by Kevin Eagan
Anton Newcombe's The Brian Jonestown Massacre, an odd collection of musicians that have mixed the experimental with the accessibility of modern rock, have been doing this experimentation thing for a while now. With a diverse collection of albums that move from 1990s pop excess to the grounding of folk rock, Newcombe's band has been fairly successful with experimenting over the years.
The Brian Jonestown Massacre's thirteenth album, My Bloody Underground is just as experimental as anything else in their past, but this time around the band doesn't feel nearly as tight as they once did. As their "best of collection" Tepid Peppermint Wonderland: A Retrospective reveals, this band has tried practically everything, but have done so within the confines of succinct pop songs. Now, the band's sound seems like it's been released into some other realm and allowed to dissipate into the stratosphere.
With that said, My Bloody Underground does have some great songs, and the band's surrealist humor and tone still shines. The album begins with "Bring Me the Head of Paul McCartney on Heather Mills' Wooden Leg (Dropping Bombs on the White House)," a hilariously titled song, although jarring and low-fi. In terms of album openers, this one summarizes the rest of the album well: it's accessible enough to listen to over and over again, but has an off-color quality and is rife with experimentation. The guitars jangle along, as Newcombe sings, "so grab your silver bullets and your wooden stakes / And lock your fuckin' doors for Jesus sakes" with a beautiful melody as the drums and electric guitars drown out everything else. This is essentially how the rest of the album goes, although some moments are much better than others.
As the album continues, the band starts to sound like they're just randomly jamming, enjoying every second and seeing what happens. "The Infinite Wisdom Tooth / My Last Night In Bed With You" starts of with low-fi guitars, as the band stops so someone can tune the guitar. The rest of the song has a demo tape feel to it, and it's sometimes hard to follow, but a beautiful jam nonetheless. Equally on "Who Fucking Pissed In My Well?," the band jumps right into a far out mystic jam that includes acoustic guitar and sitar.
The album careens around like this until the fourth track, "We Are the Niggers of the World," a straightforward piano jam that feels more like a junior high piano recital than a song worthy of Newcombe's far out antics. Nevertheless, "We Are the Niggers of the World" provides an intermission in an album that's about to get even more trippy, and the title also seems to allude to more deconstruction of The Beatles and their post-Beatles antics (possibly a nod toward John Lennon's song "Woman is the Nigger of the World"?) .
The rest of My Bloody Underground -- indeed, the bulk of the album -- spaces out, comes back for one more drag, then finally goes comatose. "Who Cares Why" is a spacey epic full of distortion and noise with an acoustic guitar riff thrown somewhere in there, and "Just Like Licking Jesus" takes some of the bending guitar riffs of bands like Modest Mouse and bends them even further through discombobulated amps. Right between these two tracks are "Yeah - Yeah" and "Golden - Frost," which provide a sense of some direction as the band sticks to some straightforward songwriting. It's still fucked up, though.
As the band continues, there's more punk rock parody in "Automatic Faggot for the People," mocking R.E.M. and killing political correctness along the way. The song centers around a driving beat, screaming vocals (filtered through a lot of reverb) and ecstatic guitars. It's something we've heard before, but original enough to keep The Brian Jonestown Massacre fresh in our minds.
The album ends with "Black Hole Symphony," a loud white noise epic. I suppose this song marks the end of music itself, summarizing the dark moments of this album as one large destruction of rock music as we know it best. That, with the band's knack for irony in their lyrics and song titles, makes the album worthwhile.
Even though My Bloody Underground careens far into the unknown, and almost risks alienating listeners before it finally takes off, The Brian Jonestown Massacre have, once again, reinvented themselves. It's definitely not an album for those unfamiliar with the band, and at times, the album lacks flow and connection. But in the end, those who understand the band will finally come to terms with what's going on, and My Bloody Underground starts to make sense in some odd, demented way.
Originally published on Blogcritics.org.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Review: Brian Jonestown Massacre - My Bloody Underground
Review: Psychic Confusion - The Sonic Youth Story by Steve Chick
My first experience of Sonic Youth came, as it did for many Americans, when The Simpsons did a parody of the band and the scene that made them a mainstream success in the episode "Homerpalooza." The Simpsons nod was the ultimate 1990s compliment of success, and for many of their young fans (like myself), it was an opportunity to seek out the band's back catalog, especially their most successful albums up to that point, Dirty, Goo, and Daydream Nation. As the band continued to inspire and mature beyond the confines of the grunge era, albums like 1986's EVOL and 1985's Bad Moon Rising were also cited as influences on many burgeoning indie rock acts.
Psychic Confusion - The Sonic Youth Story by Steve Chick tracks Sonic Youth's career from the dirty New York venues of the early 1980s to the band's recent resurgence in the 21st Century, and everything in between. Chick's exhaustive research and ability to connect the band's musical evolution to cultural changes makes this book an excellent read, one that would interest both fans of Sonic Youth and casual music lovers.
Psychic Confusion starts off with back history of where, why, and how Sonic Youth came about. Chick gives a background of some of the bands and movements within the punk rock community that go back to The Stooges and The Velvet Underground, tracing everything up to the New York punk movement No Wave, which bred Sonic Youth. From there, the book goes in chronological order, covering every major album release along with the band's personal and professional side projects.
While Sonic Youth relied heavily on bizarre alternate tunings and mind numbing effects (including an amplified power drill, of all things) on their early albums (Sonic Youth and Confusion is Sex, specifically), the band would go on to fashion these bizarre sounds into veiled political messages (Bad Moon Rising), accessible melodies (EVOL), and commercially accessible "grunge" rock (Goo and Dirty). As Sonic Youth forged their sound into the 21st Century, they'd take a slight detour (A Thousand Leaves and NYC Ghosts & Flowers) only to come back with their tightest and most familiar sounds since their early to mid career (Murray Street, Sonic Nurse, and Rather Ripped).
Chick's research shows that he is not only concerned with giving an exhaustive biography of the band's successes and failures, but also with putting everything in its social context. Chick reveals the social forces surrounding the band in America and around the world, and how Sonic Youth remained socially conscious without being obnoxious or preachy. In the midst of the Reagan era, the band, like many in the punk and hardcore community, felt disillusioned by the politics of the time. 1985's Bad Moon Rising (the title a reference to Creedence Clearwater Revival's socially conscious song of the same name) would be the album that revealed the most about the community's disillusioned feelings. Later, as the band experienced New York's lock down in the wake of the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, the band's 2002 album Murray Street would express some of their most intimate thoughts about the attacks. Equally, the band would tap into pop culture through their lyrics, and although the band has remained distinctly "alternative," they have always used pop culture and mainstream attitudes to shape their songs.
Psychic Confusion also reveals a band not afraid of the latest trends in the indie underground. Throughout their career, Sonic Youth always brought young indie bands along with them on tour, giving the band a reputation for being the "Godparents" of indie rock. Some of the bands they helped nurture have had their place in rock history, such as Nirvana, who always cited the band as a main reason for their success (Nirvana was signed to Geffen records on the advice of Sonic Youth, for example). Although the band are practically the grandparents of many young new bands, they continue to inspire; musicians like Devendra Banhart and Cat Power owe their success to Sonic Youth's influence and support. While many fans of the band may already know of their influential status, Chick is able to show that their influence continues and may not waver for a long time.
Although Psychic Confusion is exhaustive in its approach, there are times where Chick's historical account digs deep in the cultural history while forgetting to reveal much about Sonic Youth. For example, Chick spends part of the book discussing the grunge movement of the early 1990s, and even discusses the profound influence of heroin on some of these young acts. But in the process, he fails to mention that Sonic Youth was moving away from this scene, a rock scene that had morphed into everything they once railed against. Chick only briefly mentions the band's purposeful move to the art underground, but doesn't go into the profound changes going on in their perspective, even as they continued to release albums on major label Geffen. At the same time, Chick does a great job of explaining Sonic Youth's latest anti-Bush projects, but doesn't give enough background information about the many bands who feel disillusioned by current events, or how these bands are influencing the indie community and spurring activism.
Either way, Psychic Confusion is an excellent biography of Sonic Youth that is both exhaustive and entertaining. Chick not only covers Sonic Youth's many changes over the years, he also reveals a band that's thriving and alive. Although 2006's Rather Ripped was the band's last release on Geffen, Chick taps into the band's profound indie connections to show that they'll still thrive, even if they choose to return to their indie label roots. Even though Psychic Confusion summarizes everything the band has done so far, it leaves open the possibility of many more years of Sonic Youth history, and I'm sure Chick would be just the music writer to continue the story in the future.
Originally published on Blogcritics.org.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Mix Bag #2: Fictitious Non-Fiction, Cake, and a Bloody Massacre
Mix Bag is a weekly feature that brings together a random collection of media and highlights why it all matters to you.
After an extended weekend off and a handful of other things to write, I haven't had too much time to peruse what's interesting out there this week. Usually, I'd say it's disappointing to put off a feature for a few days, but then I remind myself that with only a handful of readers to brag about, There There Kid is still too little of a start up for anyone to complain about Mix Bag coming out late. But I digress...
Anyway, we might as well jump right in and examine the world of cultural activity that I've found interesting lately. First, The New York Times' literary blog Paper Cuts has an interesting article up about yet another fabrication coming to light in a major non-fiction book. This time, it's not one of the infamous memoir fabrications marketed for mass appeal. Instead, it's a work of journalism that takes some liberties at truth or, as Stephen Colbert would put it, truthiness (that word makes a lot more sense now than it did when it came out). It's a book called Bringing Down the House, and it's the book that the latest blockbuster 21 was based on. But as it turns out, many sections were exaggerated to the point of being completely false; at one point in the book, for example, the team of gamblers supposedly strapped thousands of dollars to their bodies before boarding planes, which apparently never happened. There are other dramatic scenes that the real-life characters of the book deny ever happening, and this is all coming out right when 21 is out in cinemas across the country. Ouch.
There's also a collection of essays that just came out called I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloane Crosley. They sound quite interesting, blending comedy with the mundane parts of daily life. Sloane works as a publicist for Vintage/Anchor books during the day, so her understanding of the absurdities surrounding literary publicity and the 9 to 5 office job could make an interesting read. I've ordered a copy and hope to read it soon. Sloane's Web site is also a lot of fun, adding art and excerpts/blurbs for her book.
There's also a book coming out in May that takes our current generation to task, called The Dumbest Generation: How the Digital Age Stupifies Young Americans and Jeopardizes Our Future by Mark Bauerlein. Despite the pretentious sounding title, the book actually looks like it smartly dissects exactly why, with more and more information at our fingertips, we keep getting dumber. Is there really a reason, or is this guy just a cranky old man? I hope to find out, and I'll probably have a review up later on.
In the world of music, things keep getting more and more interesting as the year continues. People seem in awe of R.E.M.'s latest (I'm still on the fence, personally), but most reviews seem to recognize that it's just about the best you can get from a band that's become increasingly less relevant over the years.
In jazz, I like Pete Robbins' Do the Hate Laugh Shimmy, and the album title gives the vibe of the album away. It's quirky and experimental, yet rooted in something whole and tangible. It's an excellent album that comes out later in the month.
And there are a lot more albums coming out this week. I've been on a Sonic Youth kick lately, so it's nice to see that Thurston Moore is releasing another solo album called Sensitive/Lethal. The Microphones and Man Man have new albums out as well.
Next week, the eclectic weirdos that make up Brian Jonestown Massacre are releasing their 13th album called My Bloody Underground. It's very experimental, and gives off a different vibe from some of their past work; to be honest, it sounds more like a collection of demos than a full-length LP. But there are some gems, and the experimentation is more in line with TV On the Radio than some of the blues influences of past albums. It took a few listens for me to get into it, and I'm still not fully convinced. But that doesn't matter, it's still a lot of fun.
That's about it for now, I'd love to see what everyone else finds interesting out there in the internet world.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Review: Nick Vayenas - Synesthesia
Vayenas' debut album Synesthesia offers a mix of synthesizers, horns and percussion that ties together around a central theme, one that Vayenas describes in his liner notes as a "type of stimulation [that] evokes the sensation of another, as when the hearing a sound produces the visualization of a color." With that far out explanation, Synesthesia is an album that is multi-dimensional, forcing the listener to participate with all of his senses. That's an adventurous claim, something that Vayenas pulls off well.
The album begins with "Voyager," and the opening synth noises suggest a sci-fi epic voyage--possibly a voyage "where no man has gone before?"--until Vayenas breaks in with steady, triplicated beats, piano and bass. It's an opening that hints at the larger things to come, and as the album moves forward, Vayenas sprinkles the music with synth motifs and moments of pure jazz.
Synesthesia continues with "Assembly Line," giving the album its first feeling of exploration. The song starts off with another synthesized riff, bringing in a trumpet and organ to keep it grounded. It's not quite like prog rock, or overly experimental jazz, yet it has a vibe of experimentation that leads the listener into the title track "Synesthesia." In "Synesthesia," Vayenas slows down a bit, adding his smoky background vocals as he hums along with the horn section. He fills the band out with keyboards and a guitar, and although these parts are subtle, they seem necessary.
Other times, Synesthesia feels like a conventional modern jazz album. On "Odeon," a swinging jazz drum beat plays on while the horn section takes turns improvising solos. Equally on "The Essence," Vayenas lets the band loose to forge new paths while the keyboard parts accentuate and direct the horns into these new territories.
Vayenas also changes the mood of the album several times. "Along The Way" has an eerie vibe, almost like the backing track of a scary movie. The pianos climb as the strings build the tension, and then segues into "Circuit Dialog," another eerie track that uses synth noises once again. "Circuit Dialog" breaks up the album, and Synesthesia mellows out for "Staircase," another straightforward jazz song that focuses on the piano and bass.
As the album comes to an end, Vayenas turns in a different direction once again. On "Gone From Me," he fuses keyboards with horns and strings, and guest vocalist Gretchen Parlato adds a sultry sound to an album that, up to this point, has remained strictly instrumental. Parlato sings "why have you gone from me now? / you never said you'd go," suggesting loneliness, but also suggesting the overall theme of Synesthesia: that adventure can be both exciting and abandoning.
Synesthesia is a great debut album, and it should establish Vayenas as a serious jazz musician. Even though it strikes out into the territories and forces the listener to use all of the senses, it also stays well grounded in the roots of jazz. With its changing pace and unique style, Synesthesia is an album that won't lose you.
Originally published at Blogcritcs.org.
The "Fake Empire" of Joshua Ferris' Then We Came to the End and The National's Boxer
"We're half-awake, in a fake empire."
So declares singer Matt Berninger of The National in "Fake Empire," the song that kicks off their latest album Boxer. The entire album continues in this vein, suggesting that American life has become a life "half-awake," one of suburban efficiency and catchy marketing.
And that's essentially where the members of The National are coming from, having endured the life (career, rather) of catchy marketing; most of the members gave up the high life of a career in marketing to form a band that tackles the issues facing our "fake empire." There's something wrong with us, and it's kind of ironic that those who once helped with marketing the things that supposedly will make us feel better are now the ones trying to warn us that we are about to collide into a brick wall.
Equally, Joshua Ferris' latest novel Then We Came to the End speaks to the essential questions of conformity and what it means to be American. In the epigraph, Ferris quotes Ralph Waldo Emerson, who urges against being "reckoned in the gross, in the hundred, or the thousand, of the party, the section, to which we belong." This quote shows what we face within our society: we celebrate independence, but expect conformity. It's both the essential elements of human nature and what makes corporate America tick, yet we put up with it all, accepting it as reality and popping pills along the way.
Since this lifestyle is so deeply embedded in the American consciousness, it was only a matter of time before a novel would attempt to tap into the reasons why we've let ourselves become obsessed with work. Ferris' Then We Came to the End is such a novel. Chronicling the office lives of a marketing agency in Chicago, Then We Came to the End is both a hilarious and heartwarming account of how and why we endure such work-focused lives.
Ferris' novel follows the copywriters and art directors of the agency as they endure cutbacks in the wake of the dot-com crash, and as they watch their colleagues get the ax -- or, as they coin it, "walking Spanish" -- they huddle in the corners of offices speculating why, how, and who is next to go. In the midst of all these layoffs, the agency takes on a mysterious pro bono breast cancer awareness case at the same time they discover (through office rumor, of course) that their supervisor Lynn Mason has breast cancer. Their task is to create ad copy that will make a breast cancer patient laugh, but the group is experiencing an extreme case of writer's block.
The novel is written in first-person plural to reflect the collective "we" of modern corporate culture. As each character goes through his or her own personal conflicts, the group experiences these as a whole, or so it seems; Ferris' "we" is actually an ironic critique of the groupthink that pervades throughout corporate America. "We were corporate citizens," Ferris writes, "buttressed by advanced degrees and padded by corporate fat...What we didn't consider was that in a downturn, we were the mismanaged inventory, and were about to be dumped like a glut of imported circuit boards." So essentially, this "we" is nothing more than a commodity, the worker bees whose only goal is to keep the colony alive and fed.
The National's lyrics, like Ferris' novel, don't tell us how to live -- rather, they show the parts of society that are numbing and inconsequential. In their song "Apartment Story," Berninger sings about the apathy of a society that is "tired and wired" and "ruined to easy" where "we’ll stay inside 'til somebody finds us / do whatever the TV tells us / stay inside our rosy-minded fuzz for days." And fuzz is a good way of putting it; it's comfortable, but not entirely exciting. It's shopping at Target and golf at the country club, but not life to the fullest, or the elusive "pursuit of happiness" promised to us.
It seems relevant that in 2007 -- in the midst of a war with no end and the glut of a sub-prime mortgage meltdown -- two works of art come out and to the same concerns about society. And here we are in 2008, our politicians promise "change" and our artists recognize that this numbing groupthink is hurting America (Then We Came to the End was nominated for the National Book Award and The National's Boxer was voted album of the year by Paste magazine), and we still don't have any definitive answers. Just like Emerson didn't advocate changing society, but rather, removal from society, so to do artists in the 21st Century point out the absurdities and inconsistencies of our society and hope that someone out there is listening.
Don't buy EMI's upcoming Radiohead release, The Best Of
I wouldn't usually advocate not purchasing an album that has Radiohead on it, but this is too much.
Now, this wouldn't be a problem, except that it reflects the ongoing rivalry between Radiohead and its former label. Radiohead left Parlophone/EMI after the two could not come to terms on renewing their contract (which have been controversial and mysterious). Radiohead subsequently released their latest album In Rainbows independently, first as a name your price download on their Web site, and later through TBD Records.
The rivalry has continued because EMI still owns the rights to Radiohead's back catalog, and continues to milk the Radiohead buzz for their own corporate gain. First, there was the Radiohead box set, which included their entire discography (minus In Rainbows).
Now comes this, a "best of" collection that exists only to profit from Radiohead's growing success as an independent act. True fans will see through EMI's attempt at profiteering from Radiohead's back catalog, and lets not forget that EMI isn't doing so well right now.
Frankly, I'm tired of the major labels trying to catch up to the success of independents, and Radiohead's success is just one more reason why going independent is better. The best musicians out there are already on independent labels anyway.
So don't buy this best of collection. EMI doesn't need your money, and Radiohead is doing fine without them anyway.
