roses than to the ear drum exploding guitar attack of fellow shoegazers My Bloody Valentine. Ride was just like The Beatles….in that they had guitars and played music.

“Vapour Trail”:

 

Cut Copy…”Corner of the Sky” (2011)

This club banger (yes, I did say that) is easily locked into being one of my favorite songs of the year so far. The album, Zonoscope, which it comes off of, is every bit as pulsating and eurphoric as 20008′s fantastic In Ghost Colours.

“Corner of the Sky”:

 

Doo-wop music…yeah, just in general (1950′s-early 60′s)

I grew up in a household with a father from the Bronx who fancied himself a founding…uh…father of his neighborhood’s street corner doo-wop scene. He claimed his ardent “fans” knew him by the name “Sonny”, which clearly did not match the name on his birth certificate. Nonetheless, the “coolness” he thought this carried with it was decidedly not cool with me as a wee lad. For me, doo-wop was only tolerated in small doses via Back to the Future slow-dance scenes. If you think this speech is going to lead me to go on about how I’m older and thus more mature now, which has allowed me to understand my father’s wisdom and love what he also loved blah blaa;….don’t worry….it’s not. Basically, I’ve been far away from my parents long enough that now I’m actually capable of enjoying things which used to render me a cringing fetal ball.

In short, doo-wop is still a pretty great sounding type of music. It’s impressive that many of the formative groups arranged their fairly complex vocal layers and percussion without any professional musical training at all. Pairing them with music producers who threw in the sweeping romanticism of the previous decade’s vocal pop proved the perfect match for this seemingly short-lived genre. In vocal style alone, it’s not impossible to connect the dots from doo-wop to the next generation’s music (CSN and The Beach Boys), and onto our generation (Grizzly Bear and Animal Collective). Or, if you’re a cynic, you could say it’s responsible for Rockapella and the Backstreet Boys. I choose the first option….and the second only when I need to get in the mood for a hot cup of Folgers. Ignorance is bliss.

The Dells…”Oh What a Night” (1956):

The Penguins…”Earth Angel” (1954):

The Skyliners…”Since I Don’t Have You” (1959):

Music Picks: Week of 3/7/11

These are not actually picks released this current week but what I am presently listening to right now. If you know me or like any of the music that has been scarcely written about here, then perhaps you’ll enjoy other music that I listen to. But since I know you three people who read this, you most likely won’t. Worth a shot.

-Steely Dan…Aja (1977)

Ah, finally. Steely Dan is accepted again. After years of hiding my Steely Dan records underneath the floorboards in Hipster-occupied Brooklyn, it is once again ok to bump “Deacon Blues” from your Ford Pinto. Recent releases by both Destroyer and Gayngs have helped to reignite the soft-rock/jazz-fusion flame and I couldn’t thank them enough. Cocaine’s popularity may have aided this revolution, but that’s not for me. Those slippery bass lines and elevator-music keyboards are all I need. Unrelated: is Frasier cool again? Party at my place if so.

“Deacon Blues”:

 

-Brian Eno…Another Green World (1975)

“Background music” is probably too demeaning. “Dinner party music” sounds much kinder. Screw it, it’s Eno. Half of it is warped yet catchy glam-pop, and the rest is not-quite-glacial-enough to be called “ambient”. Over 35 years later, it’s still impossible to imitate the originality sprayed all over these songs. Also, if you’re actually having a dinner “party”, you probably should just go for the John Tesh CD anyway.

“St. Elmo’s Fire”:

 

-Weekend…Sports (see below for year)

A slightly overlooked album from the tail end of 2010. Loud, feedbacking guitars and vocals which sound as if they were shouted through a megaphone while skydiving off of Mt. Kilamanjaro and into the Grand Canyon…. which is geographically possible in the world of pompous music blogs . For fans of No Age, A Place To Bury Strangers, 80′s post-punk, noise-pop, goth, shoegaze, …whatever sub-genre you like today.

“End Times”:

The White Stripes: An Overwrought Memorial

On February 2, 2011, the day The White Stripes broke up, I watched Citizen Kane. The movie had been on my DVR for a week and I felt it was about time I viewed the so-called “Greatest Film of All Time”. While watching, certain snippits of dialogue continuously gave me a deja-vu feeling, as if I had heard these words before in a completely different context and place. Although it was strange, I shrugged it off and kept watching. Finally, just as we’re understanding that this Kane guy is becoming an unlovable cad, a  jolly gentleman appears on screen to put it all into perspective, gleefully singing the lines “It can’t be love, for there is no true love” before fading into the background of the scene. In my head: Jack White shrieking the same lines as a sinister come-on over eerie organ drone and thrashing guitar chords. So it hits me. Just about every single line in the Stripes song “The Union Forever” is from “The Greatest Film of All Time”.

I had heard long ago that the song was inspired by the movie, but had completely forgotten and never really cared in the first place. But now that I was seeing these lines played out on the very day one of my favorite bands had decided to not make music ever again, I felt it was high time for an all-encompassing metaphor conjoining this perfect aligning of the planets. It was pure fate, right? After all,what are the odds that this classic film, traveling 70 years through time, would find its way to my living room on this specific day, filling my head with lyrics from a great White Stripes song, just to remind me how beloved this band was? Totally convinced it was destiny. The enigmatic Charles Kane was the band, just wanting to be loved, and although not completely understood by the media, still captured the world’s attention. Yeah, that was definitely it. And his yearning for “Rosebud” certainly symbolized the innocence that the Stripes so overtly pined for in most of their music. The universe was trying to tell me something. I was special. The greatest White Stripes fan ever. Only I could understand such deep connections.

For a couple of days this is how I felt. Memories of the best show I’ve ever been to flooded my mind: September 25, 2005 in Coney Island, Brooklyn with the Shins and M. Ward opening. Now, on any other night, those two artists would not only be headliners, but something I would pay close attention to. Unfortunately for them, I was there for The White Stripes. I specifically remember thinking that James Mercer of the Shins looked like a friend of mine from afar. That’s it. As for when the main attraction came on stage, it was a whole different story. Jack and Meg transfixed me with an endless onslaught of abrasive noise and an equal dose of playful sing-alongs. Their charisma had such a hold on me that I could have been convinced the WNBA was the most popular sports league in the country if they said so. Still hypnotized by the barrage of beautiful rock and roll music that was laid ever so aggressively upon me, I walked away knowing I would never have a similar experience again.

But what about my good buddies with me, not to mention the thousands of other people in attendance? Did they not take away something special that night? I couldn’t have been the only person there who felt a serious connection with the band up on stage. I’m not the only White Stripes fan in the world who could feel anything meaningful toward a band, let alone music itself. Thinking about this made me realize what I already knew: that the whole Citizen Kane/”Union Forever” coincidence was nothing more than that…a coincidence. It was not divine intervention telling me that I needed to create some overblown, pompous statement on a band not playing together anymore. They were just a band, after all. Yes, a band that matters to a lot of people, but a band nonetheless. Heck, they’re not dead.

Sometimes people try to put artists and bands on a level we can relate to. If a song called “Jolene” comes on the radio and it just so happens that you love someone named Jolene, it doesn’t exactly mean it’s fate that you heard the song. But it doesn’t hurt, either. This is what we do with the things that matter to us. We try to connect disparate moments into pieces that make sense so we may comprehend life. All of our lives are broken up into eras filled with people we loved and moments that made us happy. Listening to The White Stripes with the people I love enriched one hell of a ten year period in my life, and I’m sure millions of others feel the same. Hearing my first White Stripes song in the hospital. Blasting “Ball & Biscuit” almost every night sophomore year of college before going out. Riding in a station wagon while Icky Thump plays for the first time. So I’m not going to tell you who the band was or what they are or what they “mean”. I’m not Wikipedia. You can take anything you like away from the White Stripes era, which is now over. Except that it really isn’t. The songs and albums won’t go away. The music is there. I’ll continue to listen to it. I can tell that we are…still…going to be friends.

A goodbye: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZGHTkmhxgQ

And in case you’re wondering, Citizen Kane was dope.

Forgotten Album Review: David Crosby “If I Could Only Remember My Name”

(The “Forgotten Album Review” section will be dedicated to LP’s that were/are great but somehow got lost in the shuffle of other great music from their time and thus, are “forgotten” by most.)

Obligatory background goes something like this:  David Crosby, member of The Byrds, CSN, CSNY, and a notorious drug-crazed hippie sets out on an apparent quest to remember his four-syllabled name. His first solo album (mentioned above) charts modestly at #12 in the U.S. but yields no hit singles. The album gets forgotten (I believe there is a theme here) in the seemingly endless parade of solo output by the likes of Stills, Nash, and most importantly, Young.

Obligatory afterward: Mr. Crosby fails to release another LP that even makes the top 100 on the charts, gets arrested multiple times for crack and weapons possession, and somehow finds the time to artificially inseminate Melissa Etheridge and her less famous partner, Julie….something.

Now that we know the completely useless facts, let’s get to the music. Recorded in the 1971, at a time when late 60′s euphoria had given way to bitter pessimism, the album stands as sort of an anomaly in time. Rooted in the hazy California vibe of years passed, it seems the album is either a product of resilient hope or utter drug-fueled delusion. Nonetheless, with song titles such as “Music is Love” and “Tamalpais High (At About 3)” you know your in for a massive dose of hippie hokum. The surprising thing is that his level of belief in his ways actually keeps If I Could Only Remember My Name afloat and never dissolves into pitiful self-parody.

Opening track “Music is Love” sets the album’s tone as a campfire dream floating in and out of your consciousness. Voices start, drop out, join back in, and eventually create their own cadence as the circular acoustic guitar and congas keep time. In keeping with this mellowed out vibe are songs that are evidently too stoned or lazy to have their own lyrics. “Tamalpais High (At About 3)” and (shocker!) “Song With No Words (Tree With No Leaves)” marry intricate guitar work with CSNY’s patented wordless vocalizing stylistics. What should just be another pile of pointless hippie nonsense turns out the opposite; the results are stunningly beautiful. The gorgeous “Laughing”, subtlety accented by Jerry Garcia’s pedal steel and Joni Mitchell’s heavenly coo, is such an eyes-roll-back-into-your-head reverie that you may lose all motor control while listening. Just a warning.

The only true “rocker” (and I use that term very loosely) is “Cowboy Movie”, which is basically an 8 minute extension of Crosby’s “Almost Cut My Hair” from the previous year. Stinging electric guitar, gruff vocals describing a tale out west, and and overall dusty feel lace this lumbering, lethargically paced slab of song. Sounds awful on paper, right? Except it’s actually pretty great, without a note wasted in it’s excessive length. The album closes out with a duo of short, vocally-highlighted mood pieces. Hell, the whole album is a mood piece. Traditionally arranged “Orleans” with its complex acoustic picking, and the ghostly harmonizing of ‘I’d Swear There Was Somebody Here” conclude the proceedings pretty much on the same note that they started; a druggy, yet peaceful fog.

It’s easy to understand how this LP got swallowed up in the early 70′s tidal wave of dissent for 60′s nostalgia, but it’s difficult to comprehend why it never got the homecoming and deluxe packaging it so rightly deserves now. If I Could Only Remember My Name is a blissfully sun-baked work of a collective of musicians set in their brilliant ways. Not for those of the attention-deficit variety, this warm, enveloping piece of art deserves to be heard on a turntable. Don’t you hate it when all the music assholes say things like that? Yeah, I know. But with this forgotten gem, comparing vinyl with any other medium is like comparing Schwag with Northern Lights. Amiright, Dave?