Thursday, October 11, 2012

Hiatus Announcement (In Case You Hadn't Noticed)

As may now be painfully obvious, I've been unable to find the time to regularly update this blog for a few months now. Between work, family commitments, and the struggle to complete several graduate school applications within the space of a few months, I simply haven't had the free time to commit to this blog.

I'm committed to eventually finishing this series, both due to my own enjoyment of writing these entries and out of a twisted need to finish the bloody thing, but I have no idea when I'll be able to do that. The only advice I can give is to follow my Twitter and periodically check this site for new posts.

My apologies, folks. You'll have to find good music without my help, I'm afraid.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Week 35: Brand New - The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me (2006)


“I’m writing a teenage symphony to God.”
-           Brian Wilson on the composition process for Smile

The most reliable method music has of getting noticed and beloved is to be emotionally relatable. Unlike aesthetic appeal, which is subjective, or technical ability, which can be off-putting in its virtuosity, a song that contains emotional rawness based around love, pain, or some other primal human emotion will almost always find an audience, and a devoted one at that. If a listener can connect to a song emotionally, they will forgive almost any flaw or shortcoming that may occur to a more objective critic; a belief in a song’s message will outweigh almost everything else.

There’s a reason, after all, why the first wave of mainstream pop was orchestrated pocket symphonies built around love stories, sad or otherwise. The early 60s were filled to the brim with aching, ‘young’ stories: tales of rebellion, squashed ambition, star-crossed lovers, or even simple hobbies like surfing and driving. That first wave of pop appealed to young folks (the market most likely to be buying singles and hanging around radios) with stories they could find relatable, either by some core detail or through some massive-in-scale emotion. When you’re a teenager, after all, every defeat, victory, and heartbreak has an intense poignancy. It all feels like something out of the movies, mainly because moviemakers decided to tap into that idea.


Monday, September 17, 2012

Songs Of The Days: Weeks 33 to 35


Songs Of The Days: Week 32 (Neil Diamond Week)

August 6: Neil Diamond - The Boat That I Row (Just For You, 1967)

August 7: Neil Diamond - Shilo (Just For You, 1967)

August 8: Neil Diamond - Thank The Lord For The Nighttime (Just For You, 1967)

August 9: Neil Diamond - Sweet Caroline (single, 1969)

August 10: Neil Diamond - I'm A Believer (Just For You, 1967)

August 11: Neil Diamond - Cherry Cherry (single, 1966)

August 12: Neil Diamond - Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon (Just For You, 1967)

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Week 34: Coldplay - Parachutes (2000)



“I want to fly, never come down/And live my life, and have friends around”
-    Coldplay, “We Never Change”

Unity doesn’t get much respect in music criticism. The appearance of chaos, of many voices saying many things, gathered up under the pretext of a common subject, is far more valued, as it is seen as more difficult to manufacture. Homophony, many voices speaking as one, is dismissed as overly classical, while polyphony, the sounds of loosely yoked chaos, reigns as the ideal.

This preference is hardly difficult to call up examples of, especially now that the pre-ripped jeans aesthetic of dubstep and grime has infiltrated the mainstream pop scene. The most prized producers are now regularly achieving the Dickensian feat of speaking in many different voices, layering instrument upon instrument in an effort to baffle the listener into praise. It often works, simply because layer upon layer of music can very easily seem impressive, by dint of sheer scale and power. I didn’t necessarily like most of the album, but Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy exemplifies that idea of “more is more” as much as Queen did back in the 70s with A Night At The Opera; putting issues of songwriting aside, most people can agree that both albums sound impressive from the layering and production alone.

That massive production goes back for decades in Western music, dating back to Phil Spector’s work with wall-of-sound production and the baroque pop style of The Beach Boys. Moreso than Spector, who, as the name of his production style suggests, favored a unified wall of instruments, a bludgeon of sound, The Beach Boys reveled in the styles that required the kind of riches they were granted. “Good Vibrations” is the sound of a master songwriter dumping out his toybox and staging a large-scale play for all of his friends, just as “Power” is the sound of one man yelling his own praises over a mob’s jeers.


Saturday, September 1, 2012

Week 33: The Strokes - Is This It (2001)


I shudder to think how true audiophiles feel about lo-fi music. To the music consumer who struggles to make sure every note comes through just as recorded, lo-fidelity genres like garage rock, a genre that distorts itself as much as possible from recording to mastering to get its sound, must feel like a cruel joke. All of those lost sub-tones, microvariations, and studio noises are like a slap in the face to every $600 dollar pair of headphones and thousand-dollar-plus studio systems in the world.

Being a low-grade audiophile (my headphones are in the relatively cheap $200-400 range) myself, I’ve had my share of issues with lo-fi music for years. Even if it is a deliberate choice these days to release a mass market album that sounds like something recorded in the 40s, it still grates at me that some musicians choose to sacrifice whole aspects of their songs in pursuit of some form of “authentic sound”. The fact that this music often sounds grittier than what was made in that era is all the more irritating.

Even in standard pop, which is generally crafted to be as hi-fidelity as possible, the issues involved in the Loudness War make it more unlistenable than even the most enthusiastic of the garage rock revivalists. Between the mass compression created by increasing the volume of the music and the pervasive, much-hated effects of Auto-Tune, modern-day plastic pop comes through just as lossy as most lo-fi music. The only difference is that artists of the latter type are limiting the noises found in their music for a deliberate reason. Even if that reason is flawed, misguided, or plain old infuriating (as it so often is), it’s at least being done for reasons other than grabbing people’s attention.


Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Week 32: JD McPherson - Signs & Signifiers (2010)


“I work hard every year/I seize my bread/I ain’t gonna let you women/Go to my head”
-          JD McPherson, “Country Boy”

My past birthday, a good friend of mine gave me a philosophy book, “The Sublime Object Of Ideology,” which is theoretically related to psychology, my academic vice of choice. I say ‘theoretically’ because I can’t make heads-or-tails of the bloody thing. The whole thing is just slightly beyond me, the language rendered impenetrable by alien phrases. I don’t consider myself dumb, but this is a book that makes me reconsider.

Though impressive technically, the insight the book contains and the craft used to put it together become pointless due to my inability to understand it. In the same way, most art rock, high-level jazz, and other deliberately complex music tends to fall on deaf ears. If people lack the vocabulary, the language, or, most importantly, the interest, then even the most technically impressive piece can be left deserted.

Pop hooks, past successes, and press buzz can help alleviate this issue, bringing even self-dubbed “art pop” into the #1 spot, but most of the time art music doesn’t even get glanced at by the majority. It gets consumed by small groups of people with scarves and far-too-large frames, as well as those of us who are always on the lookout for new things to hear. Otherwise, exposure to art music relies on word-of-mouth, blind luck, and lovely little bars and cafes willing to venture outside of Pandora and Starbucks sampler CDs.

The fact that people don’t like to seek out the kinds of music that often revel in their ability to offend and distance the listener doesn’t surprise me, and in fact it doesn’t even particularly bother me. All appearances to the contrary, I’m not enough of a snob to insist that people immerse themselves in the heady worlds of bebop and no-wave. Hell, even I don’t spend all of my time in those worlds, or even a majority of it; most of my leisure time is spent listening to music I enjoy rather than music that challenges me to decipher it.


Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Week 31: Screaming Females - Ugly (2012)


“Have you ever seen a human heart?! It looks like a fist, wrapped in blood.”
-          Larry, Closer

When art had its first golden age, ugliness would have been unthinkable. Classical artists sought to replicate the perfect nature that they believed in; their goal was to inspire a sense of grace and glory in their audience, to evoke God by perfectly portraying his Creation. To put flaws into the pictures, or worse, to make outright ugly images, would be spitting in the face of nature and, by extension, God.

I’m not enough of an art historian to say when, exactly, that began to change, but that opinions shifted is inarguable. Postmodernism takes error and ugliness as its main subject, with artists deliberately breaking the rules of their craft in an effort to explore its limits and make them obvious to the audience. This can be taken to unnecessary extremes, and even verge on self-parody in some cases, but it can also offer pieces of genuine interest. The key is that the artist can both prove that they’re breaking the rules knowingly and that they’re competent enough to be able to shed those rules.

Those rules of aesthetics are, often, where the beauty of an art piece comes from. When I use the word ‘craft’ I’m doing so to refer to artists attempting to give their audience a piece of perfection, a slice of Heaven. Such rules are tied to the classical tradition of giving an audience grace by offering them beauty, and by following such rules artists are attempting to do the same, though not necessarily with classical subjects. Pop music, for example, uses craft in an effort to inspire bliss in the listener, but it’s rarely tied to any kind of natural imagery. Instead, most pop relies solely upon the craft itself, using common, lovely chord progressions to augment the content of their choice.

Even the ugliest, rawest of subjects can be rendered graceful and lovely with the right degree of craft. A talented application of aesthetic principles can make even a child starving and sobbing in the streets appear beautiful, dulling the natural sympathy an audience has with a sense of elevated beauty. Such images are easier to digest than the reality of someone slowly dying in misery, and the ability to produce them is valued by charities and political groups all over the world.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Week 30: Frank Ocean - Channel Orange (2012)


“My TV ain’t HD, that’s too real"
     -    Frank Ocean, “Sweet Life”

Unlike his fellows in Odd Future, Frank Ocean seems to have no interest in sounding young. Like Prince, Laura Marling, or Jack White (all artists who started in their early-20s or younger), Ocean falls into the middle period of adolescence better than he does the categories of vapid youth or confident adult.

What makes Ocean and those artists more adolescent than, say, an album like Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream is their indecision and lack of clear focus. The fatal flaw in Perry’s album is that no teenager would be able to narrow their fantasies down to someone as clearly defined as Katy Perry’s sugarplum-fairy-in-a-bikini image; indeed, most adolescents would be hard-pressed to narrow their fantasies down at all. It’s an era where, for the first time, we are forced to grapple with the fact that we can even have fantasies and dreams; childhood is an era in which everything we want seems readily available, and it ends as soon we realize how wrong we are.

The dreams of your average teenager more closely resemble the tenuously themed mixtapes or playlists they create or the television they watch, and both of those images are cornerstones of Ocean’s presentation. Nostalgia, Ultra was patterned after the former, complete with tape clicking noises and, at one point, a girlfriend’s insulting critique (“What’s a Radiohead anyway?”). This all fits with the literal mixtape presentation of the album; in recent years that term has taken on the meaning of a rapper’s self-released tape that uses wholesale sampling in lieu of professional production.

What truly unified Nostalgia, Ultra, aside from its presentation as a self-made mixtape, was how outwardly focused Ocean was in all of the songs. When Ocean does figure into the lyrics of the songs it’s only as part of some relationship that determines his actions. Much like a classic mixtape, all of the songs on the album are devoted to others, focused on relationships and people either real or imagined.


Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Week 29: Beck - Sea Change (2002)


"Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change,
into something rich and strange”
-          William Shakespeare, “The Tempest”

There are few things in music more difficult than making quiet music sound interesting. Unlike rock or pop, which can fall back on danceable, clappable rhythms to keep people interested, quiet genres like folk or blue jazz must rely on either sheer quality or a hope that the audience is stoned enough to pay attention to anything. By definition, the awe-inspiring, bombastic wall-of-sound techniques of baroque pop are out, as are virtuosic solos and sudden shifts in mood or volume. Quiet music must either focus on maintaining its atmosphere and mood over the entire song or build to a crescendo; there’s little room for the terraced dynamics found in alternative music.

Generally, quiet music is designed to provide a vehicle for the singer. It’s no coincidence that the singer-songwriter genre provides most of the best examples of understated, near-silent songs; even if such songs are often dappled with strings and other instruments, the focus is still almost always on the artist whose name graces the album cover.

While that focus on the singer is present, to some extent, in most Western music, folk, singer-songwriter, and other similar genres are bound by their tendency towards quiet volume. In genres like pop or soul, where the singer is the unquestioned master and ruler, the vocals are allowed to soar in volume and octave to the limits of the singer’s ability. Artists like Roy Orbison, Whitney Houston, and Freddie Mercury used volume and melody to keep the attention of the listener on them during all but the 8-bar intros and solos of their songs. However, that freedom of range isn’t as total in other genres; when changes do happen, they happen slowly.

In quiet genres, the singer must demand attention in other ways, usually through their lyrics. Leonard Cohen, a man often lambasted for possessing almost no vocal range at all, nevertheless commands respect and attention simply through his inventive, beautiful lyrics. Bob Dylan is another case of this, and John Darnielle and Laura Marling are borderline cases.


Thursday, July 19, 2012

Week 28: Giant Panda - Fly School Reunion (2005)


Rap is a singles genre. The teams of crack producers aside, rap tends to thrive on the image of a single man (or, very, very rarely, woman) presenting themselves and their opinions in an unfiltered way, an extreme form of the frontman in traditional rock bands. The ideal rapper, in this school of thought, is raw id, able to say the things we would never dream of giving voice to and get rich while doing it.

Without exception, this raw id presentation is diluted the more people are present on a given track. The more guest artists and ghostwriters one has, the more diluted the personality of the actual rapper gets. There’s no real secret as to why this is; the more people you have in a band the more input the songwriter gets for a song, leading them, often, far away from the original emotions they were trying to deliver. Compare the schmaltz of the studio version of “Thunder Road” to Springsteen’s original demo, for example. In my opinion, the wall-of-sound style that’s all over the Born To Run album ruins what Springsteen was writing at the time; Darkness At The Edge Of Town improves on that tendency, but there’s a reason the all-acoustic, ultra lo-fi Nebraska is the music snob’s album of choice from The Boss.


Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Week 27: Dr. Dog - Be The Void (2012)


“I was never that young/I was born old and grey/Alone and in shambles/It’s alright, it's ok”
-          Dr. Dog, “Get Away”

What place does the topic of age deserve in discussions about music? One of the most basic ways to dismiss something, from a critical perspective, is to label it as ‘immature’ or ‘childish’, a criticism that I’ve used on this very blog. I stand by my usage of those terms, mainly because such things don’t generally hold up under an analytic lens.

Poptimism, the critical perspective that pop music should not be criticized in the manner I described above, runs into this problem constantly. Artists like Beyonce may be making music that is brilliantly put together, but the accomplished whole doesn’t appear to me to have any real content. Most everything about pop music is put clearly on the surface level, without any need to dig deep for meaning, a pop song can only generate interest in itself by making sure the music is intricately arranged and, at best, offers some kind of interesting composition.

There’s nothing necessarily wrong with that approach to music. Entire books have been written on The Beatles, including their poppiest songs along with the ones that came closest to blues or folk music. Oftentimes it’s those intricate pop songs that attract the most critical attention, thanks to how readily they offer themselves to music majors with heads teeming with Italian words and a lot of free time. In a more general sense, pop songs are often the songs large groups unite around when they need something to fill the dead air between conversations. Taking examples from my own blog, I love “The Radicalization Of D” by Gareth Liddiard, but if I were to throw a party I’d be more likely to reach for Holy Ghost. Similarly, if I were to play some Kanye I’d have to cherry-pick from 808s quite a bit (“Heartless” would be a good choice; leave it to Kanye to make crippling depression danceable).

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make pleasant music, which is the only thing that truly unites all pop musicians. I hate modern pop for its constant, almost desperate attempts to eliminate all traces of humanity from their music, simply because doing so transforms pop into uncanny electronica. Making the human voice into an instrument has a long proud tradition in music all around the world and visa versa, but attempts to manipulate the voice in post as if it were a guitar string to be fretted gives me the oogies. How can you have joyful, happy music if the humanity has been clinically removed? It’s like marrying a Stepford Wife.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Songs Of The Days: Week 27

July 2: Booker T. Jones - Everything Is Everything (The Road From Memphis, 2011)



July 5: The Cannonball Adderly Quintet - Mercy, Mercy, Mercy (Live At "The Club", 1966)



July 6: Prince - I Wanna Be Your Lover (Prince, 1979) (not available on YouTube)

July 7: TheTheThe day:

The Protomen - The Hounds (The Father Of Death, 2009)



The Budos Band - The Volcano Song (The Budos Band, 2005)



The Lawrence Arms - The Disaster March (The Greatest Story Ever Told, 2003)



The Wiseguys - The Grabbing Hands (The Antidote, 1998)



The The - The Twilight Hour (Soul Mining, 1983) (not available on Spotify)