BoogMusic

This awful ad from late 2008 featuring John Lydon had many scratching their heads and even more in the blogoshere calling him a sellout and a pathetic shill. While never one to back away from a camera, at the time the former Johnny Rotten claimed this one was all for art- specifically that all the money he was paid for the ad would go into putting some form of Public Image Limited back together.  Fortunately, Lydon has kept his word.  PiL is currently touring in the UK and Lydon claims the band (which really has always been a revolving cast with Lydon as the driving force) is working on new material.  It’s nice to see Lydon back working on PiL, a band that has, consistently, cut its own brazen musical path; that, somehow, was able to release an album with a naked vagina on the cover without the label realizing it until it was too late,; and that Henry Rollins rightly called “[an] infinitely more interesting a band than the Sex Pistols”.  Hopefully this time around the band won’t be riven by legal disputes…

If you’re going to be in the UK in the next few weeks click here to find out about tickets.

In September 2007 Brooklyn native Rashid Lamarre moved from his Yorkville man cave to a lovely semi-detached with his future wife and her little ones.  Thankfully he took his guitars with him- after some months of getting a sense of the local scene he was well on his way to putting a new band together. With Jamie McGaw, Kyle Hartman, and Ryan Staples, Lamarre soon released a four song EP under the name The Black Tape.

Steeped in equal parts sixties pop and nineties indie, The Black Tape EP shows a band as comfortable with each other as it shows the maturing of Lamarre as a songwriter.  In Tiny Robot, his last effort in New York, the songs were morose and overly long, like a series of consoling conversations with a lovelorn teenager.  Here, Lamarre gives us four songs that show that rather than wallow in misery or self-pity, melancholy need not be expressed solely through copious tears and four minute guitar solos.  “Everytime I Stop To Breath” and “Summertime” are not exactly happy songs, but that’s not really the point.  No part of life exists in a bubble; a good artist knows to hedge the bright and twee with a minor seventh hanging off the end-just enough to pull us back from the event horizon of obnoxious rapture.  They must also know when to wink and nod as we approach the emotional rock bottom that is a singularity of shit.

It’s a fine line to walk: for god sakes, the man sings “I love you, I love you” over and over again; rather than reach to throw the speaker against the nearest wall you can find, this is the refrain that stays with you the longest of any phrase on the EP.  Gentle, sincere, and even somewhat strained, it is a phrase offered as much as an apology as a promise; he’s singing it not to an object of obsession, but to someone so totally human and infuriatingly loveable that they indeed stop the breath.  And all that to the “Be My Baby” beat.

If you have not heard The Black Tape please click here to listen.  By all means, there are loose spots- this is a self-produced EP by a relatively new band that has played out a lot since recording this, so I can only assume the live show delivers on the promise (an East Coast tour would be nice).  Regardless, The Black Tape deserves a listen.

Recently New York City hosted it’s fourth annual NYC Popfest, a celebration of smiling three-chord simplicity, reverb, and impeccable manners.  Despite being an easy target for cynics everywhere, NYC Popfest is an excellent showcase for up-and-coming bands of a certain type (that type being, if you will, the type that didn’t really like high school, but didn’t really spend any time in detention either).  Here are a few bands featured at the fest with new releases (click the cover art to go to the bands’ sites).

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart- Say No To Love  7″ (June 8 2010)

Like many bands in this burgeoning scene, POBPAH are a Brooklyn-based band with a large debt to the UK “shoe-gazer” bands of the early nineties like the Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine.  To this they add a large dose of Robert Smith’s tunesmith sensibility.  These songs seem by and for the scrawny kid nursing a beer in the corner of the house party- hand jobs in the library, drugs to feel less suburban, falling in love to escape the boredom of living at home; POBPAH chronicle a type of ennui and do it well with catchy melodies that belie the lyrics’ darker intent.  Having said that, with a name like The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart and a video featuring a be-v-necked band of skinny people so earnestly singing into the camera, it’s a fine line between sincerity and self-parody.  I hope they continue to walk it on the right side.

Allo Darlin- Allo Darlin LP (June 7 2010)

London-based Allo Darlin’ are full of buzz and have not a mean bone in their bodies (featured in a recent NY Times review of the NYC Popfest, Allo Darlin’ were singled out for their unironic rendering of “You’re The One That I Want” as the highlight of the event).  If there were a year book for this year’s NYC Popfest, Allo Darlin’ would be voted most likely to succeed, or most likely to end up in a Volkswagon ad.  Having been weaned on seemingly equal parts Morrissey and Frente, Allo Darlin’ also walk the fine line between the sweet and sincere and that which is completely twee and ridiculous.  One can only hope that their very busy touring schedule will, if not jade them, at least bring them to the realization that their cover of “I Want To Be Sedated” was, in fact, a really lame idea.

Vivian Girls- My Love Will Follow Me 7″ (February 2010)

If the Shangri-Las were raised by Nico, in New Jersey, then they would sound like the Vivian Girls.  Far more raw sounding than the other two bands mentioned in this post (and owing more to the Vaselines than Cocteau Twins) Vivian Girls certainly hit the mark with what they’re going for.  Never has worshiping at the altar of Spector (Ronnie, not Phil) sounded so punk rock.  Not to mention easy on the eyes, I would imagine the Vivian Girls to be the object of desire for every navel-gazing band of emo-wimps with which they’ve shared the stage at Trash Bar.

These are just three of the many bands that played the NYC Popfest, so please don’t just take my word for it.  As with any scene, too much of a good thing, or at least a pretty good thing, can only last for so long.  Especially when one considers that the Brooklyn uber-hip thing seems to be waning (or at least transmogrifying into a hipness of self-loathing; who hasn’t heard a hipster douche passionately rail against the collective hipster douchery of Kings County).  Some of these acts should avoid schtick all together and try actually learning their instruments better- what’s the point of writing a song if you’re going to play it lousy?.  Giving new bands a break is a great thing; please make sure you’re up to the challenge.

see also:

Dream Diary (think Stone Roses without the swagger)

Very Truly Yours (authors of maybe the worst band bio I’ve ever read, these guys are none the less a pop band in the vein of Le Mans)

Best Coast (a fuzz, reverb, lo-fi girl group drone by apparantly three huge stoners- they need more bass in the mix, but definitely worth a listen)

Strange Boys (Ween + ? and he Mysterions- like someone dosed the Memphis Soul Stew)

On October 23rd of last year Noel Gallagher announced that he would be leaving Oasis, ending a fifteen year run of consecutive #1 albums in the UK.  Only months earlier UK audiences were treated to multiple gigs by a reunited Blur, apparently taking their place as the Who for the Cool Brittannia generation.  Since so much water has passed under the bridge, with one band finally succumbing to sibling rivalry (apparently the final straw was Liam broke one of Noel’s guitars) and the other cashing in like the shrewd college boys that they are, let’s try and put it all to rest finally.  Considering that in the end they both really won, having sold countless more records thanks to a contrived media dust-up than without, nothing said here will really make much difference- Blur and Oasis defined Britpop in the same way that Bowie and T. Rex defined Glam and The Clash and the Sex Pistols defined British Punk.  But let’s do it anyway.

Since both bands released seven studio albums apiece, why not put each album head-to-head from first to last and see who turns out on top based on the merits of the work they produced?  So here it goes (a featured song from each album is provided below).

Leisure by Blur (1991)

Definitely Maybe by Oasis (1994)

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Released in 1991, Blur’s debut is an album of it’s time, and by that I guess I mean it’s a little on the derivative side.  Obviously taking their cues from the Madchester and shoe-gazing scenes, a lot of Leisure sounds like a band trying really hard to sound like the Stone Roses (among others; call me crazy but a lot of the more trancy guitar work reminds me of Gish era Smashing Pumpkins).  A few very good songs from a band that had yet to find it’s voice.                                  Released three years later and on the opposite side of the grunge, Definitely Maybe is Appetite For Destruction plus monobrows. Like Appetite, almost every song is a classic (only “Bring It On Down” stands out as a stinker), and as GNR did for the LA douche-metal scene, Oasis threw down the gauntlet in a way so huge we’d still be talking about Oasis even if they hadn’t released another decent album.

winner: Oasis

Modern Life Is Rubbish by Blur (1993)

(What's The Story) Morning Glory? by Oasis (1995)

Winner: Draw

Parklife by Blur (1994)

Be Here Now by Oasis (1997)

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This one is pretty much a no brainer- pointless bickering, lackluster songwriting, celebrity cameos, this alone would sink an album.  Add to that enough cocaine to make Elton John blush and there you have Be Here Now.  I mean, it’s one thing if it’s the drummer, but you know you’re in trouble when the most coked up guy in the room is the producer (and that’s a room that has both Noel and Liam Gallagher in it!)  This album has the distinction of being the most returned album in UK history.  Not to mention that Parklife is almost a perfect distillation of what Blur was going for in 1994.  Be Here Now does have some decent tracks on it, but this ones not even close.

winner: Blur

The Great Escape by Blur (1995)

Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants by Oasis (2000)

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This is probably the most unfair match up.  The Great Escape was released in 1995 when Blur was at the height of their powers; Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants was released in early 2000, nearly two-and-a-half years after the disappointment of Be Here Now, and if I were talking about any other band I’d say the experience humbled them. That being said, The Great Escape wasn’t really designed to change anyone’s mind- everyone I know that doesn’t really like Blur finds this album annoying.  ”Best Days” and “Arnold Same” are just a little too adorable, and “Entertain Me” is a fairly cynical retread of “Girls & Boys”.  Then again, Shoulders has “Little James”, which is a real stinker, even by Liam standards.  It’s inclusion on the album could lead one to believe that the well was starting to run dry for Noel, the suggestion of which alone brings the album down a peg.

winner: Blur

Blur by Blur (1997)

Heathen Chemistry by Oasis (2002)

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Both of these are comparative departures from the norm for both bands (although neither as much as either band would claim)- Blur reportedly working under the influence of American indie bands like Pavement, Oasis (or at least Noel) switching the muse of the Beatles to the more psychedelic Glam of this and later albums.  Both also claim a certain place in the imaginations of sports fans in the UK and US- “Stop Crying Your Heart Out” for being featured prominently on British TV after England lost in the quarterfinals of the 2002 World Cup, “Song 2″ now being the late inning rally song in ballparks across America.  The most difficult thing about this matchup is that, while about 40% of Blur is really good, 60% is really not, 100% of Heathen Chemistry is somewhere between inoffensive and decent.  Not only that, but two of the three Liam songs could even be considered good (or at least not bad).  Not yet at the bottom, both bands seem to be at the 2/3 dry mark on the barrel.

winner: draw

13 by Blur (1999)

Don't Believe The Truth by Oasis (2005)

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The most apples to oranges comparison yet.  13 is an album of experiments, half of which are breakup songs, including a track of noodling around on an Optigan.  Don’t Believe The Truth was considered a return to form by Oasis and quickly ran up the UK charts.  13 seems like an album made by a group of interesting people who were very sad and getting very bored with being in a band.  Don’t Believe The Truth seems, surprisingly,  like an album made by a band where all the members are contributing and are really gelling thanks to the addition of an inspired new drummer (Ringo’s son Zak Starkey).  I give this one to Oasis if for no other reason than “Lyla” qualifies as one of the best singles of their career, easily stacking up with anything from Definitely Maybe/Morning Glory period.

winner: Oasis

Think Tank by Blur (2003)

Dig Out Your Soul by Oasis (2008)

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At one point in the opening track on Think Tank a voice asks “Can we stop now?” and states, “I’m here because I’ve got no fucking choice”, both of which were apparently front and center in the mind of Graham Coxon, who by this point had pretty much quit the band and is only featured on one song.  Most of the album sounds like a workshop for musical ideas Damon Albarn wanted to do with his various other projects.  I wouldn’t even really consider this a Blur album.  They do get credit for the Banksy album cover.  Dig Out Your Soul features a song that sounds an awful lot like “5-1″ by the Doors (see the March 2nd post of this blog), and a song called “Soldier On” so plodding you really have to take the title to heart.  I also find it hard to believe that no one thought putting John Lennon talking in the song “I’m Outta Time” was a really awful idea.

winner: who gives a shit

Throughout their careers Oasis and Blur pretty much fit the description they had been assigned- Blur were cerebral college boys with a greater sense of musical curiosity; Oasis were a bunch of working class rock&rollers more interested in writing songs the whole stadium would sing along to than redefining rock music.  Both released a few classic albums, both went through periods of bloated excess, both ran out of steam fighting the good fight.  At the end of the day, Oasis fans will think Blur fans are a bunch of punters, and Blur fans will think Oasis is chav-rock.  But in the battle of Britpop, a winner must be declared, and that winner is…

Radiohead.  Although not considered part of the mainstream of Britpop, no band that came out of the mid nineties UK music scene better than Radiohead.  They did what neither Oasis or Blur could accomplish on their own.  Radiohead is as big as Oasis and as critically loved as Blur.  Everyone sings along with the chorus to “Karma Police”, and everyone agreed about how groundbreaking and genius it was to release Kid A and Amnesiac simultaneously.  I’m not even really a Radiohead fan and I can see how big these guys really are.  Plus Thom Yorke is more annoying than all the members of both bands put together.  He snaked them all.  Hail to the Thief indeed.

BLOG NOTE: sorry to everyone for missing last week.  Listening to this much Britpop took more out of me than one week would allow.  I’ll try harder in the future to stay on top of things.

The xx seem to be pretty hot right now.  They’ve been touring pretty constantly since the release of their album last August, and in addition to playing multiple gigs at SXSW and an outdoor set at Cochella this past weekend, the song “Intro” was featured prominently in an AT&T ad during the Winter Olympics.  I don’t usually go for this type of music, but of all the recent synth-pop bands I’m really taken with this band.  Rather than using electronic music as some sort of trashy hipster gimmick, The xx is actually writing simple yet truly compelling melodies with electronic instruments.  Plus the vocal back and forth between Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim is absolutely adorable, as if the “Grease” soundtrack was reimagined by two pasty, misanthropic British teenagers.  They’re also the first band I’ve seen in a long time that I actually like that look so young they make me feel really old and uncool (isn’t that what good new bands are supposed to do to people in their thirties?)  Here’s them on French television, which also seems very fitting.

Karen Elson, semi-retired supermodel and wife of Jack White, has recently recorded an album debuting her talents as a singer-songwriter.  The album will be released in conjunction with Mr. White’s label; he also produced and played drums on the album.  Other members of the band include Mark Watrous of the Raconteurs, and Jackson Smith, who is married to Meg White.  At recent gigs she has worn a vintage peach dress that matches her hair, suede shoes the designer named after her, and playing a $4000 Gibson from 1917.

Everything mentioned above belies one fact: Karen Elson has a decent singing voice.  In both the video for the single off the album and a grainy cellphone video from a recent gig in New York, Ms. Elson’s voice sounds both comfortable and strong.  If it seems as though the pedigree of the album, and indeed of this whole venture, is viewed through a snarky lens, that’s because it is, or rather very easily can be.  Therein lies the largest critique that can be leveled at Karen Elson, singer-songwriter: the whole thing stinks of vanity project.  Karen Elson might actually turn out to be a talented musician (vocal talent aside, the songwriting needs work), but who the hell at this point is paying attention to that?  Most write-ups I’ve read seem more concerned what she’s wearing and who is or isn’t at the show; they read like the gossip page of a high school news paper, which is about right.  At their most insidious, the worlds of rock and fashion are cool tables in the lunch room of pop culture; Ms. Elson is jumping from one popular clique to another.  Let’s assume there are countless lithe redheads with decent voices releasing an acoustic-based album of their own material- how many of theses striving sirens do you think got gigs at this year’s South By Southwest?  Let alone the uncounted legions of young women hoping to get heard whom genetics has preordained will never grace the cover of Vogue.

If a music blog were a lead pipe, I’m sure there are plenty lining up to swing theirs at the kneecaps of Ms. Elson.  I simply want to offer this advise: try harder.  Go it alone.  Fire your drummer; get a different producer- if you want people to take you seriously as a musician, do it without relying on, or appearing that you rely on, your husband and his friends.  Wouldn’t it be a more satisfying experience if the asterisk was removed?  Rock people have such a sexist, patronizing, knee-jerk reaction to women trying to make it in music- why give them any ammunition?  Fight against (or better yet, abandon) the innate hipness of your station- it so easily can be read as insincerity.  Second acts are possible in American lives, they just can’t be built solely on the strengths of the first.

The British music press is a funny thing.  For all the reserve that is ascribed to the British character, there certainly always a lot of hyperventilation about the next “big thing”, especially if that next big thing is British.  They have not always been wrong; Oasis, for a time, was in fact the best band around.  So was Radiohead.  And who knew the Stone Roses would implode rather than save our souls?  That being said, there are only so many times one can be told that bands like Teenage Fanclub or Elastica or Kula Shaker or Spacehog would be the answer to your life’s problems before you start deeply considering shooting the messenger and devoting your life to Balinese Gamelan music.

I had an extremely cynical reaction when I first heard of the Arctic Monkeys for exactly that reason.  No sooner had their first album come out than it was being heralded as the “5th greatest British album of all time” (by, of course, NME).  The sheer ridiculousness of the statement was enough to put me off the Arctic Monkeys, and after giving Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not a very skeptical listen (the album name didn’t help either), I was more than willing to consign the band to the nether regions my mind, never to be thought about again.

Then I married an East Anglian whose brother is a huge Arctic Monkeys fan.  Plus, it’s been a few years now, and I’m trying to be less rigid about these kinds of things.  The Arctic Monkeys have put out a few more albums, all of which have been greeted with the same Pavlovian enthusiasm as the debut.  Regardless of the ire that rises in me at all that purple prose, I figured I grow up and give them a real listen.

Whatever certainly doesn’t leave you guessing about where this band’s loyalties reside: loud, fast, smartass music for drunken snarling teenagers and twentysomethings.  Listen to “Dancing Shoes”, and you’ll pretty much get where they’re coming from:

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The best track on the album, however, is “A Certain Romance”, an ambivalent valentine to Chavs, or at least to a chavvy night out.  While their calling card is fast, raspy punk-esque tears, “Romance” points to something else.  The rhythm doesn’t drag, but the band doesn’t seem feel any need to rush.  The melody is sweet but not twee.  More than the rest of the album, it points to a real artistic voice emerging and suggests more than just tipsy punk songs coming out of this band.

Favourite Worst Nightmare, released a little over a year after Whatever, treads on similar ground; fast & loud, calling out poseurs and phonies, doesn’t really stop to catch its breath (or if you prefer to think of it a different way, it sounds a little coked out).  The main difference between the first and second albums is that Favourite Worst Nightmare is just a better album.  The band is tighter, the lyrics are better, the dynamic range is less pinched; all around I find this a more satisfying listening experience- I guess that makes it the fourth greatest album of all time?

Most impressive, however, was the release of Humbug at the end of last summer.  Recorded in LA and New York (La sessions produced by Josh Homme), Humbug proved to be a significant leap forward artistically.  While it has its moments of Monkey-esque sprite, the overall pacing is far more subdued, and frankly, more mature.  The vocals, content-wise, are better and, while there are still chringeworthy moments (“which came first, the chicken or the dickhead”), Turner’s lyrical wit seem to be taking it’s place in the long line of excellent British snark-writers, taking equal doses of Mozzy and Rotten.  The vibe overall is a lot darker- they’re snarling on the inside.  Plus they finally seem to be exploring new sounds: they’ve discover tremolo, organs abound, the vocals are less fuzzed out.  There are actually oohs and aahs and harmonies.  There’s something to be said for letting a song build towards something, for not giving it all away from the opening bars- maybe it’s a consequence of being told you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread for your last two albums, but it’s nice that they make the listener work a little for it, and give us the credit enough to get there on our own.

The Arctic Monkeys are becoming a very good band.  No, the Artic Monkeys are not going to save the planet.  Nor will they save British music, but, having entered into their “Help” phase, they certainly don’t seem to show any signs of fatigue or running out of ideas.  Let’s hope the rest of us can keep up with finding new and inventive ways to praise them.

Indie darlings are easy to hate, or at least easy to hate on.  Vampire Weekend are certainly no exception to this rule. Three weeks ago I’d never heard of Vampire Weekend, or at least made no effort to hear of them, lest I remember a band with a stupid name.  But the shear volume of vitriol and the defensiveness it’s inspired has piqued my curiosity.  I’ve spent the past few evenings listening to their self titled debut.  None of this, I don’t know how to describe it other than controversy, makes sense to me.

Are they derivative?  That’s a silly question- pretty much everything that’s come out of the indie scene in the past decade has been derivative.  Modern Lovers begat Strokes.  Stones begat Hives.  Lydia Lunch begat Karen O.  For Vampire Weekend to wear there even just their western influences on their sleeves, from Sting to Strummer to Simon, isn’t exactly a capital crime.

But that really has nothing to do with their music.  Half the songs on their first album are pretty good.  Oxford Comma is well written and well-paced.  A-Punk is well put together and the instrumentation is very well chosen.  There is something a little twee about it all, and in trying too hard perhaps they put their foot in their mouth.  But they mean no harm, and certainly do no harm.  Maybe that is why they engender such a harsher reaction, like some sort of Edward Said musical Frankenstein, than the Talking Heads ever endured- they really want that gold star.

Then again, maybe the reason the Talking Heads got away with it and Vampire Weekend has yet to is that Talking Heads were just a better band.  One thing is for certain- all the back & forth will for sure prove the maxim that there’s not such thing as bad publicity, and I’m sure first week sales for Contra will exceed their publicists wildest dreams (it debuted at no. 1 in Billboard and moved 124,000 units).  Plow on, Blues Hammer.